Jyar’ika

Chapter 1: In The Mood For Solitude [AO3]

Chapter 2: Armless, But Never Harmless [AO3]

Chapter 3: Confidential Potential [AO3]

Chapter 4: Built To Uncover Our Guilt [AO3]

Chapter 5: It’s My Purview To Serve You [coming 15 August 2026]

Chapter 6: Secret Sex Isn’t Complex

Chapter 7 (part 1): My Undercover Lover

Chapter 7 (part 2): Exceptions and Deceptions

Chapter 8: Keep Going, It’s Mindblowing

Chapter 9: Guess What I Heard, Little Bird

Chapter 10: Encore! So Much More In Store

Chapter 11 (part 1): Don’t Smirk, I Work Here, You Jerk

Chapter 11 (part 2): Not A Stranger To Danger

Chapter 12: Let’s Trade – Your Blade, My Charade

Chapter 13: The Sweet Abyss Of Your Kiss

Epilogue: Renowned, Crowned, Now Homeward Bound

Mando’s bicep tenses as you slice away another fragment of melted flight suit, angling the sterilised scalpel to take only dead and blistered skin with it. It feels like you’ve been at this for hours already, and you can still barely believe you’re doing it.

Once your anger at his reckless actions had thawed, a rising panic soon replaced it. Overwhelmed, you’d resorted to your default coping strategy: bossiness. That familiar mask had helped until he’d bitten back with a threat that would’ve ended badly for you both. With his recovery contingent on earning his trust, you’d had to switch tactics.

Letting a hunter see your vulnerable side was a risk, but it had paid off. You’d matched honour with respect, and now that you’ve cracked that shell, your panic is slowly giving way to increasing sympathy. He seems… nice. You’re no longer performing this task out of necessity alone, and the genuine desire to help him adds confidence to your movements. It’s even allowed you to find a rhythm of sorts in your macabre work.

To his credit, Mando is a model patient, enduring his gruesome treatment with impressive fortitude. You’d predicted more of a fuss, but muscle twitches and sharp breaths are your only clues he’s feeling anything at all. Perhaps the bounty hunting life toughened him up. Nonetheless, you pay careful attention to his tells; you’d rather know if you’re slicing too deep.

Peeling away a congealed mess of skin and coarseweave from his inner elbow elicits a long exhale. He must’ve been holding his breath for this last one. You squirt saline over the freshly scraped wound, watching his fingers curl into a loose fist against the floor. They relax as you seal the bacta patch’s edges, concluding your treatment of his arms.

“Still doing okay?” you ask, searching the black visor for any hint of what might be happening behind it.

He dips his helmet in response, maintaining the silence he’s been cultivating since you helped him drink. Despite his earlier dry throat, he was borderline chatty throughout the prep stage, somewhat quelling your nerves. Now, the contrasting absence of dialogue feels palpable. You pray it’s just gritted teeth keeping him quiet, not regret at being stuck here with you.

With his arms taken care of, you reach for the vibroblade again and clear your throat. “I need to…” You trail off as you gesture toward his legs. “Is this still okay?”

Mando nods again, a sharper jerk that betrays his own discomfort, his muscles rippling with it.

Taking a deep breath to dispel your own misgivings about stripping a man you’ve only just met, you begin cutting. The outer seams of his pants part easily, no match for the humming blade. Now for the awkward part.

As soon as you lean in close to cut around the wounds, the tension climbs rapidly. Your knuckles brush against his bare thigh, and you feel the muscle jump beneath your touch. “Sorry,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure what for. He doesn’t reply.

Finally, the garment falls away, revealing golden skin patterned with scars. A map of past battles etches its way across gorgeously toned thighs, now freshly marred by blistered, debris-filled welts.

You swallow hard and try to focus on his wounds, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sculpted terrain of his legs and the insight it offers. An athlete’s strength. A warrior’s endurance. A human’s limitations. It’s a welcome distraction from the grim knowledge that you have yet more patches of fused flesh and fabric to excise.

Smearing on the bacta gel strains the atmosphere even further. Suddenly, you can’t seem to distinguish between a soothing motion and a sensual one. Aiming for clinically professional, you smooth the salve across the large burn near Mando’s groin, but your attention keeps drifting to the impressive bulge only centimetres away beneath his black undershorts.

That’s definitely not a blaster.

CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3

Pressing a button on his vambrace, Din sealed the cockpit without looking back. As he made his way through the graffitied maze, following the same path he took the last time he was there, he replayed the conversation he had with Bo-Katan moments after dropping out of hyperspace. 

“The Shale twins told me everything,” she stated, forgoing a greeting in the interest of saving what little time they’d have to speak. “I’ll look after the kid for you, you have my word on that.” 

“Thank you.” Though Din had no doubt that she would agree to help when he asked Leera to pass the message, a wave of relief passed through him with the confirmation that Grogu would be taken care of until he returned. “I shouldn’t be long,” he added, beginning the navigational sequence to guide him through the meteor field that surrounded his destination. “I’ve had dealings with the Karesh gang before.” He glanced down at his wrist, where a full round of whistling birds were loaded in the launching device. “They were brief.” 

“You’ve dealt with Gor Karesh in the past,” Bo countered, vitriol filling her voice as she continued. “I’ve heard that his brother Kol is twice as smart and far more ruthless. He’s obsessed with acquiring beskar to sell on the black market.” She paused, letting out a sigh. “Look, I know you’re going to do whatever you have to do to get your riduur back, and I support that. I just wanted you to know what you’re up against.” She narrowed her eyes then, the sharpness in them piercing through the grainy holo image. “Make him pay for this.” 

Din moved his head in a single nod. Oh, I plan to. “This is the Way.” 

Music pulsed from doorways as patrons stumbled in and out of them, but they all gave a wide berth to the Mandalorian stalking assertively down the street. Chances were high that several of them had outstanding bounties on their heads. As such, his presence on the underworld planet spooked them into less rowdy behavior. I’m not here for them, but they don’t need to know that. No one said a word to him until he was right outside the warehouse that the Karesh brothers had turned into a cantina, when a pair of Gamorrean guards blocked the door with their axes. 

A Nikto acting as a bouncer held up his hand and gestured to the guards to lower their weapons, a grin spreading over his horned face as he realized who had just arrived. “Easy, boys,” he said, eyes traveling over Din’s armor and landing on the Mudhorn signet. “This here is the boss’ special guest. Go on and let ‘im pass.” 

The Gamoreans grunted but acquiesced, stepping back and allowing Din to enter the building. Good choice. They wouldn’t have stopped him if it came to it, but avoiding conflict until it was necessary was the best way to get you out of there safely. And that’s all that matters. 

“I’m here to see Kol Karesh,” he stated to the bouncer. “You can either take me to him, or you can get out of my way.” 

Chuckling, the Nikto reached out to drop his hand on Din’s shoulder. “Relax, Mandalorian.” He did the opposite, shucking away the contact with a quick shrug. That only drew another laugh from the bouncer. “The boss has been looking forward to meeting you. No need for- ” 

“Then take me to him,” Din growled, cutting him off and taking a menacing step forward that forced the smaller being to take an involuntary one back. “Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting any longer.” He tilted his chin down, one hand resting on his holstered blaster. “And you don’t want to test my patience, either.” 

Letting out a huff of air that sounded more nervous than he likely meant to let on, the bouncer nodded. “Noted.” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Right then. Follow me.” With that, he turned, Din following him as he made his way through the crowded cantina. 

Weaving through the throngs of patrons gathered around the bar, the two headed toward the back of the open space, where a fighting arena stood. In it, a Devoronian and Twi’lek were locked in an armed battle, both warriors bearing cuts, burns and bruises, but neither showing signs of surrender. Dozens of spectators were gathered around, cheering encouragement and yelling swears alike, and it was clear that many - if not all - of them had placed bets on the outcome of the fight. 

As he walked deeper inside, Din scanned the room for any sign of you - or of where you might be being held - but nothing immediately stood out to him. I’ll find her. He followed the bouncer beyond the arena and through a back door, the crowd noise dampening as it shut behind them. And when I do, they’ll wish they’d never touched her. 

“Boss is in his office.” 

The Nikto’s voice broke through thoughts of what he would do to the man who had taken you captive, Din’s concealed eyes snapping to the door at the end of the short hallway. Pointing at it, the bouncer jerked his head over his shoulder. “Just, uh… Right through there.” Alone in the small space with him, the Nikto lost what little nerve he had, shifting from foot to foot and keeping his eyes anywhere but on the dark slit of Din’s visor. “Alright. Well.” He clapped his hands together in front of him and let out a tense chuckle. “I should be getting back to my post. Can’t trust those pig brutes to decide who gets in and who doesn’t, you know what I mean? You can certainly take it from here. Door’s unlocked. Don’t need me to open it for you, right? Right.” 

By the time he answered his own question, the Nikto had already slipped back out and into the arena, leaving Din standing in front of Karesh’s office. Without wasting another moment, he reached for the panel next to the door and used the side of his balled fist to hit the activator switch. With a hitch and a grinding whir, the door slid open diagonally. 

“Ah, Mandalorian. I see you got my invitation.” Kol Karesh let out a barking laugh, a thick cloud of smoke bursting from his mouth as he did. Another, thinner column emanated from the lit cigar he held. “Please, come in.” The Abyssin gestured with his occupied hand, wisps of smoke dancing as he moved. As soon as Din stepped into the room, the door slammed shut with much more ease and force than it opened with. “We have business to discuss, you and I.” 

“Karesh.” Din’s own voice sounded almost foreign to his ears, anger deepening the tone of it in a way that he hadn’t experienced since Moff Gideon had taken Grogu captive. “The only business I have here is getting my riduur back.” And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. “Where is she?” 

Karesh clicked his tongue and leaned forward in his chair, setting his cigar down on the rim of a carved stone ashtray. “Your woman is fine.” He gave Din a dismissive wave of his hand. “You think I don’t know how collateral works?” He laughed darkly. “I never wanted to do her any actual harm. I just needed to get you here. And here you are, alone, like I asked, so she’s safe.” Using both hands, he indicated the chair opposite his own. “Now, why don’t you take a seat so we can discuss-” 

In a blur of motion, Din grabbed the back of the chair he was offered and threw it against the wall. Two of the legs splintered as it clattered to the floor, Kol’s single eye following the stray pieces. 

“I’m not sitting down with you. There’s nothing to discuss.” He felt his nostrils flare and his top lip curl. White hot rage flooded his bloodstream at the audacity shown by the scum seated across from him. The only reason he’s still alive right now is because I don’t know where he’s keeping her. “These are my terms - You let her go, and I let you live.” 

Karesh hummed, making a show of pretending to mull the offer over. Reaching for the ashtray, he picked up his cigar, taking a slow puff before blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. 

“Counter offer,” he said through a self-satisfied smirk. “You agree to fight in my next tournament, the details of which…” He paused, circling his hand and causing the red-hot end of his smoke to shed a few embers. “Well, we can work those out later, but you fighting in a tournament would sell a lot of tickets. The bottom line is that you need to make me whole, here, Mandalorian. See, you cut into the Karesh family profits when you… dispatched my brother. The cantina had to close for a time, fights were cancelled.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Not to mention the outstanding debts that Gor owed, which now fall to me to cover.” The Abyssin stamped the cigar out in the tray, sliding it away from himself before crossing his arms over the desktop. “You cost me an awful lot when you strung that idiot up in the street, and it’s high time you paid me back.” 

It was already clear to Din that Kol Karesh was a man of extremely low morals. But hearing the way that he spoke of the death of his own kin as though it were nothing but a bad business deal made him seem even lower, even more despicable.

“What makes you think I’m interested in playing by your rules?” His head tilted slightly, but he kept the horizontal slit of his visor trained on Kol’s large eye. “Your brother chose his own fate, and your profits aren’t my concern. My terms were clear. This isn’t a negotiation.”  

At that, the Abyssin chuckled. “No, It isn’t. I’ve made sure of that.” 

Pulling open a drawer, Karesh produced a holopad and held it up. Din felt his blood go cold as he saw what was being displayed on the screen. No. 

It was you, but you weren’t alone. 

You were joined by two of Kol Karesh’s thugs - one with the point of his vibroblade resting against the small of your back, the other standing a few paces in front of you and holding a short leather leash. At the end of the leash was a snarling beast, and Din recognized the species immediately. 

“You see,” Kol leaned forward so he could glance at the screen without turning it away from Din, just in time to watch you squirm away from the beast’s jaws. “She’s safe. For now. But I can change that.” 

Heart pounding furiously beneath his armor and behind his ribs, Din drew his blaster with lightning speed. “I’ll say it one more time.” His growl rumbled through the modulator in his helmet. “You let her go, and I let you live.” I won’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

The gangster just scoffed. “Put that away before you do something you’ll regret.” Before Din could express that he was a man with very few regrets - and that blasting a crater through the belly of the scum who was holding his future riduur hostage would certainly not be one of them - Karesh tapped the upper right corner of the screen, bringing his attention to a ticking timer. “You’ll agree to my terms before that countdown expires, or Shyrr-” He brought his finger down to point out the Quarren who was handling the animal. “-Will drop the leash.” 

Din’s eyes flicked to the timer. Dank farrik. He hadn’t noticed it at first, focused solely on you. He swore under his breath as he realized that because he didn’t know where in the compound you were being held, he didn’t have time to kill Karesh and find you before the clock zeroed out. And I won’t risk her. Seething, he lowered his blaster and returned it to its holster.  

“Ah, a wise decision. I haven’t fed that thing in days,” Kol stated. “It's hungry. Just like the ones you let rip my brother apart in that alley.”

On screen, the hulking thug at your back urged you to take a step forward with a jab of his weapon. Rage bloomed in Din’s chest at the sound you made; at the wince on your face, a mixture of fear, pain and defiance. The mongrel snapped its jagged jaws close to your ankles, Kol’s men laughing at your expense. 

From his office, the Abyssin joined them. “It would make quick work of your lovely betrothed. Tell me, Mandalorian, do you think it would go for her throat first? Or maybe the gut?” He shrugged. “So many soft, fleshy places to choose from.”

The anger burned through him like acid as Karesh barked out another laugh.  “If anything happens to her, I won’t stop until I’ve killed every single one of your men.” Din placed his palms on the desktop and leaned over them menacingly. “And then I’ll kill you.” 

Much to the Mandalorian’s surprise, his threat only made Karesh laugh harder. “Ho Ho! You see?” He slapped his knee. “Such fire! I knew you would make for an excellent gladiator, even if it took some motivation to get you here.” 

From the holopad, Din heard you let out another pained whimper, the sound hitting him like a blaster bolt straight through his chest. He glanced at the countdown in the corner, then back at you. There was still some time left, but he didn’t need any more of it to run before he spoke. “Call off your men.” 

“Is this you agreeing? Before even hearing the details?” Kol blinked. “You really aren’t here to negotiate.” He cackled to himself, then used a wrist comm to call Shyrr. “Show’s over, boys, you can bring her back to her cell now.”  

“You got it, boss.” A gruff voice responded through the comm, and then Din watched as the heavily muscled man at your back dragged you out of frame. 

“Where are they taking her?” He demanded, balling his hands into fists. “I’m only agreeing to your terms if you let her go.”

“Ah,” Karesh closed his eye and sat back in his chair, the base creaking as it rocked with his weight. “You see now you didn’t hear the full details of my terms.” He opened his eye again, fixing it directly on Din’s visor. “You’ll fight in my tournament, that part we’re clear on. What I didn’t tell you about is the entry fee.” 

“Entry fee?” Din repeated, the modulator doing nothing to hide the contempt in his voice. “What are you talking about?” He shook his head slowly. “I’m not paying you anyth-”  

“Yes,” Karesh interrupted, standing for the first time since Din arrived, his abrupt motion causing both his desk and chair to move. “You will.” He sneered. “Or I’ll contact Shyrr and Drace again, and they’ll happily dispose of your precious little down payment.” Cocking his head to the side, he took two steps around the desk. “Did you think that trick with the dog is the only one I have up my sleeves?” The Abyssin blew air through his lips and reached into his shirt pocket. “There’s more than one way to skin a loth-cat,” he mused, revealing your Mudhorn pendant, the beskar gleaming in the dim light of the gangster’s office. “If you catch my drift.” 

His drift was crystal clear. 

He outplayed me. Bo-Katan had warned him that Kol was more clever, more cunning, and more brutal than his brother. And the scum was proving her right, leaving Din with no choice but to follow Karesh’s script. At least until I find her. 

Rage blurred his vision, but Din kept his eyes locked on the necklace. “What do you want?” 

“I want what my brother failed to gain,” he responded, a sick grin twisting his features. “I want your armor.” 

Despite the rest of Bo’s warning, regarding Karesh’s hobby of stripping Mandalorians of their beskar, the demand caught him off guard. He thought back to what he had said when Gor - or the countless others who had tried to challenge him for his armor throughout the years - had made the same demand. You’d have to take it from my corpse. 

That was before he had you to lose. And though his armor was as much a part of him as was his flesh and bone, especially the pieces that were imbued with beskar from his father’s armor, you were his life. You and Grogu. Just like the decision he faced on Morak that led to the removal of his helmet, this was another impossible choice to make, because either way he would lose something. But there’s only one right answer. 

Before he could reluctantly agree, Karesh spoke again. “I can tell this is a sensitive topic for you. Or, at least it was for the last Mandalorian I did business with.” He laughed, the sound turning Din’s stomach. “But you’re a… special case. See, with you, the thrill of making you remove your armor is worth more to me than what I would get for it on the market. With you, it’s about control. Gor thought he could control you, but he failed. I won’t.” 

So it’s not really about the credits. This is about his pride. 

Karesh waved his hand as he went on. “So how about this for a compromise. You forfeit your armor today, helmet and all, to buy your precious poppet’s freedom. I’ll hold onto her, of course, for safekeeping, while you earn your armor back piece by piece. You win a fight, you get to choose a piece. Lose a fight, lose a piece. Die?” A smug grin inched its way across Kol’s face. “And I keep the beskar, and the poppet.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” Din’s chest heaved with the way his anger changed his breathing. I’m not going to lose, Karesh. You are. “You can count on that.” 

“Then you have nothing to worry about, Mando.” The Abyssin tossed your pendant to him, Din catching it carefully in one gloved hand. “Here, as a show of good faith, I’ll let you keep her little trinket. It can help remind you what you’re fighting for.”  

The absolute last thing in the galaxy that he would need was a reminder. Though the ceremony had yet to happen, your name had already been written on his heart as far as Din was concerned. He stared down at your necklace in his palm as he spoke. “I’ll need continued proof that she’s safe.” Slowly, he closed his fingers around the sculpted pendant and lowered that arm to his side. “And I’ll need to see her. Not just on the holo screen.” 

Karesh rolled his eye. “I know better than to dangle a bruised cachu fruit if I want to get my fathier to run, so to speak.” He perched his hands on his hips and blinked. “You know, I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll cut you another deal. I’ll let you see your little missus tonight. In fact -” He clapped his palms together. “She can be the one to relieve you of your beskar.” 

Din’s eyes fell shut as the weight of what that would mean washed over him. Since redeeming himself in the Living Waters, he hadn’t shown his face to anyone aside from Grogu, and only when the two were alone. You had yet to see him without his helmet. That moment was supposed to be reserved for your wedding night, when you officially bound your hearts and souls together. That was when you were supposed to look into his eyes for the first time, behind closed doors and with a soft, warm bed to fall into. Not here on this scudhole planet, in the bowels of a derelict warehouse with Kol Karesh and his goons watching. 

His heart sank, knowing that keeping that moment sacred was just as important to you as it was to him. I’m sorry, mesh’la.  

“Uh oh,” Karesh filled the silence that Din had let hang between them. “Not getting cold feet are you? This offer won’t last forever, so if you’re not going to take it then let me know. Because a freighter headed for Nal Hutta comes in tomorrow morning, and if you’re backing out now I can still sell that pretty poppet of yours to the Hutt Cartel and-” 

Something snapped in Din at the threat of you being sold to anyone, let alone one of the most nefarious crime syndicates in the Outer Rim. Reaching for Karesh’s collar, he grabbed it with one hand and yanked the Abyssin off the ground. 

“If you even think about doing that, there will be nowhere in this galaxy where you’ll be safe from me.” His tone was ice cold, but measured and steady. 

Struggling to speak with Din’s grip tightening close to the point of strangulation, Kol choked and sputtered out a response. “So…at’s a… a yes, then?” He coughed aggressively as Din dropped him back on his feet. “You’re in?” 

With a single nod that splintered his heart and stoked the fury in his gut, Din confirmed. “I’m in.” For her. 

“Perfect!” Karesh’s throat still sounded hoarse even as he gleefully used his wrist comm to contact his men again. “Shyrr, have Trixi bring our special guest to the gladiator’s barracks.” There was a muffled answer, and then Karesh was speaking to Din again. “Eight fights. Tournament starts in two days, you get two fights a day. Then, if everything goes the way you’re oh, so sure it will -” his laugh turned into a cough. “- you and your lady will be gone by next week.” 

Din just stared at him. And you’ll be dead. 

“Now.” Kol stepped over to a clunky storage locker in the corner of his crowded office, pulling one of the doors open. But instead of shelves of data disks or credit ledgers, the entire facade of the locker opened as a door to a hidden passage. “Let’s reunite you with your sweetheart.” 

– – – 

You hadn’t even been back in your cell long enough for your hands to stop shaking, the bloodthirsty mongrel’s breath still hot on your ankles, when the door at the end of the corridor slid open, the sound of light but distinctly metallic footsteps reaching your ears. 

What now? 

You stood from the hard bench Shyrr had dropped you onto after Karesh had called off the intimidation tactic. Letting out an uneven breath, you reached for the bars with your bound hands and peeked through them. Though you were unsure what to expect at that point, after being ambushed, abducted, imprisoned and threatened by an underworld gang, you certainly weren’t expecting to see what you did. 

What the kr-

“Greetings, human guest!” 

A gleaming, silver protocol droid appeared, speaking in a tone that was far too cheerful for your surroundings and situation. You heard the quiet whir of mechanical joints as it took a few more steps to stand before you. Unlike most class-three protocol droids you’d previously encountered, this one had been built with more feminine features, including a stylized shaped head to give the impression of a bob haircut, and curled strands of metal embellished its eye-bulbs to look like long lashes. Before you could insist that you were definitely not a guest, your new visitor spoke again. 

“I am TR-1X, Talent Relations Liaison, but you may call me Trixi.” 

“Um.” You swallowed, watching as the droid’s faux lashes moved with the programmed blinking of its eyes. This is… bizarre. “H-hello, Trixi. Can you tell me what’s-” 

“It is nice to meet you, doll.” The droid cut you off, sounding even cheerier than before as her eye-bulbs glowed happily. “But we will have to save the girl-talk for later. The boss sent me here with a high priority task, and unfortunately I am not permitted to override it in favor of pleasantries. Now, please direct your attention to the far wall and save all questions and comments until the holo has ended.” 

With that, Trixi’s eye-bulbs spun in their sockets like casino slots, switching from white to blue as they projected a holo-recording onto the grimey wall of your cell. You turned to have a better view, and as soon as you did, you sucked in a gasp. 

Din. Your feet took you a few steps closer to the projection, a quick swell of hope filling your chest. He’s here. 

But the relief you felt when you recognized his broad frame dissipated with the realization that if Karesh had sent this droid to show you something, it likely wasn’t something you would want to see. He’s playing with us. The binders around your wrists clattered as you clenched your fists. He wants to hurt Din and he wants me to see it. When it became clear exactly how Karesh intended to do that, you felt the air leave your lungs. Heart pounding, you watched as the man you loved struck a gut-wrenching deal for your freedom. Oh, no. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks as you noticed the slight change in Din’s posture as he agreed to Karesh’s terms. 

“Oh, Din,” you whispered, as the holo ended and Trixi’s eyes spun back to their original state. “I’m sorry.” 

None of it was your fault, and you knew that. You did nothing to draw the attention of the Karesh gang. It wasn’t your past leaping into the present. It was Din’s, there was no denying that. But you didn’t blame him. How could you, when it had been you who talked him out of his fears that something like this would happen? You, who had been the one to insist that there would be nothing that the two of you couldn’t face together? There was no blame to be doled out as far as you were concerned, not between the two of you. 

But that didn’t change the fact that you were sorry about what was being demanded of him. 

“Alright, doll,” Trixi’s sunny voice from behind you made you turn back to face her. “I know I said we’d have time for chit-chat after the holo, but I just received a new directive which means that it will have to wait a bit longer. But don’t worry!” Her head titled at a slight angle as she leaned forward. “We will have plenty of time to get to know one another after this next directive is fulfilled.” 

With that, Trixi stepped up to the panel on the wall that controlled the bars of your cell. Batting her metallic eye lashes, she set the bulbs spinning again until they settled on a greenish light. As soon as the sensor on the panel registered the frequency that Trixi was projecting, the bars of your cell slid up into the wall above them, and you were free. For half a beat, your adrenaline fueled brain tripped over itself as you considered your options. 

I could run. Should I run? How would I find Din? What would I- You stopped yourself. I don’t have options right now. Not if you wanted both of you to survive this encounter. 

With another blink, Trixi’s eye-bulbs returned to normal, and the droid faced you again. “Right this way,” she said, brightly coaxing you to follow her.  “I am to bring you to the barracks. There is a new gladiator who requires your attention.” 

“Din?” You asked the droid as you stepped over the threshold of your cell. “The new gladiator, is he a Mandalorian?” 

Trixi had already begun walking down the corridor, and you hurried to catch up. She swiveled her head so that she was facing you when she responded. “Sure is, doll. Pretty exciting, don’t you think?” 

You assumed that the droid would lead you through the same door she had used when she entered the prison wing, but you were wrong. Instead, she paused by a wall panel that looked misplaced, as though it had been installed in error, her eyes emitting the same green light that had worked on the panel of your cell. To your shock, a slice of the wall opened up in front of you, revealing a hidden passage. 

Exciting? You shook your head, eyebrows pinched together, and followed your guide through the wall. “No, Trixi, that’s my fiance. And your boss is keeping me prisoner to force him into his tournament.” And to force him out of his beskar. 

“Oh, that’s nonsense, doll!” Trixi waved a hand at you, the joints whirring audibly. “Mr. Karesh runs an entertainment enterprise. All of the contracts he draws up for the talent are on the up and up. I know because I review them myself.” She let out a bubbly sound that you were possibly supposed to take as a chuckle. “And you are not a prisoner, silly! You are a guest! That is why I have been assigned to make sure that you are comfortable during your stay here.” Her head swiveled again so that she was facing forward, another of her trilling chuckles accompanying the movement. “Prisoners are not assigned Talent Relation Liaison droids.” 

On the up and up? You narrowed your eyes at the back of Trixi’s sculpted bob. Her programming has clearly been… adjusted. Though she was just a droid, you felt bad for her. In a way, TR-1X was just as much a prisoner as you and Din were. You doubted that working for a crime boss was what she had been originally built for, especially with the way that you saw her eye-bulbs function. That’s not standard in other human relation models. And it doesn’t look like she’s got any weapons. Class three droids typically didn’t. What the kriff is a TR droid even supposed to do? 

You decided that the best way to find out was to ask. “I know you said we’ll have time to talk later, Trix,” you said, following her around a corner. “But I’m curious. What is the primary function of a TR unit?” 

Trixi slowed for a step or two before resuming her pace. “My primary function?” Her eyes glowed a warm gold, almost giving off a nostalgic feeling. “TR units were created to assist in the production of holodramas. My main functions were procuring talent to cast in films and ensuring that things ran smoothly during production. Before I was sold to the Karesh brothers, I worked as a directorial assistant droid on countless holodrama sets,” Trixi stated. “I worked with Wynessa Starflare, Jeffa Day, Dieter Bravo -” 

You shook your head. “Sorry, who?” 

Trixi’s eye sockets shone brightly with surprise. “You don’t know Dieter Bravo? Wynessa Starflare? But, they were in some of the biggest theatrical epics filmed since the days of the Old Republic! ” When you only shrugged, she made a disapproving noise, her eyes dimming as her shoulder joints drooped. “Oh, I miss Coruscant. No one in the Outer Rim knows their holodramas. It’s depressing.” 

“Not much need for that sort of entertainment in the Outer Rim, I guess.” You grimaced, realizing that the kind of entertainment that was in demand in the Outer Rim, was the kind that had landed you where you were - illegal gambling, fighting, and other, even less palatable pastimes. 

“No matter! I can still be of use to Mr. Karesh as he builds his gladiatorial business. Ticket sales are ticket sales, afterall!” She was back to her overly perky tone. “Okay, doll.” She turned another corner and a door came into view. “Here we are. The boss said to give you a moment, so…” 

You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and hurried up to the door, turning to wait for Trixi to open it. As soon as you heard the click of the mechanism, you spun towards the opening, eyes skipping over the various beings scattered throughout the large space and landing immediately on the familiar, tattered and darned material of Din’s cape. As though he could feel your gaze, he turned, taking in the sight of you. It was impossible, then, to tell who moved first, both of you striding to meet the other. 

He spoke your name as you reached him, his arms winding around you to corral your body close to his chest. You folded yourself into his embrace, laying your cheek to the cold plate of his armor, tears once again flowing freely as he held you. “Mesh’la,” he murmured, one hand coming up to curve around the back of your head. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, knowing that he felt your response. “No, but I…” I don’t want you to have to do this. You pulled back to look at him, his hold loosening enough to allow you to do so. You noted that he had already been relieved of his weapons. Of course. “Din.” You took a shaky breath, tears rolling down your cheeks and giving your voice a watery sound. “I saw what-” You shook your head. “On the holo. They had me watch when you-  I saw what you did. What you agreed to.” You shook your head as his hands fell to your waist. “This is not the Way.” 

He said your name again, then, bringing one hand up to lift your chin so that you could look nowhere but at the visor concealing his eyes. “The Creed is very important to me. But walking the Way of the Mandalore will always come second to keeping my family safe.” 

You knew that to be true. You knew what he had gone through to keep Grogu safe, and you knew when you’d been taken that he would stop at nothing to do the same for you. But you also knew how important his redemption had been to him, and you hated the idea that this stunt of Karesh’s was tarnishing what he had earned in the eyes of his tribe. By the same token, you knew how important it had been for him not to remove his helmet around you until after your marriage ceremony. 

“I know, Din.” You placed your palms on his chest. “I just… I wish…” You lowered your head. “This isn’t right. He’s making you take off your helmet. So many people will see you, and-.” 

Leaning in, Din rested the front of his helmet against your forehead, one hand curling around the base of your neck. “I have earned the right to wear my helmet after exposing my face before, and I will do it again. That’s not… I care less about that than I do about…” Your heart twisted as he struggled to get his words out. Because I know what he’s trying to say. Oh, Din. “It’s not how I…” He sighed, his thumb slowly swiping up and down the back of your neck. “This isn’t how I imagined it would be, showing you my face for the first time. I… It should be when-” 

When his voice broke, so did your heart. 

“Then let’s keep it that way.” You swallowed, reaching up with both hands to grip his wrist. 

Straightening up, he moved his head side to side in confusion. “But, if you saw the holo, you know the terms. Karesh made it clear that he wanted you to be the one to remove my armor.” 

You nodded. “He did.” Moving your hands to the collar of his flight suit, your fingers found the purple scarf you’d given him, and tugged it free. “But he didn’t say I had to see anything.” You handed him the fabric. “Blindfold me before I take your helmet off. I’ll keep it on until you have it back.” 

It meant that you wouldn’t be able to watch him in the arena - if that was even allowed as the “guest” of Trixi’s Mr. Karesh. But if it meant that you could protect just a small piece of his Creed, you would do it without question.  

You heard the sound of hefty footsteps coming closer, followed by the bright sound of Trixi’s voice as she greeted her boss, and knew that your time alone was coming to an end. “Din?” You looked up at him as he closed his fingers around the scarf in his hand. “I love you. I know we’ll get through this. Please, just… Just don’t get hurt.” 

“We will get through this,” he responded firmly. “And I won’t be the one who gets hurt.” Reaching up with his empty hand, he swiped at your tears. “I love you, cyare.” 

With that, you turned around to let him tie the deep purple scarf around your eyes, his touch gentle as he knotted the material. It smelled like him, and for a few seconds, you allowed that to comfort you. But as you turned again, one of Din’s large hands taking hold of both of yours, the door that you had come through opened, and Kol Karesh stepped through with Shyrr, Drace and Trixi on his heels. 

“Isn’t this sweet,” Kol teased as he took in the blindfold that you wore. “I wouldn’t wanna watch him in that arena either, poppet.” He laughed, Shyrr and Drace slowly joining him. “Okay!” He clapped his hands together, the goons falling silent again. “Go on, poppet. Show us that he’s just a man under there.” 

You felt Din squeeze your hand, the gesture small but the comfort behind it 

Immense. Returning it, you let out a long, slow breath, and then you released his hand, and began undoing the fasteners that held his armor in place, removing it piece by piece. 

When you had finished, and there was a small stack of beskar by your feet, Karesh clapped his hands again. “Very good, poppet. See? Just a man.” His gravelly laugh turned your stomach. “That’s all I need you for right now. Trixi!” He barked for the droid and then you heard the metallic sound of her footsteps. “Bring our guest to her new quarters.” 

Trixi appeared at your elbow then, the cool metal of her animatronic fingers a shock to your skin, the difference between her touch and the feel of Din’s armor enormous. “Alright, doll. Time for that girl talk I promised!” 

Before she could steer you away, though, you felt something else - something warm and soft and full of promise. You felt the press of Din’s lips to your tear-stained cheek. “I’ll get us out of here, mesh’la.” 

Though his Creed had been broken in a catastrophic way, your response felt right as you whispered back to him. “This is the Way.” 

It was the last thing you said to him before Trixi pulled you away, the door to the barracks slamming shut behind you with Din - and a room full of beings he would have to fight to win his freedom - trapped on the other side. 

-- -- --

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to or removed from my taglists, please feel free to let me know! You can use the form on my masterlist or just shoot me a message!

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tags:

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Mando’s bicep tenses as you slice away another fragment of melted flight suit, angling the sterilised scalpel to take only dead and blistered skin with it. It feels like you’ve been at this for hours already, and you can still barely believe you’re doing it.

Once your anger at his reckless actions had thawed, a rising panic soon replaced it. Overwhelmed, you’d resorted to your default coping strategy: bossiness. That familiar mask had helped until he’d bitten back with a threat that would’ve ended badly for you both. With his recovery contingent on earning his trust, you’d had to switch tactics.

Letting a hunter see your vulnerable side was a risk, but it had paid off. You’d matched honour with respect, and now that you’ve cracked that shell, your panic is slowly giving way to increasing sympathy. He seems… nice. You’re no longer performing this task out of necessity alone, and the genuine desire to help him adds confidence to your movements. It’s even allowed you to find a rhythm of sorts in your macabre work.

To his credit, Mando is a model patient, enduring his gruesome treatment with impressive fortitude. You’d predicted more of a fuss, but muscle twitches and sharp breaths are your only clues he’s feeling anything at all. Perhaps the bounty hunting life toughened him up. Nonetheless, you pay careful attention to his tells; you’d rather know if you’re slicing too deep.

Peeling away a congealed mess of skin and coarseweave from his inner elbow elicits a long exhale. He must’ve been holding his breath for this last one. You squirt saline over the freshly scraped wound, watching his fingers curl into a loose fist against the floor. They relax as you seal the bacta patch’s edges, concluding your treatment of his arms.

“Still doing okay?” you ask, searching the black visor for any hint of what might be happening behind it.

He dips his helmet in response, maintaining the silence he’s been cultivating since you helped him drink. Despite his earlier dry throat, he was borderline chatty throughout the prep stage, somewhat quelling your nerves. Now, the contrasting absence of dialogue feels palpable. You pray it’s just gritted teeth keeping him quiet, not regret at being stuck here with you.

With his arms taken care of, you reach for the vibroblade again and clear your throat. “I need to…” You trail off as you gesture toward his legs. “Is this still okay?”

Mando nods again, a sharper jerk that betrays his own discomfort, his muscles rippling with it.

Taking a deep breath to dispel your own misgivings about stripping a man you’ve only just met, you begin cutting. The outer seams of his pants part easily, no match for the humming blade. Now for the awkward part.

As soon as you lean in close to cut around the wounds, the tension climbs rapidly. Your knuckles brush against his bare thigh, and you feel the muscle jump beneath your touch. “Sorry,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure what for. He doesn’t reply.

Finally, the garment falls away, revealing golden skin patterned with scars. A map of past battles etches its way across gorgeously toned thighs, now freshly marred by blistered, debris-filled welts.

You swallow hard and try to focus on his wounds, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sculpted terrain of his legs and the insight it offers. An athlete’s strength. A warrior’s endurance. A human’s limitations. It’s a welcome distraction from the grim knowledge that you have yet more patches of fused flesh and fabric to excise.

Smearing on the bacta gel strains the atmosphere even further. Suddenly, you can’t seem to distinguish between a soothing motion and a sensual one. Aiming for clinically professional, you smooth the salve across the large burn near Mando’s groin, but your attention keeps drifting to the impressive bulge only centimetres away beneath his black undershorts.

That’s definitely not a blaster.

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