Payment
Chapters: 15/15 Fandom: The Mandalorian (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You Characters: The Armorer (The Mandalorian TV), Bo-Katan Kryze, Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda, Paz Vizsla Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Arranged Marriage, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Soft Din Djarin, helmet kink, Voice Kink, Smut, Din Djarin/Reader - Freeform, Din Djarin/You - Freeform, alcohol consumption, Language, Second person POV, no use of Y/N for reader insert character, Mand’alor Din Djarin AU, Angst, Fluff, Din Djarin speaks Mando’a, Mandalorian culture and customs, Possessive Din Djarin, Virginity Loss, Semi-Public Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Masturbation, oral sex (m & f receiving), Hand Kink, Accidental Cream Pie, unprotected p in v, pulling out as birth control, Din Djarin talks you through it, Din Djarin is a panty sniffing cum-eating MUNCH and I will die on this hill Series: Part 1 of 3 of Blood is Always Paid
Summary: Raised as a servant to your half-sister on your home planet of Nharia, you find yourself married to the king of an ancient warrior race to keep the peace between your two peoples.
About this work: This series deals with themes of familial abuse and low self-esteem/body image issues, and includes scenes/discussions of sexual harassment, misogyny, and threats of sexual violence. The FMC, Isha, is a full-realized character with thoughts, fears, and a personal history, written as a reader insert to bring YOU into the story and cast YOU in the role. She is described as being taller than the women she grew up with, and having curly/wavy hair, broad shoulders, and fat around her stomach and hips. Her skin/hair/eye colour are not specified.
Please note that this is a re-write of an earlier work of mine. Mando’a translations will be provided in the endnotes, but are sourced from here. This work was written and edited by a human being. All the errors are my own, but so are all the good bits. If you feed any of this into AI, I will hunt you for sport. Alternate-POV Chapters will be starred.
Prologue under the cut!
Din sat at the head of a long, low table. The other furniture had been pushed aside, and that left him and his council seated in the middle of the empty dining hall. They were meeting here instead of the main hall as they did usually at his insistance; he had no interest in discussing tonight's subject out in the open. The dining room, with it's dark walls and low ceiling, was a more private setting, and he felt it was more appropriate, though it did not put him at ease. The doors at either end of the hall; leading to kitchens and dormatories and up into the main hall; had been locked. No interuptions could be permitted in a meeting this serious. In truth, a part of Din prayed that someone, anyone, would break protocol and appear and bring dicussions to a halt. He stared through his visor, willing any of the doors open, but no one appeared to rescue him.
Din glanced between where Paz Vizsla and Bo-Katan Kryze were arguing with each other, but he was barely listening. To his left sat Vizsla, with his broad, roughly-painted blue armour. Din would not have him here if there had been any other choice… but Vizsla had recommended himself as a council member based on clan and blood, and in payment of the debt Din owed him. Accepting had kept the peace temporarily. Now, he was starting to think he would come to regret that. On Din's right, Bo-Katan had removed her helmet and set it down on the table in front of her, facing out towards the rest of the council. She always removed it at meetings.
On the table between Bo-Katan and Vizsla lay a dozen open messages. They'd come in waves since they'd returned from Mandalore and settlement on Kalevala, each offering 'tribute' in the form of the hands-in-marriage of more than a dozen men and women, all of royal blood. As Din's eyes flicked between the messages; none addressed to him, all directed only to 'The Mand'alor'; the arguing around him got louder. He sighed heavily, but was ignored. It always went this way. Bo-Katan and Vizsla's opposing views and the constant friction between them did not make for smooth discussions.
“If we want to rebuild, we need resources; it doesn’t have to mean anything,” Bo-Katan insisted hotly, and Vizsla shook his head.
“It’s too much of a risk. And he can’t handle this kind of distraction right now,” Vizsla protested.
Bo-Katan turned to address Din. "It's exactly like any other political marriage."
She'd been pushing this for months, a last ditch attempt to raise the funds needed to buy the kind of equipment that could excavate the bombed-out cities on Mandalore and make them liveable again. An expensive goal. But the conversation turned his stomach. “I… I can't.”
“Glad we agree on something,” Vizsla laughed through his helmet, and then gestured rudely to Bo-Katan, before crossing his arms in triumph. There was a time Din had hoped that they would balance each other out. It wasn't working out that way.
“The proposals will keep coming," Bo-Katan pressed, and then grabbed the letter on the top of the pile. It had arrived only hours before, and was the main reason for this hurried discussion of Din's private life. "This is the best offer we're going to get. Nharia is offering money, and they can supply these."
She pointed to diagrams she'd laid out on the table, all of which had been folded and neatly presented with the letter. Some of it looked like mining equiptment, but the make and model were unfamilair.
"Their entire road network is underground. They know exactly what we've been trying to do on Mandalore, and they know it hasn't been working. They want to help." She'd been working on this arguement all night. "They're offering other supplies, too: medicine, food, fuel. All of which we need," Bo-Katan reminded him forcefully and then looked where the Armourer sat silently on the other end of the table. “There's nothing unusual about strengthening an alliance with a marriage. Tal’riduure are a tradition.”
Din could feel the irritation radiating off of Vizsla to hear Bo-Katan discuss tradition, but he eventually turned his head too, waiting for anything the Armourer might be able to offer on the subject. He wanted the same, and so all three of them watched as she paused to consider what Bo-Katan had said, and then nodded slowly.
“Many of the great Generals of our history, including several of those who have carried the Darksaber and called themselves Mand’alor, accepted the sons and daughters of conquered planets as spouses or concubines,” she said softly, her visor directed at where Din was sitting. “But to do so is not an obligation of the title.”
“I’m not trying to convince you to take a dozen concubines, Din,” Bo-Katan said, leaning in and speaking quietly. “I am suggesting that you accept this one offer for a wife, and the resources that come with it. With her.” She corrected herself quickly, but Din flinched anyway.
“Djarin couldn’t handle more than one; he’s half-dead anyway,” Vizsla taunted, under his breath but loud enough to be audible to everyone present.
Din balled his hand into a fist. Frustration simmered, raw energy that made him desperate to prove just how much damage he could do while he was 'half-dead', seeking one more fight that might shut Vizsla up once and for all. Instead, he cleared his throat and addressed the Armourer, ignoring the others.
“What do you advise?”
“I think,” the Armourer said slowly, “that you should not walk this path alone. The temptation a leader faces to isolate themselves for the sake of impartiality is strong, and you must resist it. Mandalorians need community. And you will need support from a partner as we rebuild.”
“I have all of you for support,” Din tried to argue. "What advice could a wife offer that I couldn't hear from you? Isn't that the point of having a council?"
“We advise you on how to be a leader, and a king,” the Armourer reminded him. “A partner would advise you on how to remain a man.” She spoke gently, and Din wondered if she felt bad for putting him in this position. If she did, she gave no other indication of it.
Still, the idea of taking vows with a stanger made his stomach churn. Din sighed. “A tal’riduur is a hostage. It would be cruel.”
“All of these women are royal. If it's not you, it'll be someone else. That is part of the duty of someone in your position, and in theirs. Look,” Bo-Katan continued, waving the letter in his face, “Nharia isn’t far; you’re not ripping her away from everything she knows. She’s been educated in Mandalorian customs and language her whole life. She will understand,” Bo-Katan insisted gently. “You won't have to justify your choice to wear your helmet all the time.”
Vizsla sat up straighter. Din felt his empty stomach roll over again. His redemption had been much discussed in this room already, but this felt somehow more dangerous, because he already knew that whatever choice he made would leave someone disappointed. He couldn't imagine trying to explain all of this to a stranger. Bo-Katan seemed to assume he'd never remove it again, even if given the choice. Just one of a dozen other terrifying things he was being forced to consider.
“Would you still wear your helmet with your wife?” Vizsla butted in abruptly.
“I shouldn’t have to think about this," Din forced his answer out through gritted teeth as Bo-Katan turned to the Armourer.
“Well, the Creed doesn't forbid it, but would you allow him to remove it with his wife?”
“It is not a matter of what I would allow,” the Armourer said calmly; she was the only one still speaking to Din. “By Creed, it is not forbidden for spouses to look upon one another's faces, and so the choice must fall to you.”
“She’d always be an outsider. For all we know, Nharia collaborated with the Empire to destroy us. You're not asking him to marry a stranger, you're asking him to marry an enemy." Vizsla finally sounded like he was taking this conversation seriously. "Besides. Even if she isn't Imperial, blood tributes come from cowardice; she’d be forbidden from taking the Creed. You can bring here here and make all the vows you want, but she'll never belong here. She'll be miserable.”
“We also decimated their planet 400 years ago! But rather than hide, they've offered allyship and help while we rebuild," Bo-Katan spat. "This is a peace offering. And I believe there is bravery in leaving one’s home to marry a stranger."
“The child alone at night is brave in the dark, does that make him a warrior?” Vizsla grunted back.
“Shut up, both of you,” Din snapped through his helmet, irritated by their pointless philosophy. The arguing that usually felt like a mild irritation now felt like an urgent waste of time. “This isn't a debate about bravery. I am trying to tell you that I—“
“I've changed my mind," Vizsla interupted. "They might have a point."
Din ignored the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood up; Vizsla never agreed with anyone in this room unless he saw a chance to undermine Din's position in some way “Why?”
“Because you sit at the head of the table, and you bear the highest honour among our people, and yet you’re still in a sour mood.” Vizsla gestured to where Din sat, stiff and uncomfortable in his seat. “Maybe if you had something warm to stick your cock in, you’d be less disagreeable.”
Din's hand flinched. So much for a him taking the debate seriously.“We’re talking about a sacred union— a political contract, not a cheap fuck,” Din growled. Vizsla only shrugged.
“You're right, it won't be cheap; they’re all ready to pay you a lot of credits to take a daughter off their hands.” Vizsla spoke slowly, like he was trying to spell it all out for Din.
“And that’s why it’s a good idea,” Bo-Katan interjected again, although she looked unhappy to be agreeing with Vizsla, who was stil chuckling to himself.
“Are you worried they’ll send an ugly one, Djarin? Don't worry, those aruetii women all look the same from the back.”
“Watch your mouth, Vizsla." Bo-Katan pulled her knife and plunged it into the table in one fluid motion. "Act like a dog, and I'll treat you like one."
“Enough.” The Armourer raised her hand, and they both fell silent. Bo-Katan still was looking at Vizsla with disgust, but she too eventually returned her attention to the Armourer. “Din Djarin. We cannot make this choice for you. If you wish to accept this offer, I will go to Nharia and claim her, but you must decide.”
Din looked down at the letter, printed in neat, sharp Mando’a text on thick paper. He'd read it a few times already, and now Bo-Katan was holding it out to him like she was trying to tempt him with it. The lengthly, exceedingly detailed proposal made it all seem simple: Millions of credits and resources they desperately needed promised, in exchange for one marriage, to be delivered upon consumation.
The letter outlined everything the planet could offer, and yet not once did it mentioned a single thing about the woman they were proposing he marry, not even a name. The other offers included pictures and portraits, videos of beautiful, regal men and women introducing themselves and pleading to be chosen, but the Nharian offer had quickly become Bo-Katan's top choice: it was a straightforward contract that just happened include a condition of marriage to one of their princesses. Din had never seen a message on paper before. He did not want to do it, but he couldn't think of another alternative with everyone watching and waiting for his answer. If all of them agreed, then he had no real choice in the matter.
“Fine.”
Din held out his hand for the paper and practically ripped the pen out of Bo-Katan's hand to scribble his intials on the bottom. He'd never signed anything, either. It felt very final. With the contract sealed, the Armourer nodded and stood, abruptly signalling the end of the meeting.
“Very well. Nharia is not far. I will go there, and you will swear the riduurok as soon as I return tomorrow. There will be a meal together after, to celebrate.” She bowed her head. "This is The Way."
"This is The Way," Din echoed. He needed to say it for himself, as much as they needed to hear him complying with these orders. The Armourer left the room quickly, and Vizsla feigned a loud yawn as he stretched and got to his feet.
“It won’t be so bad Djarin, maybe you’ll get lucky, and she’ll be cute,” Vizsla taunted. Din ignored him as he left, and when they were alone, Bo-Katan finally yanked her knife out of the table.
“It’s the right choice,” she insisted, and Din shook his head.
“It's not her choice.” Din stared Bo-Katan down and gestured to the letter with his signature, and saw her wince.
"It will be fine."
"She'll be a hostage."
"She'll be safe," Bo-Katan corrected sharply. Din did not have her confidence. He did have an idea.
“Keep an eye on her when she arrives,” he suggested. Bo-Katan raised an eyebrow.
“Why?“
"It will be my duty to protect her. I can't do that properly if she doesn't trust me. And she won't." Din let his words sink in and knew from the look on Bo-Katan’s face that she finally understood. No matter what this poor woman had been taught about Mandalorian life, she would fear him, not trust him. "Please. I need your help with this."
Bo-Katan’s face softened, and she nodded. “Fine. What can I do?”
“Look out for her. Keep her safe when I can’t. Keep her out of his path,” Din continued, gesturing to Vizsla’s vacant seat. “Because I don’t trust him.”
“Vizsla has his honour, he would never—“
“It doesn’t matter,” Din cut her off forcefully. “Best case scenario, he says something awful and it terrifies her." He stared hard through his helmet until Bo-Katan gave in.
“Fine,” she relented. “You're right. You have my word, I’ll watch out for her when she gets here, and I’ll happily castrate Vizsla if I need to.”
Din sighed and let himself smile weakly under his helmet. She meant every word, and though it should probably worry him to know his council memebers loathed each other like that, it was a comfort for now. It was nice to be on the same side as her, for once. Bo-Katan had followed him so far, but made it clear that she thought he was untrained and unprepared as a leader, though she did not appreciate it when he agreed with her.
Din waited impatiently in the main hall, pacing absently back and forth at the foot of the dais which held a massive, austere throne, carved from the same greyish stone as the rest of the room. Outside, a rare moment of sunshine passed overhead. It should have been a hopeful sign, perhaps, but the stark light that poured throught coloured-glass windows made the room look even more empty to Din. He heard a familiar set of footsteps approaching, and prepared himself for the worst.
“They’re on their way,” Bo-Katan dutifully reported to him, thumbing behind her at the heavy doors that cut the main hall off from the rest of the world. “Armourer didn’t say how far, but it won't be long now.”
She delivered the news gently. Din clenched and unclenched his hands slowly. He should consider what to say; he'd need to introduce himself, but… he felt his heart skip.
"Bo-Katan, did you—" he stopped suddenly and turned to face her. "Did you ask her name?"
Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she shook her head and sighed. "Dammit. No… I didn't even think," she muttered under her breath, and she at least sounded as ashamed as Din felt.
"I didn't think to ask, either," Din murmured, but he felt dizzy. He didn’t have it in him to offer anything else. He knew that if he opened his mouth to speak again, his voice would shake and betray his anxiety. Bo-Katan eyed him like she was trying to read his mind behind his helmet.
“The Armourer called her pretty.”
Din could not even pretend to be interested, thought selfishly, he wondered for a moment what the Armourer considered pretty. She'd reported that, but not the woman's name? It was a humiliating error. It should have been the first thing any of them had asked.
“I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise,” Bo-Katan repeated, trying half-heartedly to reassure him. “Will you meet her at the dock?”
“I don’t— I guess I…“ Din faltered. He should just admit his mistake, but there was no way he could recover from something like that. “I’ll just… wait. Here.”
Bo-Katan nodded, both of them watching the closed doors as she shot him a sideways glance. “I could go out and meet her.”
Din breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes. Thank you,” he added. He felt his margin for error in this was impossibly small, and he was terrified that no matter what he did, he would end up failing either his people, or this poor woman who was about to be bound to him forever.
“What will you do tonight?” Bo-Katan was sitting stiffly next to him, pointedly not looking in his direction. “We both read the marriage contract. You know what’s expected of you.”
Din said nothing. He had spent all night thinking through scenarios, every possible version of meeting this strange woman and taking her to bed, trying to find one that didn't make him feel absolutely sick to his stomach. He'd failed. Whether he removed his helmet or not, the whole situation was perverse.
“You won’t have much of a choice." Bo-Katan said softly. "They’re holding the dowry, the supplies, everything until it’s consummated. We get nothing until you—"
“I know,” Din finally snapped, cutting her off. “I’m aware of what's at stake. That doesn't make it any easier."
“Have you decided about your helmet?”
“I'll be a stranger anyway. I'm not sure it matters.” Din hung his head and sighed. Out of the corner of his vision, Bo-Katan inched a little closer, studying him.
“It's a difficult choice."
Din shook his head, gazing hard down the hall at the doors. Could she possibly understand, as someone who showed her face so easily. The Armourer would tell him that only he could decide. Vizsla would probably just make an obscene remark. “What do you think I should do?"
Bo-Katan narrowed her eyes at him slightly, but once she judged his question to be sincere, she considered it seriously, and paused for a long time before she answered. “On the one hand, it would be polite to let her see you. On the other hand,” she continued, looking him up and down, “I know it’s complicated, for someone in your position."
Din snorted at her non-answer. “I'd love for just one part of all this to be easy."
Bo-Katan smiled sadly at him, and a second later, he heard the heavy, rumbling sound of a ship’s engines outside. “Be gentle. Be kind." She pulled her helmet on as he nodded. She was right, though some would hate for him to admit that he had any soft side.
She’s beautiful.
He was disgusted with himself for thinking that. He hated that his first thought when he laid eyes on the woman who would be his wife and hostage was that she was beautiful. That for just a moment, something primal took over, and he wanted to touch her. Her hips swayed slightly as she moved towards him, and she did not look away from where he stood at the end of the hall, her veiled head held high and proud. But her expression was frozen, and the force of her gaze seemed capable of penetrating his armour. He felt his face growing warm and was grateful that she couldn’t see him blush.
She was afraid. He saw her heart racing and her hands shaking. Her eyes passed over him nervously and she looked everywhere else but at him as she stopped. He knelt with her when commanded, and he leaned over and ask her name, but no sound came out when he opened his mouth. Then the Armourer ordered that be begin the vows, and he lost his chance. He knelt with his head hung in shame.
