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starfirette · 2 years

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Every Which Way: Chapter Ten

⇢ a/n: it's been sommmmme tiiiiime, I AM aware of that, but here is the continuation!!! I'm going to keep on posting this time around! There are four more chapters left!! AHH

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⇢ Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader: semi angst, some fluff and romance, a secondary relationship is blossoming! Some Wendi x Y/n moments, the bromance is real. If they don't save Din real quick then I'm just going to have Y/n and Wendi get together

⇢ Featuring Wendi, Ryder, Paz, Quilla Pyn, and Melv

⇢ Genevieve makes a cameo bc I love her

🏷 @woterezwhet @talesfromtheguild @poupoupoupoupou @multifandom-fiasco @fandomqueen74 @fifiyau105 @shayna-winchester @mserynlarsen @vanityfairsushi

The seats of the Iron were strapped with red leather, a stark contrast from the dark seats on your home ship, the Razor Crest. The Viszla ship had come from the era of Death Watch, as Paz had informed you. It was one of the gunships his father used while on group missions. The ship was custom made for five fighters; two pilots, two gunmen, and one to man the engines and shields. While you’d been informed the Iron could very well jump into something called hyper space, you weren’t too consumed with it. It felt sad to be in a different ship. It felt wrong.

It wasn’t wrong, but still, you didn’t like the feeling of being there without the one person you’d longed for in the recent days. You felt like an entirely different person without Din at your side. He’d been the one to liberate you; he was the reason you’d even grown a personality, and an actual mind. Before Din, your world was hopeless. It was dark and destitute.

“I can feel your sad thoughts floating around the air,” Wendi said. You looked to your left, where Wendi sat in the fourth chair, just beside you, her gloved hands flipping switches and pushing buttons. Each button triggered something, be it the movement of her seat or the glowing ambient lights along the large dashboard.

“Can I ask something of you?” you said, taking your helmet off and shaking your hair from your face.

“No,” Wendi replied, sounding much like a bothered older sister.

You ignored her the way a younger sister would have had she been accustomed to the ways of her elder sibling. “Can you not...I mean, I’d just feel like this would be a lot easier if you would just be nice on this trip.”

“Sure thing,” Wendi said, continuing not to look at you as she flipped a large orange switch that started the low, rising hum of the engine. “When am I ever not nice?”

You had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy. You scowled at Wendi’s irking response. But you knew Wendi was capable of being kind. She had spent a long time saying goodbye to Gold in private, and you had the faint impression that Wendi would miss her.

There came the clunking footsteps of the two Viszla brothers. The synchronized steps were the rhythm of the low conversation Paz was having with his brother, who occasionally grunted in agreement. It was such a familiar song the two of them seemed to play. Ryder, who didn’t talk nearly enough, and his brother, who seemed to talk way too much.

“Ah, now there’s a sight,” Ryder said in a bellowing voice filled with humor. He leaned against the entryway of the cockpit, looking in the direction of you and Wendi.

“Not used to having girls on board?” Wendi sniped.

“Hardly,” Ryder replied, in the same tone.

You rolled your eyes. “Is everything ready?” you asked, looking at Paz with some hope. He was the sensible one of the brothers. Ryder seemed to just be the drunk one, or the loud one, or the mean one. That one.

“We’re still waiting for the clear to go ahead,” Paz explained.

You tried to not groan at the thought of the Nevarro storm troopers declining your request for take off. Maybe there were rising suspicions.

“You are in dire need of a reupholstering,” Wendi said as she pulled threads from her chair. The red leather was peeling, and the seams were torn. “When was the last time anyone took this thing for a recare?” Wendi asked with an audible sneer.

“Probably before dear old dad died. He cared more about the ship than he did us,” Ryder sniffed as he shuffled to the pilot’s chair. He took a seat, cracking his knuckles. You looked away from Paz. The men never spoke about their father.

Whatever negativity Ryder had been feeling disappeared as he pressed a start up button for the large display screen that laid before every passenger. “It’s been a while,” Ryder snickered as he swiped a line of dust from the dash.

Paz sighed from his place at the entry. “The moment you put us in a meteor belt, you’re switching to copilot.”

Ryder ran his hands across the dashboard. He engaged the engine buttons, seeming giddy at the thought of navigating through asteroids. “I’d never do anything so irresponsible, brother,” he chastised Paz.

“Remember the Rylothian bounty mission?” Wendi said excitedly, leaning toward Ryder as she set her elbows on her knees. “That Twi’lek was a damn good pilot, and an even better smuggler. Ryder was the only one of us who could catch her. Even Din had a try,” she added, looking at you with a fond tilt of her helmet. “Ryder sent her crashing into an asteroid.”

Wendi sounded fond of the memories she was recalling. You wished you could share such a feeling with her. But, even despite the grief, you were able to perk up at the thought of Din grinding his teeth, unable to catch a bounty. What an amusing thought.

“How long have you known Din?” You asked.

The three seemed to collectively sigh. The response was not out of annoyance, but rather out of amusement as they mused each and every adventure they’d had with your mate.

“We’ve always been in the same covert,” Ryder said. “He was rescued by Death Watch. He was around the same age I was when he first came along.”

“Ryder and I were technically his first friends,” Paz mused. He was settled into his chair, now, too, looking at the expansive dashboard and all of its displays.

“The boys are all older than I am,” Wendi said as she seemed to look for any imperfections in her lavender leather gloves.

“Wendi followed Ryder around like a little calf,” Paz chuckled. This caused Wendi great despair. To your complete surprise, she did not begin to yell and swear. She remained silent, sinking back into her seat ever slightly. You blinked at the sight. Was she blushing beneath her helmet?

“Fuck off,” Wendi finally said in a scowling voice. “They’re all so mean to me.”

“Mean?” Ryder repeated. “We are mean to you?” The craft might have begun to shake under the weight of the laugh that boomed from within Ryder’s helmet.

The intercom buzzer emitted static. “Iron, you're cleared for take off.”

Your heart jumped as the Mandalorians moved into position. You hovered in place, sitting and standing rapidly as you tried to discern what you ought to do. What did Din do before take off? Your brain filled in the information, as if Din was standing there now. You lunged across the dashboard, flipping the engine coolant on. Wendi cocked her helmet to you. She raised a gentle hand. “Take it easy, there, you tauntaun.”

You bounced on the balls of your feet. “Okay, sorry.”

“If she knows how to fly, why not let her give it a go,” Ryder suggested as he struggled to buckle in. Wendi made a rude remark regarding his weight to which Ryder responded by punching her in the thigh as she walked past him. She was good at acting tough, but you saw the way she massaged in between her metal plates to ease the pain.

“Alright, Girl,” Ryder said. “Want to take off?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he stood aside, waiting for you to take a seat in the pilot’s chair. You nodded eagerly.

Paz cleared his throat. “I have no problems with that,” he pointed out. “But now isn't such a good time for practice.”

Your face burned. You used your finger to notch the visor of your helmet down, so that you looked like any other Mandalorian. The three people cried out apologetically, each urging you to put the visor back up. “Nooo,” Ryder said as he used his hands to mime your visor lifting back up.

“I didn't mean that in a rude way,” Paz insisted. “It's just that these troopers aren't exactly patient when it comes to on the job training.”

“Shut the hell up, Paz,” Wendi said as she buckled herself in. The straps went neatly over her midnight blue armor.

Paz was visibly startled by Wendi’s outburst-he shrank back like a sandy meerkat prying away from a predator, looking her way warily as he buckled in beside her.

“Oh good kriff,” you muttered as you sat in.

Wendi looked at her lap, shaking her helmet with disdain as Ryder spoke loudly about the last time he had taken the ship out. The tale included a rather explicit recalling of a romantic conquest with a female Avian who had been in a wilderness cantina.

Wendi casually turned a dial, raising the frequency in Ryder’s comm, making him shout and clutch his helmet in agony.

“Oi! What the fuck?!” Ryder shouted once Wendi turned the dial back down (after a due amount of time). “Wrong dialup,” Wendi said sweetly. “My mistake.”

Paz’s breath of exhaustion sounded like steam hissing through his modulator. “Oh, what fun it is to ride with you two. Behave yourselves for Y/n.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the same modulated buzz. “Since when has my presence ever warranted good behavior?”

“I guess that’s fair enough,” Paz laughed.

The speakers of the transmission crackled. “Is there a problem?”

Genevieve's soft voice crackled into life.

She's older than she had been when you first met her. Despite this, she was a good friend to you upon coming out of your months-long sleep. She helped you get through the horrible side effects, like the blindness and the nausea.

“You're taking a while to take off and it's making the troopers angry. They keep beeping us.”

Wendi sighed, using her gloved hand to press the button and respond. “Sorry about that. These numb nuts are stalling.”

“Kind of hard to believe they're descended from Tarr Viszla,” Geniveve chortled.

“Yeah, we can hear you,” Ryder chortled back in an obvious way of mocking the young girl.

“Uhm...signing off.”

Her channel clicked out.

The song of the engines rose into a chant as Paz pushed on the accelerator. You peeled out to the take off ramp below, finding all the blind spots that a trooper could be hiding in. What a horrible death, you thought to yourself as you gripped onto cargo straps. Your chest swelled under the seat bindings as Paz pulled on the ship’s wheel. The ship made a ringing noise as it lifted up into the air. You could feel your body being displaced in the air as your stomach slid around with unease. As the ship lifted off, the ramp slid to a close, shutting your view of the outside planet completely.

When the ground was no longer in sight, you toddled back to the cockpit, your body swaying as the ship shook under pressure.

Wendi flipped the large switch, it's orange light glistening. “Oxygen’s on,” her modulated voice sang out.

Everything grew dark as the ship lifted off the planet, making its way out of the atmosphere. The lights of the dashboard could not outshine the stars, not even in the pitch darkness you'd ventured to. You remembered feeling this way when you and Din left for your honeymoon.

You cast a glance around. You imagined Din in Wendi’s seat, looking at you with a stern angle of his helmet. “Would you try not to get yourself killed?” He asked.

I'm going to do whatever it takes to find you.

Quilla shut the door tight behind her. In these parts of the castle, no one would hear or see her secret interactions—but she still had reason to fear. The secret prisoner settled down his small harp. He was in a room that the fourth key unlocked, a dimmer but larger lodging room with only lantern light. The prisoner was laying on the vast arrangement of pillows, cushions, and blankets. He had no mattress to sleep on but rather a larger pile of bedding in the cold corner of the room.

This part of the castle was long ago abandoned. Quilla isn’t entirely sure why, but she was certainly grateful for it. Her secret prisoner lived here now for almost a year.

Prince Melv was attacked by his sister, Queen Empress Emelea, just over a year ago, right before the Mandalorian Siege in Doom’s Circle. Melv, at the time, was frail, weak, and easily overpowered. He was abandoned by his brother and sister, left to die in the stone halls of the castle. Quilla bore witness to this disaster with silent tears as Emela brandished a knife and shot the blade into Melv’s pale, nearly grey, skin. Quilla could remember the scene in vivid color: Riz stood close by, watching his sister attack the unfavored triplet.

The lengths Quilla had gone to in order to hide Melv’s body were incredible. It required her wit and her stealth. Quilla had established secret control over the palace, even over Emelea, though she didn’t realize it, after Riz was quite brutally killed in the Red Circle—Quilla did find this somewhat ironic.

After Riz’s death, Emelea became unstable. She spent her nights screaming and crying loudly, throwing fits as she was being readied for bed. She insisted on spending all her time with her new best friend, Dev. Her slip of reality was helpful in the cause of keeping Prince Melv secret. Emelea’s instability seemed to make her forget that she never saw Melv’s cold corpse; she’d simply left him there as he bled out, assuming he’d pass on.

Quilla worked hard to haul Melv to safety. Quilla had no medical training and so she couldn’t administer the treatment that she felt Melv required. She dragged his lip, ailing body to the lower levels of the palace. The stony, tall walls were thick with dust—this level of the place hadn’t been touched since the Weslyn clan came to power over seven decades ago. Three generations of Weslyns had come and brawled against other clans in the Judgment Hall for the power to rule. These days, the Weslyn clan seemed to be the only clan. The remaining six dissolved into court entertainers or high ranking nobles.

These such titles meant nothing.

No man or woman had any power if they weren’t of Weslyn blood. Once the earlier generations of Weslyns realized this, they, regrettably, turned to inbreeding. They felt that they couldn’t risk the loss of power. After all, no clan had dared to challenge the Weslyns after seven consistent losses. Contestants, children of other clans, obliterated in that Circle of red.

It was no new fact to learn that the Weslyn elders, the late parents of Emelea, were cousins. But as Quilla tended to Melv, she began to suspect that the parents might have been more than cousins. Siblings? Aunt and nephew? Uncle and niece? Siblings seemed the right answer. It shook Quilla to the core imagining the desperation the Weslyn Clan felt so strongly that they turned to such horrible solutions.

Melv was always sickly. This made sense. Being the product of inbreeding, as well as the third, weakest triplet, led to his constant battles against injury and sickness.

Quilla had dragged Melv’s limp body into one of the small, unused lodging rooms, deep within the castle. The room had been thick with cobwebs and dust. As she tended to Melv here, she simultaneously cleaned the room and made it comfortable. Over time it had become rather cozy. A few pillows and quilts going missing over a few days went entirely unnoticed. It was easy for Quilla to even smuggle extra food to and from the kitchen and the secret room. Quilla was always an obedient, hard working hand girl. She kept her scrappy, itchy uniform clean. She kept her coiled, thick hair neat, and always wore her green makeup from hairline to neck. Quilla had never been seen or heard by the higher man guards or even by Emelea. This was an excellent advantage. If Emelea knew Quilla by name, that would be a problem. That would suggest Quilla had done something to probe Emelea’s personal attention. But by following the rules, Quilla had made a security for herself. She knew the ins and outs of being a servant girl here, despite not actually having been raised with the others. Most servant girls here were stolen from their families on Aniri and taken to the palace to undergo modesty training. Females were considered a threat. They had wiles and beauty and that must be tamed.

Quilla was not even native to Aniri. She had a family out there, once, in the galaxy. But now she felt as if they’d never existed at all; she tried to battle this phenomenon by always recounting her memories: her mother singing while combing Quilla’s hair into tight braids or her father sitting by the window, puffing on a pipe.

Despite being an outlander to the hellish Anirian establishment, Quilla had become the ideal servant girl. She was quiet; obedient. She had no reason to make anyone think she could cause problems.

And while Quilla had been keeping her secret, she watched Melv sit in silence. He often spoke to no one, or answered questions Quilla didn't ever ask.

Quilla moved quietly into the small, dimly lit room. Candles burned in the corners on tarnished brass. The room had a low ceiling. Across the floor was an endless array of cushions and quilts and pillows. Quilla couldn’t feel the stone floor beneath her feet as she stepped inside, watching Melv fiddle with his hand sized harp.

The soft light of the candles irritated Quilla's eyes as her light source became cut in half.

“You've been here twice today,” Melv said softly as his fingers plucked the strings. The twined noise wrapped up with the splendor of sustained pitch, ringing until it had no more strength.

Quilla led herself to the wall, using the well to draft a bucket of water. She sat on her knees, using the front of her raggedy dress like a rag to cleanse her face. The makeup came off in thick chunks, sticky and muddy-green.

“I think I've done enough chores,” Quilla explained as she used her fingers to swipe the makeup residue from the corners of her eyes. “I can stay here.”

Melv didn't respond. His face didn't seem to betray his inner thoughts. Ever neutral, he played a nimble song. Quilla cringed at the sound, recognizing the melody as an old Aniran folk song.

“My mother sang this to me at night. To all three of us,” Melv explained as he plucked the notes.

“Did you love her?” Quilla asked as she crawled across the pillows.

Melv set the harp down. He looked at her with an unreadable message on his face.

Melv was once unpleasant looking. He was sickly and weak-his eyes had been sunken and his hair bland and colorless. But something was changing his body. He was becoming stronger, healthier--he looked alive now, whereas before, he looked lifeless. Dead. And now…

Well, now Melv’s face was all Quilla could ever think about. He had become beautiful and strong. But what caused that? Was it the way he often talked to himself? The way he often sat in silence? Or how he grieved for people he did not know?

Quilla bore the idea that Melv suffered some sort of anxiety or madness. Where Quilla came from, mental madness was treated by prescription doses of swims in the ocean. That was hardly an option now.

“Of course I did,” Melv said. “I think that she and I were the closest. I was the smallest of my siblings, and the weakest-and so my mother always doted on me.”

“I'm sorry.”

Melv unleashed a lopsided smile, making Quilla’s pulse jump; her vein jumped at the side of her throat as Melv spoke.

He's golden, Quilla realized, with some mild horror as she in turn realized her feelings for him.

“All children love their mother,” Melv said. “But not all mothers love their children. I was blessed to be loved by my mother, but for Riz and Emelea, they were lacking the basic affection. The back of Emelea’s head was flat for the first years of her life because she wasn't coddled as an infant. At some point, I became the weak and unhealthy one, unfavored by my father. But my mother worked hard to keep me good. I think she always knew her fate, and that it was inevitable. She knew what kind of world she had brought me into.”

Quilla swallowed back the surprising tears that marched their way through her sinuses.

“You miss your mother,” Melv said in a tender, thoughtful voice.

“I do. I don't remember her too much, but I remember that I love her-. I was going to say something else, but the truth is, I don't have anything more to add. My memories of her are so small. Like a faint smell or the glimpse of a specific flower budding in the field. Or some days, when the temperature of the palace is just right, I am reminded of a time much forgotten. I'm certain my parents have forgotten me, wherever they are.”

Melv looked wounded by Quilla’s words. “Don't say that,” he said in a quiet tone. “They're out there waiting for you to come home.”

Quilla raised her brows.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” Melv asked, looking genuinely curious.

Quilla snorted. “You just...you're weird.”

Melv looked even more confused.

“I can't really say anything else!” Quilla laughed as she further explained. “You always speak like you know everything. As in, literally, everything.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” Melv asked. He looked mildly amused by Quilla’s words, as if he were taking them with a grain of salt.

“It's just really weird,” she muttered. “You're really weird.”

Melv shrugged. “I think your point has been made,” he pointed out as he stood to his feet. The low ceilings would not allow him to stand straight. Quilla watched silently as he rolled his arms and shoulders, groaning to himself as he relieved whatever tension he was in.

His blond hair fell in waves down his face, his grayish eyes fluttered closed as he reveled in the temporary moment of peace.

Quilla looked away. Her skin burned as she had a whirlwind of thoughts; peeling his clothes away, touching his skin, feeling every part of him…

“You should go, now,” Melv said as he laid down on his makeshift mattress. He removed his tunic and nestled into the pile of cushions, grabbing hold of the little harp.

Quilla played nervously with the bracelet of heavy keys. “You shouldn't play with my feelings,” she said firmly.

Melv sat up, his face poached with confusion. “I'm sorry,” he said immediately. “I don't know what you mean, though.”

“You can't keep calling me your ‘love.’”

“But aren't you?” Melv asked, furrowing his brows like a child would. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me first!” Quilla accused him. “And it was in the heat of the moment.”

Even so, Quilla could still remember the feeling of his lips. Though cold, they were soft, and despite his health having been in tatters, she felt safe with his arms around her.

“I’ve never said anything I don’t mean,” Melv said with a fond smile.

“We hardly know each other,” Quilla argued, refusing to let herself be drawn in by his golden aura.

“I don’t need to know anything else to know that you’re the one thing in my life that makes me happy. Your presence, everlasting, has kept me from falling to the Darkness.”

Quilla frowned. “What darkness?” she asked carefully.

Melv grew somber. “The Darkness,” he repeated. “It creeps in the corners of this place. It lives within my sister, who is too unassuming to take advantage of it. But it beckons me. Always when I’m angry, always when I’m sad. I am frightened of it.”

Quilla was at a loss for words. She did not know what she should say to such things. Melv often looked cloudy; like his mind was somewhere else, somewhere far, far away…

But he did not look like that now.

He looked as if he knew better than anyone in the world.

That frightened Quilla a great deal.

“I can’t be the only thing standing between you and…that.”

“Well, why not?” Melv questioned, his curiosity true.

“Because I’m hardly anything,” Quilla said.

Melv shook his head, his golden locks falling over his eyes. “That’s not true. You’re the key to everything.”

“What is ‘everything’? What do you mean by that?” Quilla urged Melv to dive into further detail, but Melv simply shrugged. “I don’t know, yet. But I will soon.”

The Iron would drift in space for a while, on the autopilot setting. Din had explained the setting to you once, so you felt happy to know what Ryder had been talking about when he begged Paz to just put the damn setting on. Paz insisted that someone at least keep by the console, just to ‘keep watch.’

“I’m going to the refresher,” Wendi called out; that was her way of opting out of keeping watch.

“Don’t use all the hot water in your long ass showers,” Ryder yelled at Wendi as she escaped the cockpit, her purplish blue armor a mere blur in the corner of your eye.

You lifted your helmet off, shaking your head and sighing at the feeling of the cool air hitting your head. Sweat beaded your hairline. With your helmet poised in your lap, you leaned back into the leather of the chair.

“Y/n,” Paz’s deep voice buzzed through his modulator. “You can go rest. If you'd like.”

“I'm fine,” you said with a soft smile. Your friend dipped his helmet in disbelief.

“Take a rest,” Ryder seconded his brother. The rare moment of the Viszlas agreeing with each other caught you off guard. “It’s a long way to Bespin, so keep relaxed and save your energy. You're going to need it.”

People kept saying that phrase to you. You’re going to need it.

You’d never done something as dangerous as this. Escaping Aniri was one thing, but venturing out, searching for Din after Boba Fett had attacked…that was dangerous, too, maybe even more so! The risk of leading others back to the Covert was remarkably high. Such a thought lodged in your throat as you excused yourself to the bunks, where you would room with Wendi. Your helmet tucked under your arm, its weight like a child sitting on your hip.

The ship didn’t jostle about as you stripped out of your armor, into the undergarments beneath it. Shorts and a thick tank top that had sweat bleeding through it.

You packed your armor into a little counter, stacking the plates of beskar and metals up neatly, leaving space for Wendi’s. You would sleep on the top bunk, you decided to yourself, in an attempt to give Wendi privacy. It wouldn’t be comfortable for her to sleep with her heavy helmet on, no matter how pretty its hue is.

You climbed into the bunk, shifting under the thin quilts. Half of your limbs sprawled out in the air, while the other half remained curled under yourself in a position so intricate it was blissful.

The ceiling of the ship laid low. You could reach out and touch it with your hand, maybe even the tip of your elbow.

The bunker door slid open.

“Avert your eyes,” Wendi sighed. She had a towel wrapped around her entire face as she tried to navigate through the bunker. Her off-duty clothes consisted of baggy pants and a thick tank top, like yours. You’d never seen her so bare and mortar. Her arms were the color of warm ivory, her skin littered with freckles the color of deep lavender.

As you rolled over to face the wall, you realized that you'd never fully comprehended just how deadly Wendi was beneath her armor.

Wendi sighed as she ruffled around the room, shutting the bunker door. You heard the muted thump of her towel falling against the metal grated floor. Her resignation towards the article was almost funny to you.

The bunk creaked as Wendi rolled into her bed, the one right below you.

“I'm laying down,” Wendi told you from below.

You rolled onto your back. The ceiling wasn’t remarkable, not cast from anything special or expensive. But still, all you could do was stare at it.

“I’ll probably be in and out,” Wendi’s voice lulled. It was strange to hear her naturally; her voice wasn’t rigged through a modulator.

“I’ll keep my eyes closed,” you assured her.

“I’ll keep my helmet on, so don’t you worry too much,” Wendi said, her voice slightly teeming with sarcasm.

You frowned as if she could see it. “Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Why would something be wrong?” Wendi asked, sounding for a moment gentle and genuine.

“You seem as if something is wrong,” you detailed. “Your…attitude.”

“This is my usual attitude,” Wendi informed you in her usual smirky tone. You could just faintly imagine the expression she bore. The features which held such an expression were faint. Cloudy. You had a fleeting image of Wendi’s face.

The thing about Wendi is that she doesn’t have anyone she could be relaxed around. She always had to bear her helmet, always had to shield her face. You wondered about her family. She was a foundling, like Din, and had been rescued from some sort of situation by Gold. Did Gold count as a family member? Could Gold see her face? Could Wendi see Gold’s? Even Paz and Ryder had each other.

“What do you look like?” You finally asked.

There was a pregnant pause in the bunker, the only sound being that of the Iron hard at work, floating zipping amongst nothing but stardust.

“Like a person,” Wendi said after a minute of strong thought. “I'm human.”

You twiddled your fingers as they laid over your stomach. “I guessed that,” you told her. “Can't you describe your face?”

“It's a face,” Wendi said blandly. “Not sure how else to say it.”

“You know how,” you argued. “You just don't want to.”

Wendi sighed. You could feel her shift in bed as the motion creaked then bunk beds. “I'm blonde,” she said. “My hair isn't exactly curly. I have really thin eyebrows. I'm...honestly glad I have to wear a helmet. I don’t like them. Other girls, on other planets, have kohl stencils that they use to fill their eyebrows in. To make them thicker. I tried it once in private. I looked stupid. My skin is freckly. I’d say I have a semi large, somewhat rigid nose. My lower lip is a little fatter than my upper lip. I have a scar on my neck, and I don’t remember how I got it. Gold says I’ve always had it. So I guess my early childhood was a little traumatic. Is that descriptive enough for you, Annie?”

You rolled your eyes. In spite of that, you could conjure up an image of your friend’s face. A part of your soul hurt at the idea of never seeing her face. After everything Wendi has done for you, would you never see her? Never look her in the eye?

Although she had given you quite an attitude all this time, she had become a good friend. Maybe your only friend. That could be equated to the fact she was one of the only Mandalorians in the Covert who you bothered to talk to. It was a bit surprising. Wendi’s first impression was…harsh. She scared you. You wondered at times if she’d leave you to fend for yourself.

Despite that lingering suspicion, Wendi has never failed to make you feel somewhat secure. Somewhat…though Wendi has a tendency to live vicariously. Dangerously. Wendi didn’t treat you like the glass doll Din often had. At times, it was thrilling! It made for good stories, like the missions she was recalling before takeoff.

“Descriptive enough,” you agreed. “You seem beautiful.”

There was a silence that seemed too thick to be comfortable.

For a brief moment your entire body flushed warm with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you said, shifting onto your side.

“Don’t be,” Wendi muttered. “That’s the first time…” And though her voice trailed off, you knew what she was saying; you knew first hand, because you’d been in a similar situation once. The first time she’d been called beautiful.

You stared at the door, it’s little porthole glittering with the image of Din on the other side. His face was pulled with a little smile; he seemed happy, watching you and Wendi get along. Wendi’s vulnerability was a rare chance to witness, and you didn’t want to mess this up. Vulnerability meant friendship. Vulnerability built everlasting bonds.

“You’ve got ten hours to sleep. I’m trading with the guys in five. You already know how to track time in…space. Right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how awkward she sounded, not at all like her usual self.

“A little bit of chit chat and you’re clamming up?”

Wendi kicked her leg straight up, lurching the mattress you slept on.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Wendi said bitterly, shifting in her bunk once more. You could hear the scraping of her blankets as she pulled them over herself.

“Goodnight,” you replied in tandem. “Have sweet dreams,” you cooed,

“Make no mistake,” Wendi warned you. “I will kick your ass,” she said.

“Trust me,” you assured her as you snuggled under the quilts. “I know.”

Din’s apparition shook his head to himself and laughed, the noise muffled. You offered him a wink.

He vanished. Like always.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarren x reader #din djarren imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #every which way #dyn djarin imagine #dyn djarren x reader #dyn djarin x reader #how the FUCK do we spell this guy's name #starfirette writes

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queenofspades6 · 4 years

Text

More Than Partners (The Mandalorian x reader)

Forbidden Love

Summary: A little conversation between the Mandalorian and Kuiil about Mando’s feelings for Y/N, a Jedi who follows him everywhere. But what happens when you hear everything the bounty hunter said?

———

Chapter 2>

———

***

When you arrived at the Ugnaught’s place in Avala-7, he greeted you and the Mandalorian with open arms. At first, Kuiil was astonished to see a young woman with the bounty hunter. And even if he didn’t say a word, the Ugnaught was aware that you were a powerful being. He couldn’t help but wonder why a Jedi would stay with a Mandalorian after the battle of Galidraan. Jedi and Mandalorian were not known for their friendship.

The Ugnaught served you and the Child food. He wasn’t wealthy and yet, here he was, serving you everything he had on a tray.

“Thank you, Kuiil, sincerely.” You said, clear recognition in your eyes.

Mando was watching you, and the Child eat with a protective gaze while talking with Kuiil. You stared at them, enjoying the brief moment of peace.

When you finished your plate, you glanced at the Child and saw him already sleeping upright.

“I am going to take the Child to bed.” You declared, standing up.

Mando gazed at your plate, and noticed you only ate half of your food. As if you were reading his mind, you headed towards him under the watchful eye of Kuiil.

“I left you something to eat for when you’re alone.“ You muttered, a slight smile appearing on the corner of your lips.

“Thank you.” He whispered, his eyes still on you when you took the Child in your arms and headed towards the bedroom.

You were no longer in the room, and the Mandalorian suddenly felt uncomfortable. Something was missing. Or someone... Even if Mando knew you were in the next room with the Child, he needed to see you and feel your presence. The Mandalorian was restless, and even though he was wearing an helmet, the Ugnaught noticed his discomfort.

“I see you are quite close to Y/N.” Kuiil stated, a serious look on his face.

The bounty hunter hesitated.

“I am. She looks after the Child when I can’t.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Silence filled the room again, and Mando tensed at Kuiil’s tone.

“What do you mean?“ The Mandalorian questioned, grateful that his helmet was covering his embarrassment.

“I noticed how you stare at her when she is not looking, how your gaze lingers on her a bit too longer, how you watch over her when there is no danger.“

Although Mando was wearing an helmet, he avoided the Ugnaught’s look, already feeling his cheeks flushing.

“I have seen this look on many people, Mandalorian. I can’t see your face, but I know how you feel towards this young Jedi.“

“I don’t feel anything for Y/N.“ The bounty hunter replied instantly, clenching his fists tightly.

Even though you were in the next room, you heard the words distinctly.

Mando didn’t feel anything for you...

Your vision quickly became blurred, and you suddenly wanted to throw up. Taking a glance at the Child who was still sleeping, you leaned against the door of the bedroom. Your heart beating faster, you tried to focus on the Mandalorian’s mechanical voice.

“Are you sure?” Kuiil asked, chuckling a little.

“I-I am not in love with her.”

Your body felt heavier, and you almost fell against the door. A tear ran along your cheek, and you tried desperately to repress a sob.

You were a Jedi. You couldn’t have feelings, and especially not for a Mandalorian. And here you were, with your heart in pieces and a lot of tears to shed. You knew it would happen. You knew falling in love was risky and that love meant suffering, yet, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the Mandalorian. You had not seen his face, and you didn’t care. When you heard the rumours about Mando, you first thought he was a ruthless and skilled bounty hunter. But when you met him, you could see through his shiny helmet and deep down you knew he was a good man.

“So you don’t feel anything for her?“The Ugnaught insisted.

Kuiil was smirking, you would have sworn it.

“I am a Mandalorian. I can’t feel anything.” You heard Mando muttering with his modulated voice.

Why was Kuiil trying to find out if the bounty hunter loved you?

Why was he insisting like that?

“I didn’t ask if you can or can’t. I asked if you love her.”

“I can’t.” Mando whispered, as if he regretted the words he said.

Frowning, you took a deep breath, hoping Kuiil and Mando didn’t hear you.

“I-I-”

“You don’t need to lie to me, Mandalorian. I saw it with my own eyes. No helmet can protect from love.” The Ugnaught declared solemnly.

“I care for her.” Mando admitted, holding his breath through his helmet.“More than I should.”

At the sound of the Mandalorian’s voice, you pressed yourself against the door, trying to know if what Mando said was true. But the doors couldn’t support your weight, and you crashed on the ground, making a lot of noise and revealing your presence in the process. Sighing, you looked at the Child, hoping you didn’t wake him up. He was awake, standing up in the bed, watching you with a questioning look on his face. Putting a finger in front of your mouth, you told him to stay silent.

“She cares for you too, Mandalorian. You should tell her before it’s too late or you will regret it all your life. I have spoken.” Kuiil claimed, already standing up to wash the dishes.

Slowly opening the door, you tried to glance at the Mandalorian. He was still sitting where you left him some minutes ago. You couldn’t see his face, but he was obviously lost in thought, not daring to move from his seat.

Taking a deep breath, and against your better judgment, you gestured to the Child to return to sleep, and headed towards Mando.

“Mando.”

At the sound of your voice, he startled and his cheeks flushed a little under his heavy helmet.

“Is the Child sleeping?” He questioned, clearly avoiding your gaze.

You wanted to see his reaction, but Mando’s visor was looking at the wall behind you.

Silence was usually comfortable between the two of you, yet today, you weren’t the only one feeling ill-at-ease.

“Can I ask you something?“ The bounty hunter asked, daring to glance at you quickly.

“You just did.“

“You know what I mean, Y/N.” He said with a stern tone that sent shivers to your spine.

Adrenaline rushed through your body, and you smirked at the Mandalorian. He cared about you, so why should you act like you had not heard anything.

“Did You hear my conversation with Kuiil?”

His voice was filled with anger and concern.

Was the Mandalorian afraid you heard what he said to the Ugnaught?

“I-” You tried to mutter.

Lying was easy, and telling the truth was risky. Yet, you chose to stay true to who you were, and you couldn’t lie to Mando, even if it meant he would break your heart.

”I heard everything.“

Confidently, you faced the Mandalorian and noticed him staring at you.

You would have killed to know how he was feeling right now.

Was he furious?

Suddenly, the bounty hunter stood up and you felt his hand reaching out.

“Y/N... I-” He whispered, unsure of what he was doing.

”I am sorry.”

Without realizing it, the Mandalorian took a step towards you.

“Was it true, Mando?” You questioned, getting closer to him.

Bowing his head, he stared intently at the ground.

“What is true, Y/N?”

“You know what I mean.“

He cleared his throat, and you slowly searched for his gloved hand. Wrapping your fingers around his, you heard the Mandalorian let out a stuttering breath and his grip tightened on your hand just a bit. Staring at your intertwined fingers, and then looking up, Mando stroked your cheek tenderly, and you tried to enjoy his touch on your skin.

“I care for you, Y/N. You aren’t just my partner.” He whispered in your ear, almost touching your skin, and making you shiver.

”I know.”

“I care more than I should.”

Hearing the remorse in his voice, a single tear ran along your pale face.

“I care too.” You replied, your voice breaking in the process.

The Mandalorian caressed your face with his gloved hand, and then your lips, opening them slightly. You swore you could hear his halting breathing even though he had his helmet on.

“We should not.” He murmured with his mechanical voice, obvious desire in his tone.

“And why not?”

Without thinking about the consequences, you got closer to Mando, hoping he would change his mind.

You caressed his helmet, acting as if it was his skin against your touch. He took your hand away from his face, and fundled your chin with his hand.

“Y/N... I can’t.” He whispered, clenching his teeth.

Seeing him being so conflicted between you and his Creed made you feel awfully sad. You couldn’t ask him to choose. Never.

“I understand, Mando.”

Trembling, he stroked your cheeks again, enjoying your skin against his gloved hand, and secretly hoping the moment would last forever.

Sticking your tongue against your palate, you hoped you would not burst into tears in front of the Mandalorian.

“Y/N.” Mando said, wiping your tear away.

Pulling his hand away from your cheeks, you forced a smile and planted a small kiss on the side of the helmet, where his cheek would have been.

“Goodnight Mando.”

Without looking behind, you headed towards the bedroom where the Child was probably sleeping again. Tears were falling in your face, but you didn’t care. Maybe one day, you thought. But hope was a dangerous thing.

“Goodnight Y/N.“ Mando said, alone in the room.

He had never felt so lonely, even if you were just in the other room.

⬇️Chapter 2⬇️

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cutelittleluckysoul · 4 years

Note

Hi, I was wondering if I could get a Marvel and Star Wars (prequels/ Mandalorian) ship? I’m 5’9”, plus sized with pale skin and short brown hair, blue eyes, and glasses. I’m an INTP and Ravenclaw. I’m very introverted and kind of a hermit, and I come off as a little cold sometimes. I am also a very curious person by nature and love to learn (especially science) and a huge bookworm in my spare time.

Sure thing! Hope you enjoy it!

For the prequels I would ship you with Obi Wan Kenobi!

Obi isn’t the most social person either so he would be fine just to hang out with you

he tries to be more social tho and he tries to tag you along most of the time

but most of the time you stay in

he lives a busy life so he is glad to spend a peaceful evening with you

he wouldn’t mind if you were reading and not talking to him at all

he would just enjoy your company

tho he does love it when you read to him

doesn’t matter what it is about he doesn’t really care for the content

much more it is about your voice that soothes him

it is one of his favourite ways to relax

he also loves how curious you are about basically everything and that you know so much stuff

very impressed with your knowledge

and it comes in handy

you sometimes come with him on missions so you can help with your knowledge

also after being finished with the mission he would fly to a lovely location on a different planet for a little date

he would do that as well whenever you wanna go out and see something of the galaxy

he would bring you different books from different planets he has visited while on missions

you have your own library of books

of course you read them all and he is very happy to hear what the book was about or what you have learned from it

he just loves how smart you are and how passionate you get when you talk about stuff you love (including him, which makes him always blush)

For the Mandalorian I would ship you with Din Djarren (was a tie between Din and Cara)

Mando isn’t that used to have someone around so it took some time to get used to it

it happened that you didn’t talk to each other for weeks

but the more he got used to you the more he started to open up to him

when he does open up he sometimes never shuts up especially if he was alone with the child he would rant to you with no end

he is really surprised the first time you hug him but it quickly becomes his favourite thing in the galaxy

and even if he can’t feel your skin he just feels so comfortable in your arms

speaking of the child you are it’s new mother there is no discussion about that

you actually give him a name which was a struggle itself because the child is picky and was shaking its head a lot

but in the end everyone is happy with the name

Din melts when he sees you with the child and it makes him yearn

children are a big thing for Mandalorians so you can be sure that he wants to knock you up eventually

but he also wants a family, and he wants you to be the mother of his children

so he asks you to marry him quite fast and you two marry even faster

which allows you to see him without his armor

and he is really insecure about what you are going to think about him

but you are just in shock

How were you able to attract this man of a snacc?

you really got lucky

and you can’t stop complimenting him making him blush soooo much (he actually loves it so much)

you are caressing his face and he nearly cries at the skin to skin contact because your hands are so soft

even more cuddles now that he is able to feel you (his favourite are naked cuddles, and not even in a sexual way(at least not always) but it just comforts him so much)

also you read to the child a lot and Din just likes to listen to the stories as well

it is some kind of family bonding

he needs your help often with things he doesn’t understand

good thing you are so smart and well read and know your way around most things

he is so glad that he has found you and with you a family

And for Marvel I would ship you with Stephen Strange!

even though he is very arrogant he somehow fell for you even though he thinks every person he meets is not worth his time

but something about you intrigues him and you can open him up some more

of course you know about the stuff that happened and you are really supportive

but you take no shit from him when he has a bad day and starts to snap at you

you give him a piece of your mind and leave him alone for a few hours

he always apologises in the end

you know he doesn’t mean bad or anything but you are not his punching bag

he also shows you the library at kamataj even tho you are actually not allowed to see it

but he knows how much you love books and he wanted to make you happy

and you find this stuff so fascinating that you never wanna leave (tho you have to after a few hours eventually)

he also gifts you a lot of books because he knows you much you love them

he is also kinda good at science and likes to talk about it with you or teach you certain stuff (he is a very strict teacher though and you have to remind him that you are his girlfriend not a child)

and even though he can be grumpy he can also be very loving and you really appreciate those days (for example if you don’t feel so well)

you also love to snuggle into his cloak while reading (the cloak likes you and I never thought that is something I would ever write)

you love his magic tricks (he hates it when you call it like this though and you do it just to tease him)

he loves how willing to learn about it you are and is always happy to show you

also showing off a lot

and after a long day he even likes to cuddle with you because he does love you and wouldn’t trade you for anyone else

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goddessofmischief · 3 years

Note

UUHHH CHAPTER FIFTEEN WHEN THEY’RE IN THE BASE AND INSTEAD OF MAYFIELD ITS READER OWO

ASFJK THIS IS A GOD TIER CONCEPT

(For my longtime readers - this does not take place in my regular Mandalorian x Jedi! Reader series.)

Brown Eyes - Din Djarin x Reader

This had been a bad idea from the start.

You knew Din would do anything to get the kid back - hell, you would. But still... walking into an Imperial base? With the Mandalorian, aka the king of overreactions? Yeah. Didn’t think so.

But you had agreed, all the same. They - he, and Fennec, and Cara - had needed you. You were an ex-Imperial, something the Mandalorian had worked very hard to reconcile himself to... and you would like to think that he had. After all, the two of you had been together now for two months.

But you still hadn't seen his face.

Not that you expected to, ever. It was a constant ache for you - all you wanted was to rip off the helmet and see what he looked like underneath. You’d tried, a few times, while he was asleep - being the sneaky Imperial that you still sort of were. But every time, you’d found a blaster rifle being lowered under your chin, and you’d groan and know you were caught. So by this point, you had pretty much given up on ever knowing what he looked like. And it didn’t... really matter. You were pretty - at least, he said so - but you didn’t want a partner who was only physically attractive. Years in the Empire had taught you that looks didn’t matter much. What matters is what is underneath.

And oh, you wanted to see what was underneath so badly.

But you resolved not to bring it up now. The Mandalorian was shaken - he’d realized he couldn’t send you in alone, it was too heavily guarded. And no one else could go with you, or their faces would match with the scanner.

So he had elected to go.

“Well,” you said, watching Din awkwardly step toward you, wearing a light stormtrooper suit, “If it’s any consolation, you look great.” He groaned, and you realized, strikingly, it was the closest you had ever come to hearing his real voice. Imperial helmets were nowhere near as heavy as Beskar.

You opened the door of the vehicle, climbing into the driver’s seat. Din had sat beside you, looking very unsure of himself.

And so, you drove.

Drove on, and on, for minutes that felt like hours, past endless fields of sand. You wished he’d talk to you, but you knew he was only thinking about two things: One, the Child, and Two, how stupid he looked. Din Djarin might have been one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy, but he was a lot more insecure than the rest of them.

“You doing okay?” “...Yes.” A short answer. But, still, an answer.

“I’m going to take my helmet off,” you said, quietly, and looked at him, as if for approval. You didn’t really know why - he’d seen your face before, of course. So you pulled it off, shaking your hair out. “Dank ferrik, it’s impossible to breathe in it - especially when it’s so kriffing hot-”

“Language,” he chided, out of habit, and he turned around to look at the Child. Before realizing, of course, that he wasn’t there, and no amount of wishing or regretting would bring him back. You knew, in that moment, that you had to keep Din distracted. You just had to.

“Hey,” you intoned, tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey, tell me about...” You swallowed.

“What you look like.” Oh, that distracted him, all right.

“C’mon, don’t clam up.” “We’ve talked about this before.” “Not enough. I can’t picture you.” He sighed.

“Unmemorable. Dark hair. I hardly ever shave.”

“Tell me more.” “That’s all there is.” “Eye color?” He hesitated.

“I... I can’t.” “Why?” “The spirit of the Creed is that no one knows what I look like. That’s why we’re not meant to take off our helmets.” “Yeah? Well, guess what? You just took off your helmet.” “...What?” “You did! You took off your Mandalorian helmet and put on a trooper’s.” “This is... different.” “How so?”

“It just is.” You snorted.

“Yeah, it is because you say it is.”

“Why is this upsetting you?” “Oh, I don’t know - maybe I find it the least bit upsetting that the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, won’t... won’t even tell me what color his eyes are!”

He was silent.

“You... you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” “Of course I do, I-I love you.” You reached over and patted his helmet, awkwardly, wishing you could ruffle his hair. You tried to withdraw your hand, and he held it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.” In that moment, you knew he was saying ‘sorry’ for a lot of things. Sorry for the life you could never have, things he couldn't give you. But you never wanted any of those things. You just wanted him.

“Control, this is Juggernaut Three, we might be coming up on some interference-”

“Control! Control!”

That was the exact second that everything went to hell.

The vehicles around you began to explode, and the communicator began filled with the sounds of screaming.

“If the rhydonium is still stable-” the Mandalorian said, trying to keep you calm.

“Juggernaut Five, maintain speed and course... proceed with caution-”

"Proceed with caution?” you shouted, irritably, remembering exactly why you hated the Empire. And, also, the genocides, and all that bad stuff. “Is she serious?”

A group of alien pirates showed up on your control screen, and Din grabbed his blaster.

“Are you seriously shooting a blaster near that rhydonium, Djarin?” You hollered.

“They have thermal detonators.” “Oh, terrific.”

“Just keep it steady.” “Just keep them off us!” Din lobbed one of the thermal detonators back at them. “They’re trying to blow the rhydonium!” “Oh, you think? Damn it, Din, you should’ve left me in the cell where you found me-”

And, right then, Din’s blaster ran out, and you felt one of the pirates go under the vehicle, then another. You stuck your head out the window.

“L/N! Pick it up! Drive faster!”

You glanced at the fuel level.

“I don’t think faster’s a good idea!”

Panicked, you hit the brakes. “What are you doing-”

The sounds of a fight commenced, and you glanced outside to keep an eye on Din while keeping the speed low, and -

Wow. They almost had his helmet off.

Until, thank the Maker, you supposed, the Mandalorian fought them off, and the barge went out in an explosion. You couldn’t help but think about how close you had come.

“Uh-h-h... Mando, I have to stop - I can’t cross at this speed-” Oh, great. More pirates - and TIE fighters.

“Never thought I’d be happy to see stormtroopers,” you muttered, and he glanced over at you. He knew what the Empire had put you through, and he was conscious of what you had to live with.

You steered the vehicle into the bay, dodging crowds of congratulatory stormtroopers when you realized you had left your helmet on the ship. Wouldn’t be a problem, you supposed. No one here would know your face.

“Okay,” you said, calmly, and quietly. “Now... all we have to do is find a terminal - it’s probably in the officer’s mess.”

It indeed was.

“There it is,” you said, nodding to him.

“Good luck.” You turned to go in, and locked eyes with someone - oh, kriff. You spun around, back to Din, secretly wishing you could run back to the ship.

“...I can’t go in there.” “Why not?”

Din Djarin’s famous impatience was showing.

“That’s Valin Hess.” “Who?” “Valin Hess. I used to serve under him.” “Will he recognize you?”

“...I don’t know. I was just a field operative, but I’m not taking the chance.” You looked up at him, feeling ashamed. “It’s over.”

He stopped you.

“Let’s just do this quick, and we can get out of here.”

“I can’t do it, okay? We have to abort - I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

The same word Din had thrown back at you earlier.

He stopped you again.

“No, I can't. If we don’t get those coordinates, I’ll lose our kid forever... give me the data stick.”

“It’s not gonna work,” you confided. “In order to access the network... the terminal has to scan your face.” You swallowed. You felt awful about doing this to him, really. You wanted to be there, you’d do anything for him. But the idea of facing Hess again was too much. And besides, it wasn’t just because of you. If Hess recognized you, Din would be sent to prison too - maybe even executed. You tugged on his sleeve.

“Let’s go, Din.”

“Give it to me.” “What?”

He grabbed it out of your hand, and you stood, stunned, watching as he strolled into the room -

And removed his helmet.

You could only see the back of his head, for now, and you sure as hell weren’t looking away. Not while you had him, truly, for the first time. You wanted to remember this - that is, if the two of you got out of here alive.

“Trooper!” Hess shouted to him. “Hey, trooper!”

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff -

Din looked to him, and now you could see more, but only in profile.

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you. What’s your designation?” You could see Din gulp. “Transport crew,” he said, without his helmet’s voice modulator, and you were sure it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“What?”

“My designation is Transport Copilot.” That voice again.

“No, son. What’s your TK number?” “My TK number... is...” You had to do something. So you ran in, rushing to Din’s side. For the first time ever, you could see how your heights matched up without the armor.

Perfect. As you’d expected.

“This is my Commanding Officer TK-593, sir,” you said quickly, and gave Din a look of reassurance. “I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant TK-111, sir - I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

True story, actually. But Din had miraculously survived without the hearing loss.

“What’s your name, Officer?”

Din looked terrified, and you realized, as you stood there, you could really see him. Square jaw. The stubble, as promised - dark hair, too. But his face, not unmemorable, like he said. Beautiful.

Din Djarin - your Din Djarin - was beautiful. Suddenly, you felt queasy for a whole other reason - not nervousness, but a rush of affection.

And... oh.

His eyes. Soulful, and honest, and-

You realized you’d waited too long, given Din a chance to give his name that he had apparently not taken.

“Uh, we just call him Brown Eyes,” you said, quickly. “Isn’t that right, Officer?”

Quietly, you cursed yourself for the answer - you’d been in the Empire. No one would ever have a nickname like that, it was far too affectionate.

But Din looked at you, all the same, and nodded.

“C’mon, let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils-” “You’re not dismissed.” Din froze. You thought he might have a heart attack, and you really didn’t want to have to drag an unconscious Mandalorian out of an Imperial mess hall.

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?”

“Yes, sir.” “Yes, sir,” Din answered after you, looking to you for affirmation. That voice again. You might be the one to have the heart attack.

“Well, you two managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment,” Hess said, placing an affectionate hand on you. Din stiffened. “Come with me, hm? Let’s get a drink... Brown Eyes.” ...

“So,” said Hess, “What shall we toast to, boys? I can blather on, about ‘to health’ or ‘to success’, but... I’d like to do something a little less rote. Where you from, Brown Eyes?”

“How ‘bout a toast to Operation Cinder,” you tried.

“Now,” said Hess, appreciatively, “There’s a woman who knows her history.”

Din’s deer-in-the-headlights look was now replaced by a fierce one, one that suggested he would be much happier if Hess never mentioned nor spoke to you again, thank you very much.

“No,” you said. “No, I don't just know it - I lived it. I was in Burnin Konn.”

You had friends on Burnin Konn. Friends who may have not been doing the right thing... but who thought they were.

“Burnin Konn?” “Mm.”

“That was a hard day. I had to make many... unpleasant decisions.”

“Yes, you did,” you said, trying to keep contempt from rising up. “Entire city, gone in moments - along with everybody in it. We lost our whole division that day - man, that was like, 5, 10,000 people?”

“Yep. All heroes of the Empire.” “Yeah. And all dead.”

Din was shaking his head at you, and you were sure that if this was any other moment, he would have placed his gloved hand over yours. But this was not any other moment. And you would not be soothed.

“Well, it’s a small sacrifice for the greater good, dear.”

“Depends on who you ask, don't you think?”

“What’re you getting at, trooper?” “All those people... the ones who died, was it good for them? Hm? Their families? The ones I served with? Civilians, those for mud scuffers, died defending their homes, fighting for freedom. Was it good for them?”

“But we’ve outlasted them, dear,” said Hess. “They’re eating themselves alive. The New Republic is in complete disarray... and we grow stronger. You see, with the rhydonium you delivered, we can create havoc... that’s gonna make Burnin Konn just pale by comparison. And then, they’re gonna turn to us once again.”

You hated him.

“You see, kids,” Hess said, addressing you and Din, “Everybody thinks they want freedom, but what they really want... is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms. Ah.”

He lifted his glass, and you chuckled. Din looked scared out of his mind - and you thought, briefly, that he might look like that all the time, and you’d never know.

“To the Empire.” He drank. You fired.

Din shot you a look, and you stared back, defiantly. Stormtroopers approached from all sides, and the both of you sprang into action. Eventually, you killed them, and it was... just the two of you. Him looking at you. Wondering what you’d do, how you’d react -

What came now.

“You did what you had to do,” you said, picking up his helmet, and it was the hardest thing you’d ever done. “I never saw your face.” He looked back at you.

“Y/N...”

“It’s okay,” you said, quietly, despite the fact that absolutely none of it was okay. “It’s okay.”

As the alarm bells began to ring, he lifted the helmet up, as if to put it on, and then threw it aside, sweeping you into a kiss.

“Cya’rika,” he whispered, and you grinned, sliding the helmet over his head.

“C’mon... brown eyes.”

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #din djarin #mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagine #dyn djarren x reader #dyn djarren imagine #pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian masterlist

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shelf-care · 4 years

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Easy Like A Sunrise Caf Mando X Reader

A/N:

When joining the #mandoachallenge I was given the prompt “Morning” So I was struggling a little with the concept for which direction I wanted to go. Should I do a morning after a night of passion? or the morning light of hope after a night of thinking they reader and mando would never see another day. Then, it came to me.

So a little while ago I not only visited Disneyland and got to spend a week in the park and spent most of my time in galaxies edge. I fell in love with the world and ended up making a character for the park’s story.

On top of that, I bought the cook book so I could make food from the park. Theres a recipe for a coffee drink called a sunrise caf. I drink it a little too much if I’m honest.

Anywho, enjoy the fluff!

_______________________________________________________________________

Nothing compares to a morning on the razor crest. If anyone said otherwise they had never spent a night or month, even years around Dyn. At this point in the game, it had been two years since Dyn had taken on two lives to travel with him, the child, and the girl from Batuu. Metallic noises and cracking and creaking of the razor crest traversing hyperspace made Y/N feel right at home, which was odd all things considered since she hadn’t traveled anywhere besides a few places on Batuu. Stowing away on the stranger’s ship was the best choice she’d ever made. Opening her eyes from the pile of blankets in the corner of the hull, the girl from Batuu pulled the covers over herself again, feeling the cold creeping in from the metal interior all around. Closing her eyes again she let her mind wander to her new…

would she even call him a friend? She really had become his onboard mechanic. The sound of the ship’s doors opening from the cabin above made her jump ever so slightly while she nuzzled into the little nest of blankets and pillow she had been given. There was a thud and vibrations of a body landing on the deck of the hull, waking her up fully this time. Polished beskar gleamed in the low light before the Mandalorian raised the lights to illuminate the room. He didn’t say anything while he watched Y/N stretch and sigh while she stumbled up from her sleep, fully dressed in her half jumpsuit and long sleeve grey heather shirt. Her goggles sat on the floor next to her pile of blankets and she stretched again as she bent down to pick up her belongings. There was a comfortable silence between the both of them. The only sound was the occasional bunk and rattle of the ship in hyperdrive. The Mandalorian sat down on an ammunition crate and hoisted his disintegrator which Y/N had nicknamed Dusty. “How’s the kid?” He asked out of the silence as Y/N put the blankets in a corner neatly folded while she slipped on her gloves after and reached for her tool tin. “He’s still asleep. The last skirmish on Nal hutta wore him out.” She opened the tin and found that one of her tools was missing. Looking around she saw that the Mandalorian held it in his grasp. She sighed and gave a slight smirk. “Looks like maintenance is curbed for me until you’re done.” In a small and concentrated response, Mando replied. “Looks like it.” He took the wrench looking tool and loosened a part on dusty. Y/N looked to the kitchen area of the razor crest. It was always empty, but since she had permanently moved onto the ship as a member of its crew, there were a lot of times when Mando was handing in bounties that she would be found in the market with the child, buying caf. Caf was a dark and bitter drink naturally. Expensive too now. The drink kept her going on batuu, where it had been affordable to drink readily. Standing and turning on the microbrewer for the drink she glanced at Mando still cleaning his weapon. “You want some?” she asked as she prepared the bean dust that it had been ground into a moment ago by her hand. She poured water into the machine. He could smell the strong aroma from where he was sitting. Through his helmet and it permeated the area around the hull. “Sure.” The response was short and sweet, though quiet as ever. The man of a few words.

Next Y/N reached for spices which Dyn had for… Who knows why a bounty hunter has spices on his ship. She took siilin, and rodian yellow meg, with whatever sweetener she had on had and put it into two cups filled to the brim with the dark brown liquid. To finish it, she added tuantaun milk, so rich and creamy it turned the drink white. After mixing the drinks she paced slowly over to Mando, careful not to spill it. “Here.” She said gaining his attention as he rose his visor to meet her sight. “Thank you.” He said taking it from her. “Don’t mention it.” She smiled and then turned, she knew by now the ritual of the Mandalorian. When he ate, she had to turn around so he could remove his helmet. She sat down with her back to him as she heard the helmet being placed it next to him as he took his first sip of the steaming beverage. “It’s good.” He complimented. She took a long gulp of her own and a bigger smile made itself present on her lips. “Welcome to a morning on the spire.” Mando hummed. “What’s it called?” Y/N wanted to turn so badly but refused to betray the trust she’d built with Dyn. “A sunrise caf.” She closed her eyes and dreamed of being on the roof of her house, looking out on the town before she started the day. Heavy and muted boots broke her from the memory as the Mandalorian sat next to her, no helmet, and a smile that was the most beautiful she’d ever seen.

#mandoachallenge #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #starwars x reader #starwars #batuu #disneyparks #coffee addict #dyn djarren #din djaren x reader #dyn jarren #dyn jarren xreader

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forever-rogue · 4 years

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Step Into the Daylight - Part 6

Summary: While fighting for your own survival, you somehow ended up in the care of one stoic Mandalorian…and his adopted child. Lately there’s just been one questions consuming your every thought. And Din was about to help you get some answered.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the all love and support on all the parts of this series, it was seriously overwhelming and amazing, and I hope you continue to enjoy this little series. Sorry it’s been such a long wait for this chapter, but I hope you enjoy!Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin x Reader)

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: none

Main Masterlist

Mandalorian Masterlist

SERIES MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Be with me," the only sounds emanating through the lush green forest were the sounds of the gently rustling wind and creatures scurrying through along the soft leave laden floor. That and your quiet words, repeated over and over, barely audible to even your own words, "be with me."

After remaining completely still for some time longer, you groaned before flopping onto your back and staring at the clouds scattered throughout afternoon sky. You'd been out here by yourself for hours, trying to meditate but finding it impossible. Much was on your mind, and no matter how much you tried to clear it, nothing seemed to work.

Only when a few set of quiet beeps met your ears did you open your eyes to find your droid friend staring at you.

"I know," you said and sat up, reaching your and giving the droid's round head an affectionate pat. He beeped a few more times and you shrugged, letting out a long sigh, "I can't seem to focus no matter what I do. Maybe I need a repair just like you did, huh?"

Jumping to your feet, you brushed off stray leaves and dirt from your pants. You decided to head back to your small little homestead and call it a day. You might as well call it a day before getting more annoyed and frustrated; at that rate you'd never meditate properly. Looking at the small droid, you gestured got him to follow. He eagerly did so with a series of excited chirps.

You'd found him shortly after your arrival on the strange, abandoned planet, left to decay and rejoin the earth. Something about him had drawn you to the forgotten droid, a feeling in the force that you couldn't deny. So you'd spent long days, which turned into even longer weeks, preparing him, getting him back into as pristine a condition as possible with the resources you had brought and been able to procure.

As soon as he came back to life, for the first time in several decades, he eagerly thanked you and told you his name, PC-S3, which you sweetly decided should be PC. You'd encountered droids throughout your time as a servant, but you never bonded with one like you did with PC. It was instant and strong, and despite being a droid and speaking in a series of beeps, bloops, and chirps, he always seemed oddly human.

He'd told you all about his previous owner; he'd been a Jedi, forced to him leave him behind when the clones had turned. PC had been excited when he realized who you were, even you constantly reminded him that you were no Jedi, that there were none left, and you were merely trying to hone whatever power you possessed. He didn’t mind though, and had quickly decided that you were his new master, but you had insisted you were his friend and nothing more. PC was your constant and only companion, and you were thankful for him, or else you didn’t know if you could have handled the isolation and loneliness.

After you’d met with Jeele Tarkar, she spent grueling long grueling weeks training you in the basics of working with the force. You’d almost laughed at her when she said it would take a long time for you to grasp anything; you were a natural with most things and a quick learner, surely this type of thing wasn’t going to be that bad, right? But you had been wrong, oh so wrong. You had been pushed, both mentally and physically to your limits, spending long days with Jeele before returning to the Razor Crest, were Din was usually waiting for you, dinner ready for you and the Child, who was always eager to see you.

But you wouldn’t quit, you refused to quit, and you spent each and every day going back and trying to learn as much as possible. Jeele had so many things to each you, so many stories to tell, and despite how much it all wore you out, you experienced an odd sense of comfort. It was a feeling of belonging, a feeling of home, even though you’d never really had that. You hoped that this was how your brother felt all the time, that he got to feel all the love and warmness that you were feeling. If you were getting all of that from one person, you couldn’t even imagine how it much have felt during the golden age of the Jedi. It created a sense of yearning within you, for something you’d never had and something you never would.

Just once you felt like you were getting the hang of the things, that you were starting to feel your connection to the force, Jeele had turned your world upside. That seemed to be happening a lot lately, becoming a common theme in your life. You had your Mandalorian to thank for that. You didn’t know what you’d do without him, and despite your blossoming feelings for him, he was your friend first and foremost, and you didn’t take that for granted.

“What do you mean I need to leave?” you asked, your heart rate soaring and voice climbing an octave as you stared at your mentor, “I-I can’t just leave. Not now-”

“You must,” she insisted firmly, and you were nervous to challenge her. Although she was older, and small in size and stature, she was intimidating, and you didn’t really want to challenge her. You had no doubt that when she was a Jedi Master people revered her and bent to her will, “and you will. It is a rite of passage - every Jedi has completed this training. It is your turn now.”

“How am I to train when there are no Jedi left? What’s the point even?” you groaned slightly and rest your head in your hands. You were reluctant to leave, knowing it would eat your heart up to leave the peaceful planet behind and face whatever you needed to. You had an inking that somehow Din and the Child weren’t involved in this venture.

“You must,” she repeated, signaling that it was not up for discussion, “you will go and you will train and walk the path of the Jedi before you. You will learn and hone your skills.”

“But-”

“No,” she held up her hand and signaled the end of the conversation, “you’re going and that is final. There you will be tested, and you will learn what you need to know.”

“Yes, master,” you bowed your head, the singular question on your mind playing on your lips. You wanted to ask, you desperately did, but you didn’t know how. She started to walk away when you seemed to find your voice, “master-”

“They cannot come with you,” she answered, her voice adopting a soft tone, confirming what you already knew. You nodded and tried to hold back your tears, wishing there was something you could do, or somehow change her mind. But you understood; this was something you needed to do on your own, and on top of that you had always know that Jedi were not allowed to have romantic attachments.

Not that you’d call what you shared with Din romantic. It was a friendship; an odd and unconventional one albeit, but just that, just friends. The Child? He’d become something of an adopted son to you and Din, but neither of you felt the need to be a label on it. It just was.

“I will see you in the morning and we will begin our journey,” she didn’t say anything else before closing to the door to her small hut, the one who you’d spend so much time in lately. It had become a familiar place, a comfortable routine and once again it was going to be ripped away from you. But it was for a good cause, you had to remind yourself. It was for something greater than yourself.

But when you returned to the Crest, you found Din humming under his breath as he moved about the kitchen, chopping ingredients for dinner. It was a sight you never seemed to grow used to, and it always sent a surge of warmth through your bones. That pang you experienced in your heart whenever you saw Din never ebbed, and while you had thought about sharing that with him, you never did. Something always stopped you - the time wasn’t right, not yet anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Din turned around and asked as soon as you had entered the kitchen, tossing your cloak over the back of the chair that you normally occupied. How he had immediately known that was something wrong was beyond you; but then again, his senses were so honed, trained after years to sense any kind of discrepancy and irregularity. You shook your head silently before sliding into the chair with a light thud, reaching over and petting the Child’s soft, fuzzed covered ears, “Y/N?”

“I...” your voice started cracking as soon as the single syllable left your mouth, a stinging forming at the back of your eyes. Oh boy; you had it bad for your little family. Before you’d found them, or rather Din had rescued you, you would have had no problem just leaving and never seeing them again. But now? It was all different, and you really, really, didn’t want to leave them. Not again.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he came over and bent down so he was he met your eye level. Hesitating for just a moment, he reached over and put his hand under your chain and turned your face towards him. You stiffened for a moment at the touch, but quickly melted into it. You knew, despite the helmet, that his eyes were solely focused on you, “what happened?”

“I have to leave,” a single tear ran down your cheek and before you could even brush it away, Din gently wiped it with thumb, ever so gently. You gave him a small, strained smile as he waited for you to go on, “Jeele said I have to.”

“Then you must,” you were surprised that he didn’t follow up with a recitation of his favorite Mandalorian Creed - this is the way. You teased him endlessly over it at times, but it was always in good fun. You knew how much it meant to him; if it was important to him, it was important to you.

“What if I don’t want to?” you asked softly, wondering if you could detect why you were so hesitant to go. You’d walked away from him once before, and it taken a long time to get over it. You highly doubted it would be any easier this time around, “what if I just stay?”

“We both know that’s not an option,” there was a light breathy crackle that emanated from his modulator. He was trying to reassure you that everything would be alright, even though he was reluctant to see you go, once again, “you have to do this.”

“I’ll never even be a proper Jedi,” you pushed back meekly, “there’s no point to all of this formality.”

“Look at all of the work you’ve already put in,” he reminded you gently, trying his best to put a smile back on your face, “you’ve come this far, and you should see it through. Do this the right way.”

“Even-”

“Even if you’re the last one to do so,” he finished for you. Gnawing on your lower lip, you closed your eyes and nodded, trying not to lose it altogether. He wasn’t making it any easier to leave, “it’ll be okay. For however long you need to be gone, you’ll do it. You can do this - you’ve been through so much. This? It’ll be like nothing compared to that. Did Jeele say where you’re going?”

“No,” you put your hand on his wrist, a common thing the two of you did that had turned into a small but intimate gesture, “and she didn’t say where either.”

“How very much like the Jedi,” he mused as the two of you laughed lightly.

“How very much like the Mandalorians,” you quipped as he nodded in response. His people were just as secretive and quiet as the Jedi had been.

A few quiet moments passed, comfortable and peaceful, before he gently rested his forehead against yours, the metal of his helmet cool against your skin. You relished in the tender moment, trying to memorize and capture it forever. Who knew when the next time you would get to do this was? It was a proper Mandalorian kiss; something you’d always known about, something that was sacred to his people. Now it was sacred to you.

Maybe you could tell him now?

But just as you opened your mouth, a scuffling reached your ears, followed by a few small coos. Startled, you pulled back from Din and found the Child sitting on the table and watching you both with wide eyes. He was such a mischievous little thing, growing more bold and daring every day, just like any child would do. You pulled back from Din, and reached to grab the small, robed bundle, clutching him tightly in your arms. He let out a tiny sound of content as he snuggled into your shoulder, almost as if he knew what was going. Kriff, he probably did.

“I’ll miss you,” you told him, giving him a weak smile, “but I promise that I’ll be back. I’ll always come back to you.”

He seemed to nod at your words, as if he knew exactly what you were saying. His little hand moved to the inside of his robe and he slowly pulled out a black cord, on which there was a silver pendant. You’d seen it before, several times, and you instantly recognized it - it belonged to Din, the pendant of the Mythosaur. He grasped it and reached for your own hand, depositing it into your palm when you offered it to him.

“This is yours,” you looked between him and Din, who was watching everything intently, unsure of what to do. Did you give it back to Din? Make the Child keep it? The little one seemed to insist that you keep it, pushing it closer and closer to you with as much force as he could muster. Enclosing your first around it, you moved to hand it back to Din, who held up his hand and shook his head, “but-”

“It’s yours now,” he said softly, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a soft smile on his face, just as you liked it imagine. After all this time, you had created this mental image of him and you wondered how spot on you were. Maybe, just maybe, one day you’d find out, should you ever get that privilege. And if you never did? Well, that was fine too, because you’d still gotten the privilege of knowing him and being his friend.

“I thought...” you trailed off, studying the aged silver, fingers delicately brushing over the intricate design, “this is sacred to your people. Surely, you must want this back.”

“It is,” he agreed, “but family is also sacred. Keep it.”

“Din-”

He didn’t say anything else, instead he took the necklace from your hand, and gestured for you to move forward. You obliged, a small lump forming in your throat as he placed the necklace around your neck and tied the cord tightly to make sure the necklace wouldn’t fall off. When he was done, he gave the pendant a soft touch, and you were almost in tears. You grabbed his hand and give it a firm squeeze as the Child looked happily between the two of you, “thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he insisted, his own voice thick with emotion, “you’re aliit.”

“Aliit?”

“Family,” his voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him, “family.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

PC watched as you stoked the small fire you had built. It was a beautiful day, and you decided to take advantage of it. Despite being the only human inhabitant of the small forest planet, you never felt alone. It was probably due to the fact that you there were creatures all around you and that PC was almost human in his own way. If he were a person you knew you’d get along just as much as you did now. There was also the ever present humming of the force around you; it wasn’t a tangible or audible thing, but you could feel it all around, humming deep within you as well.

Months ago, before all of this had started and you learned to tap into your abilities, you would have never felt all of this. Now, it was like a warm, welcoming embrace. You understood why the Jedi that came before you came here to train and practice.

Despite being here, alone, for nearing six months, you still had moments when you missed your aliit. You wondered if he ever thought of you, or if the Child would remember you. Deep down you knew that they would, but it still scared you that they possibly wouldn’t. Not a day passed when you didn’t think of them. Initially, when Jeele had taken you to this lonely place, you figured she would stay with you, but to your surprise she’d left too.

“What?!” you almost shouted, your voice carrying throughout the expanse of trees and causing some of the birds to flutter away. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you slowly realized what this meant. You’d be alone, utterly by yourself, just like you had been when you were hiding out and moving from place to place. You used to savor the freedom of being alone and getting to do whatever you wanted, but no? It seemed more like a prison sentence than anything else, “y-you can’t leave...”

“I must,” Jeele had insisted that soft, commanding tone. You shook your head at her, holding onto the vain hope that you would convince her to stay. But she’d clearly made up her mind already, “this is the way for you to learn. We all must go through this process.”

“How am I to learn if there is no one here to teach me?” you reached for her arm as the diminutive woman started heading back to the small ship she had procured to bring you here. She stopped and gave you a small, knowing smile. Just when you thought you were getting to know her, to know that what she was all about, she surprised you.

“You do not need me here,” she promised, reaching into the small satchel at her side. She dug around it and after a few tense moments, slowly pulled out a long cylindrical piece of metal. She grabbed one of your hands and placed the cool, heavy object into it, silent as she watched you examine it. It was clearly loved and had intricate details carved it into, “this belonged to me once. For now, it is yours. Until you are ready.”

“Ready?” you asked as studied the object.

“It’s a lightsaber,” she explained as your eyes light up. You’d never seen one in person before, only having heard of them, and knew that your brother had gotten to wield one at some point, “the weapon of choice of the Jedi. It is a right of passage to build your own. I built this one many years ago, when I was barely a child. It has served me well over the years. Now it will serve you. Until you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” you asked as you firmly grasped it, giving it a few test swings. Whatever you did caused it ignite, and a long beam of pale orange light emitted from the hilt. It buzzed and hummed magnificently after all these years, and you stared at it in wonder. It was beautiful and enchanting.

“Until you’re ready,” she repeated, and you sighed lightly. Part of you was getting annoyed with all the mystery that shrouded her words, but you weren’t going to question her anymore. She wouldn’t betray you, or do anything to harm you, you knew that.

“How long will I be here?” you asked, trailing after, taking care not to hit yourself with the saber, “how will I know when I’m ready?”

“You’ll know,” she promised, giving you a sly smile which didn’t reassure you in the slightest, “our paths will cross again, young one. When the time is right and you are ready.”

You watched her go, disappearing into the ship without so much as another word or look. You disengaged the saber, and it suddenly felt like a huge weight in your hand. A few silent tears had streamed down your face as you came to the conclusion that once again, you were alone, very, very alone in the vast expanse of the galaxy.

But you’d quickly come around and decided that instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you’d try and learn as much as you could. If those that came before you could do it, so could you. You could do this, it seemed like the hum of the force on the planet was telling you the same thing. You would be okay.

It wasn’t long before you found the old ruins of the left over temple and found PC. After that things just seemed to...fall into place. It was as if everything was alive and interacting with you, and sure enough, Jeele had been right. You were learning from the planet, and the force that surrounded you. It all came naturally, and it was as if the spirits of all the other Jedi were all around you, guiding you, showing you the way. The planet quickly became home, and you enjoyed your stay, even though the yearning in your heart was ever present.

PC beeped at you before gently nudging your foot. You looked down at him and smiled; you’d been so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed you’d just been staring into the fire, fingers wrapped tightly around the Mythosaur pendant around your neck. You’d never taken it off since Din had put it on for you.

“I know,” you told him, stretching out your legs, followed by a long, soft sigh, “my friend gave this to me, before I came here. I think you’d like him. I think he’d like you. Maybe one day you can meet him.”

He beeped and you nodded in agreement, “I don’t know when that day will be. Maybe I’ll never be ready...maybe it’ll just be you and I here together.”

A few more high pitched and rapid chirps met your ears, causing you to laugh as you got down and hugged him, “no. I’m never leaving you, don’t worry. We’ll get out of here, together, one day. I promise.”

But just before he could make any sort of sassy remark, as he was keen to doing, a crunch of sticks and leaves met yours ears. It was quiet, almost silent even, but you didn’t miss a single thing these days. And it wasn’t an animal or creature that inhabited the forest; no, you’d grown accustomed to all of those sounds. You exchanged a nervous look with PC before automatically reaching to your side and grabbing the saber that had become yours.

Standing up to your full height, you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat as you starting walked towards the sound. PC took the liberty of attempting to defend you, rolling out in front of you and beeping loudly.

“PC!” you shouted as you tried to keep up with him, finding that he moved quite quickly, faster than your legs carried you. It was quiet for a few moments as you listened for him, but your search was interrupted when you heard a few blaster shots in the dark forest. Your heart thumped wildly as you realized you were no longer alone, “kriff!I”

You followed the sound of the blasts and quickly came into the clearing where you spotted PC tried his best to get the intruder, “leave him alone!”

Sprinting to shield the little droid from the attacker, you lit up the saber and helped it out in front of you to deflect any further shots, “if you want to mess with him, you go through me first!”

There was a momentary pause while you waited for a response, the saber still humming as you kept it at the ready. PC beeped a few times before a modulated voice quietly asked, “Y/N?”

You knew you that voice. You dreamed of that voice. There wasn’t a single that you didn’t think of its owner. You held up the saber to cast its glow as a flashlight, trying to study the intruder. Your heart nearly dropped into your stomach when you realized it was, “Din?”

You dropped the saber in excitement, letting it thud next to PC who quickly scooped it up for you. It took only a few seconds before you had crossed the clearing and nearly tackled Din, surprising him with the manifestation of excitement. He dropped this blaster as he picked you up, wrapping his arms tightly around you as you tried to remember how to breathe. Surely this had to be a dream? He couldn’t be here, he couldn’t have found you in this isolated wilderness, right?

“It’s really you,” you asked as he set you down, and put your hands on his armor, checking to make sure it was real and he was there. PC rolled against you leg as he looked at you and held up the saber. Grabbing it, you slipped it into your belt loop, thanking him, “wait - were you going to shoot my droid?”

“Since when do you have a droid?” he asked quizzically as he gave your companion a hesitant glance. It was weird - you’d never seen him act like that around anything or anyone before.

“Since I’ve been here,” you explained, giving PC a pat, “I rebuilt him. He was left behind here, but he’s been my friend. You can’t just go around shoot at him all willy nilly!”

“No droids,” he slowly, tensing up as PC rolled closer to him, “I don’t like droids.”

“Oh?” you didn’t think anything managed to scare him...but droids apparently did, “is there a reason?”

“That’s for another time,” he promised quietly, “but he’s...does he like me?”

PC beeped a few times as he looked between the two of you. You nodded at him, “yes, PC, this is him. I know...but he’s a good friend. No, he’s family, just like you. Aliit.”

“H-he knows about me?” Din asked softly as you nodded, and as you did, his eyes fell on the pendant still around your neck. His heart, and cheeks, warmed when he realized you’d never taken if off.

“Of course,” you answered, “he knows all about you. I promised him that he’s get to meet you one day and that he’d like you. And, no offense to you PC, there hasn’t exactly been anyone else around to talk to.”

“I’ve missed you,” he said suddenly, unable to hold the words back any longer. He had missed you, desperately. The way that your nose crinkled when you laughed, the way your hair smelled, the sound of your voice, everything.

“I’ve missed you too,” you admitted, biting on your bottom lip, “I didn’t know when I’d see you again. But I knew I would, I knew we’d meet again.”

“We always will,” he promised. He hesitated for just a moment before pulling one of his gloves off and holding up his hand toward you, his palm facing you. You held back the tears as you held up your hand to his, palms touching softly. You marveled at how much bigger his hand was, but more so at the warmth that spread throughout you. It was a sign of intimacy, and reverence.

“How...how did you find me?” you asked softly, brushing your fingertips along his.

“Jeele,” he said as he watched your hands in amazement, “she said you-”

“Are ready,” the sound of her voice startled you and you pulled away from Din, snapping your head in her direction. She looked the same as ever as she strode over to you. She watched you for a moment before reaching for the saber at your side and taking back into her hands, “you’ve done well, young one.”

“I’m ready?” you repeated and she nodded in response. Back to the mystery of it all, “just what exactly am I ready for? I’ve been here for months on my own, learning, and training, and trying to learn as much as I can. You just abandoned me here-”

“But you learned.”

“What?”

“You’ve learned,” she reiterated, “you’ve studied the ways of the ones before. This wasn’t all for nothing.”

“I don’t...”

“It’s time for the next part of your journey,” she started heading towards the small homestead at which you had made your home, not bothering to ask or wait for you and Din to follow. Of course, she probably knew everything that had happened to you in the months since you had been alone. She probably felt it through the force.

You followed after her, Din and PC at your heels, “wait! What’s the next part? What do I have to do now?”

“You’re going to Ilum.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #dyn djarren #dyn djarren x reader #reader insert #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #step into the daylight series

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mxndoscyarika · 4 years

Note

11. “I crave your affection, but I crave your silence even more– shut up.”

Author’s note: Sorry this took so long! I’ve been having a bit of trouble writing longer works lately, but I really like this prompt (it reminds me of me and my boyo)! So here’s a short little drabble while I get back into writing again :) Hope you like it! And feel free to send in any other requests you have.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

It was late, not that it mattered much in hyperspace. The only reason y/n knew it was getting late was because they were getting sleepy. The child had drifted off a few minutes after they jumped into hyperspace, leaving y/n and Mando to their own devices.

It was peaceful in hyperspace. No one chasing after them (normally), peace and quiet, the child’s naptime. Especially after tracking down quarries, it was a perfect opportunity to relax. Din could just put the ship on autopilot and res-

“You’re so pretty in the light,” y/n mused, breaking the silence. Draped across the co-pilot chair, y/n stared intently at the streaks of light reflecting off of Din’s beskar armor.

The only sign that he’d heard y/n speak was the slight turn of his helmet.

“N-not that you’re not pretty in other lighting,” y/n added, remembering how shiny his armor was back on Sorgan. “You’re very pretty. With armor, without armor... they’re just different kinds of pretty, you know? Though I guess you’re more handsome than pretty....Or are you just hot...? How about all of the above? You’re—what do those earthlings call it?—a tall glass of-”

“Y/n, it’s been a long day,” Din interrupted, the hint of a smile present in his voice. “I crave your affection, but I crave your silence even more—shut up.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” y/n mumbled, shifting to sit more comfortably. Perhaps it was time to go to bed....

“What was that?” the mandalorian asked, swiveling around in his chair. Oh, y/n was in trouble now.

“Nothing.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #dyn djarren #star wars #mando #my writing

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writers-blogck · 4 years

Text

Opposites [ The Mandalorian x Reader ] 05

A few weeks had passed by since you started this journey with the Mandalorian. The Child had quickly formed an attachment to you, which wasn't shocking. Mando was fine at taking care of him but he didn't show as much affection as a kid that age craves. This was his first time having to take care of a child, at least you assumed. Everyone had to start somewhere and he seemed to have done a well enough job before you joined. He kept the kid alive and happy which was more than a lot of parents you had seen. It was endearing to see how hard he was trying, he knew he wasn't the best caretaker. You could see his shoulders lose the tension in them when you took the kid when he was crying, able to immediately calm him back down.

At the moment, nothing was calm or endearing. The ship shot through the air like a bullet, a smaller yet still dangerous ship on your tail. Mando was up in the cockpit with the Child while you were in the body of the ship, rushing around to repair on the go. There still was only so much you could do while the ship was in flight. There were repairs that would have been dealt with when the ship was docked somewhere. You couldn't give a full feedback report on the status of the ship without looking outside. At the moment, you were making sure the blasters still were in working condition. One of the ships had torn some of the wires but as long as you hold the two ends together, it was enough to work.

"Mando, what's taking so long up there? I can only do this for so long!" You shouted, back against the cold floor of the ship, torso through a panel so you were able to reach the wires. Your helmet was strapped tight to your head, keeping your face as protected as possible. It was uncomfortable and you only wore it when working inside of the ship. You learned that the hard way when working on one of the ships in the graveyard. It jerked and you ended up hitting your head on one of the iron pipes, knocking you out for fifteen minutes.

"I'm working on it! Hang onto something!" That didn't sound good for you.

The ship came to an abrupt stop, your body hitting the side of the panel. Your ribs would be bruised but it was better than dying in a ship explosion. This was why you needed to wear a helmet! The lights went out for a few moments before the red emergency lights came on. This couldn't be good. You pushed yourself out of the nook you were working in, moving back up to the cockpit to figure out what was going on.

"Guess Mandalorians aren't the best pilots, huh?" You joked, sitting down in the copilot seat that you had claimed as your own. Mando would sit in the pilot's, you would sit in the copilot's, and the Child would be in his makeshift crib behind the two of you. A routine was forming for the three of you, Mando no longer seeming as scary as he was before.

"You want to try your hand at steering this thing? I got us out of their alive and that's all that matters."

"The ship isn't going to be alive for long if we don't get some repairs." You leaned back, eyes trained on his figure.

"I know. We're landing on this planet for a pitstop."

...

Peli was strange, that was for sure, but you looked up to her. She treated you almost like an apprentice since Mando didn't want any of her bots working on his ship. When you brought up your own experience, Peli was more than happy to have the assistance. Out of the two of you, she was the more experienced but you were eager to learn anything new. What you lacked in skill, you made up for in enthusiasm. That was more than could be said about most people. No one was willing to learn how to do things by hand anymore, they just relied on technology to make even more technology. Didn't they want a special touch in things?

"Peli, this goes under the wing, right?" You called out from your position under the ship, just your head peeking out at the woman. She saw your face covered in oil and grease yet you wore it just like a debutante would wear glamour makeup. If you weren't part of that man's crew already, she would offer you a job here with her.

"Yeah, you got it! You gonna run me out of business if you keep learning this fast. That Mandalorian ain't paying you enough hun!"

"He isn't paying me anything." You joked as you crawled back into the small area that you were working on. It was good that you weren't afraid of small spaces or else you wouldn't be able o do internal repairs such as this.

"That's even worse then!"

Comparing you to Mando was like seeing night and day. Peli saw the Mandalorian as some gruff man who was all work and no play while you were more likely to take the lighter side of a situation, even if that meant that the job took a bit longer. Mando was able to keep you focused if you truly began to get distracted and you were able to make sure there was some joy in his life. He may not say anything but Peli was smart enough to see past his mask. The chiding and the sighing weren't as threatening as he wanted people to believe, not with you anyway. She couldn't say what it was but he didn't hate you like he wanted people to think. He was trying to put distance between the two of you, he didn't want to get close. The older woman kept her mouth quiet, knowing that it wasn't her place to bring it up to you. You would learn in time, as long as you weren't as oblivious as Mando made you out to be. He made it sound like you were a helpless crewmate that he had to protect just as much as the child. As you worked with Peli, she was able to see the truth of who you were. You were hard working and weren't afraid to stand up to the intimidating man you called a pilot.

From the looks of it, he liked that. Peli couldn't help but wonder what else the man liked about you. Perhaps there was something more developing within him than just respect. Even if anything did form, would the Mandalorian be strong enough to accept his feelings? How long had it been since he had a friend? Did he ever have one? What happened to make him so withdrawn from forming any attachment?

...

When the Mandalorian got back from the strange job, he was greeted with a sight he was afraid of. Peli and her robots were up in her glass room, blaster in hand. She wanted to help but she knew well enough that she would only end up making it worse. As he approached his ship, Toro walked out with a gun pressed to your head and the Child wrapped in your arms. It made his stomach drop and his pulse quicken though he made sure to keep those feelings hidden.

"Now, I'm sure you know why this is happening, don't you Mando?" His voice dripped with pride, obviously believing he was the smartest man in the whole star system. Your mind tuned out of the conversation enough to allow you to think of a plan. While in the ship, you had thought over some options but there was nothing you could know for sure until Mando got here.

Though just a glimpse, you saw a flashbang stuffed into the man's jacket pocket. You had never used one before but you knew enough about them to know how they worked. That would be enough of a distraction for you to get yourself and The Child out of harm's way. The man would loosen his grip and you could get out of his hold. The only issue would be what would happen afterward. You would have enough time to get to a safe place but Mando would be just as taken aback as Toro. With a knot in your stomach, you hoped he would live up to his expectations.

"You know," You spoke up, drawing the attention of both men to your voice allowing you to pickpocket the flashbang, "It doesn't seem very bounty hunter like to have to take a hostage. It seems kinda like you can't do your job by yourself so you have to resort to threatening people, including a baby. Bet the ladies love that."

"Shut up bitch!" He shoved you in the shoulder with the butt of the blaster while still having a loose hand around your waist. You could see the twitch of Mando's hand, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. There was a dull pain radiating from your shoulder blade but it was worth it to allow you to get the item without notice. Now palming the small machine, you just had to wait for the right moment. It had to be far enough away so as not to hit you or the baby but close enough not to hit Mando.

The man focused on Mando again, going on some speech about joining the bounty guild. With both arms wrapped around the baby, you would be able to shoot forward into the dirt. If you were ready for the blast, you could get out of the way even with the blinding light. Mando was staring in your direction, though you couldn't tell what had his focus. Was he staring at Toro or was he watching you? Was he worried or was he just trying to kill this man like any other threat to him? It was hard to tell with his helmet. With the few weeks you had spent with him, you were learning to translate his body language. He wasn't very good at concealing his feelings through his movements. He was lucky his face was hidden or else everyone would be able to read him like an open.

You stared directly at him, waiting a long enough time until you were certain he had to be paying attention to you. You could at least hope. While still holding the flashbang with two fingers, you showed him what was in your hand. It was the most you could do to prepare him before using it. Sending a prayer to any deity of Luck that was listening, you aimed at the ground and pressed the button.

There was no time to prepare or even notice before the burst of light exploded. With all the force you could muster, you pulled away and tumbled off of the loading dock ramp. A blaster shot rang out as you landed on your knee, pushing yourself behind one of the many wooden crates. Dust and smoke began to fill the air as the light faded away, the outcome of the fight unknown to you. A gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder, causing you to quickly spin around. A throbbing pain radiated from your knee, had you hit it that hard?

"Hey, it's alright, you're fine. That fighter of yours took care of that guy." Peli leaned down, taking the Child from your arms, "Now that must have been loud for those big ears of yours, huh? Yeah, I bet it was."

As Peli walked away, another more hulking figure came to stand in front of you. All you could do was smile sheepishly, knowing that whatever was coming was going to be a scolding. You could have done it perfectly but the Mandalorian would still find something wrong with it. He was such a narcissist, thinking he could do everything the best. He didn't need the help of others. Yet here you were and you had made it your goal to prove to him that companionship wasn't always a nuisance.

"Do you realize how dangerous that was?" He asked, hands resting on his hips as he looked you over.

"Why aren't you getting up?"

"I think I may have hurt my knee when I fell but I'll be fine. I just need to rest it for a second and then I'll be as good as new."

A loud sigh escaped his helmet, quiet enough to keep from going through his modulator. As you were just about to go on this long speak of how you were alright, you were instead silenced when two strong arms lifted you in a bridal style carry. Your arms reactively wrapped around his neck, eyes widening at the new height and loss of control. You had never been picked up like this before. When anyone tried to pick you up at your home ended up with a black eye or bloody nose. This felt different. Where others picked you up to joke around and tease you, Mando didn't seem the type to follow that pattern. A quick flutter filled your chest but you pushed it to the side. You couldn't focus on that, not now.

"Well, it seems like I'm interrupting something," Peli joked as Mando carried you back towards the ship. He only gave her a silent stare in response, prompting her to give the child over to you. He could be intimidating at times but he seemed to have two types of intimidation. There was the one no-nonsense type which he gave to those he had a semblance of trust in and then there was the type he gave his enemies. Today had been the first day you had ever seen the second type in action.

The Child cooed for your attention, wanting to play. How was he able to be so calm after something so chaotic occurred? That would be a gift for him in the future. With the amount of trouble that had followed him already, there would only be more as he grew. Being adaptable would be his only chance at happiness in this life. You knew that all too well.

Once Mando paid Peli what she was due and then some, he moved back onto the ship with the tiny crew he had acquired in his arms.

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kenobiandbarnes · 4 years

Text

What Once Was Lost (The Mandalorian)

Part 1

A/n: This is my first fic in tumblr and I’m so excited to share it with you guys. This will take place during the mandala rain and have flashbacks to the clone ward and early empire. I hope you enjoy!! -Gen

Vaka Aerith never expected to be drawn back into a life of war and bounties. She had planned to live out the rest of her days on Sorgan but when a certain Mandalorian comes to town, that all changes.

Din Djaren x OC

Warnings: Slight Cursing

It has been a long time since the fall of the Republic, of the Jedi order. Vaka Aerith sometimes misses the war. Even though she knows both sides were heavily corrupt. That was really the only life she knew.

It had been a few days since the attack on the farming village Vaka and Kix had been staying at and some farmers went to get reinforcements for a neighboring port. Not many people knew of their pasts and they want to keep it that way. She was afraid of who would find them and wanted to keep a low profile. She was in the barn setting up for the bounty hunter that would be arriving when she felt a presence. It was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Another force sensitive and a very powerful one at that. She quickly got up and left when she heard children yelling that they had arrived. When she got to the cart she stayed behind everyone else. Concealed by the shadows just like her partner who stood next to her.

The first thing she noticed was the Beskar armor the Mandalorian wore. Beskar was something neither of them had seen in a long time and she was intrigued by him. Her eyes soon focused on the small green creature That popped up over the side of the cart.

“This can’t be real.” Vaka spoke quietly, eyes still trained on the small creature.

“You’re seeing a tiny master Yoda too?” Kix questioned in the same state of shock as his friend. Vaka nodded and subconsciously moved closer toward it. This did not go unnoticed by the Mandalorian. When she got close enough to touch the baby, she felt a gloved hand wrap around her upper arm. Her reflexes take hold and she quickly takes her attacker to the ground and pulls around a vibroblade. She shapes out of her state when she hears Kix yelling from behind her. She realizes she has the Bounty Hunter pinned to the ground with a blade to his neck and scrambles off of his body. Vaka peers through the mask and can feel the man staring back at her in shock. Vaka is soon pulled off the ground by Kix and they both walk back towards their shared hut.

“What were you thinking!” Kix yelled once they were in the confines of the hut. “He’s a Bounty Hunter! He could have a fob on one of us.” Kix continued to yell but it fell on deaf ears as Vaka was too busy thinking about the creature to hear any of what he was ranting about.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kix knelled down to Vaka level once he noticed the far away look in her eyes. He sighed and went to sit next to her, wrapping his strong muscular arms around her in the process.

“I just don’t want you to be taken away from me. You are the only person I have and I can’t lose you.” He whispered to her as he held on to her tight.

“I don’t want to lose you either. I just don’t know what to think. The child’s force signature is so strong it clouded my mind. I’m sorry.” Vaka turned towards Kix and held onto him just as tight. They stayed like that for a long time. Enjoying each other’s company.

“I think it would be best for you to apologize to the Hunter.” Kix broke the silence and let his arms fall to his sides, removing the blanket of warmth and safety that Vaka knew all too well.

“You’re right.” Vaka reluctantly got off of her bed and went to the barn that she has set up for the newcomers to sleep in.

As Vaka neared the small building she heard the hunter talking to someone. She hid just out of sight.

“I stacked some blankets over there for you.” Vaka recognized the voice of Omera wafting through the thin walls of the structure.

“That was very kind of you. Who was that girl from earlier? The Mirialan.” Mando asked, intrigued by the young woman who came from a species he had never seen before.

“Oh that was Vaka. She came to us a few years back. She is very kind, I think you just startled her.” Omera started walking out of the barn. Once she was out of sight, Vaka took her opportunity to enter the new home of the bounty hunter. When she entered the Mandalorian quickly pulled a blaster out. Vaka raised her hands in mock surrender. Once he recognized the figure, he slowly lowered the blaster to his side. The pair stood in silence for a minute before Vaka spoke up.

“I’m sorry for my reaction earlier. I don’t like being touched that much.” Vaka mumbled quietly. Her face began to heat up from the embarrassment and she began to leave when a voice stopped her.

“The woman said you came here a few years ago. What were you before that?” He questioned the retreating figure.

“What do you mean?” Mando looked at the woman as her voice faltered and her jaw clenched. No one had asked about her past for a long time.

“Well you obviously aren’t a farmer. You carry yourself like a soldier.” He said moving closer to her. He was intrigued by this girl who looked no more than mid twenties but carried herself like someone who had seen too much. An emotion passed through her eyes that did not go unnoticed by the man.

“I don’t know you well enough to answer that question.” Vaka was angry at the new found question and hurried to leave the barn passing the child on the way out. He held his hand out to grab her pant leg but she was gone before he could do so. Vaka went back to her hut and didn’t come out until Omera came in to break the silence. When she walked in she noticed the seemingly young woman in a deep meditation.

“I told them you would go with them to scout the area.” Vaka was snapped out of her concentration by Omera.

“You did what! I can’t be involved with them.” Vaka walked over to Omera. “What if they figure out who I am. What I am.” The last part of her statement came out in a faint whisper. Almost too quiet for Omera to hear.

“It will be good for you. You could get off of this planet. See the galaxy.” Omera placed a hand on Vaka’s shoulder and gave a small smile. “Come on. Do this for me. They seem okay.” Vaka glanced through the open door of the small room.

Vaka sighed “Okay, I’ll do it.” She quickly picked up the DC-15A laying by her side, sling the tired and full looking sling around her broad shoulders and marched out of the hut with an aura of determination about her.

—————————————————————��————

“I swear i’ve seen that girl before. I just can’t put my finger on it.” Cara Dune was standing with the Bounty Hunter in the outskirts of the farm waiting for their third companion to arrive.

Mando turned at the sound of the woman speaking. “Maybe she’s a rebel?” He turned away once hearing the rustling of branches. The young Mirialan woman in question was approaching from the building they assumed was her home. Vaka paused her walking once hearing her partner calling her name.

“Vaka, be careful with them. The shock trooper seemed like she recognized you.” Kix looked at the woman, eyes widened in fear. He couldn’t lose anyone else, both of them had already lost so much. All they had was each other at the end of the day.

“I’ll be fine Kix. you’re going to have to learn to trust my judgement eventually.” Vaka smiled and rested her hand on the taller man's shoulder and smiled a faint smile that seemed to relax the old soldier's worries. Kix watches a small smile on his face, as Vaka retreats to the outskirts of the village to meet the awaiting pair of outsides. They reminded her of herself and Kix when they arrived on Sorgun.

The Mandalorian already had his eyes trained on the woman when she finally joined the group. “So, shall we begin?” Vaka paused and waited for a response that never came. “I’m Vaka Aerith.” She tried to make conversation with the two skeptics.

She sighed, “Well if you’re not going to talk, I suggest we get going. We should get this done before nightfall.” Vaka stated, walking deeper into the dense, green forest to find the attackers. Man do and Cara shared a look before swiftly following after her.

As the trio made their way through the forest, they caught sight of some tracks and began to follow. It had been quiet for the majority of the journey.

Cara was the first to speak. “What can you tell us about the fighters?” Cara directed her question to Vaka. The woman in question was looking around the forest, searching for anything that may be of interest.

“They’re strong in numbers, but their tactics are primal. They rush in, kill whoever is in their way, get what they want and leave. Standard raiding situation.” Vaka's mouth spouted out before her mind could stop her. Her eyes widened as she slowly shifted her gaze to her companions. They looked shocked at the well rounded description of the raiders.

What exactly were you before you made your way out here?” Cara questioned the girl with a look of curiosity.

“I was a protector of sorts I guess you could say.” Vaka mumbled the answer and let fear gaze fall to the forest floor. As she gazed, she noticed the large indentation on the ground. Recognition took the place of embarrassment and concern on Vaka’s deep green skin, blue eyes looking up at Mando who has shifted in front of her in response of the question Cara asked not moments before.

“Holy Shit! Walker tracks.” Vaka exclaimed at the group, pointing down towards the tracks deep within the soil. Mando and Cara’s eyes both widened and looked at each other. They both turned to the woman who had pointed the tracks out to them.

“Did you know about this?” They both asked, shifting closer to her.

“Do I look like I knew about this. They must be trying to wipe out the whole farm.” Anger flashed in her steely blue eyes and began to march back to the village.

“Hey, where are you going!” Cara began to chase after the woman, Mando following closely behind.

“I’m leaving!” Vaka huffed starting to pick up speed. “I can’t stay here with that thing not klicks from me!” Tears started to form, her eyes got darker as a memory entered her brain. She stopped dead in her tracks and dropped to the ground. When Mando and Cara caught up to her, she was breathing heavily. Mando crouched down to her level and saw silent tears running down her face, a long off look in her eyes.

Vaka Aerith and a ginger boy a few years younger than her were on an imperial platform. The sound of blaster fire and screaming filled the air as they finished dispensing the last wave of stormtroopers. Suddenly a At-St walker dropped from an incoming imperial ship. Vaka ignited her lightsaber and so did the ginger boy to her right.

“We can do this Cal. We can’t give up!” She yelled over the deafening noise of the raging battle. The walker began shooting at the pair and the two darted to opposite sides of the platform.

“Hey kid. You have to wake up. We need to go.” The deep modulated voice of the Mandalorian brought her out of the nightmare. Vaka gasped as she sat up and began to recognize the world around her. She brought her hand to rest on the one that Mando had placed on her shoulder to try and shake her awake. Vaka looked into the visor of the Mandalorian helmet, the remnants of tears still evident on her face. This was the first time Mando got a good look at the Mirialan girl and noticed the beauty that she held. Even through the tears, he could see the beauty of her blue eyes, dulled by horrors he couldn’t think of.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve been through but I need you to get up and follow me back to the farm.” Mando spoke softly and slowly, as if he was talking to a child. Vaka looks past him to something in the distance. When Mando turned to look at whatever she was seeing but saw nothing.

“Yeah, alright.” The soft murmur manifested itself inside of Vaka and made its way out of her throat. She slowly got up off of the ground not taking her eyes off of the glowing figure of a large humanoid man, draped in light robes. He reaches out his hand but as soon as Vaka goes to reach for him, his figure dissipates. She lets out a small whimper and ducks her head low and her outstretched hand returns to its place at her side.

“Let’s go.” Vaka squeaked out as she began to walk slowly the rest of the way back to the farm. Mando and Cara shared a curious and sad gaze with each other and followed her back to the village.

——————————————————————————

“Bad news, you can’t live here anymore.” Mando calmly told the gathered farmers. Uproar began to sprout from their lips and anger in their voices. Vaka listens from inside her home.

“Vaka, what happened out there?” Kix emerged to greet the girl in a panic.

“They have a walker. We can’t deal with something like that so we’re leaving.” Vaka frantically shoved things into an old republic backpack she had saved from the war. Her hand stopped as they grazed the top of the familiar cool metal.

“You’re a Jedi Vaka, there was once a time when you could take out a whole battalion of droids by yourself.” Kix spoke softly to his friend. Vaka shut her eyes and grasped her lightsaber, inner turmoil evident on her face.

“Fine, we’ll stay and fight, but if I die, it's on you.” She walked past him to the courtyard where the Mandalorian was speaking. “If we train them, we might stand a chance.” All eyes turned to her. “I’ve done it before.” Vaka looked straight at Mando begging him to say something.

“I agree with the girl.” The Mandalorian declared eyes trained on hers.

“Let’s get to work then.” Thus began the long process of training the farmers.

——————————————————————————

It had been a few weeks since they found out about the AT-ST and the farmers were coming along nicely. Mando had been training some of the farmers in blaster handling with Kix while Cara and Vaka had been handling melee training.

“Do you think they’re ready?” Vaka asked the bounty Hunter as they looked out among the trainees.

“As ready as they'll ever be. We’re heading out tonight, do you want to come with us?” Mando asked the woman he had grown close to over the past weeks.

“I’ll stay here, wait for you and Cara to come to me.” Vaka smiled at him, patted his armored chest plate and went to go and see the child. She had been spending a lot of time with the young one and had grown close to him. She had even been teaching him some force tricks. She was trying to get a handle on his abilities before they got out of hand and hurt someone.

Night had fallen on the small village and they were all gearing for a fight. Vaka would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t worried. She was scared because she knew that if this went south, she may have to use her other method of disposal. She would have to leave the planet if that happened and they couldn’t afford to have other people know what she was.

“It’s coming!” Vaka shouted over the noise of the battle to everyone.”Get Ready!” She made her way closer to the walls as Cara and Mando came bursting out of the forest, the repurposed AT-ST walker hot on their tails. Cara and Mando ducked behind the barricade that Vaka and Kix were behind. They all waited for the walker to step into the pool, but it never did. Vaka began to panic as the walker stopped inches before it would’ve hit the pond. The walker turned on it’s floodlights. It was searching for targets. The people in the front ducked down but it began firing at the ones who had not heard the order in the rear. The raiders shot out of the forest in enormous strength. the battle had begun.

Open Fire!” Vaka yelled from behind the barricade. Shots began to ring out from both sides of the battle. Vaka had a large grin plastered on her face as she too bagan to fire on the raiders. She had forgotten how much she loved battle. The rush of adrenaline that surged through her with each shot. One, Two, Three, Four raiders down.

“We gotta get that thing to step forward.” Mando directed the statement to Vaka and Cara.

“I know what to do.” Vaka looked to Kix, “Manuver 246, like the seppie tanks from back in the day.” She smiled a sad smile at him

“We can’t.” Kix took her by the shoulders. “You know what will happen if we do. We’ll find another way.” Vaka looked towards the man she had known for such a long time.

“You know there is no other way.” She took his hand off of her shoulder and turned to Mando. “You got a grenade on you?” she asked, pointing at his belt.

“Yeah, I got one.” He unclipped the grenade and handed it to the woman. Vaka grasped the grenade and looked to Kix who was pulling something out of the backpack he was wearing. His hand emerged with a shining cylindrical object and put it out for Vaka to take. She hesitated but took the object.

“I need you three to draw it’s fire.” She sounded sad as she ignited a strange object. It was a glowing white blade that emerged from the hilt. A lightsaber. With one final nod towards the group she stood to her full height and began screaming at the walker.

“Hey, hey! Over here you tin can!” Vaka shouted standing from behind the barricade. Kix did the same and began running full speed towards the walker. Vaka reached her hand out and halted the walker. She sent more force to the beast and brought it to the ground. Kix got on top of the walker, opened the hatch and threw the grenade inside. He jumped off of the walker and was caught by an invisible force. Vaka had caught him and was now pulling him towards her.

The walker exploded when Kix finally reached the group and Vaka let go of the walker and Kix. She fell to her knees as the rest of the group took care of the remaining raiders. Mando took Vaka into his arms before she could hit the ground.

“How did you do that?” He asked, surprise evident in his voice. Vaka peered up at him through her dark lashes.

“Why don't you ask me another time? I think I need a nap.” Her voice began to fade as she fell into a deep slumber.

——————————————————————————

Mando and Cara were resting outside of the barn they had been staying in. It had been a few weeks since the battle and things had calmed down. Mando had his eyes trained on Vaka who was playing with the children, amazing them with her use of the force. She had told both of them that she was a jedi that was being hunted down by the empire. She joined the rebellion and met Kix there and they had been together at the battle of Endor. Ever since then, they had been together.

“So what happens if you take that thing off?” Cara asked Mando, a knowing smirk on her face. She had seen the way Mando’s eyes always seemed to find Vaka. “Do they come after you and kill you?” She sipped her spotchka and looked towards Mando who had moved his attention from the girl to Cara.

No, you just can’t ever outit back on again.” Mando spoke solemnly. In the months he had been on Sorgun, he had thought about taking off the helmet. Settling down with the girl who had stolen his heart. Every moment he thought about her. He couldn’t get her out of his head.

“That’s it? so you can slip off the helmet, and settle down with that beautiful young Jedi; who’s a hell of a fighter by the way, and raise your kid sitting here, siping spotchka?” Cara was shocked and amused. Mando turned his head towards her and she raised her hand in mock defeat.

“You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks back.” Mando turned his head back towards the group of children gathered around the woman. “It’s too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. We might want to cycle the charts and move on.” Vaka felt Mando looking at her and turned to face them. She made eye contact and waved. Mando was suddenly very glad for the helmet he was wearing. His cheeks began to heat up.

“Wouldn’t want to be the one to tell him that.” Cara said motioning towards the small green child who was currently in Vaka’s arms.

“I’m leaving him here. Traveling with me, that’s no life for a kid. He’ll be safer here with Vaka than he is with me. I did my job, he’s safe.” Pain was evident in the bounty hunter’s voice. He had grown to love the little womp rat even if he didn’t show it that often.

“I agree with the Mandalorian.” Kix emerged from the barn, no doubt hearing most if not all of their conversation. “But, you’ll be sad to hear that Vaka and I aren't staying here.” He leaned against the post closest to Cara. The two had grown close over the past few weeks, sharing old stories from the war. They had confided in one another on multiple occasions.

“Why not?” Cara spoke, slight anger in her voice.

“Just like you said, we raised hell and now we gotta get out. We don’t know who is still looking for us.” He spoke to the pair as his eyes made his way to Vaka and the child. He knew that the child had to stay with her. She could train him in the ways of the force.

Cara smiled at the man, bringing the soptchka to her lips. “It's gonna break his little heart.” She said, taking a swig of the drink.

“He’ll get over it, we all do.” Mano replied.

“I’m not sure we do.” Kix mumbled as he and Cara walked away.

A few moments later, Mando found his way to Vaka.

“Can I have a word?” he asked the beautiful woman. She nodded and stood beginning to walk with him. They walked until they were out of earshot of the farmers.

“It’s about the child isn’t it?” she spoke for the first time and Mando felt his heart quicken. Her voice was like honey, so sweet and soft.

“How did you know?” He asked and she just motioned to her body with a smile. “Right Jedi.” He mumbled as he realized he had suddenly lost the courage to speak. He cleared his throat and began to speak, “He’s happy with you. I think you should keep him.” He spoke quickly. Vaka just smiled and said,

“I will take him but whether you like it or not you are bonded with the youngling. He won;t take it well. I think we should all stay together. Me, himn, you.” The last portion came out quiet and her cheeks began to heat up. Mando grabbed her hand and rested it on his helmet. She brought the other hand to meet with the other side and they stayed like that for a while. She began to lift up his helmet when they heard a blaster being fired. They ran to the spot where it came from and found a dead hunter with a fob on the child.

“He’s no safer with me than he is with you, so why don’t we just stick together.” Vaka spoke to him once everything was safe. The Mandaloran chose not to argue and let her join. The quartet made the trek back to Mando’s ship and decided it was best to split up.

“Well I guess this is goodbye for a while Kix.” Vaka spoke softly while resting her hands on the sides of his face. She began to cry at the thought of not seeing him again, he was her last connection to her previous life.

“We’ll see each other again. I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her and kept them there for longer than he wanted to admit. He would miss her. They both let go and looked at each other one final time before going their separate ways. Vaka with Mando and Kix with Cara.

Vaka made her way up the wrap of the foreign ship and was greeted with the Mandalorian she had come to like. He was strapping everything down to the ship and prepping the sleeping quarters that had not been used in a while. He herd her approach and lifted his head to meet her glassy eyes.

“I know it’s not much but…” Mando was cut off by the Mirialan woman.

“It’s great Mando.” She smiled at him and they both made their way to the cockpit of the Razor Crest. Mando looked at Vaka who was setting the child in his seat and smiled behind his helmet. This was his new family.

His own little Clan.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #dyn djarren x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandolorian x reader #dyn djarin #Dyn Djarren #din djaren x reader #Din Djaren fancic

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commander-writergirl · 4 years

Text

D. Djarin - Newborn Daughter

Requested by @callingmrsbarnes

Din watched you with your newborn daughter. You had returned ‘home’ a few days ago but your husband still remained in full amour. You knew he would take it off eventually knowing that your daughter, Nova, would have a breakdown every time he took the helmet off if she never saw the man under it. But Din was still processing the fact that she was actually here, that he could have helped create something as beautiful and innocent.

Din walked over to you, his eyes on Nova as you breastfeed her. You looked at your husband, dark bags under your eyes. Nova’s birth was more difficult than the doctors thought and you were rushed into an emergency C-section. Leaving Din for hours with the fear that he would lose you or Nova... or both. You smiled at him lightly and leaned against his gloved hand as he stroked your cheek.

“How are you?”

“Tired and a little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.” You watched as Din pulled off one of his gloves, then gently stroked the dark tuff of hair on Nova’s head.

“She’s so soft.”

You giggled, “She’s a newborn, Din, their always soft.” You carefully adjusted Nova as she finished eating to fix your top and so she could look at Din.

Din looked at the honey-brown eyes staring up at him. He knew Nova’s eyes were probably darker than the visor let him see. Nova started whining which caused Din to slightly panic. She was afraid of him and as you tried quieting her down, Din did the only thing that would help.

He kneeled next to you and took the helmet off. Nova’s whines turned to sniffles as she stared at Din, her eyes just as light without the visor.

#din djarin x reader #dyn djarren x reader #Parent Fluff Friday #the mandalorian #requet #drabble #sammi writes

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starfirette · 4 years

Text

Every Which Way: Chapter Nine

The Way We Mourn

⇢ a/n: it’s been a hot minute but I reallllly don’t want to be working on two series at once (three if you’re counting soulmate sex, which by the way is back and being published on wattpad if you’re still interested in a crappy peter x reader story I started like three+ years ago) ANYWAYYYYYS so episode nine of the Mandalorian came out, so why not just publish chapter nine of my story too?

⇢ masterlist | previous chapter | inbox | NEXT CHAPTER!!

⇢ Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader: angsty angsty ANGSTY! word count: 4471

⇢ Featuring Wendi, Ryder, Paz, NEW CHARACTER: Quilla Pyn

🏷 @woterezwhet @talesfromtheguild @poupoupoupoupou @multifandom-fiasco @fandomqueen74 @fifiyau105 @shayna-winchester @mserynlarsen

The foursome sat at a table in the gathering hall, all staring at Y/n. Wendi sat in her pajamas, but still donned her helmet, while Paz and Ryder wore their complete armor.

“That cannot be true,” Wendi squawked. “Boba Fett? No. No. No!”

“How else would she know the name?” Paz inquired. He had a hand resting at the front of his helmet, as if he were trying to soothe a headache.

Wendi’s sputtered response was the first time you’d ever heard her at a loss for a comeback. “She probably heard it somewhere! Besides, she was on Bespin. There’s tons of lowlife Mandos up there,” she adds with a grunt.

“She couldn’t have possibly known about his father, though,” Paz retorts. “She met him. She met the actual Boba Fett, and who knows what he’s done with Din.”

“She’s grieving,” Wendi explained. “She’s--”

“She’s RIGHT HERE,” you shouted. You gripped the edges of the table tightly enough to make the wood creak. “If you had questions you could ask. You don’t have to talk about me right in front of me. Although that is what you usually do!”

“Okay,” Ryder finally stressed, entering the conversation. “Let’s just remember that some other Mando took Din. This all happened on Bespin. It’s no secret that Bespin’s always putting out bounties. It’s not a stretch to say that Boba Fett is responsible for all of this.”

“Ry!” Wendi exclaimed. “Be sensible. What would Boba Fett want from Din? Din’s a giant nobody--no offense to you, Annie.”

You grumbled a curse back.

She continued on. “Why would a Fett want Din? Din’s a youngling. No clan, no connections, no real reason to fuck with him at all.”

You tapped your foot aggressively against the floor. “Did you not hear anything I said?” you snipped. You used your hands for emphasis, waving them along as you explained, “He wanted to know the covert locations. He wants to rebuild some Mandolorian empire, or, something. He’s a lunatic! He wanted to know where there were other Mandalorians, other coverts.”

“Did he mention why?” Paz pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s...fuzzy,” you mumbled.

Wendi groaned. “‘It’s fuzzy’ is not enough to go on. We need the entire memory, exactly as it was.”

“Why not find a Jedi who can use magic to crack her thoughts open,” Ryder snickered. “I don’t think it matters what Y/n remembers. It’s in our best interest to just fly out to Bespin and ask whoever whatever.” Ryder used his arms and hands to animate the ship taking off to Bespin. You swore you could smell some sort of alcohol seeping out of his armor.

“That’s too dangerous,” Wendi snapped. “Leave? All three of us? The covert would be defenseless.”

“The covert would be fine,” Paz corrected. “You’re just worried.”

“Yeah!” Wendi exclaimed. “I am worried. You’re suggesting we fly out to Cloud City and interrogate everyone that was on duty the day of the attack. We just agreed that Bespin is crawling with bounty hunters, and the majority of those bounty hunters are rogue Mandos.”

Ryder hit the table with his gloved palm. “Hello! We’re wearing the best disguises out there. No one can see our faces.” He knocked on the top of his helmet. “If anything, they’ll assume we’re also rogue Mandos.”

“And what if we meet one? We’ll be caught.”

“So pessimistic,” Ryder sighed. “If you’re so worried then fine. Stay. Paz and I will go.”

“Uhm, and me,” you interjected.

“Absolutely not,” Paz sternly said. He pointed a gloved hand in your direction. “Din would be beside himself with rage if he knew I let you come with us.”

“Well, Din can’t find out until we actually find him.” You knocked your knuckles against the table. “I’m going with you,” you say, decidedly.

“Why did I have a feeling this is what you were dragging us out of bed for?” Wendi groaned.

“It doesn’t matter what Din thinks right now,” you continue to prattle on. “Considering he could be frozen or worse.”

You know that Wendi is glowering your way under his heavy crimson helmet.

Paz rapped his knuckles against the table. “It could be fun,” he admits to himself.

“This isn’t a trip we’re taking for fun,” you say with a glare.

“Still,” Ryder says with a partial slur, “there could be some adventure. I’m confident that we’ll find Din. He’s capable enough to stay alive this long.”

“Ryder,” Wendi says, as though she were pleading with him. “Don’t go.”

Ryder groaned, the sound exaggerated as it emitted past his modulator. “I’m joining you, brother. And Y/n,” he added when your mouth curled into a deep frown.

Wendi tapped her fingers on the table in annoyance. She was the only one who didn’t wear gloves, and you’d never noticed before that her skin was a pale ivory littered with lavender freckles.

“I guess I have no choice,” she finally said. “I’m coming to. Can’t leave Y/n with two creeps. Din would—,”

“Kill you?” You guessed. “Probably.”

The four of you stared at nothing for some minutes. It was clear that Wendi had something to say, for her silence was deafening, but she only hit her bare knuckles rhythmically on the table. She finally slapped the surface with an open palm as she stood to her feet. “I guess I’m going to start packing,” she says decidedly. “We’re going to leave as soon as possible. Right?”

She looked in your direction. From this angle, you could see loose strands of blonde hair falling from the bun beneath her helmet. You’d never wondered what she looked like before. Blonde and pale with purple freckles all over her hands. You found yourself imagining her face-the precise length and shade of her hair, and the shape of her eyes, or even what color they might be.

“You going to stare at me all night or are you going to tell me when we’re leaving?” Wendi sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. The long sleeves of her pajamas swayed, something uncharacteristic for Wendi who you’ve only ever seen wearing sturdy armor.

“Me? I’m-I mean sure, but whatever put me in charge of this?”

You could tell that beneath the helmets your friends were staring at you as though you were dumb.

“It’s sort of your thing,” Ryder explained. “We all want Din back, but he’s your husband.”

It’s true, but still, you weren’t entirely sure. You chewed on your tongue as you looked around to your friends, waiting almost for a change in heart. “You’d all help?” you ask once more for confirmation. The collective silence that followed made you feel unsteady, but then they each spoke up, “Yes,” all taking their own turn to promise.

“Believe it or not,” Ryder said again, his voice low. “We all want Din back.”

You reeled around the bedroom. You tear apart the entirety of your bedroom as you wait for the fateful knock on your door. You’re impatient and anxious as you pull everything from the wardrobe. Paz said you’d have to wait while he took care of ‘things’ but you’re not sure what ‘things’ are. It could be anything. The fact that he has refused to tell you anything didn’t help. He only assured you that everything would be fine and you didn’t have to worry over anything.

Truth be told, it all made you very angry.

Your helmet stares at you from the little chair by the doorside. Din’s ought to have been there.

As you angrily folded up clothes for the trip, you imagined what Din might say if he were there. He’d likely be laying in the bed, his arm draped over his face as he tries to urge you back by his side.

“Am I really worth losing sleep over?” he’d ask you.

You snatched a shirt from the wardrobe, annoyed he’d even think such a thing.

“Yes,” you would reply. “Do you want me to bring you some pajamas?”

He’d sit up, his curly brown hair falling down in front of his eyes as he would point to the wardrobe. “I’d like the brown tunic,” he’d say. That’s true! The brown tunic is his favorite to wear beneath his armor.

“You’ll also need a haircut,” you say as you search for the sheers. You turned to face him, prepared to ask where he’d seen them last.

The bed’s still empty.

With tears burning in your eyes, you searched around for Din’s favorite brown tunic. He might have been wearing it when the attack happened. Or, maybe it’s on the Crest.

Majority of the clothes that you packed were Din’s anyways. He would need something to wear, afterall; once he was safe. Who knows if he has a clean set of clothes on right now? He’d need a hairbrush, definitely. He’d need-

“Y/n?” Your door called out. You looked out to it, startled for a moment. A knock came, an impatient one. “You in here?” Wendi called.

You ran to let the young woman into your room. “Is it already time to go?” you ask, feeling a bit frantic.

“Gold wanted me to bring this to you,” Wendi said as she pushed her way into the bedroom. She didn’t stop to answer your previous question. She tossed a woolen bag your way. She folded her arms over the broad chest plate of her armor as she waited for you to look through it. “It’s yours,” she said impatiently when you silently pointed to the bag which sat on your bed. “Go on, then.”

You t slowly on the edge of your bed, carefully drawing the pouch open. There was a large handful of coins within it, some papers, and a long chain with a shiny bronze key. You pulled the key out, holding it by the clasp of the chain as it swung in the low lantern light. “What’s this?” you asked after a few seconds of staring at Wendi, expecting her to explain.

Wendi’s gloved hands found your helmet. She held it in her lap as she took a seat on the little wooden chair. You’d never sat in it before. You doubt Din ever had. It was always strictly used to seat the helmets when it was time for bed. A part of you hated how Wendi had so easily taken a seat there. She perched on the little, wooden chair like it wasn’t something that belonged to you and your husband.

“This shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Wendi said as she drummed her fingers on your helmet. “Din was always a little paranoid, even before you came along. He was always taking on the most missions, more than any of us. He made many earnings. Over the years, he split his earnings between personal savings and the covert’s savings. Well, when you two married, you obviously became entitled to some of that money. I’m sure he would have done something with it one day. But since he’s gone, Gold thinks you should be allowed to manage it. I disagree. You don’t know anything about finances. No offense.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “None taken.”

“Anyways,” Wendi continued, as though it were trivial gossip she was relaying. “Din, as you know, was not born into covert. When he was brought in, the covert managed to track down some of his relatives. While he is the last of his lineage, he has a familial property on another planet. That’s the key to the property.”

“So?” you asked, growing fearful of what she might say next.

“So if it turns out that Din...that he isn’t…”

She took a deep breath, suddenly losing her usual composure. “Y/n,” she said. It was weird that she used your actual name, not the pet name ‘Annie’. “He could be dead. I really want you to know that.”

You shake your head with disagreement. “I don’t think that he is,” you tell her firmly. You clutched the key tight in your hand. “He’s just-He’s not.”

Wendi seemed sympathetic as she rested her elbows on her knees, her hands out flat as she tried to keep you from getting angry. “I don’t think he is, either,” she assured you. “But that doesn’t mean we should rule out the possibility.

You two went missing nine months ago. We were lucky to find you. Din could easily be in the same situation, or worse. We all want you to be prepared. If he is dead, then you of course will always have a home here. But we’d all understand if you’d find it best to move on and live on the farm.”

You felt bizarrely annoyed.

If Din were here, he would hold your hand and dote on you.

He always dotes on you.

You pulled the chain over your neck, tucking the key behind the neckline of your shirt.

The folded papers were the official marriage documents and the deed to Din’s farm.

“Din has certainly left you with a good life,” Wendi says softly, breaking you from the silence as you strained your eyes to read the deed. “He wouldn’t have left you with nothing.”

“I know that,” you snapped. You tossed the papers back into the drawstring bag, before throwing it onto Din’s place in the bed. “When are we leaving?”

Wendi kicked up her leg, crossing it over her thigh as she looked up at you. “I like it,” she said flatly.

You huffed. “Like what?” you asked, crossing your arms bleakley.

She used a hand to gesture to your overall figure. “The attitude. It’s very un-Y/n of you. I think it’s great you’re finally growing a spine.”

“You like that I’m not being myself,” you repeated. “Great. You’re never any help to me, did you know that?”

Wendi actually started to laugh. “I see why the boys got feral when you arrived. Boys can always tell when a girl is secretly a bitch. Oh, don’t look offended,” she quickly added. “Being a bitch is how you survive.”

“Great,” you repeated. “Can-Can you just leave,” you demanded, growing red in the face when you noticed your stammer.

She held her hands out defensively. “We leave in an hour. We wanted to let you know that the ship has three rooms, so you and I will be bunking together.”

“Great,” you said.

Wendi made a sound as if she were rolling her eyes. “Great,” she repeated. “I’ll come to get you when it’s time.”

You pushed Wendi out the door, saying again, “Great! Now get out.”

You slammed the door shut behind her.

Din would have said, “I’m proud of you. She’s a real asshole sometimes.”

The Iron was one of the last original Mandalorian artifacts that the Nevarrian covert had from their home planet.

The Iron is the gunship that once belonged to his father, who proudly led the Deathwatch with the ship front and center. That ship is now in Paz and Ryder’s hands, though Paz always seems to be the one to use it.

It’s roughly the size of the Crest, less bulky, a little more flashy in color. The hull and paneling had crimson and navy blue splashed throughout.

You were fortunate to be spared the rest of its long, long history when Ryder asked Paz to shut up. “No one wants to hear about the glory days,” he said bitterly

You sent Paz a sympathetic look as Ryder pushed past his brother. You looked up at the ship as it hissed and extended the ramp. You hugged your waist, shielding yourself from the chilly air of the rising dawn.

Nightfall would soon be your new life-for at least as long as you’d be aboard the Iron.

If Din were here, he’d hold his hands over your hips and ask if you were excited. He’d tell you to ignore Ryder, or say something like, “The Viszla boys have always a bit theatrical.”

You would have leaned your head back to rest against the chest plate of beskar and laughed. You would have bathed in his scent, his warmth, his presence.

But that fantasy faded away as you stood at the bottom of the ramp, your Mandalorian helmet made of beskar and rosegold under your arm.

“I’m a bitch,” you said to yourself.

You walked up the ramp.

Quilla had been elected to serve in the prison lodge two weeks ago.

What this meant for Quilla was she now had the responsibility of the prisoner’s safety in her slender hands. Her hands were not quite strong enough for such a weight. Holding them out in front of her, she could see they were ashy and itchy with the rash that her makeup left on her ebony skin.

She had to rise several hours earlier than the other girls to get dressed and painted, before she had to race to the other end of the palace to make sure the prisoner was still alive.

That is what she was doing this morning.

It’s so early that the hallway torches are not yet lit. Quilla traveled down to the opposite end of the castle with a weakly lit lantern in one hand.

The sight of the lodge’s doors made her heart beat up in her throat. Quilla gulped.

She fiddled with the bracelet key ring on her left fist. The tumblers spun into place as she used the first key to let herself into the lodge.

The skirt of her rags swung around her calves as she quickly shut and locked the door behind her.

The lodge is a room that was a little bit too large to qualify as a prison cell. Not to mention, it is strangely decorated with handsome rugs and furs.

On the wall, so front and center and bold so no one could miss it, is a delicate arrangement of hanging beskar armor. The low light of her lantern flickered over the sheen of the armor, reflecting her own face back at her. Her green makeup contrasted her ebony skin so greatly. She looked like a splash of colors that had been thrown across a canvas, with her natural silver freckles that dotted her face, her neck, and her shoulders.

The floor was cold, still, and it stung Quilla’s bare feet as she moved across the dark room. Her hands shivered as she surveyed the bronze ring of keys that jangled on her wrist. The first key was to unlock the doors. The second key was to activate the water well. Quilla pumped water from the spout built into the wall into a large bucket that the prisoner could use to quench thirst or wash with.

With a grunt, Quilla took the bucket by the handle. She did her best not to spill any water as she carried it across the way, to the little bed built of dull, weak metal. The prisoner is shackled to that bed.

Quilla carefully set the bucket down.

The prisoner was known to have outbursts of violence. She is the seventh girl that has been elected to watch and serve in the lodge. The other girls had tall tales of the prisoner attempting to escape or screaming violently in their faces.

Quilla isn’t sure that she believes it. She’s had no problems with the prisoner in the two weeks she’s been serving the lodge, but that might have to do with the fact she’s purposefully never spoken to him.

She did not want to wake the prisoner with the clanging around of the bucket. That is why she set it down so gently. As she backed away, she took a long, surveying look at his sleeping figure.

He was so thin. He bore soft linen clothes and a charming mask built of thin steel that looped over his ears so it would not fall off. He’d always worn it. Quilla of course knew why he wore it, and the evidence of that reason hung proudly on the wall.

It’s no secret that the Queen has a strange obsession with the Mandalorian culture. Her lover is a Mandalorian, one who bears green armor in the same stylings as the shiny, beskar one on display.

Her lover had been the one to bring her the prisoner. It was a gift for Emelea’s birthday. He was a gift for Emelea’s birthday. He, a live person, as a gift. Emelea was so fond of her new plaything that she had the servant girls and guardians dust off an empty room and furnish it comfortably for him.

No one had ever seen his face before. Emelea oddly seemed to respect the weird rule the man had about keeping his face concealed.

Emelea is odd that way.

She didn’t trust the prisoner, not one bit; that’s why an attendant was required in the first place. But she was so very fond of him. She showed him off at every chance she got, bringing him along like a dog on a lead of a ball and chain. Though the prisoner once was three times the strongest guardian’s size, he is now weak and thin. His diet isn’t exactly five star food. It’s mostly the bare minimum. Even then, he refuses to eat most of it. It’s a wonder he hasn’t died yet.

But as Quilla uses a third key to open up a strong armoire, she thinks to herself, Maybe that’s just what he wants. To die here.

Quilla doesn’t blame him.

The armoire had the oil lanterns and matches. She set five out, evenly along the room, using the matchbox to light them all one by one.

Hot oil spilled onto her hand. Her skin, though, is already littered with pink scars from where she’d been burned or cut.

“Good morning,” the prisoner’s low voice said. The words were a sad, almost pathetic, croak. “Thank you for the water.”

Quilla lowered her head in a silent nod. Her heart thrummed in her chest. He hadn’t spoken to her before. She hadn’t really spoken to him. Last night, she quietly asked if he needed water while she packed up the lanterns into the armoire. He didn’t answer then. So why speak now?

Her chin spasmed, making cracks in the face paint that had dried like thick clay.

Quilla watched as the prisoner sat up. His chains rattled. He had a head of unruly brown hair. When was the last time it had been brushed? Quilla wondered.

She touched a hand to her own head.

Deep sorrow filled her chest as she remembered her childhood. She would sit between her father’s legs while he braided her curly hair, all while her mother breastfed her newborn brother by the fireplace, singing a song in a language no other Anirian spoke. That song was Quilla’s special secret. It was a song no one else had ever heard; not on this planet. Not at this place.

When Quilla thinks of those moments now, she can only be filled with strong sadness and the dull smidge of gratitude that the stars did not bear her parents another little girl to be taken from them.

Quilla bonded with the other girls that had the same talent for hair braiding that her father did. They were all much older than Quilla, who is twenty years of age, now.

Quilla tucked her bracelet of keys under her sleeve. She mentally tallied the tasks; water, light the lanterns, and of course, make sure the prisoner didn’t vanish in the night.

Those all seemed done.

And so, she left the prisoner there.

It hurt to do it. It hurt to leave what she knew was an innocent creature in a prison disguised as a luxury hostel.

As she locked the doors, sniffling tears in the hallway, she wondered how such a powerful misfortune had come upon the man. How had he been traded away by one of his own kind?

Quilla did not know much of Mandalorian culture, nor of their history.

In fact, no one really does. Mandalorians didn’t come ‘in style’ until Emelea’s abrupt coronation. It was the abrupt coronation that had the entire palace staff walking on eggshells.

It all started over one thosuand years ago; Aniri had been ruled by the infamous Seven Clans. Each clan wanted to be the sole ruler of the little planet. The wars between these clans were so gruesome that eventually one law came into place; a fight to the death would be done within the limits of a red circle, wherein the red represented the spilt blood of the clansmen and women. If you could kill your opponent in the limits of the red circle, you would earn a full four years of ruling the planet.

But one by one, the clans were killed off, until the only clan left was that of which the Weslyns descended.

The tradition of battling within the red circle had since died off, given that no one dared to make a move against the infamous King and Queen Weslyn. But the Weslyns valued the culture of their people. So that red circle was painted in the grand gathering hall; it was often called the place of Judgment, or Doom’s Circle. It’s where anyone would stand trial.

Rumor says that thirteen months ago, a Mandalorian man had been invited to watch the execution of a servant girl who had attempted to flee the palace without wearing her makeup. The Mandalorian betrayed the court and fled the palace with the girl in possession. It was during this chaos that the deranged prince Riz, and his sister Emelea, assassinated their own two parents and their gentle brother, Melv. Riz had been intended to take the throne as king, then alternate with Emelea every four years.

But Riz had always been cruel. It was simple karma that Riz was also killed that day.

So the public had been under the impression that Emelea was the remaining Weslyn.

But Quilla knows this isn’t true.

She journeyed to the lower depths of the castle where the numbers of guardians grew thin. There was another version of the lodge that Quilla had put together in an old room so unused that Quilla was confident she wouldn’t be caught.

There was a fourth key on her bracelet. This fourth key opened the lock of the ancient door, carved with runes of Aniri’s old language. Each rune represented the first Seven Clans.

Quilla didn’t much care about that.

She gently used her fourth key to unlock her private lodge, quietly opening the door and peering inside.

The lanterns were already well lit, and the low strum of a handheld harp bounced between the walls.

“Good morning, my love,” the secret prisoner said.

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starfirette · 3 years

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starfirette · 4 years

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Every Which Way : Chapter Five

The Way Towards Family

➡️Previously

➡️a/n: this is it. This is the chapter I have been dying to write. After this there’s only one other scene I am on the edge of my seat for, but that comes much later 😈 also, I just realized that I’d been advertising this chapter as chapter four. it’s actually chapter five. fml. I TRIED MY BEST TO EDIT THIS FAST SO I’M SORRY BUT HERE IT IS! LIKE COMMENT SUBSCRIBE SEE YA NEXT TIME GAMERS

➡️ OC page, if you care: chapter includes Wendi and Ryder

Even knowing morning has come, you linger in your bed a while. The silence of the room has become a comfort, and the only noise you ever hear is the occasional cuff of boots by your door.

This morning as you stare into the cracks of the ceiling you hear the soft voices of Mandalorian children murmuring rumors.

“I heard she is so ugly that her planet doesn’t want her anymore,” one voice exclaims in a loud whisper.

Another child hissed a remark: “That’s not true. I heard she’s so beautiful that there was a fight over who could keep her.”

You haven't seen many children around the covert. The tunnels are mostly littered with Mandalorians who sharpen their weapons and keep keen watch.

The time came to rise long after those children had scurried off; you could not hide in your room all day. Dressing slowly in your long sleeved tunic and pants, you became lost in thought; your life would take its final turn in a matter of hours. The wedding would commence, and the court guardian in covert captivity would be sent back to Aniri to spread the news that the infamous, fugitive, servant girl would never come back. She would never be repossessed, no matter how many fits Emelea, the new queen, threw. The servant girl would be Din Djarren’s wife.

The thought did make you tremble. Your belly flipped as you laced up your boots without really looking at them. The confession he gave last night still felt like a dream. He’d departed too quickly after the engagement, his only goodbye being the tender press of his helmet against your forehead. He hadn’t returned all night, though you stayed awake hoping he would. The revelation of his feelings felt fraudulent—you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t lying to you, and you never could be. You had to live on and figure this out as you went through the motions, succumbing to the waves of your brand new Way of life.

Combing the knots from your hair with remarkably still fingers, you found yourself contemplating once more.

Contemplation has proved to be your natural enemy these past days. Forming ideas in your mind is a dangerous thing, for once forged, you couldn’t ever forget them. You will never forget the words Din had just spit out so recently. He doesn’t care about you, he isn’t your friend, he has nothing to give to you. You’d interpreted all of that from the single sentence he’d offered like a rotten fruit.

I do not care about you.

And even after saying this, he’d come to your room and begged for your hand in marriage. You’d agreed because at the time you were swayed into believing him, but given his abrupt departure you couldn’t help but contemplate his words. Sweet words can be said any time, any day, but they would never erase the cruel ones.

And Din had said such sweet words. Some you wanted to believe in so badly.

You slipped your belt around your hips, attaching the buckles at the bone then around your thighs. You carried three total weapons now. The pistol, the beskad, and the besbev. Your beskad weighed heavy on your leg, the curve of the blade wrangling against the angle of your stride a bit awkwardly. The besbev had become your closest friend of all the three. It’s beautiful to look at and more beautiful to play. It is a traditional instrument from the older age of Mandalore, a flute, with a blade sharp enough to split skin by the seams at the opposite end. The pistol is self explanatory. It’s not nearly as easy to use as you’d thought. From yesterday’s squabble in the desert your arm ached so, so badly. The recoil of every shot had done its due diligence.

Sheathing the final weapon on your hip, you take a deep breath that ricochets in a wheeze through your chest. Striding among the Mandalorians like your one of them feels like an epic crime. Compared to even a random woman from any other planet you’re small. You’re weak and unable to do well in battle. Compared to these women, why would Din want you?

You lingered around the furnace entrance for a moment, watching as Gold hammered away at no doubt another weapon. You cleared your throat on the off beat of the rhythm, catching Gold’s attention.

“Good morning,” she greets with a cordial nod of her head.

You don’t reply. You walk into the furnace and stand as close as you can to Gold without being molested by runaway sparks.

“You made that choice for me,” you speak, cutting into Gold’s question. She put down her hammer and gestured for you to continue. Through a clenched breath, you ranted out: “Din brought my off Aniri so I could have freedom. To earn that freedom, a choice was made, in which I was not involved, or even consulted. You should have told me.”

Gold inclined her head. “I am sorry,” she says simply.

There’s nothing else she can say to ease your anger. You know this, accepting her apology with a short huff. "Where's Din?"

Harboring sparks over her leather apron, Gold shook her head. “Unaware. I would suspect he’s preparing for the ceremony or he’s further interrogating the captive.”

“Curious,” you note. “What else would he need to know?”

Gold looked at you with a blank expression—even through the helmet, you can tell you should know what Din could want from the court guardian.

“You’re to be his wife, child,” Golds says, suddenly gentle. “Do you blame him for wanting to ensure your lifelong safety? You must know by now that he loves you.”

You calculate the chances of Din telling her to say that. As low as they might be, you still can’t bring yourself to truly believe it. Brushing the detail away with your hand, you looked Gold straight in the visor. “The guardian said we had twenty four hours,” you prompt. “Yesterday.”

“Do relax,” Gold eases you. “Everything is being taken care of.”

“I don’t like hearing that,” you say snippingly. “The last time someone said that to me, I was signed into marriage. Please don’t mistake my aggression for sensitivity.”

Gold had nothing to say to that. She exhaled, a half laugh sort of sound. “There will be a wedding tonight. The guardian will bear witness and he can send a transmission first thing after the ceremony. Tomorrow Paz and his brother will escort the man back to his own planet.”

You lifted one of your brows. “Brother?” You repeated.

“Ryder,” Gold clarified.

Your jaw dropped. “Ryder and Paz are brothers?”

You would have never guessed, with Ryder’s harsh attitude and Paz’s gentle way of doing anything. You shook your head.

“What do I have to do?”

“For one, you have to be at the ceremony,” Gold snickered. You didn’t appreciate the humor at the suspenseful moment. Huffing a tiny sigh, Gold shook her head. “Mandalorian marriage is a rather traditional occasion. The entire covert will be watching. The contract will have to be sealed with blood.”

You drew back, looking absolutely startled.

Gold raised her hand. “Not a great deal. It’s a simple prick of your finger. There will be a second contract which you will have to sign. It’s to be recognized by the Anirian council. There will have been two signed contracts, so there will not be any mistakes. I don’t have to tell you what else you’ll be doing,” she then concluded. She tilted her helmet up, as if she were sneaking a glance of you through her hair. “I don’t, do I?”

“What else do I have to do?” You asked, a feeling of nausea overcoming you once again.

“You will have to consummate the marriage.”

“‘Consummate?’” You repeated. A foreign word. Paz hadn’t taught you that one.

“Yes,” Gold said carefully. “That is...well, child, you will have to have sex with Din.”

You nodded, though your face burned with fierce embarrassment. “Thank you for pointing that out to me,” you say sarcastically.

“I won’t lie. I did think that you didn’t know what sex is,” Gold continued.

“I do,” you assure her.

“You do. Well, this is good, because you have to do it.”

“I know,” you grit through your teeth.

“Do you know how?” Gold then asked.

You shut your eyes, wishing this would end already. “I didn’t come here to ask how to give a man a blowjob,” you say loudly. “Trust me when I tell you I am not completely naïve!”

Gold looked down at her feet. She coughed into her leather glove. “Hello, Din.”

You spun on your heels to see that Din has entered the furnace, having just stepped foot past the threshold.

You abruptly seized up in your stance. A stiff thank you to Gold and then you left, making sure not to brush arms with Din’s armor.

You wished now above all other times that you could have seen Din’s face. He probably looked as mortified as you felt.

What a bother this entire day is turning out to be, you think as you retreat back into your room. You sifted through your basket of snacks and proceeded to eat cheese.

You sank into your pillows as you ate your cheese, feeling rather content with the comfort it provided your stomach. You’ve learned that good food can do lots of things. It can brighten a sour day, such as this cheese has done for you. Your final hours of being a single woman would be spent eating cheese. You wouldn't ask for it any other way truth be told. Cheese is a good treat. It’s a comfort. A luxury, even.

Yes, yes, you think as you anxiously bite into your cheese. At least as a married woman you could still eat cheese.

Being completely honest with yourself you had actually forgotten that sex was a necessary detail in a married woman’s life. Your knowledge on sex is...limited.

In the servant ranks you had been often assigned with another girl to clean and dust and polish the upper level of the palace. This happened to have a grandiose library. Because none of the girls could read, Vidia would pick and choose the small amount of books that had photos printed inside. She stole picture books often, distributing them to other girls for the price of their bread rolls or rice balls at dinner time. It was the only joy you could recall from being amongst the ranks. Vidia often brought that feeling, and as she was your usual cleaning partner, you could pick many favorable memories with her. One being huddled in the darker corners of the library, flipping through a book that could only be described as indecent. Vidia giggled while you blushed and frantically shook her arm, trying to convince her to put the book back before she became caught. At that time, she never did. You’d seen the various sexual positions and orientations. Girls could love girls, boys could love boys, and either one could be easily repulsed by anything sexual.

You wished you could read then. The book had several chapters on various topics. You couldn’t decipher anything but the photos.

Still; you’d seen how sex was supposed to work. It never occurred to you that you could enjoy sex in your lifetime. The council’s teachings made anything indecent clearly criminal, hence the reason for the rags and makeup in the first place. You’d long before associated sex with punishment. Real punishment, not the sort of punishment you’d seen painted in the book.

The very type of punishment Vidia received one day.

The thought of a penis being in close proximity to your general body hadn’t been appealing before.

It’s almost naughty of you to be a little bit thrilled at the idea of Din’s naked body flush with yours.

You only could assume that sex was something most people did for fun because the pictures always had everyone smiling.

It’s a shock that the book had even been in the library considering how conservative the council is.

You’d be forever grateful for it. Forever grateful for Vidia and her mischievous ways. In some strangled way she had saved you from eternal embarrassment on your wedding night. Although you couldn’t say confidently that tonight would go well.

You had never even touched yourself before! You didn’t know that was a thing until the book.

Maybe you’re focusing too strongly on the book.

You should be focusing more on earning your freedom rather than your first time being with a person. But as you recalled the images of girls laying in naked rows and giggling as they cuddled close, you felt yourself become sweatier by the minute.

“OW!” You yowled. You’d been preoccupied in thought and had nibbled onto your finger, having finished your block of cheese.

A knock on the door came, and you were eager to fly from your bed to answer it. Anything to distract yourself from sex with Din. And what better distraction would that be besides, surprise, surprise, Din himself.

You stared up at the T of his visor, lips tightly pressed shut.

“I’m here to take your things,” Din says bluntly.

Out of nervous habit you tucked hair behind your ears. “Why can’t I have my things?”

Fearful for the loss of what little items you possessed you tried to lessen the entry way by inching the door closed.

“Wouldn’t you rather have them in my room?” Din asked, stopping the door with the toe of his boot.

A breath of relief sounded off from your chest. Din shook his head. “I wish you would understand,” he says quietly.

“Understand what?”

“Understand that you’re truly free,” he says. “I am…”

He trailed off, looking fumbled and at a loss for words. “I am here to move your things, as I said.”

You couldn’t exactly argue. Considering he’d be your husband, you’d have to share a room with him, although you can’t exactly imagine having the space with rooms like these.

You helped him gather the little amount of possessions you did own. The new clothes he’d gotten for you you gathered in your own arms. Din made busy with gathering up the amount of books you had from Paz. “Do you enjoy reading?” Din asks. He flips through the history book you’d gotten yesterday.

“I’d enjoy it more if I could actually read,” you mutter.

Din snapped the book shut. “If you’d like, I can help you. I could read to you at night.”

Shifting the weight between your legs, all while your face and ears burned, you stuttered, “That sounds very nice.” It did sound nice. It sounded like something a real married couple would do.

You didn’t realize you would be comfortable with anyone else knowing about your illiteracy besides Paz. Din did not make it seem like a burden, or a red flag, or a flaw. He did take advantage of your stunned silence to take your clothes in his arms. “Should I lead the way?” He asks, his voice strangely vivid in your ears. The bass of his words resonated down to your eardrums, making your chest feel warm as melted butter.

You took one last look around at your bedroom, suddenly saddened by the fact you would be leaving it. It is as plain as it had been when you got it. The simple furniture and the low ceiling; despite all of that it had felt like home.

“Mesh’la,” Din says carefully. “I’m sorry.”

Snapping out of your silent goodbye you looked up at Din. “What for?” You pressed. With furrowed brows you took count of everything Din had to be sorry for.

“About the marriage,” he clarifies. “It wasn’t my first choice for you. I tried everything. Even if you moved to some other planet, they could still come for you. This is the only way to keep you truly safe.”

You smiled at the floor. “You talk about my safety a lot,” you point out.

“I care about it,” Din answered in the same knowledgeable tone. You pucker your lips, at a loss for a retort.

Walking side by side with Din, through the tunnel, felt very strange. His pace was never so concise with yours before today. Looking at him you can see he isn’t struggling. He seems natural; human, even, if you could believe it. He didn’t seem to step out of a two feet radius from you at any given time, and if one of you were to fall behind, it would always be him.

As the tunnel and its crowd thinned into a hall of silence, you looked through the walls searching for doors. A few here and there.

“Some of these are classrooms,” Din says, as if he had sensed your questions. “Some house younglings. Foundlings sleep with the younglings to encourage interaction and connection. Those who have been here the longest, with the strongest clan, tend to get the bigger rooms. It’s a bit of a social pyramid.”

Stopping at what had to be the last room in the entire covert, Din gestured for you to open the door to your new home.

The inside isn’t as shocking as you thought it would be. It’s just a bedroom. There’s a bigger bed in the center of the north wall, the quilts in a folded heap at the foot. A wide vanity and a full length mirror sits in the corner to the right of the bed; to the left, a tall wardrobe. A smaller sized bookshelf and two soft cushioned armchairs linger just beside you at the wall of the entrance. It’s not decorated or filled with anything you could use to guess it belongs to Din.

“The quilts are new,” Din explains as he shuts the door behind him. “It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “As perfect as a bedroom can be,” you quickly add, ears burning as you realize what he could have interpreted. You hurry to take the set of books from him. Awkwardly hovering over the shelf you look at him for permission.

“You could rearrange the room however you’d like and I wouldn’t say a word,” Din says. You couldn’t muster any response as you pushed the books against his.

“If you want to sleep separately I can get another bed,” Din continues as he strains himself to stand still in the corner. You step in front of him, grabbing your clothes from his arms as you sigh, “And here I thought you wanted to sleep with me.”

“I—That is not what I meant,” Din stresses.

You laughed at his reaction. “I’m teasing you,” you promise him as you journey to the wardrobe.

“I don’t like being teased,” Din grumbles.

“I’m sorry to say that I’m learning that teasing is a great deal of my personality.” You sent him a look over your shoulder, the smallest of smiles preened over your mouth.

“I don’t like being teased,” Din repeated,

Something boiled in your stomach when he said that, but it felt pleasant. Blushing furiously, you got to folding away your tunics and trousers. Din’s own clothes are folded away. You still remember the smell of his soap from the little bed on his ship. Tonight and every night after that smell would linger beside you.

Staring at the mattress, you couldn’t help but wonder how Din slept at night. Sprawled limbs? Curled? On his stomach, maybe, with one arm hooked underneath a pillow.

The bed would be the scene of consummation tonight, and bearing that in mind you quickly looked away from it.

“Thank you for thinking of doing this,” you say as you come back from the reeling dizziness Din had instilled with his words. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you add. “I will never be able to repay you.”

Din lets out a heavy sigh. He hangs his head down, his shoulders shaking as he laughs. “I wish you would understand, mesh’la. There's nothing I ask from you other than to be my wife."

The floor swayed beneath your feet as the words rushed to your ego. You took a tiny breath to ease your conscious before taking a careful seat on the mattress.

You looked to him through loose bits of your hair as you patted a seat beside yourself. The heavy stomping of his boots shake through your toes that point down into the floor. He takes an uneasy seat, the bed creaking underneath his armor.

“You’re very kind,” you say as a natural moment of silence has passed the room. “Will I be able to see your face tonight?”

Din, almost seeming startled, clenched his hands that rested over his thighs. “Yes.”

You chewed your tongue, trying hard not to laugh or smile. He seemed as nervous as you. It is a comfort to know that the world’s most elite warrior’s could be nervous. “I hope you’ve shaved,” you say again in a teasing way.

“Oh, I have,” Din says reassuringly. Your eyes grew wide. “Do you have facial hair?” you asked hopefully, wanting something to look forward to.

A quiet laugh passed through his modulator. “I could. If you liked that, then I’d say yes.”

“And if I don’t like that?” you ask.

“Then I’d shave every day.”

You wrapped your arms around your stomach that ached as you laughed harder than you ever had before. Perhaps you’re just hysterical given the impending wedding that looms a mere few hours away. “You’ll be very agreeable if you do everything I asked of you,” you say.

Din shrugged. “I just might,” he teases. You would have rolled your eyes if you hadn’t felt so watched. You can feel his eyes glued on you, helmet or no helmet.

“If that’s true, would you answer all my questions?” you challenged.

“To the best of my abilities,” Din agreed, albeit hesitantly.

“What is a Mandalorian wedding like?”

He seemed to have not been expecting that question because he became lost in thought. His fingers splayed over his legs as he relaxed at your side. “Not what I think you’re used to. It’s as traditional as anything else we do. Unlike other cultures, we do not usually make up vows. The binding ceremony is generally the same for each couple. The same words and the same contract. We’re not expected to kiss in front of a crowd. The rules don’t change. But tonight, after the contract is signed, it will be expected of me to remove my helmet. Removing the helmets is a custom saved only for the couple.”

You nod. “I see. But I don’t have a helmet.”

“Not to spoil the surprise, but you’ll soon see everything has been arranged. This wedding will be unlike any other. Rather than one Mandalorian vow, you and I will exchange vows set by Anirian standards. It’s important that the council recognizes our marriage as legal.”

You shiver at the idea of Emelea refusing to accept your marriage. You aren’t entirely certain she’ll be quick to disregard you just because you married Din. You aren’t so much focused on the legality of the ceremony, though. You’re fearful for the outcome that may destroy the covert.

“What are you thinking?” Din asks. His soft voice passed over you like a fluffy cloud, shielding you from the burning sun. You basked in the feeling it gave you for a second.

“I’m thinking that I would never forgive myself if your people went to war because of me.” You sounded quiet and sad, something you didn’t want to convey, but you couldn’t help the feeling.

“We’re Mandalorians, mesh’la,” Din says confidently. “I’m sure we’d be fine.”

You cast your future husband a disregarding look. “This is a covert for a reason,” you argued. “The Armorer told me everything. Other Mandalorians may be able to afford a war, but not mine. Not you.”

Din’s heavy hand placed gently over your thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your trousers. “When it comes to you, I am more than capable of taking down entire armies.”

You felt the urge to hold his hands twinge in your fingers. You might have taken the opportunity to kiss him if you could’ve.

Rather than voice this, you opted to put your hand on top of his, squeezing his grip around your leg. “I’m excited to see what you look like,” you beam. “Before, I was nervous. I’m not so nervous anymore.” You bring your hand up to touch the side of his helmet, where the metal contoured like cheek bones. “You sound like your eyes are brown.”

Din took his turn to hold you next, holding your hand in place.

“No hints?” You asked after a moment of intense staring.

“None.”

With a final squeeze to your hand, Din moved you away then took to his feet. “We should get ready. Wendi will be looking for you, soon.”

You frowned deeply, crossing your arms as you remained intent on hiding in your new bedroom. “Why?”

“I told you that Mandalorian weddings are very traditional,” Din points out, the smirk evident in his voice. “You will have to get ready eventually.”

You groaned. Knowing that Wendi doesn’t like you unsurprisingly turns you off from getting her help. Besides, she’s most likely angry at you for getting her yelled at yesterday after the fight with the guardians.

Begrudgingly you followed Din to the furnace. You considered holding his hand, but chose not to, as you weren’t sure just how affectionate he’s ready to be.

Wendi, Paz, Ryder, and the Armorer already lingered around, having a low conversation while two female Mandalorians worked silently in the corner, using rags to polish armor cuffs.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds of the hour,” Ryder snides. He rests up against the lockers, huge arms strapped over his chest. You resisted a loud huff, telling yourself it’s better to let him be than to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction.

Wendi’s blue helmet juts a nod in your direction as a greeting.

“Here I was hoping you two would just elope,” Wendi says with a sneer in her voice.

So much for the brief moment of indifference.

“I hope you’re both well rested,” Gold says curtly. “Revisions have just been made. The ceremony may commence at any time.”

You and Din looked to each other. You felt the sense of something like camaraderie, but more intimate. It’s not as though the relationship is like anything anyone’s ever had. There are doubts and feelings still unspoken. Despite that, there’s more than what meets the eye.

The agreement became finalized as Din gave a single nod of his head.

“I’m ready if Din is.”

Ryder cackled while he rubbed his oversized hands together. “I’m ready for something finally exciting,” he exclaimed.

He sauntered forward, grabbing Din by the arm. “Time for your bachelor party,” he declared as he led Din out of the furnace. You felt cold without him by your side; cold and aware of the emptiness beside you. You remained tall, pushing your shoulders out and leaving your chin high in the air. “What happens now?”

Paz spoke this time. “The bride and groom should review their vows while they get dressed. The bride wears a special dress underneath armor. It’s common for Mandalorians to marry non-Mandalorians. Even then it’s important to uphold tradition. On their wedding night, the face of the riduur is reserved for their significant other. After today, the helmet will be yours. It’s up to you whether or not you want to uphold the creed, but tonight, you must.”

That was Paz’s kind way of telling you dressing in Mandalorian garb is a necessary effort you cannot and should not decline. Paz clicked his heels together in a quick bow of goodbye. “I will see you at the ceremony.”

“Thank you, Paz,” you said before he could leave the furnace.

The short nod of his head was a silent form of ‘you’re welcome.’

When only the ladies remained in the furnace, the door became shut and locked, which you’d never seen before. The furnace had always been open for everyone.

“Y/n, please meet Genevieve and Nyra,” the Armorer said as she gestured to the two females who had been silent until now.

“Nice to meet you,” they both said softly, which you reciprocated, including the bow of your head.

“They are under my apprenticeship and have been younglings in our covert for many years. They helped make your wedding armor.”

Genevieve stood about 5 feet tall, if not a few inches taller, and her armor is sprayed a deep, almost pastel purple. You can see she scratched in designs on the cuffs and leather, like wildflowers and stars.

Nyra, on the other hand, stood two heads taller than Gen. Her armor was polished to a mirror like glaze and every plate and leather strap in perfect place.

Wendi tapped her foot anxiously as she watched you interact with the younger girls instead of getting dressed. “Not to be a jerk, but the sun’s already going down. If we want to get the guardian off planet by trooper rotation, then Y/n’s gotta be dressed and married by the next hour.”

You grimace. “I suppose we should get on with it,” you agreed.

You undressed to your undergarments, watching as Nyra and Gen took a sheer black dress from a locker. It reached your knees and fit loosely around your body, mostly the waist and shoulders where the straps felt loose.

“It’s meant to be that way,” Gen promises as she makes some adjustments. She sounds kind through her modulator. “It’s only meant to go underneath the armor.”

You looked down at yourself, feeling quite like a widow rather than a bride as the black skirt swished around your knees.

Wendi and Nyra brought over the first pieces of your armor. Wendi straightens your shoulders for you, a bit too forcefully to be kind. You sent her a glowering look as Nyra fit the breast plate against your chest. You held it in place while Gen attached the shoulder plates.

You would then wear knee and shin guards made of the same white gold as your chest plate. You enjoyed getting the new pair of shoes the most, though; heavy boots as bold as any other Mandalorian’s, but velvety black with white laces. The toes had steel inside, as you could tell as you tapped the toe of each boot against the cobblestone floors.

“Wendi,” Gold says tamely, holding out a hair comb. “Can you be trusted with such a task?”

Wendi plucked the comb from her hand. “Why would I not be?” she snubbed.

You flinched when Wendi took a fistful of your hair in her gloved hands. To your surprise, she was gentle as she twisted it up into a knot on the back of your head, using the comb to stick the bun in place.

“You make an agreeable riduur,” Nyra notes from across the furnace.

“Thank you,” you say. “Although, I’m not sure I know what a riduur is.”

“It’s a mando’a, gender neutral term for a spouse,” Gen fills you in. “Bride, groom, wife, husband, or even neither and both.”

You nod. “So, mando’a is the language you all speak?”

“It used to be,” Gold says from her usual place by her stove.

“Before the purge,” you guessed.

“It was our first language as children,” Gold explains. “We are lucky if a youngling can even pick it up these days.”

“Hey! Ner mando’a...it’s...ah, it’s slipped my mind,” Gen said, defeated. “Still, I can at least understand it.”

You wondered what it would be like to understand two languages; you can’t even read your own. Rather than letting that tear you down, you return your focus to your armor and dress. “I won’t have to wear makeup, right?” you asked fearfully.

“Oh, no,” Gen says in a gasp. “Only your husband shall see your face tonight. It is an honor to see a newlywed’s face! We did make you something special.”

Gen and Nyra pressed at Gold to hurry on and show ‘it’ to you, and you watched with anxiety as Gold dug through her cooler. Presenting to you the latest object of her creation, you couldn’t help but gasp.

It was a helmet, of Mandalorian design, sculpted just for you out of rosegold and beskar. The T of the visor rippled like a wavy vine across the front.

Gold set the helmet in your hands.The weight could be balanced perfectly if you held it in your two palms perfectly upright. It’s pretty to look at with the rose gold sheen that glimmers when it hits the light in that certain way.

“There’s a hidden design,” Gen proudly says. She ushers herself over, guiding her hand to the underside of the helmet. At the touch of a button, the visor would roll up, revealing your face through the hollow part of the helmet.

“Amazing,” you guffawed.

“It was my idea,” Gen beamed. “It didn’t feel right to force you to hide your face, again. This way you can at least look like a Mandalorian, but still feel free and safe.”

Her words felt like shocks to your chest. You held onto the helmet with a tight grip, staring into the center of it as you tried to push back tears of sentiment. You would not cry on what should be a happy day. The day you are to earn your freedom has finally come, with new people and a blossom of affection that could bloom into the strongest love if tended.

“It was very thoughtful of all of you to do this,” you say in a brief whisper. “Shall I wear it now?”

Gold gestured for you to do so, looking at you tenderly from behind her own golden helmet.

Yours fit snuggly around your head. It didn’t feel uncomfortable in the least with the padding on the inside of it. You felt around the inside which brushes your cheek, looking for the button that Gen had spoken of.

When you pressed it, the screen shot downward silently, and you could see the world the way other Mandalorians did. The image is crystal clear. Nearly enhanced. You could even hear yourself breathing through the modulator, the sound the very same as everyone else’s.

“This is for you to keep,” Gold says as she waves something at you. You go towards the stove’s counter. The pair of gloves she holds in her hands fit tightly over your fingers. On the inside, over the palm of your dominant hand, is a button. “Each helmet has certain modes for certain environments. Yours is equipped with heat signatures, night vision, and aim.”

Each click of the button took you through the three modes. Aim is by far your favorite. It focused on the item or person you wanted it to through patient staring, the screen highlighting your target.

You pressed the button again, taking you once more to the normal screen.

“Thank you,” you said, breathless. You are at a loss for words. “I’m not sure what to say…”

From her position against the door, Wendi whistled to get your attention. “Say nothing. That’s preferable.”

You exhaled a heavy sigh, which came off as a hiss through the modulator.

“There is one more thing for you to wear,” Nyra says before Wendi can continue the banter. In her hands she weighed back and forth a plain necklace, the charm being a heavy oval of metal. You pulled it over your head, leaving it to rest against your breast plate. “Typically,” Gold explains, “the signet of your spouse is printed on the necklace. However, Din has yet to receive one. Until then your necklace will be blank, but that is no excuse-always wear it with pride.”

“I will,” you swear.

Gen put a hand over your shoulder, looking to you with what you imagined to be excitement. “Would you like to look in the mirror?” she asked.

Breaking out of the furnace in your Mandalorian garb felt unreal. You’d never once imagined this would be your life. Marrying Din, wearing the helmet, the armor.

The full length mirror in an unused room not far from the furnace showed you the image of a young woman who has only known the life of fire and glory. You were not that woman, you know it, and you feel guilt pull your heart down into your stomach as you tell yourself you are unworthy to wear the Mandalorian uniform.

Trembling in your armor you dare to contradict yourself. What you were before does not matter, and it likely won’t ever matter again.

Today, tomorrow, and the next, you will be Din Djarren’s wife-and by legality, a Mandalorian.

No one would want to touch you, then. Who would dare to pick a fight with a Mandalorian? A Jedi, who are but legends and stories?

“Are you ready?” Wendi asked from the doorway.

“I think so,” you say. It’s difficult to catch a steady breath under all of this pressure that’s suddenly coming down on you.

“It’s exhilarating, right?” she asked. “The first time you wear the helmet. You either think you’re not worthy or you become too egotistical about it. Ryder was egotistic. Paz was all depressed. I’m sure you can guess me. But Din? I’ll never know. No one will, besides you. So do me a favor once you two are...official.”

You tilted your head, silently asking her what she meant.

She laughed. “Get that guy to relax a bit.”

The aisle is less of an aisle and more of a general area for you to walk through. There are many Mandalorians in tow, all cast aside to the corners of the room as they watched you appear. You hadn’t realized how many Mandalorians lived in the covert until you were seeing them. Parents held their children by the shoulders; little girls cooed and boys gawked at the armor that plated your body.

Din waited for you at the end of your makeshift aisle. He wore standard armor but bore no weapons; weaponless Din seemed awkward to look at. He probably felt as awkward as you do.

There is no priest or council member standing between you and Din.

“Take off on glove,” Din says softly. You’re certain you’re the only one who can hear him.

Where your hands trembled, his were calm as the sea before a storm. Upon revealing to the audience two bare hands, there was a sudden outcry of happiness; applause. It had made you flinch at first but you could pick out the whoops of victory.

“Just look at me,” Din whispers again. He held his bare hand to you, and you gripped it for dear life. “And now,” he says, “repeat after me.”

His voice declared the Mandalorian vows perfectly. He was born to speak Mando’a, his voice a perfect marble depiction of the words and their value.

“Mhi solus tohme,” Din says clearly.

You did your best. Mando’a is a difficult language, you realized once you were expected to say it loud enough without messing up. “M-Mhi solus tohme.”

“That means, ‘we are one when we are together,’” Din translates. “Mhi solus dar’tohme.”

“Mhi solus dar’tohme.”

“We are one when apart. And now, mhi me'dinui an. Mhi ba'juri verde. We will share everything. We will raise warriors.”

Your affection for Din snapped, releasing it’s full force within your chest as your heart beat painfully. “Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

As soon as you’d spoken those words, the crowd went into an uproar of laughter and applause. Music started to play from some corner of the room, Mandalorians playing mandolins and flutes.

You had to reach out for Din to keep steady on your feet. “That was anticlimactic,” you said over the chaos.

He caught you swiftly, holding you upright by your forearms. “We aren’t done just yet, mesh’la.”

Vaguely wondering what that meant you followed after Din as he took you across the room, through the crowd and to a table that had been set for a proper meeting. Paz in one chair, Gold in another-and the court guardian Din hadn’t killed just between them.

Din pulled the chair out for you. “Thank you,” you muttered, unsure if he could even hear it above the party.

Now that you both faced the guardian, you reapplied your gloves.

“I hope that was to your satisifaction,” you snubbed. Something about being face to face with a man who had been in league with your abusers made you very angry. It might be valid, it might not be. You don’t care. You could just remember the feeling of taking one of their lives, and you felt less uneasy.

The guardian gestured his hands carefully; his wrists are bound by thick chains he could not break, but you still felt as if you had to be on guard.

“It was a beautiful ceremony, ma’am,” he promises. “As much,” he continued, in a rapid stutter, “as I wish it was enough, it was not. There is more.”

Paz pushed forward a few papers with lots and lots of words on them. You could sound out one of the pages; one was a Mandalorian paper, with your name and Din’s at the bottom. Gold passed over a dagger. “It must be signed.”

Din sighed, once more pulling off his glove. He pricked his finger over the tip of the dagger and pressed it like a stamp by his name. The blade is then passed to you. You did the same, feeling less confident and wincing, but stamping your bloody fingerprint by your own name.

Din gently took your hand and gestured for you to tick your wounded finger out. He pressed both fingertips together so the blood mixed, and you both stamped again in the very center.

It was poetic, in a way, but it still made you frown.

“And now?” you ask as you nurse your finger with a cloth napkin.

“Marriage vows,” Paz explains. “But they must be written out.”

You looked absolutely floundered. “I thought there wasn’t a need for marriage vows,” you said loudly.

“Not for a Mandalorian wedding,” Gold explains. “But the council wants a marriage by their own terms. This is what they want.”

Din took an ink pen and a blank parchment paper. “I understand,” he murmurs as he leans over the page, starting to write.

You shot Paz a look. What would you do? Could you ask him to write it for you?

Paz shook his head. “I’m sorry, Y/n. Just do your best. It’s not a test or something we are judging you on.”

You took a pen in your hand. It weighed heavy and felt uncomfortable all tugged against the small joints of your fingers.

You put the tip down to the paper, a large blot forming on the page. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. It’s nerve wracking for a long minute. Under the music you peered at Din’s paper. He had a lot already.

“Kriff,” you swear to yourself. You started writing carefully.

A large “I” in the center of the page. You’d chosen the wrong spot to start with, but you couldn’t go back. You finished up terribly slow, walking yourself through each word many times to ensure you wouldn’t make a spelling mistake. The end product wasn’t much. But it worked:

WILL

LOVE

HIM

You signed your name at the bottom. You passed the page to Gold, quick enough that Din wouldn’t be able to see it.

“We’re done, then,” Gold says confidently once she has Din’s paper. “You are officially married.”

You dropped the pen with a breath of relief. “Thank goodness,” you muttered.

“Ah, ori’jate,” Paz murmurs as he looks through the papers. “Y/n and Din. Congratulations, from the bottom of my heart. Kandosii! I am off to make proper copies of your certificates. Then, we will be sending them, along with our friend, here, back to where he came from. Have a wonderful rest of your evening.”

Paz pulled the guardian up to his feet, dragging him along to wherever they would be going to make their copies. You looked at Gold timidly. “Now, what?”

“Now, I go to my room and have a wonderful night’s sleep,” Gold says. “You’re officially free, Y/n,” she says. “My congratulations. Enjoy the rest of your night, both of you.”

As Gold disappeared into the party, you and Din sat shoulder to shoulder, unbearably still for a long time. You both sat and listened to four songs come and go. He wouldn’t muster the strength to speak up or move, and you simply couldn’t.

As the seventh song started, Din threw down the napkin he’d been using to nurse his finger. He slipped his glove back on and stood. “Would you like dinner?”

You accepted his offered hand, using it to stand to your feet. You agreed, though not hungry at all.

You secretly felt grateful for the visor that separated you from the vivacious party.

At the large table of food, several people congratulated you. You met and shook hands with Mandalorians you would likely never meet again.

Din thanked everyone in that low-key way of his; you might have found it charming if it didn’t intimidate you to your core. He filled up a basket, which he’d grabbed from some other table, with enough food to keep your room stocked for two days.

A little girl tugged at Din’s leg. “Din, Din!” she exclaimed. “Please take some uj! I helped Mam make it, and I even tasted it before her! It’s very delicious.”

Din knelt down to speak to her. “It looks amazing, Aiya. I will make sure to have plenty. Thank you.”

Aiya grabbed at Din’s shoulders to tug him closer so they could touch foreheads. “Have fun, Din,” Aiya’s mother laughed. “You as well, Y/n. Welcome to our family.”

Ah.

Family.

An interesting word. Not the word you would have used too loosely. You suppose Aiya and her mother have the privilege to throw the term around. You, on the other hand, were not a four year old girl; you never had a real family to call your own. Now that you’ve found Din, you were not going to soil the word ‘family’ by addressing any stranger with it.

The hall stretched fearfully beyond you as you and Din set course for the bedroom.

You hoped you weren’t breathing as loud as you think you are. You’d become conscious of it; you manually pumped your lungs out, just to have something to focus on. Your insides just felt like a jumble, like the color grey. You didn’t have a clear input on anything, anymore. Since the ceremony, everything has been vivid to the point it seemed unreal.

The clicking of your boots aligned with Din’s, the paces being set by the rhythm of your heart. It felt like you’d ran from the hall to Din’s bedroom.

Din opened up the door and gestured for you to go in first. It wasn’t as if you could yell “NO” and run away. Besides--that’s not what you want to do.

Din sets the basket down on one of the armchairs.

“Are you alright?” he asks you.

“I am,” you answered.

“Would you like to eat?” Din asked, gesturing his arm to the basket.

With your heart racing, you pulled off your glove and your helmet. “I’m not very hungry,” you admit as you look for a place to set the helmet down.

“I usually leave mine on one of the chairs,” Din murmured. You did that, filled with unease.

“You weren’t kidding about tradition,” you noted. “It was all very...traditional.” “Overwhelming?” Din guessed what you actually meant.

You faltered out a smile. “Honestly, yes. I thought I would die from shame if I ruined the vows bit.”

“You did very good,” Din said, as if he’d been praising your performance. “I was impressed, at least.”

You coughed on a laugh. He really is quite awkward underneath all of that armor and intensity. And speaking of armor, you realized that the next step on this night is to see his face. “Well...are you hungry?” you asked.

Din struggled to find a good place to stand. His overflow of shuddering fear flooded the room to its edges.

He would not come to you, you realized, so you would have to come to him. You unlaced your boots while he watched. Numb fingers peeled away at the laces and leather as you kicked the shoes away.

All Din seems to ever do is watch you intensely. With brown eyes, no doubt. You know that for sure. His eyes are brown.

With the floor uneven as you walked his way, you brought your mind to one thought.

The color brown.

There are several shades. Several ways brown could be beautiful. Many of the girls who had been in the servant ranks had brown eyes, and you’d known ever since then that brown eyes were, and always would be, undeniably beautiful.

His eyes could be brown like a piece of smokey quartz, dark and mysterious with its shadows.

His eyes could be lighter, like topaz, a warm pool of late sunshine.

His eyes could be almost golden, like amber, like sweet honey.

Your hands, now bare, reached out for the helmet. You half expected resistance; maybe Din would have second thoughts?

However, there was none. There would never be any, you realized, now that you two had married.

You slid your fingers beneath the helmet, finding the soft skin of his jaw. Smooth, you note, so that’s a no on the facial hair.

“I shaved,” Din answered your silent question. You smiled in response.

You took no more hazarding chances. It was time. You could feel it. You want it, and it’s very close.

You lift the helmet, standing on your toes to do so, and Din’s face becomes revealed to you in the matter of a split second.

Brown eyes.

Darker, brown eyes. You could have guessed that. They match the sound of his voice. And his skin is as though he were made by the sun.

There is a line of hair just over his top lip, a thicker mustache that made him look ever angry. You touched the tip of his nose, then his chin, then his cheeks.

“You’re very handsome,” you tell him in the gentlest voice you could summon. You doubt you could speak any louder right now. The beauty of him has you breathless, again, and at a loss for any other words.

Calling him handsome is a real understatement. He’s unlike any person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t get that a lot, believe it or not,” Din mutters. He holds your hand that cradles his face. “I want to kiss you.”

Shocked by his words, you stared into his eyes with a gaping mouth. No one had ever said such things to you. You’ve never felt such an affect; warmth like honey and butter that slid down your chest and thighs as one of Din’s thumbs slowly brushed over your lower lip.

The hand that cradles your chin lifted up, and the tender feeling of Din’s mouth overtook yours.

He smelled the same as his leather jacket. Soap, a smoky summer’s day, and all of him.

Your chest plates clattered as Din carefully pulled you closer.

You were startled as his tongue poked through your lips, but the sensation that came with it left you gaping, a perfect opportunity for Din’s tongue to trace the crevices of your mouth. His lips felt like a drug. You couldn’t believe you’ve lived without kissing until now, as an adult. Now that you’ve felt it you never want to live without it again.

It seemed like a skill. You could easily stand there and fade into the euphoria, but you could not swish your tongue and lips like he could without feeling like a wild mudhorn cleaning himself.

When Din became breathless, he pulled away, but his hand still fiercely attached to your face.

You gasped for air.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first night we spent together,” Din rasps. “Watching you...in the small shirt...and you were fawning over me. I wanted you badly.”

Your face burned fiercely at the words. You’d never have speculated…! Sputtering for a reply, you wrapped your arms over the shoulder plates of Din’s armor. “You have a good way of hiding your feelings,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

Din’s hands fell to your hips, which he squeezed as he shook his head with a smile. It was shocking. You felt yourself become stunned at the prospect of a simple smile, of a half laugh whisping from his lips.

What affection you’d felt for him before burst into a blossoming flower, delicate but beautiful.

“I can’t believe how handsome you are,” you say.

Din sighs. “I really don’t know what I’ll do if you keep on saying that.”

You blushed at the tips of your ears. “I-I mean we should-right?”

Din’s mouth twitched at the idea you’d prodded for the first time all day. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says in a dark voice.

“Why?” You weren’t ‘disappointed’ but you were confused.

“I shouldn’t force this onto you,” he said. “It’s enough you’ve married me. We can save that for another night.”

Ah. His chivalry strikes again. You shake your head. “What if I had been looking forward to it?” you prodded.

Din grabbed your chin once more and kissed, this time harder than before. “I told you already,” he rasps. “I don’t like being teased.”

Knees shaking, face burning, you looked into Din’s eyes with a wide smile. “Alright.”

According to Din then, helping each other out of the armor is customary for the wedding night. Din took this opportunity to teach you how to disassemble, then reassemble, armor on your own.

Beneath the armor you were not naked. You still had your sheer dress, and Din had his trousers and fitted tunic. The necklace stayed on, the pendant hanging at your chest. You’d declined Din’s prompt to remove it.

Guiding you to the bed to sit, Din placed more kisses over your face. Propping yourself onto your knees, you watched Din eagerly while he untied his own boots. His helmet got placed next to yours. Shoes, next to yours. He climbed into the bed with the basket of food in hand.

You reached for the first piece of cheese you found.

“What do we do now that we’re properly married?” you asked.

Din caught your wrist and guided the cheese to his mouth, where he then took a huge bite of your food. Through a grin, Din shrugged. “Get to know one another, I’d say,” he prompts.

It went back and forth from then on. He asked questions about your childhood, and you’d give mostly depressing answers. You explained to him the in depth details of life in the servant ranks. You’d been born into it by a servant girl who was impregnated while unmarried. You were born, only to have your mother executed hours after. You’d never known her, so it didn’t feel truly sad at first look. Though the more you thought about it, the more sinking realizations settled in your mind.

Din reminisced his story of how he’d lost his family. He’d been rescued by a Mandalorian group under the name of Death Watch. The story was long and intricate. You were mesmerized by Din’s story, by the way his mouth moved when he spoke and said certain words. You were deeply embedded into the story. The history of Death Watch had been explained in thorough detail by your husband. It had once been a group of heroic warriors, dedicated to protecting and upholding the Way.

Paz and Ryder’s father had been a strong part of it.

Everything changed with the rise of the Empire.

Death Watch had been seized by a man who sought the powers of a sith lord. And that had only been the start of the end of Mandalore.

Din managed to escape most damage by moving along with his covert. He was one of the lucky ones.

After his story, he asked you more questions. Life among the ranks; friends; memorable stories. You told him everything. You’d witnessed many defectors become dragged by the hair to the red circle. Often times, servants were gathered to watch as their sister was executed. It was meant to be a lesson learnt.

You didn’t learn it.

Neither did your friend Vidia.

You’d not spoken Vidia’s name aloud in many years, so sharing her story to Din moved you to deep tears that trickled down your face before you stopped them. She lived on through the stories you told. Her mischief, the way she could ease any girl’s worry; and, of course, the time she tried to defect. She tried so hard. She almost succeeded. She’d organized a revolt against the council with the other older girls. It almost worked.

But they were all caught and killed.

You learned from her death that life on Aniri would never get better; from then, you’d watch the ways of the palace and plot. You were going to escape, for Vidia, at first. Then you’d decided you would escape for you.

While the time passed between you, all in between the smaller questions like favorite colors and first kisses (yours had been with Din, and he was happy for it), you both ate happily from the basket.

When he was ready for bed, Din rolled off the mattress. He set the basket up and you could only watch with burning cheeks as he pulled out of his tunic. He folded it up and pushed it into the wardrobe.

He found a tin can and popped something from it into his mouth. He offered you the tin. You tested the waters with a lick to the tablets.

“Are these mints?�� you demanded.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

Mints were high quality on Aniri! You expressed this to him with a wide smile. “I never thought I would have one...I never thought I’d have this sort of life,” you added as you chewed the mint. You scrambled to get under the blankets as Din approached the bed with a thoughtful smile on his mouth. You tried your absolute hardest not to look. You couldn’t really help it. You’d never seen a shirtless person before. It was intoxicating how amazing Din looked. His stomach is well sculpted, his shoulders wide and strong, and his collarbones had an intense effect on you.

Din shut out the lights on his way to bed. He shifted around, pulling the blankets over himself as well. It didn’t take long for you to reach out for one another. As soon as your eyes had adjusted, Din reached out for you. He pulled you by the waist so you were aligned with his torso. Your dress ruffled up against your thighs as you laid there, being kissed and becoming dizzy. There wasn’t much you could do. You didn’t know how to do anything.

You could only do as your body reacted, which was to push up against his bare skin as much as you could manage. You spread out one of your legs, wrapping over Din’s hips so your thigh pressed into him.

You gasped into his mouth as his calloused hand ran over your thigh, up very high to where you could something happening. Something interesting, really. Something definitely new.

“You should ask me to stop,” Din grumbles against your neck. His lips had puckered over your quick pulse, sucking and biting at the skin that had never once been touched before.

“S-stop,” you breathed as you pulled his face back up. You pressed your mouth against his. Trying your hand at kissing back felt messy. It felt sloppy. But Din didn’t seem to mind all that much.

He yanked you closer. “Do you mean it?” he asked you in a rough voice.

“Not really,” you giggled.

Your leg that is cast over his hips got pulled at. He seemed to stretch it out wider so he could run his hand way up beneath your black dress.

His thumb passed over your wet center and you trembled against his chest.

“What was that?” you exclaimed, struggling to catch your breath.

Din looked down at you through the darkness. “This?” he asked. His thumb pressed on that one spot again and you gasped loudly. “What is that?” you asked again.

“Something I can easily stop if you asked me to,” Din says firmly. You gripped onto his bicep as you shook your head. “I do not want that,” you quickly say.

Din chuckled. He pressed another kiss to your mouth as he moved his thumb in small circles. You grabbed onto Din for your utter life. You recalled the feeling of being thrown around the Razor Crest while Din navigated you to safety. This feeling is very similar, but in a way you couldn’t possibly put into words. It’s warm, fuzzy, but it makes your blood run cold in your veins. The feeling has you breathing hard and clinging onto Din, tugging on his messy, brown hair.

And just as soon as it had started, there was a gigantic wave of euphoria that passed over you. Something burst inside your stomach. It was like the feeling had reached its peak and then ended.

You shuddered against Din’s torso, still reeling from the experience. You breathed hard, muttering his name over and over. “How,” you asked, “did you do that?”

Din laughed. The sound rumbled through his chest, low and baritone. He slides his arm up your dress and around to the small of your back. He tugs you closer to his grasp. “It’s a Mandalorian secret,” he tells you.

“Would you do it again?” you asked.

Din laughed. He rolled over you, pressing you into the pillows as he looked down at you through the darkness. In the silence you could hear that the party still raved on in the meeting hall.

“I could. But I won’t.” You gripped at his hair, lips puckered in a desperate attempt to kiss him some more. “Why?” you gasped. “I told you, mesh’la,” Din mutters. He kisses your lips once; it’s softer, gentler, and it eases you to comply with the cuddling hug Din rolls you into. “I don’t like being teased.”

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starfirette · 4 years

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Every Which Way: Chapter One

The Way Off Aniri

➡️a/n: a new series! Woohoo! Shoutout to https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/ for inspiring the names of the people and planet. There is possible false information regarding Mandalorian culture, so don’t bitch to me about it. I know I said posting was at 8 but I am too anxious. @interwebseriesfan24 is my lovely beta so go follow her and maybe even read her fluffy AF star wars fanfics!!! For more info on the OCs included, visit my OC page.

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Aniri is a planet where a monarchy reigns supreme.

The Anirian King has submitted a request to the guild, which suggested that he wants a man dead for making threats against the court; Karga just had suggested his best fighter take the job, just as non-explicitly as the king had been.

And Din has never been one to reject a job; especially if the pay seemed unreal.

To eliminate one man, the court was offering half a million credits and ten pounds of ruthenium.

Happy and boasting, Karga contacted the Anirian council and relayed that his best hunter would be taking the case.

The Mandalorian was given a tracking fob as well as a quick run down of Aniri.

In Karga’s own words, Aniri is not nearly as fluffy and dreamy as the public galaxy might think. These perceptions were coined by Anirian councils to distract suspectors from their supposed sympathies to the Empire as well as their cruel, unjust government. Karga had heard rumors that the current princess, Emelea, had been going on a rampage simply because her parents would not stop her.

With great consideration, Din reviewd these rumors. While he set a course to Aniri he told himself that he’d never actually been to the planet. Karga was not the only person to have said such things about the planet, but there were several offending accounts claiming Aniri is a wonderful place to live. People live their lives, no matter how a planet fairs. As far as Din knows, the planet was globally unified a century ago.While he’d never actually been to Aniri, he knew better than to listen to silly rumors, especially when every person has a different account.

Arrival to Aniri did not give Din any trouble. The atmosphere enterance gave the Crest zero problems.

Din touched down in a grassy plain about half a mile from the main palace, which was surrounded by large steel gates. On the landing plot were a large number of court members and palace guardians.

With a short greeting, Din followed the guardians into the palace, where the royal family waited to greet him.

The King is Josiahn Weslyn. He is shorter than Din, and pasty white, with thinning hair washed pure of color. His wife, also his first cousin, is Melvanne Weslyn, a taller woman, but with the same thin hair colored a muddy brown. Both she and her husband have no eyelashes and beady eyes.

Their children are equally unattractive.

The triplets are Melv, Riz, and Emelea. Melv and Riz are boys, tall as their mother but with darker eyes that are wreathed with heavy grey bags. Their heads share the same waves of suffocated amber that rolls down their necks. The strangest of the bunch is without a doubt Emelea; she is the tallest of her family. Her sunken black eyes stare deeply into Din’s helmet. It seemed certain to Din that she could see past his helmet.

His bones felt exposed to the princess, who did not blink as she stared. The wind tousled her dirty blonde hair before she finally sank into a deep curtsy, in sync with her two brothers.

Din greeted them with a cool nod of his head. “I am here to complete your task,” he said. The modulator of his helmet maximized his aversion to the strange bowing of the children.

Josiahn paid Din’s near invisible discomfort no mind as he gestured for his guardians to part and allow Din to come forward.

“Our Mandalorian savior,” Josiahn proclaimed, clapping his hands together.

“Our Mandalorian savior,” his family echoed.

“Please come with us.”

One by one the court members turn on their heels to return inside the palace. Their hems swished an inch above their heels, waving around a golden emblem wrapped around the ankles of their customary pants. As for the palace, it is quiet and cold. Din’s boots scuff against the concrete floors. The walls are devoid of decor. Every window has a set of large shutters to keep the sun out.

The only light comes from torches lit along the grey walls.

Bristled servants scatter in the shadows like swamp mice. They do not dare to murmur gossip. Not one of them stops to stare at the Mandalorian armor with awe, but it isn’t out of courtesy—it’s as if they’re too scared to be noticed.

Most maids wear dull scraps of potato sack-like material. Even that, though, isn’t what Din finds strange. Every maid bears thick makeup like paint. The lines and patterns which adorn their face have no pattern, and no meaning whatsoever. The glimpses of color he sees are the ugliest shades of yellow or green.

The makeup can’t be a popular trend.

Din recalls the warnings given by Greef Karga.

Journeying down the palace made Din feel smaller and smaller as the ceilings gradually became higher and higher. When Din was a mere speck of metal among the stone fortress, he was given a seat in Josiahn’s study. The children remained standing near Din’s given chair. Emelea’s hands rested on the shoulders of his armor, making Din feel suffocated. He resisted the urge to shake her away to not disrespect the family. Both of her brothers stand watch beside their sister.

The king and queen sat on a bench behind their desk. Din had never seen such a set up before. He’s seen many governors and monarchs and they never did business beside their partner. But Melvanne seemed perfectly used to this arrangement. Her left hand rested on the table, while her husband mirrored this with his right hand. They reached for their own pens but in perfect synchronization. On a piece of parchment they began to write. Joshian wrote the first half of the contract while Mevanne wrote the second. Their pens met perfectly in the middle, leaving not even a blot of ink. They slide the contract to Din, silently gesturing to him to read it.

With a surge of shock Din found that they’re handwriting is perfectly identical. It looked as if one person had written it out. Aside from that the contract is curiously short.

The chosen Mandalorian will return the peasant man Kais Korren to the palace dead or he forfeits the bounty of 500,000 credits and ten pounds of ruthenium. The chosen Mandalorian will not be given more or less. The chosen Mandalorian will be the chosen hero of Aniri.

“Do you agree to the terms?” The king asked.

Din hesitated to agree. These terms are not Guild regulated, but if they contacted Greef Karga, then surely they know the actual rules. This contract must be for their own personal relief.

“Agreed,” he finally said. The tracking fob was slid across the desk by the King, and as Din looked at the slow blinking light with an unseen grimace. He couldn’t imagine what sort of threats a man could be making to warrant drastic measures. A tracking fob, half a million credits, and not to mention pounds of ruthenium. If the Armorer does not see the ruthenium fit for armor plating he will simply sell it and donate half the earnings to the foundinlings of Mandalore. Although it’s no secret Din, himself, is broke. His jobs barely carry the amount of fuel for his ship, let alone upkeep. What money he gets he sends half away to care for the foundlings. That is his Way, the Way, that he has devoted himself to. And it does not bother him. He isn’t easily bothered.

But this planet—this planet bothers him to his core.

The fob leads Din to the village about five miles from the kingdom capital.

It’s a quiet village, serene with its grassy farms and tall trees. Unlike any other village Din has been to the people are quiet. Among the markets there is only necessary chatter. Bystanders that come and go don’t speak, and they certainly don’t look at Din.

Most people have similar reactions upon seeing a Mandalorian. Some children point and jump with glee. Mostly, however, people avoid him but point him out with admiration or shock.

This village is different. Because he stands out, people fear him, as if they fear anything out of the ordinary. Villagers begin to squirm when they sense Din coming closer, but they try their best to ignore him. Din has done similarly as a child, when he thought there were beasts in the darkness of his bedroom. He would force himself to not look, thinking anything there would just leave him alone if he didn’t make eye contact.

Fob in hand, Din moves through the village. There are no distractions, no obstacles.

It did seem too easy.

The fob frantically beeps each step he takes north. Villagers part with no hesitation as Din treks on, his palms sweaty beneath the leather and sun.

At a small house, the fob burst into a panicked blip, the red light flashing bright under Din’s thumb. Kais Korren is here.

The passage to the house is a lame excuse for a garden, with dead soil withered weeds.

Between being a Mandalorian as well as a bounty hunter, there is no room for pleasantries like knocking. The door creaked open and Din allowed himself to go in.

The house is just as plain as the palace. The only life of it darted past Din in a blur, screaming for his father.

A family of three, soon to be four judging from the mother’s belly, gathered tight in a corner.

They looked truly tired. The rags of their own clothes seemed almost too heavy for them to be wearing. Din said nothing as he displayed only the tracking fob. With slow movements he set the fob down and simply asked for them to bring Kais Korren forward. The family’s compliance did make everything easier.

Kais himself was a tall man, but thin. His graying hair in thick tendrils was tied back at the base of his neck. His eyes, sullen, silently thanked the family for opening their home to him. Kais did not fight Din as Din cuffed him and led him out of the house, going out beyond the village to a field where no one would bother them.

Kais Korren’s body was identified by the king himself in a steely room that could only be described as a morgue. The involvement of the king baffled Din more and more. Most high ranking men and women have people to do such bidding; the “dirty work.”

But King Josiahn wanted to see the corpse himself.

With a nod to the morgue director, the body was rolled away, and Josiahn turned on his heels to look up at Din.

“Our Mandalorian savior,” he said, clapping his hands. He sounded strangely happy, and yet there was not any emotion in his eyes; not even a sadistic smile weighed over his non-existent lips. “I’m honored to be in the presence of the best bounty hunter in our parsec. You have truly proved your worth. Your rewards are awaited in the dining hall. We humbly invite you to our celebration as our dinner guest. We are aware of and respect your culture. While you will be our guest of honor at the feast, a meal basket will be packed along with your money and ruthenium. Would you please join us? My daughter has become fond of you and insists she would love to have a Mandalorian at her party.”

Emelea has not been near Din for longer than half of an hour. Recalling her strange face did not settle well with Din’s stomach.

But to keep amiable ties with the Anirians, Din accepted the offer. He thanked Josiahn for the respect of his Creed, as not many do. Even within the Guild he is bullied relentlessly about his secretive nature; he’s been called hideous despite being unseen. He’s been called a prude despite his long hours spent in his bed wishing he had a woman with him instead of his calloused hand. Admittedly he would have declined if Josiahn hadn’t mentioned his respect for the Mandalorian creed.

The Way is Din’s life. He wouldn’t have it differently.

Din was escorted and announced officially into the vast throne room. Grandiose tables line the room and in the center is a wide circle of red paint.

As Din became announced those who sat at every table rose to their feet and broke into a thundering applause. Each crack of their palms struck Din’s chest as he felt suffocated. He felt watched. He felt weak, and small, despite the armor that weighed on his tired muscles.

Each step taken over the concrete floor jolted in Din’s chest, egging on the headache that sliced into Din’s eyes. The very center table had a chair set out and decorated with wreaths of plain flowers. Emelea made herself seen in an instant, taking Din by the hands and leading him to his chair.

Over the rumbling applause Din could hear Emelea speak. “I’ll feel much safer knowing you’ve gotten rid of that man for us!”

She had a light in her eyes Din could only describe as weird. She is weird, plain and simple. Her colorless hair is tied in a large knot on the top of her head, and dark makeup is brushed over her eyelids. She coerced him into the chair while Josiahn chastised her.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Josiahn snapped. Emelea immediately pulled away from Din. She had to be at least twenty years old. It churned Din’s stomach that Josiahn had spoken to her like she was a child, and it made it all the more disturbing that she simply giggled and apologized bashfully. She sat by her mother when Josiahn bid for her to scurry off.

“I apologize for my daughter,” Josiahn murmured near Din’s ear. Clearly Din is not the only one who has noticed Emelea’s strange behavior.

Emelea had turned into an entirely new person in the hours Din had been gone. Before, she’d been silent and vaguely terrifying. And now she could not stop staring at him from her mother’s side, like a schoolgirl in love.

As the applause faded out, Josiahn brought forward a couple of his court members who were to present Din with a number of presents.

The basket of dry meat and fruit had been neatly tied up in muslin napkins.

Small girls dressed like fruitcake offered ribbons and tiaras made from flowers.

Din could not bear to reject any of the gifts, especially from the children. He was given more small things than he knew what to do with. Eventually the hall of people that seemed to adore him for simply murdering a man began to wear the Mandalorian’s patience thin.

“Sir,” Din finally said to Josiahn. “I’m flattered by the lengths you and your people have gone to, but a simple thank you would have sufficed.”

Josiahn offered a small nod. His bug-like eyes drooped to avoid what would have been Din’s stare. “I am afraid we have kept you longer than you would have liked.”

He waved his hand to a guardian who is quick to come to Josiahn’s chair. “Would you do the Mandalorian a great favor and bring his food and reward to his ship.”

The guardian nodded, a lack of vocal confirmation filling the air as he strode away.

“Guess who’s back!” Emelea sang, suddenly flitting before Din’s chair. She pranced around, swaying the loose hems of her pants around her feet. “Strange thing to be given. Ruthenium, I mean. You could do with something better,” she adds with a curling grin. “I want to thank you again,” she then said, blinking for the first time Din had seen all day.

“It’s nothing to thank me for,” Din said flatly, the monotone modulator clearly keeping Emelea in check. She wavers on her toes like she wants to do more, to say more, but she doesn’t when she becomes reprimanded by her father. The two stared at one another, not in a way a parent and his child should. It was a challenge. A challenge that Josiahn lost as he looked away first.

“Well, Mandalorian, did you have fun with us today?” Sheer delight gleamed her buggish eyes. Something about Emelea is very wrong. How would Din have enjoyed his day here? He murdered a man and then got paid for it, so it’s not something to be excited about. Although she might have been trying to make him feel guilty.

Just something about Emelea is off. The entire family is off.

There is a sudden clamor at the front of the hall as the doors are pushed open to reveal an entire gallery of court guardians. They march in, carrying with them a figure draped in loose rags and crude face paint. From the distance Din sees the guardians throw the young woman into the center of the red circle he had seen before.

Emelea turned on her feet to look at the growing stream of madness. All of the court has now scrambled to their feet. They flock to the rim of the red circle. Some mock while others whisper and point.

Din struggles to understand.

He takes to his feet and walks into the madness.

In the red circle of paint is you. You aren’t much different from the other servants Din has seen. You wear the same crude looking face paint and rags.

Josiahn’s voice could not raise loud enough to silence the crowd that rages like an angry mob. Feebly, Josiahn demands, “What is going on?”

A court guardian responds: “Defection.”

Josiahn had nothing to say to this. Emelea overtakes her father’s spot. Her voice booms throughout the room, silencing the mob in a split second.

“Execution,” she said, “is the price of defection.”

Her eyes lock down on her father. “Isn’t that so?” She asked her father, mockingly.

Din couldn’t tell what had snapped in Emelea. She doesn’t look like the giggliest girl who had been fawning over Din just ten minutes ago. She’s wildly livid. As calm as she tries to be, Din can see she is practically foaming at the mouth.

Emelea turned to Din. “You must do it,” she says quietly. “My father will pay you handsomely. Though it is nothing to lose a servant girl.” Emelea spat the lowly title as she sneered in your direction.

Din’s heart fell down to his stomach. He could see the raw fear that festered in your eyes as you trembled on your knees.

“Emelea,”a voice booms.

Riz pushes through the crowd. A split second of relief. Din hoped Riz would calm Emelea down.

The two siblings held a silent conversation, staring at one another.

Emelea broke it off with a nod.

Riz drew out a long sword, brandishing it for the crowd to see.

Din dove into the red circle, standing before you with a hand resting on his blaster.

“This is our way!” Riz cried. He shows the sword off to every person in the crowd. His eyes, wild and wide, zeroed onto you. “She would defy the way of Aniri.” He pointed to you with the tip of the blade.

Josiahn did nothing. He said nothing, but Din could see the resignation in his eyes. “Why should she be killed?” Din demanded when Josiahn failed to speak up. “What has she been accused of?”

“She tried to leave the palace, sir, and without her makeup.”

What the fuck? Din thinks.

Emelea fumed at the words. “A Mandalorian would not understand the laws of this planet. She’s bound to this palace, bound to be my faithful servant.”

Din raised his chin. “She can be easily bound to another, couldn’t she? I agreed to help you with a man who threatened your court,” Din said to Josiahn, ”but a young servant girl leaving the palace without wearing makeup is hardly a cause for her death.”

Riz shook his head. “She is bound only to the royal family.” Riz gripped his sword, knuckles pale. “Well, father?”

Josiahn swallowed. He leveled his eyes with the Mandalorian’s helmet and, in a soft breath, he granted the servant to him.

Riz grunted. In a single swish of his arm, the blade slashed through the king.

Din couldn’t hold back the gasp of shock as Josiahn crumpled face first to the floor. The outcry was fast and sharp for anyone that regarded Riz as a villain.

Riz’s sword dripped with the blood of his slain father. “Mandalorian, considering you are new here, allow me to explain. Long ago, before Aniri became civilized, the battling clans would brawl within this red arena. The one to slay their opponent would earn the right to rule for four full years. It’s an ancient law, but one that has never been dissolved. And as I have already disposed of my mother, I see no reason why I should not be regarded, now, as the king, with Emelea as queen. Emelea had slain Melv the moment you left the palace to bring Kais to us. And while she had hoped you would stay to serve her in any way she pervertedly pleased, I can see that you have chosen this disloyal whore over me.”

Din’s heart pounded in his ears. Karga was right. The rumors about the court, especially Emelea, are true; and they are much worse than anyone has heard. The palace ran like a cult and Emelea, a crazy, ruthless nut, is now in charge.

As Emelea sauntered forward like a villain, Din drew his blaster and shot.

A wound blossomed on Emelea’s shoulder and she sank to her knees with a loud cry of pain.

Riz, now the only family Emelea has left, runs towards Din with his brandished sword. There’s no hesitation on Din’s side; he brandishes his forearm, shooting licks of fire from his wrist, emitting shrieks from the onlookers. Riz became enveloped in flame, and he rolled on the stone floor frantically to save himself. It hadn’t worked, and his body burned on as Riz laid dead.

Emelea shrieked. Her screams are like a beast’s as she scrambled to her feet, clutching her shoulder. “Kill them!” she screamed. She pulled at her hair and shrieked and cried.

The court guardians that remained at the scene stuttered in response. Half of them visibly questioned where their loyalties now lie. The other half remained too stunned to pounce immediately. Din struggled to pull you up as you stared in horror, your tears now dry by the heat of the dead prince’s corpse.

Running back to the Crest would have been easier if you were faster. You tripped and stumbled. Din doubts you have ever gotten decent exercise. You’re struggling to breathe before you’ve even escaped the palace.

Din can see in your eyes how tempted you are to just give up; to stay put and let Emelea do away with you in whatever cruel way she would. Before you could open your mouth to say the words, Din scooped you up into his arms. You latched your arms around his neck, struggling to stay secure as he took into a sprint. You’ve never felt wind over your face this way before. You’ve always watched ships and speed bikes come and go, but the luxury to ride them was reserved only for court members.

Your strange savior ran fast; in a whirl of strange and stranger courses you’d been whisked away by him, a man of metal that ran fast as a speed bike.

He took you to places you’d never seen before in a matter of a minute and you don’t even know his name.

Beyond the palace gates where he set you down and took on the court guardians that attempted to stop him. You’d never before seen the front gates, or the vast columns of trees. Awestruck, you stumbled out of the doors and into the grass.

Din tugged you along once more, urging you to go a little farther. His ship was close. You could see it, and it was unlike any other ship you’d seen before.

“Go!” Din demanded. You ran as fast as you could. You felt light, free, scared and giddy, all at once, even as gunfire rings out behind you.

Your rags of clothing fumbled your escape. You tripped over yourself again.

And that was it, you realized. That was the last of your freedom.

A court guardian lifted you into his arms, prepared to drag you back to Emelea.

You had only seen the ship once, and it hadn’t been enough.

Across the field Din struggled to fight off his own number of guardians. You writhed in your captor’s arms, calling out for help in a hoarse voice.

Din’s helmet raised to attention. He could see you struggling. All of his strength surged as he used the remainder of his fuel to spray fire in the air. The guardians flanked back, watching in horror as their fellow fighters burned alive.

Din ran to you, like no one ever had before, and you were unsure if you should feel glad or scared as he tumbled to the ground with your almost captor. Once more in Din's arms, you were being flung onto the ramp of his ship.

“Get in!” Din shouted as he shot at oncoming guardians. You clambered up the ramp, cutting your hands over the ragged edges. Din comes behind you to hurry things along. You sink into Din’s arms as he drags you inside. He firmly sets you down, only saying, “Stay there” before he rushes to the cockpit.

His adrenaline spiked hands shuddered as he fires up the engines of the Crest. The rumble of his ship is literal music to his ears. Din did not bother to gauge anything else as he forced the ship into a full exertion of motion. The Razor Crest lurched as it lifted off the ground at an alarming speed.

You strained to find balance as the entire world fell from under you.

Colliding with every panel as the ship lurched out of the atmosphere sent you into a sobered state of pain.

As the hum of the engine gets louder, you feel yourself becoming more and more frightened.

Your unknown fate, which lies in this stranger’s hands, topples through space as the ship whirls and spins, leaving you to do nothing but brace yourself in a corner. Your vision blurred with every moment that passed. The rampant heart that beat in your chest threatened to burst free and fly through space all on its own.

Some kind of siren went off as the walls of the ship shook. Distantly, you know the ship is being shot at. Breathing is becoming a struggle.

Your memory skips out on everything since that moment in the hall. The vague voice of your hopeful-savior is clear in your mind, but your surroundings have been washed down to plain palates of color. The blazing prince, a muddled yellow and brown splashed with the fiery licks of orange; his sister who screamed as she bled now remains faceless in your mind.

You crawled over the floor as it rumbled. You feel like debris in a tornado as you struggle for cover. The racking of metal pierces straight through you as you feel the looming threat of explosion closing in on you. A flat whistle is rising in your ears. There is no balance point for anything, not anymore. Were the rumors true? Does gravity not exist beyond the atmosphere of Aniri? Would the walls of the ship be stripped apart, leaving you victim to space winds, black holes, and freezing, endless darkness? The idea frightens you into a frenzy of hysterics.

You tumble across the panels. You go head first into a wall. It knocks the vision out of you. It’s difficult to tell how much time passes.

Sitting blind and gripping the sharp grooves of the ship, you brace your body back to fight the ship’s desperation to throw you around. Your neck twinges with pain of strained muscles.

You narrowly dodge debris that rolls around the ship.

Using the walls as your guide, you search for safety.

Inside of a strange vault, filled to the brim with weapons, you lock yourself inside. Your breath is uneven, so ragged it hurts. Pinned up against guns and other strange arsenal isn’t helping the feeling of impending doom, but at least here you’re safe.

You stay hidden until your legs hurt.

You can feel the paint dripping down your face in thick streams of sweat.

The ship ceased to rumble a while ago, but the nauseating pain in your stomach is still set firm like stone.

You know once you emerge from the weapon locker you’ll be apprehended by your strange savior.

You know what he is—a bounty hunter. He killed that wanted man on Aniri. He killed them just for money. He surely wouldn’t save you out of the kindness of his heart. He knew running off with you would cause a stir. They’d followed you off planet.

You know what Emelea and Riz are like. Melv was kind, but weak. He had been the sickly triplets of the bunch. Kind he may have been but he was easily overpowered by siblings.

They followed you off the planet. You, a servant. You are their property. They’re going to war over a stolen girl, and given Emelea’s absolute insanity, you can only guess how it will end for you.

Even if Emelea doesn’t make further attempts, you are still in the hands of a stranger. A bounty hunter; a killer. He could use you for anything he wanted. Leverage to get ransom from Aniri, sell you to the Empire to be a slave, or he could keep you for himself. You’d be dead or worse either way.

You gripped tight on a blaster before carefully opening the door.

The ship rumbles in easy silence. No fire or smoke leaks. Just silence.

Did...did he outrun them?

You stepped out. The metal under your bare feet is unlike anything you’ve felt. Servants were not permitted shoes because they had nowhere to go but around the palace. You’re used to smooth concrete.

Your slippery palms grip the blaster with sloppy form. You’re unfamiliar with weaponry and rely mostly on what you’ve seen to defend yourself. Aim, pull trigger.

In such a close range you could surely kill him, but piloting the ship wouldn’t be as easy.

You tiptoe around, heart hammering in your chest. The metal floors creak behind you.

You whirl around with a sharp gasp, pressing the gun into the metal armor of the man who saved you.

You tried to shoot but his hand wrapped around your wrist, bending you in such a way that the gun fell from your fingers into his hand. You started to struggle.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the Mandalorian says sharply. He sheaths the blaster in a holster on his hip and then holds you firmly by the shoulders. “Calm down,” he says.

The modulator of his helmet highlights the details of his voice. Surprisingly deep but sharp, you find.

You can't help but continue to struggle in his hold. He only has you by your forearms but he's incredibly strong. Or at least stronger than you.

"Calm down," he repeats again. "I am not going to hurt you."

You are desperately hoping that's true. Palpitating, your heart disagrees and screams at you to fight and run.

The prospect would fail you no matter what. You're weak in general, more so now after the chaos you've gone through. Above feeling scared, you are dreadfully tired.

The Mandalorian man cautiously leads you to a lumpy mattress pushed against the wall of a smaller room. "Sit," he says, a gloved hand gesturing to his bed.

Your heart thunders away as you do. You grip the skirt of your rags and sit obediently, staring at your hands.

Tears dripped down your face, tumbling off your chin.

"What are you going to do to me?" Those are the first words you've said in a while. The crackling of your voice makes you cringe; your number one weakness is your vulnerability and right now you're the most vulnerable person in the galaxy.

"You need rest," The Mandalorian says quietly. He digs around a little closet. He hands you a folded white shirt and towel. You're beyond puzzled at the gifts and behind tears you manage to send him a questioning glance.

"Wouldn't you like to freshen up?" He sounds puzzled. You debate the idea. Hesitantly, you nod.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeats. This time it sounds gentle.

Genuine.

"You can wear this for tonight," he continues. He places the shirt and towel in your arms. You had never been given something for you. Not this way.

"Would you like to shower?" The Mandalorian then asks you.

You look up through your dirty bangs, unsure what he means.

"Bathe," Din corrects himself.

You nod. As unsure as you are you begin to give into the looming feeling of safety.

Ushering you into the refresher in silence is beyond awkward.

Din gives a quick rundown on how the shower works. When water came from the showerhead your eyebrows lifted to your hairline.

"Curiouser and curiouser," you murmured to yourself. You run the top of your hand under the stream to test it out. To your disbelief the water is warm.

You look to the Mandalorian, shock written all over your face.

Din tries not to chuckle at your expression. He can see that you're rather pretty even under the sweat, dirt, and paint.

"I'll leave you alone. Take as much time as you need."

Din shuts the door after himself, leaving you in the steamy refresher. You hang your things on the hook. You're beyond excited to wear something other than your itchy rags.

You discard the rags to the floor and step eagerly into the water.

It's amazing.

You look at your feet, watching the dirt and paint whirl down the drain to never be seen again.

While "showering" might be new, you at least know how to wash yourself.

You use a bar of soap to lather bubbles in your hands. Scrubbing away the vomit-green foundation is beyond satisfying.

You wash your hair, taking your grand time. The bubbles gather in your hair like a fluffy cloud. It's hard to remember there is a world outside of the shower where you massage your scalp for a decent ten minutes.

By the time the water has ran cold, you have exhausted the possibility of washing any untouched body part. You feel butter soft, hair silky smooth.

You pat yourself dry with the towel your savior had given you.

It's then that you struggle to not burst into tears. The sight of your crumpled uniform overwhelms you. You huddle into the corner, gripping onto the soft linen the man had given you.

Dabbing tears away with your inner wrist, you tell yourself to stay calm.

You slip on the shirt.

He is bigger and taller than you, so the shirt covers all of you to your mid thighs.

You look at your reflection in the foggy mirror.

You don't recognize the girl that looks back at you. No loose rags cover her curves and no thick paint masks the face she is so unfamiliar with.

You can see all the pigment in your skin. Your eyes are slightly red, but filled with hope. You detangle your hair with your fingers before you gather enough courage to go out.

You slip into the cold air with your old uniform and towel bunched in your arms.

You scan up and down the narrow hall. You wish you knew your savior's name.

"Hello?"

The answer is footsteps that lead away from the cockpit.

He still wears his heavy armor, helmet included.

"How do you feel?" He asks after a tense moment of silence.

"Clean," you say sheepishly.

You’re still slightly concerned with your well being. You look up to his helmet, taking a conscious shuffle back. "I should thank you properly," you murmur.

"There's no need for it," the Mandalorian says quickly. His tight voice is incredibly nerve wracking.

"What are you going to do to me?" You finally asked the one question that's been on your mind.

He tilted his head back. You imagine he's surprised from the way his body seemed to stutter.

"Nothing you're thinking, I can say that," he declared. "Technically you...you are mine now. The Anirians will be looking for you. They made that clear. It's safe to assume you have no family off planet?"

You must have looked surprised because he quickly tries to apologize for overstepping a boundary.

"I have no family," you say. "None at all. I was born into the servant ranks."

"I see." He visibly thought about what to do. Even though his face remains unseen you can tell he's debating all of his options. "If you're tired, you can sleep. If you're hungry, help yourself. Do as you'd like around here, at least until tomorrow."

You don't know how he keeps track of time here. The question isn’t nearly as pressing as what’s happening tomorrow.

You clenched your stomach when you asked what happened tomorrow. You prepared for the very worst answer.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe.” His response didn’t make much sense. He turned on his feet to head back to the cockpit, but you reached after him. Your touch must have startled him as he flinched. You recoiled. “I-I want to ask why you did it.”

He doesn’t answer your question.

“I’ll be here if you need me.”

You retreated to the little bed. It’s lumpy, but soft. You sink right into it, timidly covering yourself with the thin blanket.

You rest your head against the pillow.

This must be his bed.

This must be what he smells like; metal tang mingling with his soap and just him. It’s difficult to describe since it’s not really a thing. It’s just him.

Sleeping could have just been blinking. Your eyelashes tickled your eyelids as you opened them, seeing the world only as a pillow. You had cuddled it during the night, and you can’t say it was bad, since it smelled nice and was a real pillow.

You roll over to your back, feeling the start of a headache instantly form behind your eyes.

On the small bedside table are new clothes. Well, you find it’s actually just a new linen shirt and an oversized leather jacket. You are a bit surprised to see that. After all, your savior doesn’t seem like the leather jacket type.

But it’s very soft, so you figure it’s old.

You shrug into the clothes, grateful he didn’t simply wash your rags and have you wear them again.

Although it is a peculiar outfit as far as outfits go. The brown leather jacket does a good job of keeping you warm and your hands at least reach the outside of the sleeves. But the shirt is sort of short. Oversized, but short.

At least shorter than what you’re used to. On closer examination you’d say you have at least two inches between your kneecaps and the hem of your shirt-dress. You just zip up the jacket to avoid any mishaps. Strangely enough it makes a cute-ish outfit.

Then again you’ve never actually had any other outfit before. You’d probably think anything would be cute.

You come to the conclusion that you’re stalling going out to meet your savior. You’d slept peacefully and gotten new clothes, so you’re kind of expecting the entire thing to be revealed as a trick.

You open the door with the thought that you could always run back to the weapon locker and grab a pistol. Your hope for a silent start to your first day is smashed when you run into him less than a full minute of being on your feet.

You awkwardly stared into his visor, stuttering a quiet “Good morning.”

He didn’t exactly reply the way any other person would.

“How are you feeling?”

The crisp edge to his voice cuts your ears. He’s awfully fear inducing.

“I feel alright,” you mumble. “Thank you for the clothes.”

He nodded, not making a sound that could be mistaken for a “you’re welcome”. Instead he straightens his helmet, the T of his visor looking somewhere behind you. He says, “I have set a course to Nevarro.”

You nodded right back. “I would guess that’s a planet,” you say, trying your best to sound serious. Who could take you seriously, though? Makeupless, tired, with less than combed hair, and you don’t know anything about the galaxy you live in.

“It’s going to be where we live. For now. At least until I can find somewhere safe for you.” His words took your breath away. It’s mind blowing to imagine how many planets are out there. Which planet will you live on? What would you do? Just live, breathe, all without being in the service of anyone else?

You bobbed your head softly, a quiet yes on your lips, but excitement gathering in your chest.

“I’m going to have to thank you again,” you murmur, sweeping your bangs out of your eyes. “I’ve never been shown such kindness from a stranger. I am Y/n.”

The soldier bowed his helmet in response. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/n.”

You half expected him to tell you his name in response. You should have known better, however, considering his entire identity depends on mystery. Before he could leave, you asked him, “What should I call you?”

A slight falter in his footsteps makes you regret the question. He visibly thought as he tilted his visor down. Is he staring at you? His feet? The way the leather jacket hangs off your limbs?

“You can call me Mando, if you want,” he finally suggested, his words sounding so broken apart that you wonder if he is physically malfunctioning beneath the helmet. You decided to just stick with Mando rather than force him to socialize and talk more than he already has been.

The day passed by uneventfully, but still blurringly fast. You have nothing to do, but that is a thousand times better as opposed to your usual schedule of cleaning around the Anirian palace from dawn to dusk. You never had the luxury to feel bored before today. You passed the time by cleaning up around the ship while Mando remained ever stoic in the pilot chair.

You grew used to his ever looming presence. You have an idea of him in mind that you can’t be too sure of. He watches you constantly, occasionally handing bowls of soup to you without a word. He thanked you before bed for taking the time to clean but insisted you don’t do it again. You’d taken that with a grain of salt in the wound. For a brief moment you felt embarrassed; you must not seem like a real person to him. Just the poor Aniri girl programmed to clean and stay silent.

Mando must have seen this thought in your eyes because he stopped you from going to bed to say a few words.

“Thank you,” he said. His voice always cuts through your chest, right to your heart. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I want to say that you shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of anything.”

You tilt your head up, peeking at his helmet through your bangs. “I don’t know how else I can thank you,” you sheepishly admit. “Cleaning is my only real talent.”

He didn’t laugh at the half-joke, instead he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. The tang of his armor you could taste on your tongue, and you can just imagine how it would twine with the smell of him.

“If you’re hungry then I’ll bring you food, to the bedroom.”

“Wouldn’t you want to eat with company?” You asked.

His long pause is deafening. “It’s alright,” he finally says, voice lowered to a soft lull. “Y/n,” he said. Your heart pounds when he says it. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You nodded. “I know,” you mutter. “I really, really wish I could thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by getting rest. We’ll be at Nevarro in twelve or so hours.”

You retreated to the door to your little bedroom, before turning back to look at Mando one more time. “Where do you sleep?” You asked.

“The bedroom,” he replied. “But it’s yours tonight, once more.”

You don’t argue as Mando turns away, returning to the cockpit where he would no doubt be the rest of the night.

You shrugged out of the leather, draping it across the small night stand where a glass of fresh, cold water greeted you.

You have never been cared for.

You have never been given anything so luxurious in your entire life.

Mando had now given you his bed for two nights in a row, and you would have felt guilty if you weren’t struck by your sudden change of lifestyle. You crawled onto the mattress and sunk your face into the pillow, breathing in the smell of him.

Just him.

>> next chapter!

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starfirette · 4 years

Text

Every Which Way : Chapter Four

The Way To Freedom

➡️a/n: there is nothing for me to say besides this story is literally my heart and soul ATM

➡️ prev chapters found on masterlist

➡️ Included original characters: Wendi Q’ohl + Ryder Vizsla

➡️ JOIN THE TAGLIST | VIEW SCHEDULE | >>NEXT CHAPTER!<<

Din rushed you through the tunnel, ushering you through as he kept watch of the alleyway.

When Din followed after you stopped him by grabbing his hand. “You killed those people for me,” you say sternly. “Right?”

“Y/n,” Din hazards. “This isn’t a conversation we are going to have.”

You tugged him back, trying to hold him as tightly as he could hold onto you. He easily detached from your grip; it reminds you how feeble you really are without him, and of how strong he is. Staring through the darkness with a crinkled frown, you said, “I don’t understand you.”

“Why do you care?” Din snapped.

You smashed your lips closed . Why did you care?

The common reaction would be to care about your savior, yes? No matter what Din is to you, you care about him so much that you can hardly breathe. It’s a painful matter to even contemplate. The words mumbled in your throat as you spit out a response before he could walk away from you.

“Because I care about you,” you said. Your voice echoed around the tunnel. Din’s figure ruffled to a stop. “I do, Din,” you said a bit louder. “I care about you a lot. You’ve been the only thought on my mind all this week. And I think you might care about me, too.”

Ragged breaths that passed his modulator kept you on your toes. The heart that beat painfully in your chest became absolutely shattered when Din did finally speak.

“You’re wrong,” he says. “I don’t care about you, and you don’t care about me.”

The silence that passed between you struck you in the face like a sharp slap from Emelea’s hand. Composing yourself, wiping your tears and such, took some time, and Din seemed to wait for you. Your boots stepped over the rocks that littered the tunnel’s floor as you walked around Din and made way for the covert. At least in the darkness Din could not see the tears that streamed down your face like the water in the showers.

You were wrong; of course you were. You don’t know anything about feelings, you’ve never had the opportunity to understand them. Perhaps you’d mistaken care for something different. You’d misinterpreted Din’s lingering touches and glances your way. It all meant nothing.

With a heavy heart you raced to the furnace, in a hurry to return your weapons and find solace in your bedroom.

“Y/n!” Wendi exclaimed. She left her spot by Gold as she ran to you. “Where the hell did you go?!”

“Din found me,” you mumbled with your chin tucked against your chest. Staring at her glittering shinplates eased the tears on your eyes.

“What were you thinking letting her go alone?” Din demanded Wendi. “She could have gotten killed.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Wendi snipped with a dismissive tone in her voice. “Clearly she’s just fine––”

“They sent their people after her,” Din interjected. “If I hadn’t been there, or if Paz and Ryder were too late, then she’d be back in their hands.”

The anger that seeped out of his voice prompted you to look up. Though Din isn’t that tall, he easily towered over Wendi, and his mask did nothing to hide the anger that simmered beneath it. “I don’t care what your personal problem with her is,” Din continued to chew her out. “You are under a creed and she is protected by that creed. If she had gotten killed or taken, I would hold you responsible.”

Even under the pressure of Din’s angry voice, Wendi still managed to get out a snark. “Yeah, you would.”

“Can you both just stop it?” you interjected. “I’m just fine.”

“See, Djarren? Your girlfriend is just fine,” Wendi repeated. “Paz and Ryder came back with the guardian. They said Y/n can easily hold her own. They also said you killed the rest. Don’t gripe to me about your personal problems. If you want Y/n kept under lock and key, then don’t leave again.”

Din’s arm stretched above Wendi and hammered down. The screech of her metal cuffs that stopped the blow echoed in your ears. They clamored in a quick brawl that was cut short by Gold’s booming voice. “Control yourselves,” she commanded. “You’re embarrassing yourselves in front of Y/n and me both. I expect to see you both in the gathering hall immediately.”

The two Mandalorians sent each other brief looks, no doubt snarling under their helmets. Din stormed out first, his cape fluttering behind him with a sharp gust of wind.

Wendi crossed her arms as she looked you up and down. “I don’t think you have any idea how much of a hassle you are,” Wendi says before she leaves.

You collapse into the chair, your palm gripping your achey chest. By now you could feel how sore your muscles are. You look up to Gold who waited patiently, looking at nothing as she thought.

“Are Paz and Ryder alright?” you finally asked.

“They’re fine,” Gold assures you. “They both said you fought confidently. I’m proud.”

You mustered half of a smile. You stood up to stretch your legs.

You wanted to talk about Din and what he said and what he did and how everytime he touched you your skin seemed to burn, but you know you can’t without running the risk of further embarrassment. You reached for your blaster, using your thumb to undo the holster strap. You passed it to Gold. She looked at it with a slight tilt of her golden helmet before shaking her head. “It’s yours, now. All of it.”

While there weren’t many weapons you’d been given, they all weighed heavy on your lower body. The feeling of the besbev against your thigh felt unnatrual, but if Gold would not accept it, you knew you must keep it; if not to keep yourself safe, then to at least help the others during a situation like today.

“I don’t want to go to the meeting,” you said blandly.

“Noted,” Gold says. “You must know what it will be about.”

“Me?” you ventured a guess.

“Wendi is right about one thing,” Gold says, “and it is that you are a great deal of ‘hassle’. The interrogation with the court guardian is being taken care of. We expect him to let us all know how you may stay among the covert without breaking any laws or waging war.”

“If he doesn’t?” you asked.

Gold’s hands curled into fists under her thick, leather gloves. “Then we wage war,” she said plainly.

You retreated to your room after that. You don’t have the energy to sit around and listen to a bunch of Mandalorians talk about how much of a nuisance you are. If you’d known upon your capture that you’d be such a bother, you would have asked Din to go on his way.

It’s not anything that builds up self esteem. Wendi clearly hates your guts.

How could you blame her? You are a threat to her home and her family. You’d probably feel similarly if the roles were reversed.

You used a wet cloth to wipe the dirt and sweat of your neck and face, knowing you’d have to wait until the morning to use the showers. You know that as you change into sleep linens there is a riot about getting rid of you just down the hallway.

You understand what Din had meant, now. He doesn’t really care about you like you thought. He brought you to the covert, fought for you to stay, and now he has to see it through. He’s quite devoted to his mandate. In his own Mandalorian way, he’s a gentleman. At least he keeps his word.

He did make it clear you’d be safe with him.

It hurts knowing he probably regrets his choice as much as you do.

The next morning you woke with one burning thought.

You dressed and raced to the furnace in your tunic and pants. The only weapon in your belt was the flute that dug against your thigh as you jogged down the hallway.

You’ve become used to the stares by now. You wonder what the status of last night’s meeting had been, but as for right now, you have one question that must be answered.

“What is your name?” You gasped out.

Gold looked up at the intrusion. Her arm had been hammering away at a white hot blade.

Gold’s helmet tips down to her work, then back to you. Her modulator hisses as she breathes. Her hesitation was silent and nearly unreadable but you’d grown used to the Mandalorian mannerisms, enough so that you could begin to read their emotions.

“You can’t tell me,” you concluded.

Gold tilts her helmet thoughtfully. “Your intelligence continues to throw me off guard,” she notes. She cast down her hammer, the strike ringing in your ears as it shaped the blade she was working on dutifully. “Unlike any other Mandalorian in this covert my title is one that has been passed down from my parents. Certain titles are as sacred as one’s face.”

“So only your immediate family can know,” you guessed.

“The creed has certain rules that apply to certain people,” Gold explained as she holds the white hot sword up, examining its edges before dunking it into a cooler. You flinch as the steam erupts from the cooler. Gold seems so unfazed by the process that frightens you. You’d never seen the process of weapon making before. It hadn’t crossed your mind during servitude that weaponry could be a trade. Your eyes follow the sword in Gold’s hands as she places it on a table of ice. “What do you know of it?”

“Of what?” You asked.

The visor of her helmet seeps into your eyes. “Of the Creed.”

You fidget in your seat. “Only what Din has told me,” you explain. “Your faces are meant only for family.”

“And do you know why?” Gold asked.

“I don’t.”

“Long ago, on Mandalore, the people abided by a code of fealty and a strict creed of honor. Mandalorians were once known to be the fiercest warriors across all the galaxy. To maintain clan safety, every Mandalorian warrior was sworn to bear their face to no one but their own family. Through blood or marriage could one only see a Mandalorian face. Beyond the immediate clan, no living being could see the face of a sworn warrior. Marriage between Mandalorians was frequent. The people of the Creed are not bound to species or race. The Creed may apply to or protect anyone that swears by it. Marriage is the first cornerstone of our tradition. Jedi forbid themselves to love for they fear it will bring anguish, and from that, anger. Jedi fear anger. Mandalorians embrace it. We see that love can be the difference between life or death.

To keep younglings, wives, and husbands safe, the Creed instated the helmet law. We bear them to protect our clans. It means to keep identity secret to outsiders. This was a time of peace. Our people were united under the Way.

The Jedi were our natural enemy. To fend them off a member of a strong clan, who had been familiar with the ways of the Jedi order, laid siege on their temples with a weapon of his own epic creation. It is known today as a Darksabre, the one and only. It was created by Tarr Vizsla and my direct ancestors.

Vizsla became the Mand’alor. The leader of Mandalore, similar to what you know to be a King or Queen. Vizsla’s clan descended into fame following Vizsla’s feats. There were many conflicts with many people, not only the Jedi, that Vizsla had managed to defuse. Though his death was followed by a rupturing civil war.

The Jedi took possession of the Darksabre. No Armorer has ever been able to recreate Vizsla’s vision.The loss of the Sabre, however, is not what brought on the war. The people became divided after Vizsla’s death. Many sought pacifism as a way to cease outer conflicts. The Way became disrespected. The Creed became a secondary curriculum for the foundlings and younglings. When the Jedi came, many were unprepared. The children that should have learnt the art of war, of the weapon, and of love, knew only a Way of cowardice. The land was scorched and salted by the Jedi most people hold so high. The plains of wheat and grass became a field of ash. Those who wanted to survive fled the planet, while others remained on Mandalore and rebuilt the cities. Those who fled went in hiding, out of fear of the Jedi.

Pacifism took over the ranks, and the most peaceful of them all became the Mand’alor. And meanwhile, the cruel descendant of Tarr Vizsla began to attack the Creed more and more.

The Way has been deserted on Mandalore, but it has lived on through coverts, such as this. There are others like us. Others are waiting to seize our place as protectors as they hide on distant planets like lakebats.”

“And is that why we stay hidden?” You asked. “Because of the Jedi?”

Gold weighed stones of steel in her hands. They scrape over the edges of the newly bred sword, sparks flying as the edges build a razor tip.

“There are more threats than the Jedi,” she mutters, voice pitched darker than you’d ever heard. “War rages throughout the galaxy as we speak. Mandalorians have abandoned their dignity and fall in league with the Imperial scum.”

You shudder. Imperial scum. You know of such people. You’d unknowingly worked for many.

Clearing your scratchy throat, your blurt out, “Why? Why would the “pacifist” Mandalorians work for such horrible people?”

“Not all Mandalorians or black and white,” Gold explains. “This has happened in the past. The descendant of Tarr Vizsla had worked with an Imperial Sith Lord. He had intentionally waged territorism on his planet, even abandoning his child. It is more common that you might expect, Y/n.”

You gnaw on your lip, skin tearing onto your tongue in dry flakes. You rub your finger over your chapped lips. The idea forms in your head, an answer to the question you’d been aching to figure out. “A group of rogue Mandalorians are harboring a fugitive from an Imperial planet,” you concluded. “They don’t just want me, do they? They’re weeding out the old fashioned Mandalorians. It’s an all-win situation.”

Gold’s helmet inclined, almost seeming exhausted. “Very much so.”

You look down at the cuffs on your forearms. They’d been crafted for you as a form of protection, but it wasn’t just your protection. Letting you be repossessed by Aniri would jeopardize Din Djarren, a Mandalorian who knows about the Nevarro covert.

“What was the final word?” you asked. “Will you buy me?”

Gold doesn’t respond for a long minute. She returns the sharpening stones to her case, but then moves to a larger locker. Stacks on stacks of metals shine at you.She selects a few bars, doing the mental calculations as she weighs them in her gloved hands.

You cannot imagine how sweaty she must be, under the golden helmet, the cape made of fur, and the leather apron over all of her armor. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable, nearly ever. Her mind is constantly running, processing things you couldn’t comprehend. If she’s one of the “old” Mandalorians, you cannot imagine why any Jedi would want to wage war with them. Gold alone is a threat to villains. You’d seen Din in action, and even Wendi seems viscous.

“A proper course of action will be made,” Gold says as she sets the metal bars into her bubbling foundry. They fold into the strobes of heat and sizzle as they come undone like threads. “That is,” Gold said suddenly. “—if you trust me.”

Rendered puzzled, you rubbed your hands over your thighs. “What do you mean by that?” You drawl, quiet and uncertain while Gold stirs the metal in with a heavy poacher.

“I mean just what I say,” Gold says insistently, looking into her cauldron as she spoke. “I must hear you say that you trust me.”

You didn’t have to think that long about your answer. “I trust you.”

“And Wendi?”

You frowned. “As much as I dislike her, I trust her,” you admit.

“And Paz, what of him?”

You chewed on the thought for a second. “He’s kind to me,” you say. “I do trust him very much. He’s my friend.”

Gold chuckled, the sound low in her modulator. “I am crafting what will be used to keep you and our covert safe. If you so wish to stay and watch the tedious procedure, I don’t have objections. It’s not exciting.”

You took that as Gold’s way of asking you to leave. You tried to ask for a clear answer but she ignored you, choosing to slave away over the boiling hot metals.

What would happen to you? You don’t know anyone else well enough to ask, except for maybe Paz. You ran to the washrooms to shower. The empty showers steamed up, the water striking the smooth floor with pitter-pattering little sounds.

You scrubbed your head with soap as fast as you could do it. Being trapped in an answerless state isn’t fun, and you wouldn’t wish it on even Wendi. The anxiety that bubbled up inside your throat got washed down the drain.

Rinsing the bitter taste of vomit from your mouth, you told yourself everything would be alright so long as you trusted Gold and Paz and the rest of the covert.

Din would probably deliver whatever coins or disks Gold is crafting to Emelea in person. Maybe Emelea would accept the offer. Maybe.

You can only rely on that “maybe” to keep your stomach from churning. The thought of ruining the covert is painful.

You linger around the tunnel for a few minutes more, half hoping you’d bump into Din. You know well that he’s out doing his own work, but you cannot help yourself from hoping. The thought of Din stayed with you as you shuffled into the common room. A few Mandalorians lingered here, Paz being one of them. He noticed you linger on the edges like a wallflower, and he went out of his way to invite you to his table. His basket for snacks was filled. “Going on a trip?” You asked, nodding your head to look at his food. You fold your hands behind your back.

“Something like that,” he says.

His usually booming voice is quiet; soft, almost.

He shuffled through his basket and under a few rolls of cheese was a worn novel. The title said Prudential Policies: A History And Study Of Mandalore. “Another book for your collection?” You asked, feigning a teasing glance after Paz had read the title to you.

Paz chuckled. “I have my own novels to consume tonight. This is for you.”

“Me?” You repeat.

“If you’re to stay with us then you should know the Way. I couldn’t leave you drowning, could I?”

You could hear the grin in Paz’s voice and it eased the weight in your chest. You hold the book to your chest. “I value your thoughtfulness more than you know. Thank you.”

Paz nodded his heavy helmet, leaving it at an incline for a second’s time. You noticed Mandalorians often did this. It seemed like a bow, but not exactly as respectful. From what you’ve gathered, the gesture is to convey gratitude or kindness.

You ventured to nod your head as well.

“Can I ask you something?” you say before Paz can escape you. He took the basket in his hand. “Anything.”

“What was the ruling last night? What did the court guardian say?”

Paz didn’t answer you right away, which led you to believe the worst. “Please tell me,” you plead. “I don’t think I could take bad news from anyone else.”

Paz flexed his fingers around the handle of the basket, a delicate sigh passing his mask. “There’s a law that requires us to send a certain amount of money,” he finally answered.

“Purchase?” you repeated. “Is that really all?”

“There are other details that aren’t for us to be concerned with,” Paz says comfortingly. “It’s all going to be taken care of.”

You nodded, chewing on your lip as you relished in the words. There wouldn’t be any reason for the court guardian to lie, especially when in captivity. The guardian wouldn’t lie.

Neither would Paz.

You will be safe.

“Y/n?” Paz says. “Are you alright?”

You quickly nod, clutching the book to your heart. “I’m much better now. Thank you.”

“I’m glad to have eased your mind. If you need anything, I’ll be in my room––reading, of course. You can join me if you feel bored later on.”

“I cannot imagine bothering you that way,” you proclaim. “Your free time is the only time you can keep your helmet off. I wouldn’t want to intrude on that.”

Paz made a thoughtful sound, as if he hadn’t been expecting such an answer. “I’ve never known anyone who accepts the Way so easily. Beyond the covert, that is,” he added. “Most people want to know everything. The reason we do it, the exceptions to the rules.”

“Are there exceptions?” You ask. “To the rules?”

“Well, sure. You could see my face if you were my child, my sister, or my wife,” Paz explained. “The helmets aren’t meant to be a punishment,” he adds. “It makes it all the more special when our family sees our bare face. It’s about love and companionship.”

Your face felt all flushed and warm down to your neck. You looked away, gripping the book like an anchor. “You know, you’re awfully poetic for someone so…”

“So scary looking?” Paz guessed.

“For someone so fierce,” you corrected. After all, his armor announced his heroism by itself. When Paz speaks, hairs on your neck stand straight. He’s a commanding presence to say the least. You wouldn’t have pegged him to be as kind and welcoming as he is. Especially surprising about him are the books he usually holds in the common room. He lounges and reads silently, not bullying even Din, who you’ve noticed always seems to clash with Paz.

As time relented on, you became more anxious. You’d sifted through your new novel, struggling to read every word. Paz’s methods of sounding out the letters proved more difficult to do when alone. Every syllable frustrated you and eventually you tossed the book aside. By page five you’d had a massive headache.

Even more bothersome was the nagging question of what Gold would be doing by now. What would become of you?

You leaned back in the creaky chair, shutting your eyes as you tried to massage your headache away.

After some time doing this a gentle rapping came at the door. You lurched to your feet. You rushed to the door, hoping to see Gold or Paz beyond it with your ticket to freedom. Only neither of them were there.

Din was there, and you were very surprised, unable to contain the small drop of your jaw. You’d figured he wouldn’t come to see you until the very last moment—until it was time to say goodbye.

“Hello,” you said quietly. You straighten your shoulders, consciously trying to appear confident as you inwardly feared what Din would say.

“If you’re here to further reject me,” you sniff, “you should just leave. I don’t want to be humiliated more than I have been.”

“May I come in?” Din murmured.

“Why?” You sniped. You’d never imagined being so vicious would feel so horrible. Although, when you are sarcastic to Wendi you feel sort of satisfied. Now, you feel sick to know that it’s Din you’re actively trying to hurt.

“Please,” Din begged.

You stifle a sigh, but agree, standing aside to allow Din entry.

Among the small room he seemed so huge, especially in his shining armor. You quickly tidy around, dusting off the cushioned chair and gesturing for him to take a seat.

“Y/n,” he said. “It’s alright.”

You purse your lips. “Compulsory, I suppose,” you mutter. “I doubt I’ll ever outgrow those ways.”

“That’s why I worry, you know,” Din says. His words, though strained, seemed to tumble out of his mouth clumsily. “I worry that you’ll spend your life living as if you owe it to anyone but yourself. I worry that you’ll find yourself with someone that takes advantage of your kindness.”

“You mean my obedience,” you correct. Even you heard the venom coating your words. You hadn’t meant to say such a thing, nor with such a tone.

Din visibly struggled as he stuttered a couple words. He took a breath, composing himself before he strode to stand right before you. You would have been able to smell him if he hadn’t been wearing his armor.

You looked away, focusing on a spot on the floor. You swallowed a bitter plug, unable to meet his gaze through the mask. You could feel his eyes on you, helmet or no helmet.

“We’ve figured out a plan,” Din says gruffly. “To keep you safe.”

“I know,” you say, forcing yourself out of his invisible pull. You sit on your mattress, crossing your ankles and looking up at him. “When will the money be delivered?”

Din hesitates, clenching his hands at his side. “There won’t be any money involved,” he says. “It’s-it’s not what you think.”

You lifted an eyebrow. Your heart got caught in your throat when Din cautiously sat beside you. “The Armorer has already arranged for a contract. It’s the only way to keep you from being repossessed by a loophole law.”

Paz had lied. Paz lied. You won’t be fine, you realized, you won’t be safe at all.

“What is the only way?” You demand, starting to feel dreadfully nervous.

Din clenched his hands in his lap. “If you married me.”

Breathing suddenly became impossible. Muscles seized, chest tight, you stared at Din through glassy eyes. The notion was laughable, even almost impossible, and you felt like the punchline of a joke.

“I’m not marrying you,” you finally say.

Din lurched to his feet. “What, would you rather marry Wendi? Or Paz?”

“At least Paz hasn’t been completely rude to me!” You shot back. “Paz makes a point to talk to me, and to—well, and to make me feel welcome!”

“I haven’t made you feel welcome?” Din asked, voice low and hoarse. “I fought for you to stay, even when half the covert thought it was a bad idea. I fought for you. I saved you.”

Tears lined your vision. “You are also the one that told me you don’t care about me,” you shouted. “I’ve had enough time to conclude that you should have left me. If I had known how regrettable you would be, then I would have let Emelea kill me.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Din hissed. At this point, you have also launched to your feet, standing on your toes to make yourself taller. “Why not?” You fired. “Is it not true? You told me you don’t care about me. Now you want me to marry you? You’re right. I would rather marry Paz. At least he pretends to be my friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Din demandingly repeated. “I said what I said to keep myself at bay. To keep my own feelings from being hurt. And yes, it was rude, yes, it was cruel, and yes, I am sorry.”

“So is that your way of saying that I’m tolerable enough to be your wife? You would marry me just to soothe your own guilt for being a complete—”

You cut off, not because you didn’t want to call him a name, but because you didn’t know of any names to call him. Fuming, you crossed your arms across your chest. “For being a complete nerf herder!” You finally shouted.

“I’m not offering out of guilt, Y/n,” Din exclaimed, becoming exasperated. “I’m offering because I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re lying,” you spit. “I’m not a thing you get to stick your cock into at the first chance. I’ve finally gotten my freedom and I won’t sign it away to a man who doesn’t even love me.”

“But what if I did?” Din shouts. He’s never been so loud before. It’s alarming, but not frightening. He sounds, for once, desperate. “What if I’m falling in love with you every day?”

“Again, a lie,” you sputter. As much as your heart wanted to believe it, you can’t help but remember each time Din has pushed you away.

“It’s not a lie,” Din sighed. He approached you, putting the palms of his warm hands over either side of your jaw. He raised your chin, forcing you to look into the gaze of his helmet. “I might not be in love, but I feel myself falling that way, each and every day I look at you. It’s painful. It hurts so bad. I pushed you away to spare myself any pain. The Armorer arranged a marriage contract and rings, but she had intended for you to marry Paz. When I heard, I knew I couldn’t let it happen. I kept hearing in my mind what you’d confessed; knowing you had those feelings for me I didn’t want Paz to be anywhere near you.”

Tears dribbled down your cheeks. You lifted your hands to touch the metal over his face. “You’re such a liar,” you said again in a short sob.

“I know,” Din murmured. His thumb brushed over your lower lip. “I’m sorry. Will you marry me?”

Through tears, you nodded.

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starfirette · 4 years

Text

Every Which Way : Chapter Two

The Way To Nevarro

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Mando’s only command is to stay with him at all times.

He did not want you to wander or stray from his side.

You felt jittery with excitement. You agreed to all of his terms knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to survive without him. You can’t read, write, or even spell, so how could you make it on this planet?

Mando explained before you two left the ship that Nevarro is a planet of a bounty congregation that calls themselves The Guild. You know that means at least one person here will have heard about the missing servant girl from Aniri. Mando explained further that while he is a member of the guild, he is first and foremost a Mandalorian warrior.

You knew of Mandalorians, but not much else.

Venturing out to the town, clad in the leather jacket (which Mando insisted you wear zipped over your plain shirt) and by Mando’s side, you asked him many questions. Where would you go, what would happen? You wanted to know.

But mostly you wanted to talk.

You’ve kept your inner dialogue “inner” for too long, now, and you’ve decided you will babble to your heart’s content. Mando didn’t seem to mind. He answered all of your questions truthfully and without judgment. He understands that you lacked a proper education and he doesn’t make you feel bad about it.

He’s easy to be around, despite his often awkward bouts of silence.

His strides are a bit faster than you’re used to, so you catch yourself jogging just to keep up.

Nevarro is very sandy, you have learned. At least it’s sandy out in the middle of nowhere . You wonder why Mando would have landed the ship so far away from wherever he’s taking you, but you don’t ask him to explain. He’s in charge, you tell yourself, and that’s perfectly okay with you.

Your feet kicked up sand that irritates the back of your thighs.

“We’re here,” Mando said. You’d stopped outside the entrance to the sandy village, guarded by two men in uniforms you’d never seen before. Mando exchanged a few words with them, explaining he had business with the guild.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” One of them asked, pointing at you with a blaster. They have the same sort of modulated voice that Mando does. Your knees felt weak when you realized they’d been talking to you, looking at you.

“No one you need to worry about,” Mando gruffly replied.

Still, the man zeroed in on you. “Why don’t you let her answer me? Huh, gorgeous?”

You are hardly able to stammer out a proper response. Your knees wobbled. Gorgeous. The word here is a compliment, but you’ve gone your entire life dodging compliments. Being ‘gorgeous’ wasn’t good, not ever, it only causes trouble. As the soldier’s helmet bobbed down then up, you could tell the rules of beauty might not be entirely different on Nevarro.

“She’s mine,” Mando growled. “Are you letting us in or not?”

With a defeated shrug, the man let out both in. Mando ushered you with an arm around your waist, just barely there, not quite touching you, but enough to keep you safe.

The Nevarro village is filled with the same sort of soldier who’d given you a hard time at the gateway.

“Who are they?” You asked, careful to keep your eyes straight ahead.

“Storm troopers,” Mando explained. “They’re all—,”

“Imperial?” You guessed. You tucked stray hair behind your ear.

Mando made a confirming sound as he continued to usher you through the village.

“I often worked events for the court when they entertained Imperial officers,” you mutter. “Are the rumors about the war true?”

Mando nods.

“Everything you’ve heard about the Empire is completely true,” he whispered in your ear.

A sharp shiver rolled down your spine. You exhale a shaky breath.

“Left here,” Mando instructed, taking you on a sudden turn. The alley slips into a steep slope, where at the end is a large dumpster positioned beside a little metal door.

“Where are we going?” You finally asked, unable to contain your questions.

“Just follow me,” Mando pressed as he kicked open the creaky door.

You did as he asked, but with a sour feeling at the bottom of your stomach.

Through the door is a tunnel that runs long with stone floors. You feel almost at home, in the most inappropriate of ways.

“Where are we?”

“Underground,” Mando says. “I’m taking you to my people. They can protect you while I figure out what to do next.” He offers you a hand to help you maneuver between the jagged stone that scatters around the floor.

The warm leather of his glove soaks into your palm as you squeeze his fingers and step over the jagged rocks. The darkness deepens the more you walk along.

“How can you see?” You ask.

He pulls you out of the way of a rock you can’t see, pulling you close to his body. Nestled against his armor, all you can think about is the smell of his pillows.

“My helmet does more than hide my ugly face,” Mando whispered, a lilt of amusement somewhere in his words.

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. So he does have a sense of humor.

“We’re here,” Mando eventually murmurs in your ear. His hand found your lower back and gently he pushed you forward. You step downward, onto a new setting of cobblestone that massages the arches of your feet.

Light came to your eyes, blinding you momentarily as you stumbled back into Mando’s arms. He helped you stay upright while you rubbed your eyes.

You’re standing amidst the underground world of Mandalorians. It’s a medium sized congregation of people wearing armor like your friend. The telltale sign is the helmet with the signature T visor and precise slopes around the jaw. Some armor gold, others blue, but all in all they are the same. Mingling into the crowd you feel unseen eyes on you. You curl into your Mandalorian’s side, heart beating painfully.

“It’s alright,” he assures you. His helmet tips down as though he were looking straight at you. “You’re going to be safe here.”

You’d been under the impression Mandalorians had an entire planet to themselves. You can’t say you know much, if anything at all, about them, but the rumors that did manage to spread around the Anirian servants made Mandalorians out to be practically invincible. It is why your king and queen hired your Mandalorian to kill that man.

Mando had delivered, and he’d done it in less than a day. You can’t imagine what a whole colony of Mandalorians can do.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to pop back in, hm?”

Mando stopped in his steps and groaned quietly.

He turned to look at the largest man you’ve ever seen. Your eyes trailed up and up to finally see this man’s crimson helmet. How could anyone be so tall? You swallowed a lump in your throat as you inched closer to Mando.

“Well, well, I see you didn’t do anyone a favor and abandon the planet,” Mando grunted.

The other Mandalorian laughed, booming through his modulator as he bent over himself to pat his knee. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? And who is this?”

Your face burns as the Crimson Mandalorian inspects you up and down with an exaggerated nod of his head.

“Djarren, aren’t you a bit old to be pickin’ up foundlings?” Crimson chortled. “She is pretty, but a little old to be a recruit.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Mando asked, in that same stoic tone.

Crimson ignored him; you imagine he probably rolled his eyes, as he didn’t seem as intimidated by Mando as many others did. He held out an open hand in front of you.

You flinched away, half expecting him to grab you or drag you down the hall kicking. Rather than that, he just waited for you to do something.

“Don’t ya know how to shake hands?” Crimson asked.

Mando knocked his friend’s hand away. “Leave her alone.”

“Smitten, are we?” Crimson mocked. “I’m not so sure how the others will react to you giving away the covert. Where’d you pick her up, eh? You a Hutt whore?” Crimson asked you with a jut of his chin.

“A what?” You asked. It didn’t sound like a good thing to be.

“Leave her alone,” Mando grits out. “Let’s leave,” Mando says as he leads you away. “What’s a Hutt whore?” You asked Mando as you were escorted away. “Something you’re not,” he assures you.

Many heads turned your way as you followed Mando through the underground colony. You earned the attention from every Mandalorian you walked by; you’re not so certain, anymore, that it’s your lack of armor as it is your presence beside your Mandolorian.

“The Crimson Mandalorian called you Djarren,” you murmur, intertwining your hand with his.

He quickly pulls his hand away. “That’s my name,” he says stiffly. “Din Djarren.”

It’s a perfectly normal name but it somehow feels different.

You want to tell him it’s nice; only thing is, you’ve started to realize he isn’t your friend like you’d mistaken. He didn’t hold your hand and he didn’t even want you to know about his name. You fold your hands behind your back as you follow Din into the first room you’ve seen in a while. A burning sort of stove pillar lights up the entire room from the center, where something inside boils. Weapons hang along the walls, sharper and made with more intricacies than you’ve ever seen on decor, let alone on weapons.

Two Mandalorian women occupied the room, one donning gold armor and fur as she tended to the furnace; the other lounged in a chair, her legs kicked over a table with a sword strewn in her lap, which she sharpens at her own leisure.

The Mandalorian women inside are muscular and beautiful, even with their masks covering their faces. Aniri required servant girls to wear makeup to hide their beauty, but now you’re doubting it worked at all. You can’t see their skin but you’re enamored by their beauty anyways.

“Din Djarren,” the Golden Mandalorian says. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Din replies. “Hello, Wendi,” he adds to the Blue Mandalorian that sits. “Din,” Wendi replies, her voice smooth as butter.

“I see you’ve brought a visitor,” Golden drawls. She sets down a large hammer on her work table, coming to examine you closeup. “I would suppose this is the girl you spoke of in your last transmission.”

“Yes,” Din replies curtly. “She was a slave in Aniri, condemned to execution.”

Wendi raked her stone up her sword with a sharp hiss. Sparks flew on her lap. “And her crime?” Wendi asked.

Three visors turned to you. You suddenly realized they meant to listen to you speak for yourself.

You’d never gotten the chance to explain before. You spoke up best as you could with your chest tight with anxiety. “I tried to escape the palace while also abandoning my makeup.”

“Your makeup?” Wendi cried. A laugh escaped her modulator as she tossed the sword to the cobblestone floor that had begun to pain at your feet. You felt increasingly smaller by the minute, especially as Wendi took to her feet and made her own examination of you.

“Awfully plain without this makeup, isn’t she?” Wendi drawled.

At your sides your hands form tight fists. “On the contrary, ma’am,” you muttered while your nails bit your palm. “I was told to wear makeup because I am beautiful.”

Wendi sniffed behind her modulator. “And awfully sarcastic,” she snubbed.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic,” you snap. Your heart jitters for a second, half expecting retaliation or punishment for speaking with such a tone. None came. You were in slight awe as you realized the extent of your freedom. “I only meant to answer your questions,” you added, softly now as you chew the inside of your lip.

The Golden woman lifted a hand to silence one of Wendi’s impending remarks. “I’m sure you’ve had a very exhausting two days,” Gold says smoothly. “Not to mention the complete and utter lack of proper clothing from Djarren.”

Mando remained totally silent, his helmet staring expressionless at Gold.

“Yeah, it’s almost as if Din’s never had a girlfriend before,” Wendi purred as she elbowed Din on his side.

Din tilts his helmet to her. “More than you have,” he says.

You never heard such jokes from Din’s lips! He calmly explained everything in full detail, then, from his bounty Kais Korren to the number of ships that chased him off planet.

“They considered Y/n property,” Din recalled, looking at you. You stared deep into the visor, unable to tell if Din is even actually looking at you.

“We have all heard of your stunt, already,” Wendi notes from her corner of the room. “As if we didn’t need anything else to be on the run for. I suppose now we’ll have to help fix your mistake.”

Gold made a fist, hitting it against her worktable, making Wendi jump in her blue armor. “That,” Gold says slowly, “is the Way. Mistake or not, Din Djarren is one of this clan and he will have help. Whether he asks for it, or not,” she adds.

Wendi crosses her arms over the dented chest plate. “This is the Way,” she agrees, although begrudgingly. “—but we do have other pressing matters, like it or not. This little girl just adds to the mess.”

You hadn’t realized that was what you were til now.

A little mess of a girl, as Wendi had so vehemently put it. You stub your toes against the cobblestone, feeling your chest pain grow as Wendi’s accusatory finger pointed you out.

While you failed to speak up, Din’s leather bound hands clenched. “She needs our help,” Din growled.

“Your help. You failed to think of your people,” Wendi snapped.

“I wasn’t going to let an innocent woman die,” Din replies. To his credit, he remained calm and level headed, which was not the same for you. Tears gathered in your eyes as you realized Wendi meant you had put her and her people in danger.

These people—these Mandalorians— all live underground for a reason.

You’re an outsider.

You quickly rub your tears away. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you clear your throat. “I’m truly sorry,” you choke out, “for the trouble I must have caused.”

“You have not caused any trouble,” Gold soothes. “There are many ways we can ensure your safety. Anirians are vicious and they use their laws as their weapons. You were born into servant ranks and thus are considered an object of the court. Taking you off planet is the equivalent of taking their money or jewels. Each day that passes wears their patience. They are more likely to negotiate today than they will be tomorrow.”

“So?” Wendi asked, circling her hands around impatiently, trying to draw a conclusion in the air.

“So we don’t have a lot of time left for dallying about,” Golden concludes, her voice firm. “Before anything, Y/n needs proper clothing. Shoes even, if it’s not too much to ask for, Djarren?”

Din stayed still for a moment longer than you’d expected. “…Fine,” Din says, flatly. “You’ll be safe with our Armorer,” Din says to you. His voice lowered as he stepped closer, looking down at you with what you hoped to be tenderness. “I’ll be back soon.”

You nod, releasing the tension in your hands. You didn’t want Din to leave you here, not with these strangers.

You are sheltered, yes, but you are not stupid. You know you must remain unattached from Din Djarren. He saved your life without much thought; including the lack of thought concerning where you’d live and who you’d depend on. You don’t think Din had intended for you to be his friend at all. You’re actually not his friend in any way, shape, or form. So even though you felt ill at the thought of being left behind by Din, you did nothing to object.

“Okay,” you murmured.

You brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

You tried not to watch Din while he exchanged hushed, last minute words with Wendi. Both helmets tilt to look at you. Wendi finally looked to Din and nodded.

“Will you stay with her?” Din asked.

The Golden Mandalorian nods. “She is safe here. This is the Way.”

You’re not certain of what the Way entailed, but it evidently provided you with your own lodgings.

You followed Gold out of the furnace room, struggling to not look over your shoulder and search for Din’s retreating figure. His armor blended with the rest, becoming lost in a sea of Mandalorians. You returned your attention to Gold. She doesn’t earn as many greetings as Din had on the way in; rather she got nothing. You couldn’t tell if she was disliked among her community or not. Given her well polished armor, you guess she could be in charge. It might be respect keeping her left alone; respect and maybe even some fear.

The sway of her hips and the sword that bobbed with them left you a little bit speechless. You’d never seen such armor. Aniri forbade women from being much of anything aside from servants; women were fortunate to be born into the court, where they were treated equally as men just because they’d been lucky enough to be born into rich families. Even those women, however, were not allowed to do certain things. They could not join guardian ranks; they could not leave the planet. Seeing that Mandalorian women can be so strong willed plants the smallest seeds of hope inside you.

As much as you’d love to be as strong and capable as Gold, you still feel so small. After all, you fidget your hands, unsure of how you’re supposed to hold yourself together as you follow behind Gold. Surely the servant position isn’t expected of you, with your head tilted down and your hands folded neatly by your lap.

You struggle to be comfortable in your own skin. You’re not entirely sure you enjoy living day to day without your makeup.

On the ship, with Din, it was alright. Except now you’re off the ship, where people are able to see your face. It’s strange to think you’ve been given freedom by people that don’t show their faces to anyone, either. Perhaps it’s just irony you’re experiencing.

Gold brings you to the end of the tunnel, which is just one stretch hallway. After all of the walking, you’re shocked to find that there is still more to the tunnel beyond the bedroom you’re being given.

The wooden door creaks open. Before you is the best room you’ve ever seen, despite its lack of space. There is a wardrobe, a mirror, a single cushioned chair, and a bed.

“This room will be yours until we have secured a home for you,” Gold says. She makes two paces across the room to the wardrobe. The old thing only has linens to offer.

The room is a bit small; the new brick walls and cobblestone floors give off an even smaller illusion.

“The covert does not conjoin for meals,” Gold continues, prim and perfect as ever. She puts the stack of linens in your arms. “There is a common room with food portions directly down this hallway. If you need anything, someone there can help. I am usually in the furnace. Din and Wendi have gone to collect for you clothes, shoes, and other such things. The women use the washrooms every night. Men use them in the mornings.”

She almost left before pausing, then turning to look at you again. Her golden visor aimed at your eyes. She says, “There is one rule. Do not leave the tunnel. Above ground are Imperial guards. They will arrest you without hesitation. If you find yourself in trouble and in need of help then yell for it. Din will be back soon.”

Gold departed, shutting the wooden door behind her. You were tempted to follow, but she didn’t seem like the type that wanted company. It must be a Mandalorian thing. Sighing, you hugged the linens to your chest. You’re eager to make your bed, even if it was small and lumpy. It’s soft; above all, safe.

Your linens smell old, but it’s a pleasant smell. It feels nostalgic of a time you couldn’t have known. You smooth the quilt over the mattress, trying to pat out any wrinkles with your fingers. It’s a bit strange knowing the bed is yours to really relax in.

You aligned the quilt to the corners of the mattress.

Satisfied with the work, you gladly crawled under the blankets. Cuddling into the mothy pillows, you lay on your back.

The ceiling has a few cracks in it.

How had this tunnel been built? Why did the Mandalorian people not have their own village? These questions you had no guesses for; the new world you’ve been invited into is curious, and becomes curiouser every waking moment. It frightens you but excites you all at once, a feeling you’ve never felt before.

A knock on the door awakens you from your dreamless sleep. You sat up, vision blurry and mouth dry. Hours must have gone by. You stand, your bruised feet once more being pressed by the cobblestones embedded to the floor.

Your hand stretched for the creaky handle. Beyond the door was Din.

You didn’t know how to greet him.

Awkwardly struggling for the right pose proved difficult. Would he expect respect? Gratitude? Would he want something in return for what he had done for you?

“Hello,” you murmured, averting your eyes from the T of his helm.

“I woke you,” he said.

“You did,” you acknowledged. You glanced into your small room before shuffling back. “Come in,” you said.

Din entered. It must have been hours judging by the creakiness in your joints, but Din hadn’t changed out of his heavy armor. He set down a large laundry box on your lumpy bed. “This is for you,” he said.

You peered into the box. You were confused to find rolls of velvet tightly wrapped and stacked on top of each other. It reminds you of birthday presents, of the neatly wrapped boxes the princes and princess would receive yearly. You’d watched the opening from afar, never once imagining you’d have the chance to do the same thing one day.

With wary hands, you scooped up a roll of velvet, not looking at Din as you unfolded the cloth.

Shiny cuffs of metal shone at you from their soft blanket. “It’s pretty,” you say, stunned by the perfect roundness of the cuffs.

“They’re yours,” Din said, voice a bit stiff. “Armor.”

Puzzled, you cast a questioning glance.

Din approached, his leather bound hands wrapping around the metal. He slid the first over your arm. The cuff fit perfectly around your forearm, casting upwards to your elbow and ending at your wrist. You stared at the piece of armor in shock. Your face looked back at you from the sheen of the heavy metal.

“How does it feel?” Din asked, his hand still adjusting the cuff around your wrist. His fingers are warm even through the leather gloves. They rested on the inside of your palm as he examined the fit up close. Your ears burned at the feeling of his touch. Each little tap on the delicate skin of your palm tingled.

“It feels nice,” you said. “This, I mean,” you add.

Din notices you staring at his hands on yours, and he drags his hand away too slowly. The pads of his fingers left spots that burned on your skin.

“There’s more,” Din added, tilting his head up to gaze at the ceiling. He looked around at your small room before cocking his head to you. “Are you comfortable?” He asked.

“Of course,” you say, tucking hair behind your ear bashfully. A smile peeled over your lips as you glanced around your very own sanctuary. “I love it very much.”

“It doesn’t bother you how horribly plain and undecorated it is?” Din asked. He was clearly joking, but you became serious. “I have privacy and the luxury to do what I want,” you say. “That’s all I could have asked for.”

If Din was surprised, he didn’t say anything to display it. “I’m sorry,” Din finally let out.

You had been pushing around the box for other goodies and upon hearing this, you became startled. “You’re sorry?” You guffaw. “I’m going to be eternally grateful for what you’ve done for me,” you continued. You clutched the other arm piece close to your chest, glad to have something physical to keep you down to the planet.

“That’s just why I am sorry,” Din grunted out. “I’m not a good person to become attached to.”

You blink. Shocked, you slide the arm cuff off and set it loose on the bed. “I never meant to ‘attach’ to you,” you mumbled. “Thank you for the armor, and for everything else. I can sift through in private if you’d like to leave.”

Din left as you’d suggested.

Curious; Din is very curious. You wonder what he meant by the apology. Perhaps you had grown attached…it would be hard not to! After all, Din had saved you from Aniri. You’d only meant to show your gratitude. Like he had on the Razor Crest, Din once again rejected your gratitude. You suspected he would rather pretend nothing happened at all. He’d rather live his life without you in it.

The thought slashed your heart in half. A world without Din? You’ve known him for four days and he’s taken such care of you.

Being reminded of care, you returned your attention to the box on your bed. Enveloped in rolls of velvet were sets of shoes and new clothes. Among that, there were other pieces of metal formed in a way you could only imagine to be armor. Every piece shone and you suspected they were all brand new from the smell of slight smoke that lingered on them. But they were polished to perfection, allowing you to see every detail of your own face in them.

The soft tunics and the fitting trousers were a miracle to receive. Comfortable and, dare you say it, a bit stylish.

What truly took the cake were the pairs of boots. They rose above your ankles and laced up with red string that stood out against the black leather. You almost loved the shoes more than the socks! And the socks you immediately slipped on. They cushioned your skin against the cobblestone a bit better, but starting tomorrow you’d get to wear shoes like any other person in the galaxy.

The next morning you rose early and dressed neatly. You’d missed your opportunity to use the washrooms last night. They were reserved for the men to use in the morning, so you’d have to wait until night came to shower.

This did not worsen your mood, as you were very excited to wear new clothes for a change. You paired a baby blue tunic and plain trousers.

Wearing the cuffs and shin guards felt strange. You almost didn’t want to wear it as you feared the sort of attention it would bring, but you did remind yourself that the rest of the covert wore full body armor, including the helmets, on a daily basis.

If anything about you was to be found weird, it wouldn’t be your outfit—it would be that you are an outsider.

Over the tunic you shrug on the leather jacket, cuddling into the butter soft fabric. You stretch your hands through the sleeves, and the shiny cuffs are just barely visible from the cuffs.

You venture out of your room with a heartbeat that thunders in your ears. Drifting along the tunnel path are Mandalorians who casually wield weapons like blasters and blades that are taller than even you. Cautiously avoiding their gaze, you creep along the walls in search of the furnace. You hoped to find Din among the covert, but he isn’t anywhere to be seen. A clock would be nice to have. You can only assume it is morning. When you’d entered the tunnel yesterday, the sun was on its way down. Would Din be sleeping now? Would he be out, above ground?

The furnace only housed Gold, who currently wielded a knife and cloth, with which she polished the blade so it gleamed brilliantly.

“Good morning, miss,” you say softly.

“Good morning,” she greeted. She didn’t turn to face you, but she did set down her work. She cleaned around her work space, and you simply stood by watching in awkward silence. “You can have a seat,” Gold suggests. “Unless you’d rather stand.”

You took a place in the chair which Wendi had occupied yesterday, where she lazily played with her sword.

You shrugged out of your leather coat as you felt the heat begin to bother you. As you draped the jacket over the back of your chair, the Armorer glanced over at you.

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The armor,” she says, gesturing to your arm and leg plates with a heavy glove. “I made them the minute Djarren transmitted the message of your arrival. How do they fit?”

“Perfectly,” you say. You look at the metal that wraps around your forearm. “What is it?”

“Beskar,” she replies. “I do apologize for the lack of any other pieces.”

“Well, I should thank you for what you have given me,” you say, as you tuck hair behind your ear. The locks of hair gathers sweat on the back of your neck. You dab your forehead with the back of your hand. “I am confused, though. Why did I get armor in the first place?”

“You are in the care of the covert,” Gold explains. “This means we are responsible for your safety until you can be relocated. It’s only natural we give you a bit of armor to keep you safe. Although Wendi did give me hell for it.”

You crinkle your nose. Wendi must not be happy about your arrival. You suspect many would not be.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Gold asks. You shook your head. “Would you like to join me in the meeting hall?” she then suggested. “It would give you a chance to meet the others.”

You supposed it would have to happen eventually.

Following the Armorer to the main hall, you fiddled your thumbs together.

Exposure to Mandalorians, to actual people, made you sick to your stomach. You’d never worn such tight fitting clothing. On Aniri you’d be called an enemy of the court, condemned to trial for indecency. It seems no one minds, though, as they all dress similarly. The Mandalorians that don’t wear armor wear trousers and tunics, often, however, donning some sort of safety plates on their backs or arms like you. While you feared being judged for indecency, the rational part of your brain knows you will be judged for the lack of a Mandalorian helmet. Every planet has those who fear outsiders. You don’t know the word for it, but it breaks your heart. The royal court hated outsiders. They joined forces with the Empire because the Empire feels similarly. How could someone hate another living being just because they were born on a different planet? You couldn’t understand, as you’ve never felt that way even after living your whole life on Aniri.

The question really dialed down to this: would the covert hate you for being an outsider, or would they fear the trouble an outsider might bring? The difference may be subtle, but it’s there no doubt.

The meeting hall did have several people filling it out. Most bore tunics and trousers like you, but still bore leather belts and cuffs. You recognized Wendi immediately from her helmet bobbing on the corner of the room. It had a delicate touch to it, the carvings of the metal curly and wispy. She didn’t have her blue armor on today, instead a black tunic with long sleeves and tight trousers that rose to her waist. You’d never seen such trousers before but you suddenly long to have simliar types. It was a marvelous outfit to wear, and the black danced with her gold wrist cuffs and knee pads.

Din Djarren is nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to see him and ask him what he meant, last night, about attachment. For some curious reason, the comment bothered you all night. It even haunted your dreams. Perhaps he rejects your reverence towards him. You couldn’t simply make the feeling go away. You’d feel that way forever, because Din had done something you could never do for him. You would never be able to repay him no matter how hard you tried. You want to thank him one last time, even if he didn’t want to hear it. He single handedly saved your life. Of course you’d want to thank him, right?

Gold offered you a seat at the main table. A large basket overflowed with food that made your mouth water. This differed much from the stale bread and leftover poultry you’d been allowed to eat back in the ranks.

You reached for a block of white cheese, tossing it over in your hand before taking a deep sniff. It smelled delicious. You took a tiny bite and lo! how your mouth watered. You had never tasted such flavor in your life, and this had been a single bite of a single square of cheese. You anxiously nibbled around the edges, trying not to let on how impressed you were with just cheese. Embarrassing, really. You’d be bullied no doubt.

The Armorer made conversation with the warriors around her while she supervised you as you ate. You were encouraged to eat as much as you wanted, but you hesitated to do that. Even when your belly felt filled, you wanted to keep on eating, half out of the fear you wouldn’t get an opportunity to again.

“So,” a voice drew behind you. “This is her?”

You froze. The hair on your neck prickled when Gold said, “Yes, although I believe she can speak for herself.”

You turned to look who had inquired about you. The Mandalorian that had given you a hard time yesterday towered over you in his crimson armor. As you looked up at him, he crossed his arm over his strapping chest.

“So she’s staying?” He asked.

The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as Gold appeared to be glowering. “Ryder,” she snapped. “I’m certain that you were at the meeting last night. Don’t waste your breath with nonsense.”

You swallowed back the anxiety that plagued your chest. “Ah, yes, the meeting,” he said thoughtfully, as if he had just remembered. Although you had a feeling he was being sarcastic. “Where we all voted on killing the little girl.”

You buried your head down to your chest, chin quivering with tears as you felt guilt and overwhelming anxiety boil in your blood.

“I’m not a little girl,” you muttered, just quietly enough that you hoped Ryder hadn’t heard.

“What was that?” He mocked.

Something savage spurred across your brain as you rose to your feet, the chair you’d been in falling to the ground. “I’m not a little girl,” you said again. The quiver in your mouth had transformed into a sneer as you kept your chin raised to look Ryder in the eye. Maybe the anxiety you’d been feeling wasn’t anxiety at all.

It was anger.

With no one to punish you for “stepping out of line” you could express said anger all you wanted, and you started with Ryder.

A mistake, it might have been, as Gold had to use an hand to brace Ryder back by his chest plate.

Searing across your body was the wave of regret and mild, mild fear; in that mixture was a pinch of satisfaction. Standing up for yourself felt good. But you imagined a punch in the face from Ryder wouldn’t feel as great.

“Your vote was cast, Vizsla,” The Armorer reminded him. “I won’t remind you who the deciding vote was. You are obligated to follow your brethren in protecting Y/n or you can join Boba Fett and his fascist friends on Nevarro. This is the Way.”

Ryder seemed like he could be seething behind his mask, but you had no way of really knowing. “This is the Way,” he grit through his modulator.

Anger issues, you think as he stomps away. To the Armorer you quickly apologized. “I’m very sorry, Miss,” you tell her with a bob of your head.

“Do not be,” Gold said dismissively. “Vizsla needs to be put in his place, and you need to continue standing up for yourself. It is imperative if you want to survive.”

Stunned, you nodded. You see the honesty in her words, and while she might have been blunt about it, she was very, very right.

How curious the Mandalorians have turned out to be…

“I suppose now would be as good a time as any to walk you through our way of life here.”

You held out a hand, though it wavered, to stop Gold from continuing. “Before that,” you stutter, “could I ask just what ‘meeting’ you refferred to with Ryder?”

“Ah,” Gold hummed. “Last night the covert convened a meeting in which we all voted to keep you with us or to send you away. Ryder voted against it. The deciding vote was his elder brother, Paz. He voted for you to stay and I suppose Ryder didn’t like that.”

You sighed. You looked down at yourself, at the baby blue of your tunic and how it splashed like the ocean against your beskar cuffs. “I ought to thank you again, Miss. I am forever indebted to the covert.”

Gold tipped her helmet forward, leaving it inclined for a second too long. “This is the Way.”

The Way is what you will be grateful for even after life. Gold brought you along to the furnace after you grabbed one more block of cheese. She showed you the set of her metals. In sheets or in bars, she had a collection of beskar, palladium, ruthenium, and other metals you couldn’t keep track of.

“You make the armor for everyone?” You asked. You grazed the metals with your finger tips. What does Din wear? You resist the question as you thank Gold for her help today.

“I am grateful for the armor and for everything else,” you say, inclining your head the way she had done to you earlier. “Could I ask…where is Djarren? Din, I mean.”

Gold, while taking a thick apron down from a hook, replied, “I am unsure. I think he might be asleep. I haven’t seen him since the vote last night.” “How did he vote?” you asked. You hated the question as soon as it left your lips. But you yearned to know.

“He was very adamant that you stay,” Gold responded. “In fact he made a very moving speech. It’s the most I’ve heard him say all his life.”

Your heart fluttered with assurance. “Thank you.”

“If there is anything else you need, you might find it from me or in the gathering hall. Good day, Y/n.”

“Good day, miss.”

Shyly stepping out of the furnace and back into the hall, you kept your gaze strictly on the floor. Mandalorians threw lingering glances your way, but they didn’t seem to last as long as you feared. A long table lined the eastern wall, and over it was a stack of books. You’d never seen so many before. You’d never actually held one, either. As much as you wanted to pick one up and read it, you couldn’t; you’d never learned to read before. From where you’re from it’s common to hear that, but you suspect it’s not so common amongst Mandalorians. Another factor for them to ostracize you for. You approached the table to get a closer glimpse at the books.

Lingering around the book table was a taller man, in dark blue armor, and he inclined his head towards you as a greeting.

“Hello,” you stuttered. Your intial reaction is always to bob a curtsey when someone greets you, but those days are behind you.

“You’re Y/n,” the Mandalorian says, “aren’t you?”

You nodded. “I am.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he says in his deep voice, “to meet the famed madame. I am Paz.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Paz,” you returned his greeting. “Are you guarding these books because they might run away?” You asked. You half meant it, considering the heavy weapons the were strapped along Paz’s back and belt.

“Something like that,” Paz said. He laughed. It was strange to hear it! Din hadn’t made such pleasant conversation with you in the two full days you’d been on the Razor Crest with him. The Armorer was very formal and upfront, so she didn’t seem like the conversational type. Wendi and Ryder? They’re non-starters.

So you were sort of stunned to find that Mandalorians were, in fact, capable of laughter.

“What do you do here?” you asked, feeling breathless. Finally, someone you could talk to. You’ve never gotten to truly talk to anyone, ever! You’re filled with questions and hope that Paz could answer some.

“Among the covert we have our respective jobs. Titles, almost. I’m apart of the covert’s makeshift infantry. I usually guard and protect, that is.”

“And so the books are under your watch?”

“Sure. Not as prisoners, but as…well, they’re a bit like you. I protect them.”

“Why?”

“Because they were in my family for a long time. Most of them, anyways. Some have been bought by other Mandalorians here. Consider this the library of the covert.” He waved a hand across the table. “Would you like one?”

Gnawing on your lip, you shake your head “no.”

“I can’t read,” you admit. It was easy to say it to Paz. Paz did not laugh or mock the way Ryder or Wendi might have. Paz looked through the books on the table and picked one out for you.

“This is generally for children,” he admits as he holds it out. “The first pages are the alphabet. Memorizing those letters is the first step to literacy.”

Bashful, you look to the floor. “Oh, thank you. I can at least know the alphabet.”

Paz shakes his head. “If you’d like help, I will help. Before the covert I taught foundlings who were also illiterate.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t bother you,” you say, hugging the book tightly.

“It wouldn’t bother me. But I won’t bother you,” Paz says. “You’re welcome to come here at nights, if you want. An hour each day would surely catch you up.”

With a fuzzy feeling in your chest, you slowly nod. “I suppose it wouldn’t bother me if it wouldn’t bother you,” you admit. “I do want to learn.”

“Learn, you will,” Paz promised.

You could hear the smile in his voice.

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