Don’t Mind Me

It’s easy to notice the differences between here and your homeworld. The citizens that pass you as you stroll through the garden with Din walk like they don’t have a care in the galaxy, as if the only purpose of their existence is simply to observe the beauty of the paradise they’re fortunate enough to call home. The single sun glows gold, its rays making your skin warm and your heart smile. A mystic breeze caresses your skin, carrying the subtly sweet smell of the pink flowers surrounding you, wrapping you like a shawl, soothing you rather than agitating you like the harshness of the dry, gritty winds you’re accustomed to.

You slow your pace and reach out to touch the silky petals of the flowers around you, regarding how much they’d bloomed since you arrived in the city. They’re cooler than you expected, smoother too. The blossoms have opened like a book that’s been sculpted instead of written, the pink ink infusing into the petals to give them a soft glow. They tell a tale of eras gone by, of the tender care of the soil, of the rain and sun, of insects.

A few petals slowly and carefully float towards the ground, dancing as the wind catches them in their fall from grace, and you realize that their life is wonderful but fleeting. It seems the story they tell is a beautiful yet tragic one, existing only long enough to grace the world with their beauty before meeting the unchangeable fate of all things in life.

But the story is hopeful too: the fallen petals become soil once more, eventually allowing new petals to grow in their place, rewarding the old trees with a new start for others to enjoy, until the end of time.

“What are you thinking, cyare?” Din’s voice snaps you back from wherever your mind drifted off to.

“I can’t get over how pretty it is here,” you say, turning to look at Din. His armor gleams in the sunlight, rivaling the smile of adoration in his eyes as he looks at you.

“Is it?” he questions, not daring to break his soft gaze from yours. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Giggles fill your throat, and you glance down for a moment before looking up at him again. “Maybe if you actually looked, you would see how beautiful it is.”

“But I like looking at you,” he insists. “I could look at you forever.”

“Creep,” you tease, lovingly rolling your eyes while stepping toward the waist-high stone wall that overlooks the river, the turquoise-blue stream babbling and burbling below as it springs over the rocks in its way.

Din steps to join you at the wall, setting his helmet down on it before leaning with his back against it, his arms folded across his chest. “What else is there to look at? You’re the most beautiful being in the universe.”

“Oh, a cheesy creep,” you reassess, chuckling softly before a comfortable silence falls between you. Your smile doesn’t fade as you stare out in front of you, admiring the Royal Palace of Theed in the distance, its tan sandstone blocks and green-tiled cupolas, which seem to be painted against the backdrop of a clear blue sky.

How is this real?

While you wish this was not your last day on Naboo, your thoughts drift to what lies ahead. Din can’t hide from his responsibilities of Mand’alor any longer, and the two of you will soon be on your way to meet with Bo-Katan to discuss the future of his people and their home…your home.

“Do you think Mandalore will be this beautiful?” you finally question. Although you wouldn't be devastated to hear no, you’re still holding out hope that there is something else worth working toward besides glass and ash.

“Nope,” Din immediately responds, causing you to furrow your brow in confusion at his quick response, not thinking he’d be so pessimistic. “We are not talking business.”

Realizing he doesn't want to spoil the trip with stress, or maybe isn’t quite ready to think about what he’s about to do, you chuckle. “I’m not talking business. I'm more like…daydreaming of what will hopefully be a good future. I don’t know, maybe I’m just trying to stay optimistic.” You shrug. Turning your head, you see he still doesn’t seem very interested in discussing it. “C’mon, Din. Humor me. Just this once.”

He tilts his head at you, as if confused. “What do you mean ‘this once?’ I alwayshumor you.”

Smirking, you nudge his arm with your elbow, then lightheartedly jest, “As you should, Mando…especially if you want to keep your life. Or at the very least your cock.”

A low chuckle escapes Din’s lips. “Is that supposed to be a threat, cyar’ika?”

“Take it as you will.” Your pursed lips keep a smile at bay.

“You’d be punishing yourself more than me,” he says, once more insinuating that you can’t resist him and his cock, as he’d done days before.

Shaking your head, you laugh. “We’ve already had this conversation, and I proved that I can live without it.”

He shifts his body to look at you, one arm resting on the wall and the other bent, gripping his hip. “That, cyare, is where you’re mistaken.”

“Oh, is that so?” you say, turning to him, raising your eyebrows in curiosity.

He nods. “You may have been able to resist me for a few hours, but do you think you could go an entire lifetime?”

“Mhm.” You turn away, pretending to admire the scenery ahead of you.

“Felucia, cyare. Felucia,” he reminds you simply.

Trying to conceal a smile that wants to form, you curl your lips inward and gently bite down. But the flush of your cheeks gives it away, unable to forget the day, how you woke with a desperate ache between your legs, one that no one and nothing but Din could relieve. Yet he was away on a hunt somewhere within the jungles of the planet, leaving you with a burning blaze in your lower belly, one that’s reawakened just at the thought of it right now.

“You made it only three”-he holds ups three fingers for emphasis- “three days before you picked up your comlink, telling me how desperately-”

“Desperately?” you interrupt, rolling your eyes, acting as though he’s exaggerating.

“-deserperately you needed me.”

“Yet I did perfectly fine without you, didn’t I?” you question, thinking of the things you did to yourself while Din could do nothing but listen.

“You begging me to come fuck you suggests otherwise,” he retorts, seeming certain you can’t argue against the things you said.

“It was all just to tease you,” you contend, though you say it without even looking at him, knowing it’s a blatant lie.

He immediately sees through your bullshit. “To tease me? Is that so?”

You opt to double down on your lie, not backing down now. “Yep.”

“Hm.”

You feel his eyes on you, knowing he’s carefully considering his next move, but you try to pretend that you don’t notice or care. You know he knows it’s a lie, and you’re wondering how he’ll respond. It’s impossible to contain your composure, to contain the laughter growing inside you, but you somehow manage to stifle it, wondering how far this ruse will go.

“I think you need some reminding, cyare,” Din finally states. “I have just the word that will do the trick.”

“Go on then,” you urge, wondering how he thinks he can win this “argument” with one simple word. What he does next you don’t expect.

As he leans closer to you, you feel his breath against your skin, hot and electrifying, breathing life into your skin, giving you goosebumps.

“Gedet’ye,” he whispers, his voice low, husky. Please. The word he made you use before finally allowing you to come after edging you for Maker knows how long during your escapades on Felucia.

Fuck.

Inhaling sharply, a shiver runs down your spine. You bite your lower lip, the flickering flame in your belly suddenly erupting into a roaring flame. If you were laid bare in front of him, he would know you’re glistening, all for him.

He slowly retreats, watching your body react to his word, a smug, satisfied smile on his face. “I think I win.”

It takes you a moment to accept defeat…or rather to gather your brain from the puddle of mush he turned it into. Clearing your throat, you concede with a simple, “Fine,” though you voice is filled with confidence, knowing he’s not completely off the hook. Turning to him, you continue, “I’ll let you win. But only if you answer my question.”

The smile slowly fades, confusion taking its place, as Din worry about what you’ll ask. “What is it?”

His worry is met with a simple chuckle from you. “What do you think our potential future home will be like?”

Din seems relieved that the question is a seemingly simple one. He looks down briefly as he takes your hand in his, then stares into your eyes lovingly, shining brighter than the sun.

“Beautiful,” he softly decrees, seeming so certain of his answer.

Your mouth curves into a bright smile. “Yeah?”

Suddenly, blaster fire sounds above you, causing you to pause and look up. The sky is shut out, masked by the haze enveloping the world. The sound of roaring applause and cheers can be heard in the distance, muffled by the swirling sand. Looking forward once more, you make out what appears to be helmeted figures. Cautious, you move in their direction, growing more confused with each step, the cheering growing in intensity along with it.

The haze lifts, revealing a grim visage in front of you: the helmets of fallen Stormtroopers driven into spikes, many cracked and damaged, all crusted with blood. You stand still, watching confusedly as the pieces of cloth attached to the spikes blow in the wind.

The war...you think, trying to make sense of it all. It’s over. We won!

You turn swiftly, a mixture of hope and relief swelling in your chest, expecting to find the celebratory crowd. Instead, you're confronted by an army of troopers, a perfectly aligned swarm of black and white soldiers standing stoically, their weapons pointed at you.

There she is, one says.

Don’t move,comes a second voice.

No, you think, backing away, fear and confusion flooding your brain. The celebratory roars turn into bloodcurdling screams, piercing your ears. No! We’ve won... You’re gone. You’re supposed to be gone!

You turn to look at the spikes, as if to remind yourself of their defeat…but the Imperial helmets are no longer there. Instead, they’ve been replaced by the helmets of Mandalorians. Dozens of them, lined in offset rows. Blood drips from the various colors of beskar, staining the sands below crimson in color.

The helmet at the forefront is not immediately apparent to, blinded by your confusion and denial. You stare blankly into the familiar T-shaped visor, which is devoid of any sign of life behind it.

Din…? No…No!

You fall to your knees and erupt in a primal scream, blocking out everything around you, including a voice that seems to whisper inside your head.

Riduur...

“Riduur.”

Your eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly as light harshly floods your vision. Your heart beats swiftly beneath your skin, as if trying to tear free. Confused, you turn your head to see if there is anything that can tell you where you are.

Din is sitting beside you on the edge of the bed, lovingly staring down at you. He seems to have no idea of the horror you just witnessed.

“Sorry to wake you, but it’s time to get up,” he murmurs before bending down to kiss you softly on the forehead. He stands and walks across the room, giving you space to get out of bed.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you push yourself up, your eyebrows knitted in confusion as you stare blankly at the floor.

It was a dream. But it felt so real. The bloodcurdling cries coupled with the sounds of blaster fire echo in your ears while the ghost of your scream haunts your throat. Touching the base of your throat lightly with the tips of your fingers, you seem to notice a pain when you swallow. An ache in your belly tells you that something isn’t right.

Is it all in your head?

“They’ll be here soon,” Din informs you, causing you to look toward him. His back is facing you, but as you watch him place and clasp a piece of armor around himself, you realize what’s happening. It’s been three standard days since the encounter with Bo-Katan. Three days. Which means today’s the day she’d be arriving to prepare for battle.

The war…

Your realization makes you wonder if the dream was something more than that. If it was a prophecy, a warning sent straight from the Maker, telling you what will happen if this war continues. It wasn’t unheard of…

“Are you okay?”

His words snap you back to reality. You realize he has turned to look at you, obviously aware that you hadn’t moved.

“Just trying to wake up.” It’s not technically a lie.

“Not sleep well?”

“Have either of us lately?” you question.

He doesn’t respond, knowing full well that neither of you have. You had caught him several times over the past week sitting in the dark, staring at holo-maps of Mandalore, his mind churning through a thousand different thoughts and scenarios before you eventually convince him to come to bed, where he would toss and turn until morning.

After giving him a weak smile, you finally get up from the bed and head to the refresher. Standing at the sink, you turn on the faucets, allowing the water to warm before splashing the it on your face. It’s refreshing. You grab the towel hanging nearby and dry your face, then look into the mirror. Inhaling deeply, you slowly exhale, trying to release the tension within you.

It was only a dream.

Walking alongside Din towards the outskirts of town, you cannot shake the memory of your ominous dream from the back of your mind, regardless of how hard you’ve tried to overlook it. You try desperately to contain all your anxiety, along with the breakfast you had managed to swallow, both of which are bubbling inside you. Fidgeting with your rings, you grit your teeth, feeling a twist in your stomach, telling you to put a stop to this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Din questions.

“I’m fine.”

It was only a dream,you remind yourself once more.

Churning as much as you can remember of it in your head, you start to believe it, believe that it was nothing more than disconnected fragments from your memory. It was so similar to the days on Tatooine after the Battle of Endor, when the Empire’s occupation came to an end. Celebrations broke out. Blaster fire shot over the city while citizens ran to the street, cheering as they watched a holographic recording of the destruction of the second Death Star. You’ve walked past the spiked helmets of the Stormtroopers in Mos Eisley thousands of times since then. Coupled with your fears, it all seems to make sense. And soon, like most nightmares of your past, you’ll forget that you ever even envisioned it.

It’ll all be over soon.

The arch at the entrance to the city is crowned by the sight of an all-too-familiar firespray gunship gently floating down. The ship gracefully lands on the ground below, and within moments, the ramp opens. The sight of Boba and Fennec brings you comfort, eliciting a true smile for the first time all morning.

“I expected a bigger entourage for the Daimyo of Tatooine,” you tease as the pair approaches.

“Ask him where his litter is,” Fennec suggests, a sly smile on her face as she peers at Boba out of the corner of her eyes. “He loves that.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Boba quickly stops you.

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you, little one,” he warns, causing you to giggle like a little girl.

Din holds out his hand in greeting to Boba, who instantly grabs his forearm with a strong grip.

“Thank you,” he says to the elder Mandalorian. His words are simple but you know the meaning behind his words is much deeper. Despite the fact Boba offered his assistance first, it was still difficult for Din to ask the favor of him, knowing he was asking him to risk his life for Mandalore, for the galaxy, and for you.

A small grin appears across Boba’s face. “I would never miss an opportunity to tell the Empire to shove it up their ass.”

“Not to mention he enjoys shoving his nose where it doesn’t belong,” Fennec murmurs, shifting her weight to one leg.

“Only when there’s injustice,” Boba contends. “Civilization can only exist where there is justice as a consequence. If the Republic won’t do something, we will.”

You smile. “Well, you’ve come to the perfect place. Bo-Katan won’t stop until she’s gotten justice for her people.”

“Our people,” Din corrects, reminding you that the two of you are just as much a part of this.

“Right. Our people,” you utter awkwardly.

“Where’s the princess anyway?” Boba questions, carefully scanning his surroundings, and finding nothing of interest.

“She’ll be here any minute,” Din informs him.

“How do we know that she isn’t playing games with us?” Boba asks, showing his mistrust of Bo-Katan. “Or that this isn’t some sort of set up?”

“If it is, we’ll be sitting ducks out here in the open,” Fennec notes, observing the open lands around you and vast sky above.

“Standing ducks, actually,” you jest, trying to keep the tension to a minimum.

“She’ll be here,” Din repeats, his voice almost a growl, as if to warn him that he shouldn’t question the trust he has in her.

Boba softly nods his head, showing that he trusts him and his judgement.

Din turns and gestures for everyone to come along, implying that there’s no use in standing around waiting. While Boba walks alongside him, you and Fennec fall behind, following them toward the town. Your gaze is drawn to the two Mandalorian men walking in front of you, both of them carrying their helmets similarly, their right arm wrapped around it, pressing it against their abdomen. It’s almost uncanny how alike they are, yet so different.

“Do you think you can help keep Fett on his best behavior?” you quietly ask Fennec, only half-serious.

“He means well,” she responds, walking with one arm swinging, holding her helmet on her hip with the other.

“I know,” you affirm, knowing he looks out for you and Din's well-being, though he’ll never admit it. Somewhere beneath all that tough exterior is a soft, kind man. “It’s just…I don’t want Din second-guessing his decision.” For the millionth time. “We didn’t come to this decision lightly. We need support, and for that to happen, everyone needs to be on the same page.”

“I understand. I’ll do my best to keep him in line. No guarantees.”

You express your gratitude with a smile.

She opens her mouth to speak, but you’re distracted by the distinct sound of a shuttle’s engine, causing you to stop and look to the air. A three-winged ship hovers in the sky, its lower wings folding upwards as it makes its descent.

“Lambda shuttle incoming,” Fennec announces, stopping the men ahead of you.

“Is it Kryze?” Fett questions from behind you.

You look back at Din and see confusion in his eyes; the same confusion that you hold. A Lambda shuttle could only hold twenty passengers - more if you didn’t care about comfort. Is that all she has to offer to take over a planet?

“Either that or we’re about to be ambushed by Imperials,” Fennec utters, staring intently at the ship as it lands, seeming to know the ship belonged to the Empire – or at least once did.

Din moves past you, walking back toward the outskirts of town. Reluctantly, you follow, moving to meet Bo-Katan – or whoever was on the ship.

By the time the four of you pass under the archway, the shuttle’s ramp had already opened. Bo-Katan descends with her helmet at her side, her arm wrapped around it. To your surprise, no one follows her. The only other thing that leaves the ship with her is a small cargo crate, which hovers beside her.

Bo-Katan and the four of you meet about halfway. She presses a button that causes the crate to stop. You eye it questioningly, wondering what in the world it could be. A tribute to the new Mand’alor, perhaps? A gift to show they accepted him?

“Mand’alor,” she greets, slightly bowing her head.

“Din. Please,” he insists, not wanting all the formalities.

“As you wish.” After cordially greeting you and Fennec, she turns to Boba, her expression slightly less friendly, appearing to attempt to repress anything more than a simple salutation. “Fett.”

“That’s Lord Fett to you,” he growls, and the stark contrast to Din’s humility almost causes you to laugh out loud.

Only when Fennec shifts her weight onto one leg and glares at him with daggers in her eyes, ready to be shot, does he change his attitude.

“Fett’s fine,” he murmurs, to which Fennec rolls her eyes in annoyance, knowing he’s not going to play nicely.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Bo-Katan questions, looking at Din, seeming eager to get things rolling.

The five of you stand scattered awkwardly around Greef Karga’s office. Boba stands near the desk where the Mythrol usually works while Fennec stays near the window, gazing out to make sure no one’s watching. You stand close to the door, not far behind your husband, who stands near Karga’s desk, opposite of Bo-Katan. Your eyes dart around, wondering who will be the first to break the silence.

“First order of business…,” Bo-Katan begins, reaching to the belt around her waist. She unclasps the hilt of the Darksaber, holding it out for Din to take. He hesitates, prompting her to add, “Take it. It’s yours.”

“It may be mine, but I can’t fight with it,” he admits, almost seeming ashamed by his admission. “I am skilled with many types of blades and blasters, but this…this is different.”

“You’re better with it than you think,” Bo-Katan states, and you know she’s referring to the fact that Din defeated her in battle with it. Though he was scrappy with it, he was about to fight. “But I understand your reluctance. It’s a powerful weapon; not just in battle.” She looks down at the hilt in her hand, seeming to admire it. When she looks back up, she offers, “I can teach you to wield the sword, but your combat skill isn’t as important as what the saber represents. The others will only follow you if you wield the sword.”

Din stands still, contemplating her words.

“And just how many are there?” you inquire while stepping forward, once more breaking the silence. “Mandalorians willing to fight, I mean.”

The saber hangs at Bo-Katan's side as her arm slowly falls, turning to you. “We’ve been able to secure one hundred soldiers.”

“One hundred?” you question, shocked by the amount. You’re not sure what you expected, but it seems low.

Bo-Katan, seeming to sense that you’re displeased with the answer, turns and sets the Darksaber down on the desk. As if carefully considering her answer, she pauses, knowing that if neither of you are happy, it could mean that things will fall through.

“Gideon operates with no more than five hundred troopers,” she shares. “I feel our numbers are sufficient to complete our mission.”

You scoff. Din has worked with far worse odds, but in a time like this, do you really want the odd to be in the enemy’s favor? “We’re outnumbered five to one and you’re telling me that’s ‘sufficient’?”

“One hundred Mandalorian warriors is a force to be reckoned with,” Bo-Katan assures you. “They’ve been trained since birth.”

You immediately fire back, “And yet you lost the planet with far greater numbers.”

“Riduur…,” Din scolds, as if imploring you to stop, not wanting to create any divides.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘It’s better to be a warrior in the garden than to be a gardener in war?’” Bo-Katan inquires.

The sudden question confuses you, but you don’t let it show. “Can’t say that I have,” you respond.

“It’s an old Mandalorian proverb,” she continues, stepping closer to you. “Meant to explain why we’ve always trained our descendants from a young age. Simply put, it means it’s better to be prepared for a war you’ll never fight than to fight a war you’re not prepared for. Because in war, you are either prepared…or you die.”

Her words make sense to you, and you think how it very much applies to you, your family. Your parents were gardeners in a war, farmers who were forced under the tyranny of both the Hutts and the Empire. You, knowing they couldn’t do a damn thing to defend themselves, trained yourself to use a blaster, in the event it was ever necessary. A warrior in the garden.

However, you know that even people with the years of training can still fall.

“Sometimes you can be prepared and still die,” you contend.

Bo-Katan tilts and nods her head, knowing you have a valid point. “Death makes no discrimination. That is true,” she acknowledges. “But tell me… Do you think millions of untrained, unprepared men, women, and children are any match for gunships and blaster cannons? Or scours of squadrons that can rain explosives on them as they sleep? And how do you think they would fare against armed droids that scour the wreckage, shooting every survivor on sight?”

Though she speaks hypothetically, you know she’s talking about Mandalore, the Night of a Thousand Tears. Feeling uncomfortable, you cross your arms and hug them to you closely, holding back tears at the thought of innocent people being slaughtered.

“My sister and her people did not believe in violence,” she states, a fact you already knew. “Instead of embracing it as a sometimes-necessary measure, they abandoned it completely. They replaced their training in the art of war with a philosophy of pacifism, and exiled anyone who didn’t agree. It made it easy for their government to fall to aggressors.”

Primarly Death Watch.

“I always knew my sister’s way wouldn’t work,” Bo-Katan admits. “But when she was killed, I knew that violence wasn’t the answer either. When I was named regent of Mandalore, I had every intention of finding a balance between the old ways and the new, but it wasn’t long before the Empire came in and occupied the planet. I was overthrown as leader and the people were further divided. For years, I committed to freeing our people from the tyranny, but there was only so much I could do with what little forces I had. Not long after the Darksaber was giving to me, the Empire decided that they were tired of our insolence.”

She turns and looks at Din. “Power doesn't lie in our strength, but in our resiliency. The greatest warriors are the product of their defeats as much as their victories. The Empire battered us, and in doing so they revealed our weaknesses. We can use that knowledge to forge ourselves into an indestructible force. We have everything else we need to win this battle, Din. All we need is our leader.”

Din stares at her, absorbing her words, then nods to indicate that he understands. “I gave you my word,” he replies adamantly. “I am with our people until I fall.”

“Maker willing, that won’t be happening anytime soon,” you state, as if even entertaining the thought of dying would will it into occurring.

Bo-Katan nods. “But if it should, we will die in the name of honor.”

Your eyes divert to Din, waiting for his response with bated breath. He approaches the desk, your heart pounding as you watch him stop and reach for the saber hilt atop it. He takes it in his hand, the turns and rhetorically asks, “Tion ke’gyce ner kad al’iljaat?” What guides my sword if not honor?

A smirk appears on Bo-Katan's face, clearly satisfied.

“Now we can move on to our second order of business…,” she begins, moving to the cargo crate she had brought with her. She removes the lid and looks at you, then gestures to its contents. “You should have this. It’s your right.”

Surprised, you look at Din, but he seems equally as confused as you, perhaps even shocked. Hesitant, you turn back to Bo-Katan, then approach the cargo container. Instantly, you see a shining silvery helmet with a black T-shaped visor similar to Din’s. You’d almost think it was his helmet if it wasn’t currently sitting on the edge of Karga’s desk.

“Oh, great. I’ll be the only one without beskar,” Fennec jests, and you can practically hear her roll her eyes.

“She should not be held to the Creed,” Din says protectively.

“I didn’t think you believed in that Bantha fodder anymore?” Boba questions.

“I don’t. Not the way I used to.”

“She does not have to follow anything she doesn’t wish to,” Bo-Katan replies. “But she is Mandalorian by marriage, and the riduur of the Mand’alor. As mother of our people, she carries the same honor and power as you. She can choose not to wear the armor, but it is hers to do as she pleases.”

Slowly, you drop to your knees, investigating the armor neatly packed in the crate in front of you. You reach for a pauldron and pick it up, seeing the Mudhorn signet. Din’s signet. Your clan’s signet. Running your hand across it, you think of the day he first received it from the Armorer. He had felt he didn’t earn it, and for a moment, the same thought crosses your mind.

Am I really worthy of this?

They hadn’t even met you yet, but it seems they have accepted you into their culture. Though you don’t agree with every aspect of it, you’ve always been willing to embrace it. You’ve learned their language, learned their ways, taken their marriage vows. It only seems right that they would present you with your own armor, a symbol of their Creed. But you’re still in disbelief.

The room falls silent once more, waiting for you to say or do something.

After placing the pauldron in the crate, you rise to your feet. You turn and look from Din to Bo-Katan, your mind made up. “I will wear it with honor,” you proudly vow, echoing the words Din had spoken when he first received his signet. “I will wear it as we lead our people to victory.”

Bo-Katan seems pleased, indicated by the proud smirk on her face. Boba seems curious, raising a brow as he looks across the room to Fennec. Din, however, is concerned, his shoulders dropping as he realizes the implication of your words.

“Cyare…,” Din starts quietly, moving closer to you. He gestures to the crate. “This armor is not a toy, and war is not a game.”

“And I am not a child,” you remind him sternly.

“Do you really think it’s wise to fight in your condition?” Din questions.

The question angers you, thinking he believes you less capable because of the baby, but you don’t have time to respond before someone else argues on your behalf.

“She wouldn’t be the first pregnant woman to fight in a war,” Bo-Katan points out, reminding the two of you that you’re not having this conversation alone. “Being with child d/oesn’t make them weaker. If anything, it makes them stronger.”

You surprised yet glad that someone is on your side.

“Pregnant women are a force to be reckoned with,” Boba Fett grumbles. “Pregnant Mandalorian women…” He laughs quietly, a short huff of air out his nose that is barely perceptible.“They’re a force of fucking nature.”

You and the other two women gaze at him with the same inquisitive look, eyebrows raised, as if wondering how he would know. That’s a question for later.

Turning back to Din, you remind him, “I pledged that I would follow you, that I would always be at your side, no matter what. And as you reminded me, these people are our people. It is only right that I help you bring them home.”

You straighten yourself, standing with confidence, switching to Mando’a when you continue. “I am the wife of Din Djarin, sole ruler of Mandalore. I am the mother of the children of Mandalore. Together, we will restore the honor and glory to our people.”

Din’s inhales deeply, his eyes soft as he looks at you. If only you could see inside his mind, you’d see how conflicted he is. You'd know how much he loved listening to you speak in such a matter. You’d know just how much the thought of you fighting beside him while carrying his child terrified him. He wants to fall to his knees, but is unsure if he wants to worship you or beg you to stay. Choosing instead not to press further, he concedes with a simple nod.

You smile victoriously.

“Alright,” Bo-Katan chimes in. “Let’s get to work.”

The five of you work quickly to formulate a strategy. Once Din and Bo-Katan are satisfied with the plans, Bo-Katan offers to train him how to wield the Darksaber. Din agrees and suggests they go to his old covert in the sewers under Nevarro City, where the training could be done in secrecy.

“Are you certain of this, little one?” Boba Fett questions after the two Mandalorians have left the room.

“Boba,” Fennec sternly warns, subtly shaking her head when he turns to look at her.

He scowls at her, letting her know that he won’t be silenced. “I usually let other creatures learn by just suffering the consequences of their actions, but choosing to follow us into battle has grave implications. It's like nothing you've ever faced before.”

“I’m aware of the consequences,” you grumble, not in the mood to argue.

“And what if you don’t survive?” he probes. “You’re worth a lot to him.” It’s clear he’s talking about Din.

“I have never known a planet that is truly at peace,” you reply, passion rising in your voice. “For too long, I’ve watched everyone I know get crushed under the weight of tyranny. I won’t stand idly by anymore, nor will I abandon my husband.”

“I guess it’s true what you said about Mandalorian women,” Fennec muses, grinning.

Boba nods, seeing that your mind is made up, deciding it’s not his place to argue with you further. He’ll leave that to Din.

Leaving Boba and Fennec behind, you make your way into the market, now bustling with people in the late morning sun. Trying to blend in, you walk toward an opening between two buildings, the place Din once pointed out as the entrance to his covert. Feeling like a pair of eyes are on you, you stop before crossing the entrance to ensure that no one is watching you, seeing nothing that should sound the alarms.

Stepping down the spiral stone staircase, the air turns colder, and the smell of sulfur faintly lingers in the air. The long passageway at the bottom lacks adequate light from the sunlight that filters through the openings in the walls, but it’s enough to see. Standing there, you hear the familiar clanging of metal together with the low hum of the Darksaber in between hits, followed by grunting with what you assume is each parry and strike.

You walk toward the sounds, finding yourself standing at the entrance to another corridor. Not wanting to disturb the two, you stand in the shadows and quietly observe.

“Solus,” the female Mandalorian calls as she thrusts the borrowed beskar spear at him. One.

Din, holding the Darksaber with both hands, blocks low with the weapon, meeting with a loud clank. Sparks fly, illuminating the poorly lit corridor.

“T’ad.” Two. She attacks once more and he blocks high, grunting with the force.

“Ehn.” Three. She attacks in the middle and he blocks for a third time.

After a brief pause to allow him to adjust, she repeats, “Solus,” and he attacks with all his strength, raising the blade over his head with both hands before slicing it down at her. She blocks it effortlessly.

“Tad.”

He swings and misses.

“Ehn.”

He swings and misses once more.

This goes on for several moments. Solus. Tad. Ehn. Low. High. Middle. Slice. Swing. Miss.

Din falls to the ground, breathing heavily, the saber vibrating against the floor, sending sparks flying. Though it’s difficult, you resist the impulse to run in and help him up, instead watching as he clambers to his feet.

“I want to try again,” he announces, though his voice, even filtered through the modulator, sounds tired and defeated.

Bo-Katan lowers the spear. “I can’t help you if you’re not going to focus.”

“I am focused,” he asserts.

She gestures to the saber in his hand. “The blade says otherwise.”

His thumb engages the activation hilt on the saber and the blade disappears, then he shifts so he’s standing with his weight on one leg. “What? It can fucking talk now?” he asks, the annoyance in his voice clear.

Seeming to ignore his question, she says, “You’re fighting against it.”

“It gets heavier with every move,” Din replies, looking down at the hilt, as if wondering how something could change weight as he holds it.

“You’re trying to control the saber with your strength.”

“How the fuck else do I control it?”

“You have to forge a bond with it.”

“You want me to take it out to dinner?” The sarcasm in his voice makes it clear that he’s completely done with this cryptic training session.

“This is not a simple blade, Din.”

“Thanks. I’ve noticed.” His voice practically carries the sound of his rolling eyes.

“Energy constantly flows through the crystal in the saber,” Bo-Katan informs him, finally providing some information that makes sense. “Your thoughts, your actions… they are what guide that current of power. They flow through the crystal and become a part of the blade.”

“Meaning?”

Bo-Katan sighs, as if annoyed that he isn’t understanding. “You’re fighting yourself when you should be fighting me…and you’re losing.”

“Did the blade tell you that too?”

“You’re distracted,” Bo-Katan reasserts.

“I’m not,” he maintains, sounding irritated, and you almost wonder if he’s going to reignite the saber to prove it.

“Tell that to the blade.” Bo-Katan holds out the spear for him to take. “Clear your head. We can try again later.”

It takes a moment for Din to respond, not ready to give up. But it’s clear she doesn’t want to continue. Reluctantly, he takes the spear.

Not wanting to be seen, you stand with your back against the wall. Bo-Katan walks by without noticing you, heading for the stairs, leaving Din alone.

“You can come out now,” Din calls to you from the darkness, telling you that you weren’t as invisible as you thought.

Oops.

You step out from the shadows into the light, entering the corridor where Din is standing, his back still toward you. He had removed his helmet, holding it now in his hand, the Darksaber and spear back in their proper places.

“I’d ask how you knew I was there but that would be a ridiculously stupid question to ask a bounty hunter.”

He gives you a small, obviously forced chuckle.

You step up beside him, seeing his hair wet with sweat, his face glistening with it. His eyebrows are knitted together, his forehead puckered, his body slumped in defeat.

“Credit for your thoughts?” you offer, knowing you can’t help him without knowing what he’s thinking.

He exhales audibly, then pushes past you, stepping up onto the small raised platform that lines the corridor. He sits on an hourglass-shaped seat, one of the few things left of what was once his home, and stares down at the helmet in his hands before placing it on the ground.

“It will be a miracle if any of us survive if that's how things go,” he grumbles, removing his gloves and vambraces, seeming annoyed with his armor. He sits with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

You shrug. “It could’ve gone worse.”

He turns his head and looks at you like you had just told him he has three arms. “Could’ve gone worse?”

You nod, trying to offer him some encouragement. “You didn't burn yourself or take off one of your own limbs or anything like that. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“Well, at least we know I won’t die by my own hand.”

You chuckle, but he doesn’t seem amused. Taking a seat at Din's feet, you stretch out your legs and cross them as you sit on the edge of the raised area. Silence falls between you for several moments.

“You don’t have to fight with it, you know,” you reassure him, turning to look up at him over your shoulder.

He shakes his head, not accepting that as an option. “What kind of leader am I if I can’t fight with the Darksaber?”

Reaching out your hand, you lay it on his arm. “A wise one if you can recognize your strengths and weaknesses and choose the right one.”

He lowers his head, pouting. “I don’t understand. I’ve fought with it before.”

“Bo-Katan said that your thoughts become part of the blade,” you remind him. “Your thoughts change over time. Maybe in the past you were focused. But right now, you’re letting whatever you’re thinking pull the saber down. Whatever you’re feeling…you have to channel those energies in the right way.”

“How?” he asks, a hint of pleading in his voice, as if begging you to tell him what he should do.

You furrow your brows, wishing you could give him an answer. “I…I don’t know.”

Sighing, he accepts that you cannot help him, that he must figure it out on his own, as he had done for so many years before you came along.

“Talk to me,” you say, turning and scooting closer to him, refusing to give up. “Let me help you clear your head. What are you thinking? Feeling?”

“A lot,” he admits ambiguously, and you sense that he’s shutting you out. Beneath the armor, his body seems closed off. He shut his eyes and purses his lips, taking a deep breath through his nose.

“Okay… Well… Where do you want to-”

“I don’t want you to go,” Din blurts out, refusing to look at you. He quickly stands and steps off the raised area, standing in the center of the corridor with his hands on his hips as he looks down at the ground, seeming ashamed by his admission.

Stunned by his sudden declaration, you stare at him blankly. Slowly, you rise to your feet, hoping he isn’t saying what you think he’s saying.

“What?”

He turns half-way towards you, but still doesn’t look up. “I don’t want you to go,” he repeats, speaking lowly. “To Mandalore. I want you to stay here…on Nevarro.”

“And what? I’m just supposed to just let you go?” you question, a mixture of anger, fear, and disbelief in your voice. “I’m supposed to sit here and let you go into a battle while I stay here alone, not knowing if you’re alive or dead? You promised-you promised-”

“I know what I promised,” he interrupts solemnly, knowing full well he said he’d never leave you again. His eyes shine with regret when he finally looks up at you. “And I want to honor that promise, but I…”

He inhales deeply while looking down at his boots, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m afraid of what will happen if I do,” he admits, looking up at you. “Bo-Katan is right. I’m distracted. I can’t stop thinking about what could happened to you, to Shae. I’m paralyzed by fear…fear of losing you both. Because if something were to happen…”

The thought makes him shake his head, trying to get it out of his mind.

“If anything were to happen to either one of you, I would lose my mind,” he continues. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I wouldn’t stop until I’ve slaughtered every last Imperial in the galaxy. Because if you die, then none of it matters. It will all have been for fucking nothing.”

Tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision. The words are similar to ones you’ve heard before, the ones he spoke to you after you’d learned about Gideon’s escape.

I’m afraid, cyare. I’m afraid because I…I can’t lose you too.

You won’t lose me. Nobody will hurt us.

I won’t let them. I swear, if anything happens to you or Shae or Grogu, I will destroy the entire fucking galaxy.

You glance down at your hands as you subconsciously fumble with them, feeling foolish for wanting to go to battle with him. You realize that you had stopped Boba from making a valid point: you have no idea what war really is.

You’ve spoken of the Galactic Civil War as if you’d actually fought in it, but in truth, you know nothing of the reality of it all. You’ve never felt the sickly ache in your gut that soldiers must feel in the midst of battle: despair and nausea with a small bit of hope that they might get to return home to their families one day. You’ve merely heard of the graphic, grim descriptions of dismemberment and decapitation, of battle strategies gone horribly wrong, or horribly right.

You’ve been so blinded by your determination to stick to Din’s side, to protect him, to prove yourself worthy, that you’ve ignored the possibility of your own death, of your daughter’s death.

You close your eyes to stop the tears that want to fall, but your mind fills with the image of Din’s bloodied, cracked helmet. What if you’re the one who gets him put on that spike? What if you distract him? What if you get into a situation where he has to choose to sacrifice himself for you? How could you live with yourself after that?

“I’m afraid of losing you too,” you admit, meeting his gaze. “I…I had a nightmare, and in it I saw your helmet on a spike, surrounded by the helmets of those who had fallen with you. Dozens of them. I saw the blood dripping, and I fell to my knees screaming as Imperial troopers closed in on me. We lost…We lost everything.”

Din looks at you with sympathy swelling in his eyes. “Cyare, it wasn’t real. It was just a dream.”

“A very poorly timed one, don’t you think?” you ask rhetorically, giving him a half-sob, half-laugh. “Even if it wasn’t real, I can't help but wonder - what if you were right? What if this time is no different than the last? What if this is a suicide mission? I-I can’t let you go. I can’t say goodbye knowing it might be the last time. I would rather die with you than try to live without you. I can’t, Din. I just can’t.”

You break down sobbing in your hands, leading Din to pull you into a tight hug. You press your face against his armor, not caring how uncomfortable it is.

“I’m scared, Din,” you cry.

“I know.” His voice is low and soothing.

“So fucking scared.”

“I know,” he coos, one of his hands firm on the back of your head. “Shh…”

After several moments of sobbing, you push back and look up at him with wet eyes. “Tell me everything will be okay,” you insist.

Careful not to hurt you, he gently wipes a tear away with a finger before running his hand back along your cheek and into your hair. The creases on his forehead are accentuated by his eyes flitting back and forth rapidly, as if he’s looking for something to say.

“Cyare, look,” he starts quietly. “I’m not going to tell you that everything will be okay. Because I can’t promise you that. I will do everything in my power to return home to you, but we have to be prepared for the possibility that I might not come back.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, more tears flowing.

“Listen to me,” Din says, cupping your face with both hands. “I know it's hard, that losing me would be the hardest thing you'd ever had to face, but you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“No. No, I’m not.”

“You are,” he assures you adamantly.

“I can’t do this alone,” you weep, your voice barely above a whisper, clutching onto the fabric of his cloak wrapped around his neck. It's difficult to pinpoint exactly what you mean - pregnancy, birth, raising a child, living the rest of your life, maybe everything. Whatever it is, you know you have to have him by your side.

“You can. But I’ll make sure you never have to,” he vows. “You’ll have Greef, Peli, hopefully Boba and Fennec. Fuck, maybe even Bo-Katan.”

You give him a small, tearful smile. Anyone but Bo-Katan.

“One day you’ll have Shae,” he continues. “And you can tell her all about me. Good things, hopefully.” He offers you a smile.

“Of course,” you manage to squeak out.

“And when you look at her, I hope you’ll think of me. I hope she’ll remind you of the days we spent together.” He blinks hard, a tactic you recognize as trying to stop tears. His eyes are wet when he opens them, and within those earthy hues lies his soul. “They’ve been the most beautiful days of my life, cyar’ika. Swear to me you’ll remember, that you’ll never forget me.”

It takes everything in you not to break into more tears. Mandalorians strive above all else to be remembered, to live a life worth remembering. In that moment, it makes sense to you why their way of saying “I love you” translates literally to “I will know you forever.” Saying you will always know them, you will always remember them, is the ultimate expression of love to them.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” you tell him. “I will know you forever…and then some.”

The two of you stare at one another, your chest rising and falling as a need for closeness grows stronger. If hearts could explode, yours would detonate right now. He’s the first to make a move, crushing his lips on yours, pressing your lips together so hard that you can feel his teeth. His cups your face with both hands as your fingers curl around his leather bandolier, looking for something to grip. The taste of him silences all your thoughts, forgetting everything except how soft his tongue feels against yours, how addictively he invades every sense in your body. So much adrenaline rushes through your body that you almost forget to breath.

The longer you kiss, the more your body comes to life, flushed in excitement, warmth and then fire. His thumb moves with a mind of its own, throbbing against your jawline, softly rubbing up and down with a pulsating warmth as his tongue consumes the depths of your mouth, hungry and consuming.

Unlocking his lips from yours, he looks at you with half-lidded eyes, his pupils dilated and filled with a hunger you’ve seen countless times before. “Let’s go-”

You pull him back to you, the rest of his words lost against your mouth. Knotting your fist into the cloak draped over his shoulder, the other clutching the leather of his bandolier, you pull him down to the ground with you, then to your body as you lean with your back against the slope of the raised stone platform before you.

Insane. This is insane, and he is half-crazy for allowing it to happen. But your logic has been replaced by instinct, by a deep desire to meld his body with yours and never separate. The sound of his groans draws you in, awakening something feral within. You want to breathe him, lick him, eat him, drink him. His lips taste like salt from the exertion of training. His face has the slightest bit of stubble and it rubs your skin, but you don’t care. He feels wonderful. His body is on top of yours, mouth glued to yours, and you want him closer and closer and closer.

There’s little inner fight as your fingers fumble with the buckle of his utility belt. Once it’s unlatched, Din breaks away and throws it off of it, uncaring where it lands. No room for words, you remove your tunic while he removes the top portion of his armor. Still cognizant enough to consider your comfort, he takes his cloak and lays it on the ground.

In what you calculate as mere seconds later, his lips are sinking into yours once more, his hand resting against the back of your head while he guides you to lay back on the floor. He grabs at your waistband and you lift your hips, helping him pull your pants down and off, leaving you on full display for him. You grab him by his flightsuit and pull him back down to you, taking him once more into the warmth of your mouth, as if you’d freeze to death on the floor if he wasn’t there. He breaks away then sets your skin ablaze as his lips make a run for your neck, melting into your flesh, making you moan while you instinctively grip onto his sculpted forearm.

“I need you inside me,” you say, dipping your head back, allowing him more access to your neck.

“No,” he replies, his voice deep and low.

“Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t respond, kissing further and further down until he’s settled between your legs, planting kisses on the inside of your thigh while he slips his hand between your legs and lightly strokes over your wetness with a strong finger. Your entire body beats with impatience, shaking as he teases you, rubbing softly around your entrance, over our clit, then back down again. His name escapes your lips in a frustrated whine, wanting, needing anything to relieve the pressure he’s built inside of you.

Planting one last kiss on your skin, he looks up at you. “When I die, I want the taste of you on my tongue to be the last thing I remember.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he dips his head in and licks up against you, hot and wet against your clit. You cry out, clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound as his tongue laps and probes, over and over, an agonizingly sweet pressure.

“No one else can hear you down here,” he discloses. “So let me hear you.”

You let out a whimper before obeying, removing your hand from your mouth. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good.”

He’s ravenous, devouring you like a final meal, sucking at your tender flesh, then licking lower, swirling around your entrance and dipping inside of you.

Pleasure crashes through you. His tongue dives deeper inside and you can feel the wave cresting higher. He licks back up to your clit, plunging two fingers inside where his tongue once was, stretching you, fucking you in a relentless rhythm as he laps at you. You forget everything, out of your mind with pleasure, the sensation crashing over you. He laps harder, faster, forcing a third finger into your aching channel as he takes your clit between his lips and sucks hard.

You shatter with a cry, coming and coming and coming over his mouth, clamping around his fingers as if you could crush the bones. When you’ve come down from your high, you gasp for air. He pushes himself up, kneeling between your legs, then unzips his flightsuit, and you look up at him, the top of his suit ripped open, exposing hard and glistening muscles, along with that sweet little tummy that you so desperately want to kiss.

Once unclothed, he swoops over you, and when his skin rubs against your own, it’s nearly too much to bear, yet not enough to gratify your infinite thirst. You lift your head, starring into his eyes, cupping his face and slowly pulling him to you. He rests his forehead against yours, his nose rubbing against yours, enjoying this shared thrill. Your fingers weave back into his hair and devour his mouth.

Reaching down, you guide his cock into you, exhaling all your breath, all the tension inside as he slowly parts you.

“Fuck,” he growls, so low you can only hear him because his mouth is buried in the hair by your ear.

“Move…Please move,” you beg, you voice shuddering.

His thrusts start gentle, as if savoring every moment, seeming to go deeper every time. Long, firm strokes that seem to crack you open a little more. You give up on trying to play your own part well. He has you grasping and clawing for a crumb of reality, unable to do anything but try to cling to sanity as he pounds into you. He’s hitting spots you never knew existed before, each one like a heavy explosion of unfiltered happiness going off.

“Din…Din…Din…,” you chant, like some incantation to maintain the trance he has you in. His name is the only word that makes sense to you. You feel like a beautiful mess. Nothing but delicious heat, shimmering sweaty skin and breathy moans of glee.

He pulls his mouth into your neck, his roaring breath right by your ear. His hands clench your breasts, your sides, like he wants to experience all of you at once. He growls as his body lurches and stiffens, as his cock thrusts inside of you with increasing necessity.

He’s plunging in and out of you frantically now, groaning like an animal. Each blow makes you cry out, louder and louder, then you start to come before you’re even realizing it, high-pitched sequels emerging for you. Your orgasm slams into you in waves and has you gasping for breath. You’re drowning in the sensation of heat rushing out of your body.

Immediately after, you feel him quicken inside of you, thrusting wildly like he’s losing control of himself. He erupts inside of you in a hot rush that slowly, lusciously fades. Both of you spent, you feel the comforting weight of him as he rests for a moment. Your skin tingling, so sensitive that you feel the intimacy of his slowing breath on your shoulder. You purr low and soft as he strokes your damp hair a few times.

“Good or bad?”

The question caught you off guard, leaving you confused. “What?” you gasp.

“Your first time in the sewers,” he clarifies. “Good or bad?”

Realizing where you are, and remembering the conversation the two of you shared in Aq Vetina, you roar with laughter. Your muscles clench around him, still deep inside of you, squeezing him like a vice. He yelps and pulls out, sending you into a fit of laughter.

Din hovers above you, resting on his elbows, smiling down at you. You grab his face, pulling him closer to you.

“Let’s just say I’m a very lucky gal.”

You're not sure how late it is, having lost track of time with Din in the sheets within the walls of your room in the inn. Despite being tired, you don't sleep because you fear losing those last precious hours with your husband, so you lie on your side, hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathes. His heart lays beneath your fingertips, trying desperately to leap out of his skin and up into your palm where it belongs.

“Cyar’ika…,” he suddenly whispers.

“Hm?”

“Can you do something for me?”

“Mhm.”

You feel him shift, but don’t open your eyes.

“If something happens to me…promise me you’ll give this to her.”

The feeling of him tucking something beneath your hand makes you force your eyes open. It’s his necklace, the one you had given him after get married. At first, in your sleepy state, you don’t understand what he’s asking you, but you quickly realize he is asking you to give it to your daughter, should anything happen to him on Mandalore.

“Din…,” you begin, pushing yourself up.

“Please,” he begs, his mind made up.

You nod. “I’ll keep it safe. Until you get back.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you immediately interrupt, placing an index finger to his lips.

“Don’t. Please,” you implore him, removing your finger. “You’re not going to remind me of the possible outcome, and you’re definitely not saying goodbye. Do you hear me? All we have left is hope, and if you say goodbye, then you’re telling me there’s nothing left…that you won’t come back to me.”

“Riduur, I-”

“Promise me, Din. Swear to me you won’t say goodbye. Swear that you won’t let go of that hope.”

“Alright.”

Determined to hold him to his promise, you untie the bracelet he had placed around your wrist just days ago, then transfer it to his wrist, ensuring it was done before he could question your action.

“You can give it back to me when I see you again. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Come here.” You settle back down on your side, then put a hand on his bare shoulder and help him roll onto his side, closer to you, allowing him to bury himself in you. He lays with his head on the crook on your arm while you wrap the other around him, rubbing your hand along the warm skin of his back. Planting a kiss on his forehead, you lay with your nose in his hair, breathing him in like it’s the oxygen you need to survive. Eventually, you both succumb to sleep.

As much as you wish you could have prevented it, morning comes. After cuddling close for a short while, you accept that it’s time to get up. The two of you shower together, sharing a sensual moment as you capture every scar, memorize every freckle on his body, drawing lines between them as you glide the bar of soap across his skin. He does the same, mentally capturing you, hoping that the next time he closes his eyes, he will only see you.

Now dressed, you turn and see Din putting on his armor, his face serious as he works. Stepping forward, you pick up a vambrace, and he looks up you, as if questioning what you’re doing. It’s something he’s done thousands of times; he doesn’t need help, you know that, but you want an excuse to be close to him, to feel like you’ve done something, anything. It’s the least you can do.

Neither of you say a word, he doesn’t even protest, holding out his arm, allowing you to clasp the piece of beskar around his forearm. You do it for the other side before dropping to your knees to help him with his leg armor. He wants to tell you that you shouldn't exert yourself, that you’re not his servant, but he knows that you will only argue, so he allows you to finish dressing him.

Back on your feet, you reach for his helmet. Gazing into each other’s eyes, all you can hear in the silence are the words you want to say. You want to beg, plead – for what exactly, you don’t know. For him to stay, for him to take you with you, to at least let you command from the light cruiser – anything and everything until he concedes. You want to shout “I love you!” until it drowns out all the thoughts, all the uncertainties in his head.

Rather than saying everything you wish you could, you remain silent, knowing there is not enough time to even begin.

Stepping outside, the weather is beautiful by Nevarro’s standards. An array of baby blues and whites adorn the newborn sky, the newly risen sun glistening softly on the city streets, bringing with it a flurry of morning activity. A bunch of children laugh and chat with one another as they enter the converted cantina while a few people wander around in the bazaar.

In the distance, you catch sight of your newest friend, Eliana, fluttering about her stall while her husband stands nearby, bouncing their infant in his arms. A pang of jealousy rises within you, both of their domesticity as well as their ignorance of what's going on offworld, but especially of the fact that they’ve likely never had to consider the possibility that their child could grow without a father.

Outside the city, Greef stands with Bo-Katan, Boba, and Fennec, chatting away about something the latter seem to have no interest in. He falls silent when he sees you approach.

Din nods his head, signaling that he’s ready and it’s time.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Bo-Katan says, turning and taking several steps toward the lambda shuttle that she’d be flying back to the light cruiser.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Boba consoles. “We’ll get them all this time, then he will come home to you.”

Giving him a small smile to show your gratitude, you offer, “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck.” He turns and heads toward Slave I, Fennec sighing and shaking her head before turning and following.

Greef also steps away, leaving the two of you standing alone. Din steps in front of you and you look at him with admiration, offering him a weak but proud smile. Your ears are filled with a low-pitched rhythmic woosh that beats in sync with your heartbeat. A throbbing pulse is felt in your wrist against the chronos you wear around it, as though you can feel time tick away rapidly. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, reverse it, or slow it down. The seconds are dwindling away, and you can prevent them no more than the tumultuous thud of your heartbeat. Desperate, you try to suspend time the only way you know how: pressing your lips to Din’s.

The collision of senses brings the world to a stop. All that exists is you and him. When you part, however, reality sets in, and you fight back tears as his forehead touches yours.

“Try not to die, okay?” you say, still trying to be lighthearted. “I’m really not interested in replacing you.”

He chuckles. “Can’t you just admit that you like having me alive?”

“So what if I do?”

You tremble under his hand as he runs it through your hair, closing your eyes to savor the sensation.

“Ret’urcye mhi,” he whispers, and you immediately recognize it as the Mandalorian word for goodbye.

“That better not be you saying goodbye, Mando,” you threaten playfully.

“No. It’s me saying we’ll meet again.”

A small smile appears over your face, and you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Your lips meet once more, and you wish more than anything that you could stay there forever suspended in time. But all good things must come to end. When you break apart, you lightly push yourself away from him.

“Go kick some Imperial ass, Mando.”

He nods, then without hesitation, puts on his helmet, turns, and walks away, meeting with Bo-Katan and walking alongside her toward the stolen shuttle.

Watching him, you clutch onto the pendant of the necklace hanging from your neck – his necklace. Although you sense someone walking up to you, you keep your gaze fixed on Din's form, trying to savor every last second you can see him. Din, however, now focuses only on Bo-Katan, speaking with her as they stride toward the ship, having fully shifted to his leadership position.

“You okay?” Greef asks, to which you only nod in response. “You’ll be safe here. I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you,” you respond, though you know the words aren’t enough to express your gratitude for ensuring your safety. “But it’s not me I’m worried about.”

Both walk aboard the shuttle, the door shutting behind them, sealing them inside. Holding your breath, you curl your lips inward and bite down gently. Anything to keep the tears at bay while watching the love of your life, the father of your unborn child, leave for what could be the last time.

“He’ll be back in no time,” Greef assures you.

How could you know?

You nod as if you believe him,

“Keep yourself busy,” he suggests. “He wouldn’t want you worrying yourself senseless. Can’t be good for you or the kid.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice filled with guilt, knowing the stress wasn’t good for the growing child inside you. After clearing your throat, you add, “But that’s easier said than done.”

The engines of both ships roar to life, and before you know it, they’re pushing off the ground, hovering in the air, the two lower wings of the shuttle spreading. Tightening your grip on the pendent, you close your eyes, letting a tear escape and roll down your cheek. Silently, you implore every deity you can think of to keep him safe, to keep every Mandalorian warrior safe, and to allow him to return to you.

Please…Protect him.

A light breeze blows, gently caressing your face and running through your hair. The calmness soothes you, as if someone had whispered into your ear, I will.It flows through you, kindling a fire in your heart, a fire you recognize…

Hope.

6 months later...

He's sworn he was just doing a recce. Some consulting work for Santi that would take him away from home 4 days tops. You'd been unsure at first. He'd promised you he was done with stupid. That this was a job that would help them, help with the new baby and for that reason and that reason alone. You'd let him go.

Over a week had gone by now and you'd heard nothing from any of them. Molly had been calling you, chasing news on Tom and you'd had to give her the same answer each time. You didn't know anything. You watched your phone every day, waiting for that phone call from one of them to let you know that they were home alive and safe but as each day passed your started to fear the worst.

Your four-month-old daughter had grown fussier and fussier the longer he was gone. She'd become accustomed to Frankie feeding her at night, bathing her and putting her to bed as you did the brunt of the work during the day. Now all she had was you and it was clear that she missed him.

But then so did you.

Ten days after he left, you finally got a call. Ben's name flashed on your display and you practically sobbed when you saw it.

"Ben thank god." You sobbed "Where are you? How are you? How's Frank?"

"Bug slow down." He said and you did, calming your breathing as you waited for him to answer.

"I'm okay." He started and you breathed a sigh of relief "As for where I am and Fish... well, Bug-"

Your blood turned to ice at his change of tone and you immediately assumed the worst "What happened Ben?"

"The recce went sideways." He stated and you sobbed.

"What do you mean?"

"We lost Tom, and Frank... well we met some unsavoury characters on the way home." He continued and you felt your lungs tighten "Now I need you to know that he's alive Bug. We're back and he's getting the best possible treatment-"

"Treatment for what Ben?" You yelled and he sighed.

"He was involved in a car accident." He said and you broke "Some kid soldiers rammed the vehicle he was driving over and over. He managed to get everyone to safety but he suffered some internal bleeding. We didn't even know until we were back and he collapsed at the baggage collection."

"I need to see him, Ben." You sobbed as your eyes gazed down at little Ava in your arms "What hospital are you at?"

"Bug-"

"Don't you, Bug, me." You growled "He is my husband and I need to see him. Where are you?"

"We're at SAMMC Hospital." He answered and you nodded

"I will be there in an hour."

You said nothing else. You were too angry to say anything else. You hung up, grabbed what you needed for Ava and yourself and you left.

~

On the outside, Frankie looked fine, all except for the tube down his throat. When you'd arrived the doctor had given you the down low. Frankie had suffered severe trauma to his abdomen resulting in internal bleeding. The bleed had been slow which is why Frankie hadn't known about it until he'd collapsed at the airport that morning.

Ben had then stood to one side and watched as you inspected the state that your husband was in. Knowing full well that he was going to get an earful at some point.

"What happened Ben?" You asked after a while and he jumped a little in surprise.

"I told you we-"

"I want the truth, Ben." You growled, turning to face him "Was this just a recce or was it more?"

"Bug I-"

"BEN." You yelled and Ava started to cry "Shit." You growled through gritted teeth as you scooped her up "Don't bullshit me."

"It was meant to be a simple Recce but then Santi talked us all into taking care of the job ourselves."

"And the job was?"

"Talking down a drug lord." He confessed and you gasped "We got him. Apprehended some cash but then everything went to shit. Tom got greedy. Will managed to sort a bird for us and despite Fish telling Tom that the weight was too much, Redfly made him fly anyway."

"Shit Ben." You whispered and he scraped a hand over his tired face.

"We crashed on a coke farm, Frank managed to get us down with minimal injuries but then we were forced to walk. Tom got killed in the andies by one of the villagers and then it was just a case of getting what we could back."

"You're all fucking idiots." You snapped and Ben couldn't hold back his tears anymore "He's on death's door again because you all thought you could take a druglord down without any consequences?"

"He just wanted to give you and the baby a better life." He sobbed and you scoffed.

"How much did you all get?" You asked, curious to see whether the haul had been worth it.

"Nothing in the end." Ben confessed, "We put all our shares into a fund for Red's family."

"How noble of you." You growled and Ben choked on a sob as he watched you pace.

"He swore to me that he was done with doing stupid shit." You sobbed "He swore to me and he broke that promise."

"Bug please." Ben pleaded but you shook your head.

"No." You cried "I'm done with this."

"Bug-"

"Keep me up to date on his progress." You stated as you placed Ava in her carrier and grabbed her bag "I'll be staying with friends indefinitely."

"Bug this will kill him." Ben begged and you scoffed at his statement.

"Well, he should have thought of that before he broke my trust for the final time."

"Please, don't do this to him."

You said nothing. You left without a single glance because this was the final straw for you.

You didn't know if you could come back from this.

Just four months prior, everything was perfect. You'd worked through your issues and had welcomed your daughter into the world. Now you were back to square one and you were at a loss for what to do because, despite everything, you still loved him.

Before the lies, he was the perfect husband. The perfect father... but you weren't sure that was enough. You weren't sure you could forgive him this time.

~

Will was sat vigil at Frankie's side when you next came by. You'd not been able to sleep knowing he was there, hanging on by a thread whilst you packed your things to stay with your friend. You'd left Ava with her so you could visit and you'd tried not to break when you found him in the same state he'd been a few days before.

"How is he?" You asked softly and Will looked up in shock, not hearing you arrive.

"He's developed a fever." He answered after a few tense seconds "They're monitoring it but it's not so high that they're concerned right now."

"Okay." You replied with a slight nod before making your way to his side.

"He's been through tougher scrapes than this." Will continued "He'll pull through."

You still said nothing. Just stared numbly at your husband as you perched on the edge of his bed, tidying his hair, blankets, anything to keep your hands busy.

Will watched you fuss over him, desperately trying to keep his thoughts to himself. Ben had told you what you were planning to do and it had angered him to no end. Frankie had been the only one that had made solid calls the entire operation. They were all alive because of him.

"Why Frankie." You uttered under your breath and he couldn't stay silent anymore.

"He didn't even want to go." Will piped up, pulling your attention away from your husband and onto the man across from you "He didn't want to go because of you and Ava but Pope pleaded with him. He's sworn to us all that it was just a recce and we believed him." Will continued as he scoffed at the memory "Skip forward to the shit show that was south America, he was the one that got us home safe. He was the only one that spoke any sense and he never stopped talking about how he needed to get home to you. To Ava. That was all he cared about Bug and I'm sorry but I can't stand by and watch you leave him when he'd done everything he could to do that."

"That's not the point Will." You snapped and he let out an exasperated sigh.

"What is then?"

"The point is that he promised me I wouldn't have to go through this again." You sobbed as you pointed at Frankie's prone form "He promised I wouldn't have to do this and now here we are." You choked "Might not be coke this time but it was still because of a stupid choice and I just don't think I can just forgive this."

"You have every right to be angry. He lied. Hell, we all did! But if you leave him, take Ava away, I don't think he'll come back from that. We'll be burying him this time."

"Don't put that sort of pressure on me Will." You growled, "This is not my fault."

"So what? Married 4 years and then you run when he needs you most?"

Silence settled over you and that's when the two of you noticed. You were ushered out by nurses. Frankie's heart rate had spiked and neither of you had noticed.

A rather irritated nurse walked out a few moments later and you both instantly felt a wave of guilt wash over you as she stopped to speak to you.

"His heart rate spiked because he was stressed." She stated and the two of you nodded "He can't afford to be stressed. His body is under immense strain. You want to bicker, take it outside but, when you're with him, you're calm and collected. Okay?"

You both nodded and so she let you inside. You looked at Frankie and let out a small sob as you contemplated the gravity of what had just happened. You knew that people in a coma could hear you but could he understand you too? Did he know now what you planned to do?"

"We need to stick together for Fish's sake." Will stated after a short while "You're angry, that's fair enough but right now your husband is in a coma fighting for his life. Now isn't the time to make rash life decisions."

He was right. You knew he was.

You'd made a vow.

For better or for worse. In sickness or in health.

This situation fell into both of those categories right now so you knew that you had to push your anger to one side and be there. The rest could wait.

You were at his side every day from that day on. You brought Ava some days. Hope she might be able to coax him out of his vegetated state but alas a week by and he made no signs of waking.

"Saw the doctor that delivered Ava down in the cafe." You said with a chuckle as you sipped at your latte "Pretty hard to look at a man that spent time between your legs as you pushed a baby through your vagina." You snorted, your mind wandering back to that day.

...

5 months earlier...

You'd barely made it into the delivery ward before you were being whisked into delivery. You'd been in the middle of dinner with the boys when your waters had broken. Gushing all over the bar floor and making a mess. You'd asked for a cloth to clean it up and the boys had laughed hard at that.

"Trust you to want to clean up after yourself after your waters break." Ben had teased and you chuckled before a contraction had rendered them all mute.

It had then been a whirlwind of emotions as Frankie timed each contraction whilst the Miller brother's helped you into the car. Your contractions had practically started at five minutes apart and Frank had known, from the copious number of books he'd read, that that meant go time.

When you arrived in the delivery room, you'd been sobbing from the pain. You were too far gone so that meant no drugs.

"I can't do this Frankie." You wailed as the next contraction tore through you and he kissed you softly.

"Yes, you can Bug." He said with a smile "You're the strongest woman I know. You can do this."

"I can't I can..." You trailed off as you shook your head and he just nodded.

"Right I need you to start pushing Mrs Morales." The doctor instructed and so you did.

Frankie held your hand through each one. Muttering words of love and encouragement as you pushed your daughter into the world. Then just when you didn't think you could push anymore, she cried and you both sobbed as Frank cut the cord and she was handed to you.

"You're so beautiful." You sobbed as you looked down at the tiny little person you'd grown inside you for 9 months "Isn't she beautiful Francisco?"

When you looked at your husband, you saw how he was in bits as he stared at her. His smile was the only thing he wore that showed you that these were tears of pure, unadulterated joy.

"She looks kinda gross." He joked and you barked a laugh at him "But yeah. She's fucking perfect."

...

"She's got a second tooth coming through by the way." You said as you shook your head of the memory you'd been lost in "I'm genuinely scared of breastfeeding her now. What if she bites my nipple off?"

Alarms started to ping in the room and suddenly your stomach dropped. You were ushered out and watched through the window whilst the doctors and nurses as they did their assessments.

One came out a few minutes later, his face impassive as he opened his mouth to speak.

"His fever's spiked. It appears that he's not responding to the antibiotics so we've going to put him on a stronger course."

"What does this mean?" You asked and the doctor sighed "It's a little early to tell right now."

"That's what you say when you don't want to be honest." You scoffed, turning your head away as you took a moment to calm yourself.

"In a nutshell, it's not good." He confessed and you nodded "We need to get his temperature down or he could start to seize and his organs could start to fail. It's a critical time for him but we will do all we can."

"What caused this?" You asked, your throat tightening as you glanced at Frankie.

"Likely infection from the surgery." He stated, "Unfortunately it's not uncommon and the fact he's not responding to the antibiotics just makes the situation worse."

"Right." You nodded, trying your hardest to keep yourself together.

"As I said, we are doing all we can."

You nodded and watched as the doctor left. You were fed up with all of this. You were hurting in so many ways but you had to be strong. You wanted to scream and shout and tell Frank how angry you were.

But you also wanted him to wake up so you could kiss him breathless and tell him you loved him.

If you were being honest with yourself. You didn't know how things were going to be when this was all over. Frankie had still broken your trust and despite all that was happening right now, you still couldn't move past that. You didn't really want to think about any of that right now.

You wanted to think that you could move on. Put it all behind you and be the happy family that up until a month ago, you were. The more you dwelled the more you wondered why he'd even risked it in the first place. You weren't short on money. You both lived comfortably so why? Why had he thought that doing this was worth the risk?

So you knew that there was no moving past this. There was no forgiving and forgetting.

A storm was on the horizon.

~

It was another two weeks before Frank woke up. You stood there and watched as they removed his breathing tube before explaining the possible side effects he might suffer from. They'd informed you that he'd likely be released in a few days as long as he didn't suffer and complications and then they left you stood in that hall. Staring at the doorway and willing yourself to walk through it but you knew that when you did, there was no going back. You were numb as you walked into his room and your eyes locked.

This was it.

You'd imagined this moment over and over in your mind for the past three weeks but now that you were here, you had no idea what to say to him. A mixture of emotions washed over you.

Relief that he was alive.

Sadness that now, you had to face the music.

And Anger, the one that had now consumed you whole the moment you'd seen him lying there awake.

"How are you?" He asked as you continued to stand there and stare at him.

You said nothing. You had nothing to say. So you just stood there staring at him and watching him squirm under the intensity of your gaze. You thought about what Will had said to you all those weeks ago. You thought about the hurt you'd had to bury down for weeks now as you sat vigil and did your job as his wife. You held his hand, talked to him, reminisced with him and found that despite it all. All the love you had for him and all that the two of you now shared together, you couldn't move past the lies and deceit.

"Baby please say something." He rasped and you snapped out of your daze "I'm so sorry." He continued after a beat "I fucked up I know and I have some explaining to do but-"

"I want a divorce."

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The kid. The Crest. Your heart sunk into your stomach, and you felt the Mandalorian tense up too as the dread filled him. There was no way the ship would escape the attack, nor would the kid be safe to float around hyperspace alone were you and Mando to die in this hellhole.

One wrong move and your little trio was truly fucked.

Xi'an shrugged, much too calm for the shit-storm of a situation that she had just caused and trotted towards the exit of the control room, "We only need five."

You let out a bitter sigh as Mayfeld hurried you along to follow the Twi woman, the urgency in his tone unmissable.  It seems you weren’t the only one attuned to how dumb the woman’s actions had been. "Let's go, let's go, move, move, move, move!"

The team - well their team, you and Mando - ran down the corridors following Mayfeld, who listened to Zero's instructions with crucial interest. You all stopped in your tracks seeing two large units of security droids, readying themselves to start shooting at them only for Burg to become useful for the first time all day. The Devaronian man picked up one of the droids in his hulking red hands, throwing it at the other one; the force and weight of the units alone was enough to crush them into a pile of sparks and scrap metal.

You stayed silent, continuing on their mission to find whoever was in the prison cell Mayfeld had located, coming to a halt in front of cell two-two-one, "Zee, open it up."

"You have 15 minutes remaining." The droid responded unhelpfully, making you roll your eyes and shift on your feet nervously.

"Open it up!" Mayfeld practically yelled, the pressure also eating away at him.

The door slid open to reveal yet another violet Twi'lek, only this one was much taller and buffer than Xi'an, clearly a male. Mando straightened up at the sight of the prisoner, and the tension that had been thick in the air only increased by tenfold.

"Qin..." Mando said, not liking where this interaction was leading. It was much too convenient that the job he had happened to accept was the same one which led to the release of the guy he was responsible for putting behind bars in the first place. He didn't like the feeling of deceit burning in his stomach and his mind reeled over the possibilities of what the group was about to do to him and you.

This was not good. They were not good.

"Funny. The man who left me behind is now my saviour." Qin said coldly, strolling out of his cell with his eyes trained on the beskar covered man, "Mando."

Before Din could react, a heavy punch was sent to his stomach, so hard it sent him flying back into the cell Qin had just been in, his breath escaping him with a low woosh.

"No!" You yelled as the door shut on him, feeling your blasters get snatched out of your utility belt and cuffs getting locked around your hands. Xi'an smiled at you smugly, kicking you to the floor beside the cell.

"Best say your goodbyes now, princess. You and lover boy haven't got much time left," The Twi'lek woman cackled, strutting away knowing you wouldn't follow as you weren’t stupid enough to think you could take on all four of them when they had blasters and you were now somewhat immobilised. "You deserve this!" was all Xi'an yelled as you watched the group run back towards the crest, making you scramble to your feet.

"Mando!" You yelled, watching the man get to his feet shakily no doubt in shock at the turn of events, "Are you okay?"

"You need to get out of here," Din said, walking up to the door where your scared expression waited for him, "Get back to the ship, or get your blasters back so you can overpower them-"

"I'm not leaving you here,"You said incredulously at what you were hearing, "We're in this together now, di'kut, [idiot] I'm not going anywhere without you. I need you as much as the kid does."

Mando was silent staring at your shaken face, the precious seconds before your imminent doom ticking by. Din opened his mouth to say something, hating the way your eyes glared up at him sadly for insinuating you leave him to die, only to hear a remaining security droid stomping down the hallway towards them. You looked at him, orbs wide with a plan springing to mind.You tucked yourself behind the pillar closest to Mando's cell, waiting for the droid to inch closer.

The second it came into view, you attacked.

You grabbed its blaster loaded arm, yanking it towards you whilst dodging the charges sent from it in your direction. You slammed the droid's head into the cell door, Mando seeming to catch on to your plan as he grabbed the droid's arm through the open space in the wall, tugging on it hard. You held the struggling machine still while the Mandalorian ripped its arm out of its socket, taking the data probe extension with it. You dodged the oil that spilled out of the droid's broken circuit, as well as a few one-armed punches the machine haphazardly tried to send your way, watching the Mandalorian shoot it dead using its own gun. He stuck the probe into the waiting hole on his side of the wall, opening the cell door.

The two nodded at each other breathlessly before Mando headed towards the control panel with you following behind.

"We'll cut them off before they can get to the crest, make a direct passage to it that we can take and disable them so they can't come after us."

You nodded as you reached the control room, both of you trying not to stare dejectedly at Davan's dead body.

"Give me your commlink, I'll retune it so we can only hear each other," You said, grabbing his metal vambraced arm and fiddling with the wiring inside his panel. He let you do so with no protest to the closeness it brought, both of you not having the time to be in your head about the fact this level of intimacy, even so innocent, was still new to both of you. Mando shut off the lights in the corridors, hearing Xi'an's annoyed yelps as the doors began boxing them in like a rat run.

"Burg's heading this way, Xi'an a little behind him. You take her out, take her back to the cell and we'll keep them in there," Mando explained, pulling out the probe extension he'd ripped from the droid, "Qin and Mayfeld are further ahead, we still need Qin if we're going to get the money and keep Ran off us. We can deal with them together,"

You nodded, finishing up on the circuitry in his suit with a satisfying click shut, though it was somewhat fiddly seeing as the cuffs were still locked tight around your wrists.

You looked up at him somberly, knowing you’d have to part ways briefly to get back to the ship and a short panic set over you; the same panic as when you'd watched the laser brain get thrown into the cell not ten minutes earlier. "I'll see you at the ship," You said, almost forcing the promise onto him that he would be there before the New Republic came for you.

He nodded, understanding what you meant, and you set off with the plan. You ran down the nearest corridor, ducking into one of the side halls as the Devaronian man stalked past you angrily. You waited, knowing another set of lighter footsteps would soon follow along with the headache that Xi'an had given you all day.

Sure enough, as you heard the Twi'lek woman giggled with delight, you watched her pick up her pace when she saw Mando and Burg struggling for dominance in the control room. Before she could join in, however, you tackled her to the ground, wrestling one of the duel knives out of her hand as you managed to get on top of her stomach. The Twi woman, though caught off guard, didn't settle lightly and scratched viciously at your restrained arms enough to be able to gain some freedom to move her upper body.

That is; her arms and the singular lethal weapon in them.

You barely missed the blade that surely would have sliced your eye clean open, not having time to avoid the next attack that was rammed into your shoulder blade deeply. You half grunted-half screamed at the shock of the injury, feeling the blood already begin to seep out of the wound and into the fabric of your top. It was times like these you wished you had your own suit of beskar.

You had to collect your thoughts quickly, the situation not allowing for the virtue of mulling over the pain, and pinned your assailant's two purple arms to the floor as best you could, considering you still had the cuffs on your wrists. There was some fight for strength between you two: Xi'an fighting to wriggle her blade-wielding hand free once more for another blow and you trying to get the remaining knife out of her grasp.

It wasn't until you decided to change your tactic that you even moved from the position you two were in. Taking a chanced breath through the pain in your shoulder, you let go of her wrists. As you hoped, Xi'an immediately stuck her hand out violently, aiming for your exposed throat. You were quick to catch her upper arm, however, using your thighs to roll the Twi onto her front, her outstretched arm pinned down using your boot. The chain of the cuffs was wrapped around Xi'an's throat with just enough pressure to cut off the oxygen, remembering Mando's plan to keep them alive. You felt Xi'an struggle under you for a while, hands clasped firmly around her blade as she had been all day, but to no avail as your leg stayed firmly in place. Finally, she fell limp under you, leaving you to retrieve your blaster from the thieving creature's pocket, and sling her over your shoulder like dead weight.

You half jogged down the hallway to the empty cell, only to see Mando leading Burg in there at blaster point. You nodded at one another, Xi'an being thrown unceremoniously into the cell next to the angry Devaronian who seemed resigned to losing the fight. Sure enough, as soon as the door shut, a Mandalorian and an ex-padawan were running to confront the remaining two of your crew.

"You go get the bounty, you know what he's capable of better than I do. I'll sort Mayfeld out and be back on the ship before the X-Wings get here," You explained making him nod, though a frown remained on your face, "If I'm not back by the time it reaches three minutes, leave and get the kid to safety,"

Mando's head snapped towards you at that part, the pair of you reaching a crossroads in the hallway and realising you’d have to split up here.

"What happened to 'we're in this together'?" He asked gruffly through his helmet, feeling the time creeping up on you.

"Give me the probe, and you can scold me later when we're on the ship, safely," You said, the silent promise of a reunion between you in your voice.

You pessimistically knew it was entirely possible that you would be out of time. But as long as they were safe, as long as he was safe, you didn’t care.

He did as you said, knowing you didn't have time to discuss details properly and ran in the opposite direction, praying to the maker he'd see those worried eyes again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Incidentally, Mayfeld was much easier to catch now you had your blaster back, and you were helped greatly by the strobing red lights illuminating the halls making it easy to sneak up on the guy. You’d quickly disarmed him and had him walking to the cell like a punished child at blaster point, locking him in the compartment with the rest of the crew you’d met not a few hours prior.

You ran full speed back to the ship, knowing there was only a few minutes left before the heavy shooting would start. You sighed with relief when you saw the ladder rings in between the flashes of darkness, taking them two at a time in the haste you were in. You were so deep in your thoughts, hoping you'd made it with enough time for Mando to take off that you gasped when you felt a hand grab your own. You looked up, seeing the familiar helmet staring back at you and took the other outstretched gloved fingers, letting Mando practically pull you up the rest of the way.

"Thanks," You breathed, noting the Twi man you'd encountered earlier stood cuffed to one of the seats in the hull with an angry look on his face, no doubt about being separated from his sister, "Now let's get out of here"

You followed Mando up to the cockpit, smiling when you heard the little happy coo you were now accustomed to. The child sat in the co-pilot's chair, the one you usually sat in and glanced up at you with open arms and a glint in his big midnight eyes.

"Not right now squirt, we've got to make a move," You explained, watching Mando rapidly punch in the coordinates for Ran's warehouse and quickly jump into hyper-space following it. The pair of you were silent for a moment, slouching in relief that you’d escaped the inevitable fury of the New Republic's blasters. You allowed yourself just a minute with your thoughts to contradict the fast-paced past twenty minutes both of you had endured. You'd quite literally escaped with minutes  to spare.

Just as you were ready to make a joke about Mando patching you up again, your shoulder aching heavily from where Xi'an had stabbed you, your mouth dropped lightyears when you saw the man pull out the tracking beacon he must have stolen from Davan's hands when he had been fighting Burg.

"Are you kriffing stupid-"

"I thought I'd give Ran a taste of his own medicine for deceiving us," Mando explained, watching the woman's face smooth out, though there was worry in your eyes as you stared at the beeping device incredulously.

"I thought I was petty," You joked, wincing when the Crest dropped out of hyperspace and your shoulder was thrown against the seat. Mando watched you closely, figuring you must have been caught at some point during the day but your dark shirt hadn't allowed for any visible injuries. He cursed himself, just as he had done not a week ago when he realised he still hadn't gotten any bacta as he had been planning on using the rewards from this trip to buy some and figured he'd have to play nurse droid once more. Not that he was complaining exactly.

"Stay here, I'll fix you up when I get back. Find the nearest planet that sells supplies while you're at it," Mando instructed, initiating the auto-landing sequence and heading back down to the hull to retrieve his pay and to give Ran his little gift. The thought alone of the smarmy old man getting what was coming to him made you smile. That and the fact Mando immediately had offered to mend you instead of leaving you to fend for yourself like you expected him to. It's not that you thought he didn't care, you knew for a fact he did, but the way you had gotten into a routine, slotted into place with one another where it was his job to patch you up after a job as it was yours to him gave you a warm, homely feeling in your stomach.

You really were the closest thing to home you could be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You barely missed the sight of the X-Wings arriving, though you heard the satisfying explosion behind you, as Mando had set the ship on course for the planet you had located for him, the two of you chuckling cynically at the sound of revenge reverberating through the atmosphere.

You went silent for a moment, the child squirming in Mando's lap to play with the teeny metal ball on the end of one of the controls protruding from the dashboard, making you laugh once more.

"We can get this one some decent food from a cantina here, better than that swill you make him," Mando teased, as you stood to retrieve the first aid kit that sat above the passenger chairs. You scoffed, offended at his words though you knew from his tone he was lying.

That he was too. He could tell you weren't the most natural of cooks, but whatever Peli had taught you on Tatooine clearly had stuck as the meals you made were just as good as his.

You swivelled to look at him, giving his helmet a quick rap with your knuckles in scolding for his mean words, only making him snort. "Cheeky bastard,"

You finally reached up to retrieve the kit, using your good side of course. You could feel the dribble of hot blood running down your arm at this point, but you hadn't had the time to care only to swear under your breath at the heavy stinging sensation you felt. Part of you, no matter how many wounds you both gave and received, was scared to look at where Xi'an had caught you knowing it would look like something from a horror holo-film, judging by how much blood you could feel pooling out of it.

"How bad is it?" Mando asked, watching you wince as you attempted to push down your shirt to give him access to the wound, onto to realise it was too tight around your neck and gave no freedom to do so.

"Xi'an caught me with that knife of hers," You explained, looking up at the dark T-Visor that stared at you, watching your actions with acute concern, "I'm going to need to take this off,"

Din went deadly silent at that, his face lighting up with a hot blush at the thought of seeing you in just your bra. He had been with women in that way, he'd had flings that he'd done some things with like with Xi'an, but it felt strangely intimate the thought of seeing his friend, dare he say best friend, in nothing more than your underwear while he tended to you.

He nodded robotically, and you yourself felt a little embarrassed that Mando would get a close-up view of your lingerie, even if it was politely. He could stare at the two mounds on your chest all he liked and you wouldn't know any different, what with him hiding behind that helmet of his. You stood, yanking your shirt up over your head only to feel a wet streak left on your cheek in its wake. Mando inhaled deeply, and you were about to tease him about his reaction were it not for the fact you realised it was because of the gaping hold near you collar bone.

"Stars, Ash" He said, looking at the oozing, nasty wound that had somewhat begun to stop bleeding thankfully, though it still left a patch of fresh red liquid around your chest. You sat down on the co-pilot chair, the child on the floor staring up at you quietly, as Mando unwrapped some surgical suture, and fiddled with a fresh needle. He handed you an antiseptic wipe to clean up the area and told you to compress the wound while he attempted to thread the needle.

"This isn't going to tickle is it?" You asked, dread gathering in your stomach at the thought of what was about to happen and to such a tender spot too. The Mandalorian shook his head, concentrating on the tiny eye that the thread seemed adamant to miss every time, and the thick leather gloves did him no help either. Din sighed, resting the needle down on his knee and yanking his gloves off, knowing they were only slowing him down and your wound needed treating now.

You took in a deep breath at the sight of his hands; huge, olive-skinned, and veins prominent over each digit. You hadn't been expecting to see any part of him ever, truth be known, but you knew from Shenzi that anything besides a Mandalorian's face was acceptable to reveal. Still a feeling close to butterflies lit your body on fire as he brought one of his large palms to hold your shoulder still. Your heart was beating rapidly, you could feel that much, and you just hoped that the Mandalorian didn't see the way your arms erupted in goosebumps despite the fact his hand was so warm as it engulfed your collar bone with the gentility of a child.

Your breath was in your throat as he moved closer, bringing his other uncovered hand holding the threaded needle up to your wound. Din felt his stomach twist excitedly when your cool breath fanned over his exposed hand gently, reminding him how close the two were in this situation.

"This is going to hurt," Din warned, watching you wince as he began to stitch up your deep injury. He tried to be tender, he really did, but there was only one way he could fix your up without bacta and this was it. He had quickly noted the multiple tattoos you had on your body and decided to try and take your mind off the obvious pain you were feeling. "What do your tattoos mean?"

You were caught off guard a little, trying so hard yourself to ignore the shooting pain from his movements, and took a deep breath to prepare yourself to speak through the discomfort.

"The names on my ribs, that’s my father and my brother," you explained, your eyes trailing over the Aurebesh symbols spelling out 'Obi-Wan' and 'Anakin'.

"I thought you said you only had a mentor at that place you grew up," Mando questioned, trying to keep you talking as the next few stitches would have to be deep.

"I did-" You stopped to grunt at the pain for a second, "He was my mentor but he was like a father to me. Same for Ani, he wasn't my real brother, but he was as good as. Obi-Wan raised him before he raised me. It was in our rules that you could only have one mentor to youngling at a time. When Ani became of age, he moved on to raise his own youngling and Obi-Wan began raising me."

"Was it like some sort of orphanage this place you lived in?" You laughed, knowing the details you had given didn't really make sense, and why would they? They were only half true.

"Kind of," You smiled at him sweetly, feeling his warm hand move slightly from your shoulder to pull the skin on your collar taught, and again you felt the flurry of warmth in your contact of human skin. The only time you had felt such a thing for the past twenty years was either the meaningless one night stands you would have with the barmen on Sorgan or the hard clash of a punch you found in an enemy. Nothing quite so tender as this, as him. "The Mythosaur skull was Shenzi. I wanted one as soon as I turned twenty. She’d been teaching me for a couple of years at that point and was adamant I should be one of you," You gasped as one particular stitch went a bit too close to a nerve making Mando slow down a little with his movements, "She used to call me her foundling,"

"What happened to her?" Din asked, taking his time with the remaining few stitches. He knew it was selfish as you were probably in a lot of pain but he loved hearing you speak so fondly about your past, you rarely opened up to each other this way. He too was enjoying the feeling of closeness today had brought, feeling his own heart pounding away at the feeling of your cool breath to his skin.

"Nothing, I just outgrew her. She was a cold woman. Though she cared for me, she didn't love me." You said, thinking about the raven black-haired woman who you hadn't seen in a few years, "Is that normal for Mandalorian's or was that just her?"

Din thought about it for a moment and, while they had certainly been more of the tough love kind of protectors, he definitely felt his own vod's [brothers/sisters] and cabur's [guardians] had loved him the way a family should have. Though he never saw their faces, they were his family, his aliit. "Aliit ori'shya tal'din", he remembered his cabur saying to him often.

Family is more than blood.

"No, they made sure I always knew that we were family, that we were a clan. Every foundling is sacred to them. They're the secret to our survival, and they are treated as such." You nodded, hearing the underlying passion in his words that he always got when he spoke of his people, you noted. You wondered if that's how you sounded when you spoke about the Jedi.

The pair of you were silent for a moment, Din finishing the remaining stitches and cutting the thread with his vibroblade effortlessly. He pulled out a bandage to wrap around your arm as it healed, the baby getting restless at the fact his protectors hadn't paid attention to him for the past fifteen minutes and begging to be picked up into your lap.

"What you had with Xi'an, was it-" You stopped yourself, thinking over your words carefully. You was treading on dangerous ground here, it was none of your business what the horrible Twi'lek woman had with the Mandalorian so you were careful not to let it slip just how much it bothered you at the idea of them together, "Is this a regular thing? You picking up women and traversing the galaxy?"

Mando stopped his movements of gently wrapping the fabric around your shoulder, meeting your curious eyes as best as he could through the darkened visor. Din swore, looking into your eyes which stared right back at him, that he could visit every planet in the galaxy and never find a hue quite like yours. You really were a beautiful woman, and he had no idea how he'd spent so long travelling the universe without finding someone or even something that compared to how you looked right now.

"Xi'an was just a workmate that kept the boredom at bay. Travelling with Ran was tedious at times and she happened to be there," Mando explained and your could do nothing but nod dumbly, your eyes trained on the child that seemed to sense the weird mix of jealousy and sadness you felt, "There was nothing about her that I wanted other than her company on a cold night,"

Din didn't understand why he felt he had to reassure you that he and the Twi woman were nothing more than an occasional body to find intimacy in. Even that was a push, they were both bored and using each other to keep the loneliness away. And you didn't know why you wanted him to either. You had only seen Mando as a friend the past few months you had known each other, but since Xi'an had mentioned their past it knocked your confidence at how different he saw you to other women, and made you feel inadequate. Like the pedestal you had put him on since that night you stayed in the barn on Sorgen with him was not returned. You could be a passing face, completely ordinary and temporary for all you knew.

He noticed your expression was still somewhat forlorn like your question hadn't properly been answered and so he continued.

"You think I just pick up every strange drunkard I meet in a bar and call them a friend, Ash?" Your head shot up at the soft way he said your fraud name like he was approaching a wild creature, before he delivered the killing blow.

"She wasn't special to me, not like you are. None of them mean to me what you do."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AD ASTRA

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Pedro Pascal

@evyiione

"Will you sit down?" Xi'an growled at the big red oaf that paced around the hull of the ship. It was the only thing that she had said all day that you actually agreed with. You had been left to watch over the three creatures that only grated on your nerves more and more with each second you sat with them, as Din stood watch over the bug shaped-droid now piloting the Crest, still not trusting the bucket of wires one bit.

The crimson lump of a Devaronian slammed his hand into the metal ceiling, trying to scare the Twi'lek woman. It did nothing but make her hiss at him viciously and you huff at his display of anger.

You rocked in place as you jumped into hyperspace, leaning against the crate you had sat on when Mando helped patch you up not even a week ago. You could only hope the Mandalorian would return to your side soon, hating the feeling you were now somewhat babysitting this trio of grown dummies. Your kerchief had been pulled back over your grimace to conceal your clear annoyance, but the way your eyes narrowed at the buffoon banging on the ceiling gave away your vexation.

You watched angrily as Burg swung open the locker door where Mando kept all of his prized weapons, ones that even you had rarely touched due to his possessiveness over the munitions. The rude man seemed to have no problem making himself quite at home looking through your friend’s belongings.

"Hey, bird brain. Wanna knock it off?" You piped up from behind your black mask. You were sick of this oaf thinking he owned the place. Hell, the Crest wasn't even yours but it had been the place you called home for over a month now and the feeling that these morons were intruding was only growing by the second.

The Devaronian ignored you, grunting something about your ‘weak body' which made you stand up straighter. If only you knew what I’m capable of, you bit back behind your mask. You guessed you were going to have to make him listen to you, one way or another. But before you could lay a hand on him, you saw Mando making his way back down the ladder and your chest felt lighter just at the sight of him. He was here, and you weren’t alone with those morons anymore. His body towered well over Mayfeld’s and Xi’an’s, almost meeting that of Burg’s which made you feel comforted that you weren’t so outnumbered with him covering your back.

And yet, the great unknown of what history was between him and the Twi’lek woman still stung more than you’d like to admit.

You could get lost in thoughts of him later, you thought to yourself, watching as he closed the locker with his personal controls and looking just as pissed as you felt. You didn’t trust this crew further than you could throw them, you needed to be completely focused on their every move for such a shady job like this. There was no room for stupid thoughts on the heat in your stomach when he’d entered the hull looking like that.

Why did he have to be so good looking, you cursed the maker.

Burg groaned childishly, turning to see what had taken away his fun, only to find the beskar clad man staring back at him. He reached out to press more buttons on the wall, and you immediately straightened your posture when you realised that he was about to open Mando’s cupboard of a room; the space where you had shoved the kid upon hearing your crew would likely be underhanded. And you had been right. Yet they were about to find him anyway which infuriated you and set you beyond on edge. His lug of a muscled arm crashed against the button panel immaturely, only to be grabbed roughly by Mando.

The tension in the room was instant, both men getting closer in order to intimidate the other, as you took a step forward from the crate in case Burg began swinging. You were ready to take this asshead down, were it not for Mayfeld stepping in to cool the men off.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay. Okay, I get it. I'm a little particular about my personal space too. So let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces anymore." The bald man reasoned, which surprisingly worked, though you were thankful when you saw that Mando had positioned himself in front of the hatch where the child lay.

"Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian." Burg's voice boomed, using all three of his brain cells to put together the sentence, you thought sarcastically, "And what use is his little girlfriend to us,"

"Well, apparently they're the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say." Mayfeld said, turning his attention to the way you were burning holes in his skull, though the tone in his voice clearly showed he didn't believe it, "And maybe he just likes the company, is that right sweet cheeks?" You glared at him from behind your face covering which lay over your nose as his eyes trailed over your body purposefully slowly. You knew he was just saying it to piss you off, and you cursed yourself for the fact it was working but you couldn't help it.

These three crewmates were irritatingly talented at being bothersome, you had to hand them that.

"Then why are they all dead?" Burg laughed darkly, his comrades joining in at the Mandalorian's expense. You weren't even part of the creed, as much as Shenzi had told you you might as well be, yet your blood was boiling at this point, your fingernails digging sharply into your palms at how tightly you curled them into a fist. You were suddenly very aware of how confined you were in the smallish ship speeding through hyperspace.

It was tiny, the hull closed in on you as you felt much bigger than yourself; as though you were every part of the ship combined, pushing against the walls.

Then, there it was. The force.

You felt it tickling your fingertips, stinging almost as though you’d touched an open electrical, and yet it was more tangible than it had been in years.

Then came the scary part. It greeted you like an old lover, caressing you gently in its cold arms.

The darkest voice in the back of your head telling you to channel it in yourself, to feel the life slip out of the three crewmates as you drained it from them slowly, tortuously. You knew how, you wouldn't even need to lift a finger to choke them all. Your powers called to you so strongly with the promise of death. The promise of darkness.

You could do it, all it took was the slightest of commands and they would be dead. They would be no more. Their terror would be over. Just one tiny movement, and they would be slaughtered; you would be their demise.

You took a deep breath, reeling back from the Sarlacc pit of wicked thoughts in your mind. You were ashamed; What would Obi-Wan think of you if he were here? It was exactly that path to the dark side that had broken your family, damn near ended your race all together, and you had nearly thrown yourself head first down that road for the sake of three bumbling morons.

You sighed in defeat. There was something in you that had spiralled into anger, the worst enemy of a Jedi, since Xi’an had shown up and Mando had made it more than clear there had been others before you. But you didn't pay your old master much thought, too busy with the task at hand, and the fact the trio of creatures hadn't relented their spew of harassment towards your friend.

"Ask him about the job on Alzoc III," Xi'an said in that annoyingly squealing drawl of hers, still playing with her knife like a child with a doll. You bet half your winnings that the violet woman wouldn't last a second if you sunk your claws into her, or even if Cara got her hands on her. If anything, you were waiting for this job to be over so that you could either fly as far away as possible from the woman or snap her in half.

"I did what I had to," Mando replied, though he didn't sound very remorseful. In fairness, he was too busy watching the way you were staring at the Twi'lek woman, the unfiltered blood lust in your eyes somewhat alarming him. It had been there for just a second, but he had caught the moment a darkness had passed over what he could see of your face, and he sensed a static in the air for just the briefest of seconds, like a cold chill running down his spine. He had no way to explain the feeling, putting it down to his own mind playing tricks on him, but something about your expression unnerved him.

"Oh, but you liked it. See, I know who you really are." Xi'an pointed her blade at the man, pointed teeth smiling at him wickedly, "I probably know you better than your little girlfriend,"

You knew the comment didn't even warrant a response, that Xi’an was just trying to get a rise out of you both. Even still, you found yourself quite literally having to revert back to your Jedi training and attempting to clear her mind of the clouded, despicable thoughts you were having. The worst part was... this used to scare you. The darkness, the way it sunk its tendrils deep into you used to have you cowering in fear from your own capabilities. But now there was just a pure, unadulterated anger, one that you were quickly trying to control before you blew up the Crest with so much as a hair width of a misstep. You had turned away your connection to the force, but this rage was stirring it back to life inside of you.

"He never takes off the helmet?" Mayfeld asked, nodding his head to the beskar clad man, not missing the dark glare in your eyes, eyes he could have sworn he knew, "Then again, this one's good looking enough for the both of them."

Xi'an shook her head, cackling at her own taunt towards the Mandalorian, before mocking him, "This is the way."

"Hmm... I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he's a Gungan. Is that why...yousa don't wanna show your face?" Mayfeld jabbed, sending the other two dimwits into a fit of laughter and making Din shift uncomfortably. He wished they would just get to this damn prison already, much preferring the idea of dismembering droids than being stuck here watching as himself and the only friend he had around these days get taunted by these besoms. [rude people]

"You ever seen his face?" Mayfeld asked Xi'an again, though her eyes were now locked on you, seemingly as unwilling to look away from the intense glare as you were. You challenged each other with your eyes, making it very clear you were equally as ready to tear at the other's throat with a given word.

"A lady...never tells," Xi'an replied venomously, her smirk solely directed at you. The electricity ran from your finger through your whole palm, creeping up the rest of your arm with a dangerous weight of intensity behind it.

Surely not, you thought to yourself. Surely Mando hadn't shown this wretch of a woman the deepest part of himself. Please, no.

"Aw, come on, Mando. We all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show us something. Come on, just lift the helmet up. Come on." You stood up tall, sensing an imminent shift in the room now. This was no longer about teasing and petty words. They were going to take his helmet off, "Let's all see your eyes."

You barely spared a glance at where Mando and Burg were now scuffling, before Xi'an lunged at you. You were more than ready for the woman. You caught the heavy punch sent your way, squeezing the Twi's hand that held the dagger until she dropped it with a grunt and you kicked it away.

"Woah ladies, ladies-" Mayfeld tried to cut in, only to watch you fling Xi'an effortlessly over your shoulder and slam her to the cold, metal floor onto her stomach. You pinned the purple woman's arms down with your muscled thighs, reaching back to grab one of her legs that was flailing about in an attempt to get you off and pushed her face into the floor of the crest, rendering her immobile.

"Ladies!" Mayfeld called, snapping you out of your stormy glare at the Twi's worried face.

She had clearly realised she underestimated you greatly, her face smoothing out to try and save some of her dignity when she realised that you were watching her scrambled expression.

The whole ship went silent for a moment, the three men in the room staring in awe at how fast you had pinned the mauve skinned female to the ground, having only been distracted for a matter of seconds. Mayfeld, who had seen the whole thing, was beginning to rethink all the taunting comments he had made, worried it could be him next getting thrown like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey Mando, wanna control your woman?" Mayfeld said snidely, only just noticing the fact the hatch was now open and there was a strange green creature staring at the situation with a toothy smile. Well that was new.

"She seems pretty in control to me," Din replied, his eyes stuck on the way your thighs were splayed apart, having full control over the unsuspecting Twi'lek beneath you. He couldn't deny watching you fight so expertly got his heart racing like a teenaged boy watching a naughty holofilm. Your eyes crinkled from what he could see of your face. You were smiling up at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes at finally giving Xi'an exactly what had been coming to her the whole time.

“Who are you?” Xi’an choked out, her windpipe pressing against the floor painfully in the position you had landed her in. The sadistic part of you sang in glee as you saw her struggling, all of her cocky chatter seemingly vanished.

Still, noticing the child was now open for everyone to see and quickly catching the attention of the others on board, you knew you should get up and ready to defend the inevitable questions about the olive coloured boy. But of course you were going to have your fun first though, you wouldn't be Obi-Wan's padawan if you didn't have some witty retort for the woman.

"A lady never tells," You said, leaning in closer to press against the Twi's head harder. With that you stood, kicking the woman's weapon to her and smirking at the men who stared at you with raised eyebrows. You walked over to Mando's sleeping quarters, pushing the child away from the edge gently and shutting the door once more before turning to the men who still gawped at you, "Are we going to play nice now, boys?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Zero. Get is to the control room." After their little tiff on board the Crest, the group seemed more willing to cooperate for the sake of the job. Of course, they were still being irritating but it was much more indirect than before which was a start at least. You hoped they would focus on the mission more now seeing as they were dropping down into the prison itself, ready to be on full alert for the security droids that would inevitably be patrolling the ship.

Mayfeld spoke to Zero some more on his comlink, gathering some idea of which direction they should be heading in as the rest of the team readied themselves for the job. You, however, were immediately regretting taking the assignment now that you were actually confronted with the very illegal, the magnitude of the operation only sinking in when you saw the harsh white lights of the prison halls. You made sure your face covering was tight over your nose and mouth, hiding any resemblance you bore to the Jedi girl that would no doubt be documented in the New Republic's files. All those years of hiding, just to wave yourself under their noses like this.

"All right, we're on the clock. The second we engage those droids they're gonna be all over us." Mayfeld spoke as Din jumped down the hatch into the prison, blaster out and ready for any action that was unavoidably coming their way.

"I know the drill," Mando spoke coldly, keeping his eyes peeled for any droids. you hopped down behind him, footsteps much quieter than his, your own twin blasters ripe with loaded charges.

"All right, let's go," Mayfeld spoke, leading you down the hallway, prisoners in the cells on either side watching the intruders curiously.

"I don't like this," You spoke somewhat quietly. You hoped only Mando could hear you, though you doubted that would be the case.

"Me neither," The man in the beskar replied, keeping close to you as you eyed the security cameras suspiciously.

"You always were paranoid." Xi'an mocked though she was still keeping her distance. She was almost certain, judging by the ache in her side as she walked, that you had bruised something in her.

"Is that true, Mando? Are you always paranoid?" Mayfeld added cockily, but he practically jumped out his skin when one of the alien prisoners loudly banged against its cell door. Xi'an hissed back at the creature, sniggering as she sauntered away from the contained prisoner.

Your team walked stealthily through the pristine white hallway, following the directions Zero was relaying through the comlink in Mayfeld's hand when you were stopped in their tracks by a small MSE droid rounding the corner. You tensed, sensing you’d be caught. You hadn't expected anything less from such a high-security job such as this, and hoped the little circuit on wheels would just pass you by peacefully, not sensing any movement. That is until the big, red oaf of a Devaronian sauntered up to it.

"What? It's just a little mousey." He approached the droid dumbly, making you roll your eyes, "Come here, little mousey."

"Burg..." Mayfeld whispered, but it was no use. The meathead continued trying to lure the mouse droid to him.

"Mousey, come here. Come here."

The team watched the MSE droid stop, scanning their whereabouts, something they all knew spelt trouble. All except Burg, it seemed.

"Burg!" The balding man tried again, but it was much too late. The goon had scared the MSE droid into fleeing, no doubt calling for assistance from much bigger and well-equipped droids that would be on their way by now. Burg simply shot the tiny thing to pieces out of anger, and you couldn't help but think this guy was a toddler in a big man's body.

"No! Burg! What're you doing?"

"What?!" The Devaronian roared back, upset his comrade was questioning him on his fun, again like a child being told no to playtime. Before you could make a sarcastic comment about the creature's behaviour, a troop of security guards rounded the corner, leaving you to duck for cover behind the ivory pillars of the walls.

"Intruder alert. Open fire."

Din held his hand out to keep you tucked away from the shots being fired towards you, thinking on his feet about what you were going to do now. He needed to get closer to them before more started showing up.

"Stay here," The man ordered in his deep voice, looping back around the way you had come. You doubted he would have left you to fend for themselves, the others maybe but you found yourself confident in the fact he wouldn't leave you alone there. He was a quiet man, but you trusted him more than most, dare even say you trusted him with your life.

"We're too exposed here!" Xi'an called behind her, and you agreed. You had tried multiple times to aim at the heavily protected droids but found yourself unable to stick your head around the pillar without having a blaster charge skim your face.

"They get a signal out, it's not gonna matter!" Mayfeld shouted, firing the best he could but all of his charges were deflected by the droids’ enhanced armour, "Mando, let's go! You're supposed to be some special-" The group seemed to have just realised that Mando had left, seeing that you stood alone, tucked away behind the slim pillar waiting for Mando to do his thing, "I knew it! I knew it!"

"He hasn't left us wise ass! He's-" You cut yourself off when you saw the Mandalorian stroll around the corner, pulling out his vibroblade. You had always thought that Mando's low but smooth voice was attractive, you were only human after all, but something about the way he stood at the end of the hallway, sights locked on the droids like a predator creeping up on its prey caused a hot flush in your stomach. You shook yourself of the childish thoughts, realising quickly that now was an awful time to be caught up on a man you couldn't even see. You almost entertained yourself with the thought of what colour his hair was when another three security droids marched around the corner behind them, no doubt attempting to sandwich your group in the hallway with no cover.

You barely dodged the first blaster charge that was sent your way, having to jump and kick off an inmate's cell door before flipping over to land behind the droids. You launched yourself on the back of one of the steely cold machines, using its thick armour to protect yourself as the other two shot at you, subsequently hitting their fellow droid. You used this chance to hoist your leg up onto its shoulder, giving you the leverage you needed to yank the first droid's head clean off its shoulders. Sparks flew from its circuits before it dropped to the floor, immobile. You followed its movement with your own body fluidly, rolling forward to sweep the legs of one of the two remaining attackers and topple it to the ground. You shot the standing one in the soft, exposed part of its chest a few times until you were sure it was broken. The final one jutted mechanically to aim at you, only to have it's gun manned arm ripped from its socket and its wires sliced open by your blade, leaving it to shut down.

You huffed tiredly, looking around carefully to see if any more were coming your way. When all you could hear was the chanting and whooping of the prisoners, you were satisfied there was none approaching for now at least and turned to see Ran's group staring between you and Mando in awe.

"You two better clean up your mess," Mayfeld said sneeringly, storming past the Mandalorian who waited for you to catch up before he followed them.

"Would have been all our mess if you'd bothered to help," You called, trailing behind the bald man who ignored you, now shouting at the droid through his comlink.

"-Just open the door!" Was all you heard before the gate slid upwards, revealing the main control room to the ship, and a very startled New Republic officer.

Not a droid, a human officer.

"Stop! Just...stop...right there! You put down the blasters right now." He shouted, raising his weapon shakily, and your heart leapt into your throat. He was young and afraid, no older than his teen years; just doing his job. You didn't want his life on your hands when you were the ones in the wrong. He worked for the republic, the very organisation your creed's allegiance lay.

"Nice shoes," Mayfeld commented, chuckling and strolling into the room without a care.

"Put down your blasters." The guard ordered once more, though the tremble in his voice was evident.

"Matches his belt." Mayfeld continues, making Burg laugh darkly. You hated how they were taunting this man, not only because you felt guilty but because you were really very aware of what this guy could mean for the mission. Still, the balding man waltzed up to the control panel at the back of the room, unaware of how stupidly blind he was to the danger a single movement from the officer could put you all in.

"There were only supposed to be droids on this ship." It seemed Mando felt the same way you did, the regret also eating away at him that you may have an innocent body on your hands.

"Hang on, hang on. See here," Mayfeld tinkered with some controls on the board, scanning for the prisoner they had come to free, no doubt, "Cell two-two-one. All right, now for our well-dressed friend." You froze when you saw the guard pull a small flickering device out of his pocket, knowing almost instantly what it was. Evidently Mayfeld did too judging by the horror written on his face, "Whoa-whoa-whoa, hey! Easy easy, egghead! Put that down. Put that down!"

"Hey, buddy. Let's just all calm down for a second, huh?" You tried to soothe the guy, though even you weren't convinced by your calming tone as it came out just as panicked as Mayfeld's had.

"Put it down. NOW!" The ex-imperial soldier bellowed at the man, only startling him more.

"Cut your shit, Mayfeld!" You barked, stepping towards the guy with your arm outstretched like you were pacifying a scared loth cat. He snapped his attention to you, pointing his blaster straight at your forehead.

"Easy! Nobody has to get hurt here, just calm down." Mando said, his stomach flipping with nerves when he saw the gun align with your body, especially when the guard seemed to be so volatile already.

"What is that thing?" Burg asked as the device in the man's hand continued to flash slowly. You wouldn't have long.

"It's a tracking beacon," Mando explained, watching you throw your blasters to the ground in surrender. Your eyes never left the guard in front of you, and he couldn't help but pray to anyone listening that you knew what you were doing.

"He presses that thing and we're all done. A New Republic attack team will hone in on that signal and blow us all to hell. Put it down!" Mayfeld shouted, making the guard's hand tighten on the blaster pointed at your head.

"Hey hey, kid. Don't listen to them for a second, okay?" You said calmly, hearing Xi'an and Mayfeld begin to squabble behind you, "I know you're scared, okay? I know you're scared of us but we don't want to hurt you," The guard looked at you unconvinced, but you continued anyway, "Me and this big hunk of metal behind me, yeah? We don't even want to be here. We just want to leave, okay? No one has to get hurt."

Mando noticed what you were doing, seeing the guard somewhat begin to relax at your words only to tense up again when Mayfeld began waving his blaster at him more, "Hey, put it down." Din somewhat yelled, knowing the balding man could be the reason the guard pulled the trigger on the woman he'd come to care for a lot. More than alot even. How would he begin to explain it to the kid if something happened to you?

"Are you crazy?"

"Put it down." He repeated calmly, turning his attention back to the guard and raising his hands in surrender as he had seen you do, "What's your name?"

The man's eyes flickered between the two calmest people in the room, the beautiful hues in your eyes staring at him pleadingly, "It's...Davan"

"Davan. As she said, we're not here for you. We're here for a prisoner. If you let us go about our job you can walk away with your life."

"No, he won't." Mayfeld interjected once more. You could have sworn you wanted to just shoot him right there and then and solve your problem immediately. Instead, you let Mando and the aggressive guy bicker further as you met Davan's eyes imploringly once more.

"Please, Davan. I'd even lock up these guys for you if that's what it comes to," Your eyes begged with him, watching his face soften at your expression which was clearly sincere, "We just want to do the job and leave. I'm not your enemy, Davan, I'm-"

All the talking in the room stopped as a knife lodged itself in Davan's throat.

Your eyes widening significantly as you watched the man slump to the floor, lifeless within seconds as blood spilled out of his wound much too fast for there to be even a remote chance of his survival. You turned on your heel heatedly towards the bored-looking Twi'lek woman who had been whinging for the entire conversation.

"What the fuck? He was about to-" You started. You had seen many people die in your time, but your breath had been knocked out of you at watching the life slip directly from his eyes the moment the weapon made contact. He was so young and afraid. He was right there, and now he was dead on the floor, in a pool of his own blood.

"Not our problem anymore, sweetheart," Xi'an snickered, strolling over to the body to retrieve her knife. You were ready to curse the Twi' out for her behaviour, angry at the fact you had so nearly been able to resolve the situation peacefully before he had been murdered so savagely. The insults sat on the tip of your tongue when you heard a high pitched beeping and your stomach dropped even further realising what it was.

There, in Davan's limp outstretched hand, was the tracking beacon now lit up brightly, alerting your group it had been activated.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・

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Pedro Pascal

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The air is heavy with tension, making the cockpit feel suffocating, as if the duralloy walls are closing in around you. Standing with your arms folded across your body, you watch Din stand in front of the comm system, contemplating whether he should make the call. Honestly, you can’t blame him for being hesitant

Your mind recalls what you told Din after leaving Bo-Katan on Lothal.

Even if Bo-Katan’s somehow grown as a person and is no longer a psychopathic terrorist, I know we could never trust her, could never forget what she has done.

It hardly been three weeks and nothing has changed since then. Why should you trust anything she has to say?

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you inquire, understanding completely if he wants to walk away.

“It’s just a call,” Din replies without looking at you. “It shouldn’t be this difficult to make.”

“It’s difficult because we don’t know if she’s trustworthy,” you enlighten him.

“Cara trusted her,” he says gently.

“Cara’s parents weren’t killed in an attack orchestrated by Bo-Katan’s group,” you remind him harshly, as if he needs reminding. “She, unlike you, has no reason to distrust her.”

You realize you are talking about her in the present tense as soon as you finish speaking.

“Had…,” you solemnly correct yourself. “Had no reason to distrust her.”

Din turns and looks at you glumly. “I know. But what could it hurt? She could know nothing at all. Fuck, she could lead us on a wild Bantha chase if she wants to. But she’s the only lead we have right now. There is no other option but to sit here with our thumbs up our ass while Gideon runs free.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you say, “I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if I had something up my-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Din gently scolds, a gloved finger pointed at you.

You can’t help but let out a stifled giggle, which seems to melt his tension. He lets his shoulders fall while releasing a breath.

“You’re right,” you assure him. “It won’t hurt to at least make the call. So, what are you waiting for?”

Nodding, he turns back to the comm system. Reluctantly, he activates the device and initiates the call. Before you know it, Bo-Katan is shimmering blue in front of him, a self-satisfied smirk on her face when she seems to recognize the man projecting in her presence.

“Well. Look what the loth-cat finally dragged in,” she greets, speaking with a certain smugness about her. Her performance is impeccable. You wouldn't believe that Din just put her in her place a few weeks before if you hadn't been there to witness it.

“To what do I owe this honor, Mand’alor?” She emphasizes the word mockingly, as if hoping it will push his buttons, causing you to silently pray to the Maker he can keep his temper in check.

“You know why I’m here, Kryze,” Din scowls. “Don’t make me spell it out.”

Bo-Katan sniggers. She reaches for something on her belt, unlatching it and taking it in her right hand. Suddenly, you hear the familiar hum of the Darksaber, and you watch as it glows beside her on the holoprojecter.

“Bet you regret giving this up now, don’t you?” she questions pompously.

Oh, here we go, you think. It's a good thing you're not in view of the holoemitter, otherwise she would see you roll your eyes.

“Not nearly as much as I regret letting you live,” Din sneers. “Or have you already forgotten my mercy?”

She chuckles as she deactivates the saber and returns it to its place. “I didn’t think Children of The Watch were trained to be merciful. Or is that no longer the way?”

“We learned from the sins of our precursors,” he retorts, jabbing at the ruthless acts of her past.

The smirk slowly disappears from her face. “You know, you’re rather unagreeable for someone who has come to me for help. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be inclined to say I’m your only hope. Do you really dare to test my patience right now?”

Din’s glare doesn’t soften. “Let’s get this over with so we can get on with our lives. Preferably without the other in it.”

Bo-Katan’s lips curl into a wicked smirk once more. “Funny you think you'll get rid of me anytime soon.”

“What do you know?” he questions.

“I thought you wanted no part of it?”

You hide your head in the palm of your hand, trying to hide your own annoyance. Then you rub your temples with index finger and thumb, hoping to release the tension before you burst.

Fucking children, you think.

“Things have changed,” Din simply says.

“You don’t say.”

“Fucking hell,” Din swears, his patience wearing thin. “Don't waste my time playing children's games. Especially when lives are at stake. You allowed your family to be destroyed. I won’t let you do the same to mine.”

Bo-Katan's face slides into a look that you’ve never seen her present before. Not even when Din defeated her and held her within an inch of death. Her postures slumps and eyebrows cross in a deep frown, grimacing out of regret and sorrow as all evidence of pride or arrogance drains from her. Even from across the room, the pain hidden behind her disconsolate face is clear to you.

“Enough,” you say, stepping closer to Din and the holoprojector, tired of the blows they are unnecessarily dealing to one another. “You are driving a wedge between yourselves with all your bickering. That is exactly what your enemies want. For you to be separated.” You look at Bo-Katan. “Didn’t you say that very thing?”

“I did,”she responds simply.

“Have you ever stopped to consider the possibility that Gideon wanted this to happen?” you propose. “That he intentionally lost the saber to Din to create a divide between you?”

Din scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’ve believed far more ridiculous things with less evidence,” Bo-Katan grumbles.

You turn to the holoemitter, shooting her a glare before you turn to Din.

“What makes it so hard to believe?” you question. “Gideon has been trying to wipe Mandalorians from the galaxy for years. Putting you two against each other makes his job a lot easier. I mean, why waste time going after two people when you can just let them kill each other?”

“She has a point,”Bo-Katan concedes.

“I know.” Din sighs, knowing he can’t argue your points.

“We share a common enemy.”

“That doesn’t make us friends,” he growls.

“No,” Bo-Katan agrees. “But your riduur is right. The last thing Gideon wants is for Mandalorian forces to gather against him.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like we know where to find him,” you say.

“What has Cara told you about the Imperials?” Din asks bluntly.

Bo-Katan chortles in a way that makes it clear she knows more than you think. “It’s not what she told me…but what I told her.”

You and Din briefly exchange looks before turning back to the holoprojector.

She continues, “Everything you think you know about Mandalore is wrong.”

“What do you mean?” you question. “Sabine confirmed what Din already knew of the planet, what he had heard from his people, from Fett. It was destroyed by the Empire, inside and out, during Operation: Cinder.”

“Boba Fett was somewhere between a sarlacc stomach and Tusken camp on Tatooine when Mandalore fell,” Bo-Katan responds, her eyes narrow. “Sabine, meanwhile, was protecting Lothal rather than her own people. They, too, seemed to have forgotten that you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I admit that I, too, once believed the rumors. After Alderaan, anything seemed possible.”

“What changed?” you ask. “Why are you so certain than the planet isn’t in pieces right now?”

“I did what no one else dared to do: returned to Mandalore,” she reveals, much to your surprise. “The planet is no less fractured than when the last of the Mandalorians left. Cinder was probably never carried out or it was just an absolute failure; I am not sure which. At some point, it seems, the Imperials believed that no one would seek to take Mandalore back, so they began operating a base there while allowing rumors that the planet was destroyed to spread.”

You think back on your conversation with Sabine Wren, trying to find any sort of point to argue.

Has no one gone back? To at least see if anything’s salvageable within the domes? To try to put it back together?

Why would they? she had responded. A planet that was once seen as a symbol of strength and endurance was reduced to a physical representation of our failure and humiliation.

It was logical that no one would ever go back, that the Imperials thought they could operate there undetected. And apparently that had been…they still are.

“You can probably guess who orchestrated that operation.”

“Gideon,” you breath, almost in disbelief.

“And now that he has escaped-”

“We’ll find him on Mandalore,” you finish.

“How long have you known this?” Din asks, sounding snappy.

Bo-Katan hesitates to answer, and he seems to realize that she’s known for a while.

His anger rises. “You’ve known this whole time and have said absolutely fucking nothing?”

She immediately turns defensive. “You disappeared for months, and when you finally came around, you were up in arms over Death Watch. Then you decided that you wanted nothing to do with the planet, said that I should be ruler of the – what did you say, ash and glass? Only problem is that I’m not the true ruler.”

Din huffs as he puts his hands on his hips and turns away. “Maker, fuck. Not this again.”

“I don’t like this any more than you do. But we can’t ignore it. Not anymore.”

She sighs, then continues, “Most of the Mandalorians I once represented – that my sister represented - are dead. The remaining clans follow the old laws. They respect tradition, and will only follow whoever has earned the Darksaber rightfully. Anyone else is just a pretender to the throne, and the pretender and all who follow will bring nothing but death and destruction.” She pauses, then adds, “Whether you want it or not, you are Mand’alor. You alone can unite the clans.”

It all makes sense to you. Why Din was raised to believe the planet to be cursed, that anyone who goes there would die. Because they truly believe it. However little you may know about the history of the planet, it's obvious that it has been cursed with death and destruction ever since the rightful ruler has been called into question.

Din looks back up at the holo, shaking his head. “I’m not looking to rule.”

“You know, being Mand’alore isn’t as difficult as you make it out to be. You’d be merely a figurehead when we don’t need you to fight, and a commander in chief when we do.”

“So a mercenary to my people,” he scoffs. “I don’t want that life, Kryze. Not anymore.”

“You are welcome to find another way to defeat Gideon, but given that you came to me for help, you already know there aren't many options.”

“What makes you so certain that there’s anyone to fight?” Din questions, seeming to remember everything Sabine said.

Bo-Katan furrows her brows. “You have no idea how many Mando’ade there are, do you? There are plenty. Beyond your Tribe and other Children of the Watch. People who’ve kept the culture alive all across the galaxy. Just as you were adopted, the culture gets passed on.”

“But do you know they will want to fight?” Din presses.

“You know as well as I do: they don’t want to spend their lives hiding like sand rats. They haven’t had an interest in fighting because they haven’t had a cause to rally behind. Now they do. In you. If you call, they will rally behind their Mand’alor. The Resol’nare demands it.”

He remains silent.

“All you have to do is give the command. Call the sons and daughters of Mandalore to fight, and I’ll handle the rest. Help me unite the clans and bring down Gideon, and I will back whatever you want to do after. Give me one standard month, then I’ll prove to you that victory isn’t out of reach. Ori’haat.”

Din looks at you, but you say nothing, stunned by the things Bo-Katan is saying and asking of him.

“Fine,” Din concedes. “Rally the sons and daughters of Mandalore. Tell them… Tell them if they want to restore glory to their homeworld, if they want peace…that their Mand’alor requests their assistance against the Imperials.”

Bo-Katan’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. Bowing her head slightly, she says, “As you wish, Mand’alor.”

“One month, Kryze,” he reminds her.

“I’ll be in touch soon.”

Din switches off the holoprojector and the room falls silent, the tension somehow thicker than before. His right fingers fidget at his side as he stands in place, staring at where Bo-Katan’s face just was.

“Well… That went better than expected,” you say nonchalantly, trying to hide the shock in your voice.

He doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, he looks forward. It’s clear his mind is swirling.

Finally, he quietly demands, “Tell me I made the right choice, riduur.”

Truthfully, you have no idea what to think, and you haven’t had time to really comprehend everything. Choosing not to question his decision, you step closer to him, then place a reassuring hand on his armored shoulder.

“You made the right choice.”

Din looks back at your hand. “Then why doesn’t it feel like it?”

He turns and walks past you, heading toward the lifttube. You follow, stepping in beside him.

“Bo-Katan said it herself,” you reassure him. “There aren’t many other options, if any at all.”

“I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“We win this and we will have peace and security,” you say confidently. “We won’t have to worry about the Imperials anymore.”

“At what cost?”

You stare to him with confusion as you walk down the gangway of the ship. “Are you having second thoughts about going after Gideon?”

“No,” he responds immediately, but you can see the uncertainty. He hangs his head and sighs. “I don’t know.”

Before you reach the arch of the city, you stop, causing Din to stop as well, both of you standing beneath the blazing sun of Nevarro.

“Yesterday, you were prepared to tear the universe apart on your own just to find him. What’s changed?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Standing with his hands on his hips, he stares down at the burnt sand, contemplating his answer.

“Mandalore fell with millions of warriors trained in the art of war fighting for it,” he finally replies, his voice somber. “Millions reduced to hundreds at the hands of the very same enemy we intend to fight. How do we know this time will be any different? That we aren’t just setting ourselves up for failure?”

“We can’t know anything for sure,” you reply bluntly. “But things are already different this time. The Imperials aren’t nearly as strong as they were before. They’re hanging by a thread. If united, I believe the Mandalorians can crush them.”

Din nods, as if believing you. “Let’s say we go through with this. We united the people. We win Mandalore. What am I supposed to do once it’s all said and done?”

“Bo-Katan said she’ll support whatever you want to do.”

“That’s Bantha shit and she knows it. Do you really think the people will be okay with me walking away after the war they waged for me? After asking them to make sacrifices for me?”

Frowning, you fold your arms, knowing that you can't really respond to his questions.

“I don’t know, Din.”

When his eyes finally leave yours, you follow his gaze across the area to see a couple of mechanics working on a ship. One of them seems to pay you no mind, lost in his repairs, but the other, a male Mimbanese with red skin, seems to be catching glimpses of the two of you out of the corner of his blue eyes. You eye him suspiciously, and he returns to his work.

Din turns and heads into the city. You catch up, walking alongside him in the square, which is mostly empty this early in the morning.

“If I abdicate, I’ll go down in history as Mandalore the Asshole Who Abandoned His People,” he says nonchalantly, casually walking along the city.

You suppress your laughter.

“That’s ridiculous. They’d never call you that,” you jeer. “The title is far too long. Mandalore the Asshole, however…”

A small smile appears across Din’s face.

You look up at him as you walk.

“Or maybe they’ll call you Mandalore the Redeemer,” you suggest. “The one who redeemed not only himself, but his people as well. The one who saved them and their planet from the clutches of the evil Empire. The one who will be respected and revered for years to come, no matter how long or short your reign.”

His throat tightens with a small chuckle. “You are the only person whose opinion I give two shits about.”

“Well then,” you say, stopping once more. “You want to know what I think?”

Din turns to you, seeming eager to hear what you have to say.

“I think this is the best way for everyone to get what they want,” you confess. “You told me that I deserve the galaxy. That you could give it to me as Mand’alor. Well, I want a safer galaxy. For us. For our children to grow up in. We get rid of Gideon, we can have that. Meanwhile, Bo-Katan gets the clans and Mandalore back. If you don’t want to rule, then there shouldn’t be a problem. If there is-”

“Then it’s Bo-Katan’s problem,” Din interjects, seeming to be on the same page as you.

You smile, reaching a hand up to cup his face. “Ah. There’s the Mando I know and love.”

In a blink of an eye, a week passes. This is the longest you’ve been on Nevarro, and you honestly can’t complain. Din spends a majority of the days studying maps of Mandalore that Bo-Katan sent to his holopad or helping Karga with his various needs in the town. You, meanwhile, can usually be found wandering around the city or just outside its walls. Outsiders may find the ashen world of black sands depressing, but you find comfort in it. The arid air, which is usually filled with the laughter and joy of children, reminds you of what you like about your homeworld.

Perusing the market is your favorite pastime, seeing all the wares that the people of the planet have to offer. You're thankful that the scents of all things being cooked are not as pungent to you as they were last time you were here. Since you stop by her stall at the same time every afternoon, you quickly become acquainted with the woman selling blue cookies. She can always count on you to buy a couple for snacking on before setting off for a walk along the lava flows just outside the city. You’re happy here, though you’d be even happier if the threat of war wasn't always lurking in the back of your mind.

On the seventh day, you notice the jewelry stall you scanned during your last visit has returned to the bazaar. This time, it’s not the various trinkets that catch your attention. Rather, it's the stall holder’s wife, who you remember seeing with a swollen belly. Today, she is sitting in a chair, tinkering with some wire, while a small bulge is hidden under the cloth that is tightly wrapped around her abdomen. A tiny head with dark, fuzzy hair peeks out from the cloth. His tiny features are visible, and you can see that his mouth is slightly open as he slumbers against his mother's chest amidst the buzz and commotion of the bazaar.

“May I ask how old the baby is?” you question politely after admiring the scene from afar for too long.

“Hardly a week,” the woman replies, glancing up at you for a moment before returning to her work.

“Aw. Still so new,” you coo, a small smile on your face as you admire the child. “How are you working? You must be tired.”

“No rest for the weary, I’m afraid,” she replies.

“Can I do anything to help you? I’m a quick learner and pretty good with my hands.”

She looks up at you, shooting you a small, sleepy smile. “I’ll manage.”

You nod, not wanting to push.

The woman narrows her eyes as she looks at you, as if trying to remember something. “You look familiar.”

You’re surprised she recognizes you. “Oh. You must remember me from the last time I was here looking at your jewelry, several weeks back. Your husband tried to sell me a lava stone bracelet.”

“Ah,” the woman replies before chuckling, setting the piece she’s working on aside. “The one he mistook as pregnant, right?”

You nod, smiling. “The very one.”

“I’m sorry if he offended you,” she apologizes. “You must excuse him. He has a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease. Never quite thinks through the things he says.”

“It’s okay,” you giggle. “Apparently he has a bit of clairvoyance. The next morning, I realized I am, in fact, pregnant.”

“Well. Congratulations then,” she acknowledges, smiling brightly. “Just don’t tell my husband. He’ll get a big head about being right.”

You laugh. “Deal.”

The woman gestures for you to sit across from you. “I’m Eliana, by the way.”

You give her your name as you take a seat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she greets, and you’re pleased to have made a friend. Especially one that’s not a bounty hunter. “Your first?”

“Yes.”

“How far along are you now?”

“Uh…” You’re embarrassed that you can’t quite remember right away. “Nearly fourteen weeks, I believe.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse.”

Eliana chuckles. “It’ll get better. The second trimester generally isn’t too bad. I hate to break it to you, but the third trimester will hit you like a hovertrain though.”

“Something to look forward to,” you reply sarcastically.

She looks down at the babe sleeping on her chest, then bends forward and kisses the top of his head. “It’s all worth it. I can promise you that.”

While chatting with Eliana, the afternoon passes quickly. Eventually, she shows you how to weave wire around large stones to create beautifully decorated necklaces. She also teaches you how to make a bracelet with knots and colorful beads, something you enjoy doing to pass the time.

“Does this look alright?” you question, holding up the bracelet for her to see.

“Beautiful,” she assures you before looking down at the babe eating at her breast. “You’re a professional already.”

You smile from ear-to-ear, proud of your creation.

As you set the bracelet down, you catch sight of Din as he enters the bazaar. Although he is walking casually, his eyes are scanning the area as he moves, surely on a mission to find you. His helmet is tucked under his arm, as he usually has it these days, his other arm bouncing as he moves. The breeze light tosses his cape around, which swings behind him as he moves. A smirk appears when you see the dozens of small holes on the cape, contrasting against the brightly shining armor. I have got to get him a new one.

Gazing at him adoringly, you watch his head turns in your direction. From across the square, your eyes lock. He smiles, clearly delighted to see you, then makes his way toward the jewelry stall.

Din greets the two of you as he approaches the stall. “I was wondering if you’re ever going to join me for dinner?”

“Yeah. Of course,” you say, rising from your seat. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how late it is. I've lost track of time with Eliana here.”

“You selling jewelry now?” he questions with a smile, indicating all the wares in front of you.

Laughing, you pick up the bracelet you made. “No. But I am learning to make some.”

Din takes the bracelet in his hand, examining it. “You made this?”

You raise an eyebrow, then jest, “You say that like you don’t believe I could do that.”

“No! No. I-uh-you uh,” he splutters before clearing his throat. “You did good.”

“Good?” you question, continuing to tease him.

“I mean…” He looks down at the bracelet, smiling proudly, trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s beautiful, riduur. Just like you.”

“Now you’re just trying to suck up to me.”

He turns his head away from you and looks to Eliana. “How much?”

Eliana seems surprised, as if she wasn’t expecting the question. “Well, seeing as I used your wife for labor, it’s all yours.”

Din obviously doesn’t accept her answer. He pulls out several credits of different denominations from his pouch and holds them out for her. “This should cover it.”

Eliana looks from the money in his palm to him, her brows raised. “That…That’s more than it’s worth. I can’t accept that much.”

“I insist. If not for the jewelry then as a gift for the child.”

She hesitates for a moment, then takes the money from his hand. “Thank you. That is very kind.”

“He’s always had a soft spot when it comes to kids,” you say, smiling. “Whether he’ll admit it or not.”

Eliana chuckles, then turns to pack up her stall for the night.

Din rolls his eyes, trying to hide a smile, then begins to walk away. You turn to catch up with him.

“You know what? Maybe I don’t want to give you this after all,” he says, moving to tuck the bracelet into the pouch on his belt.

“What?” you question, almost surprised. “You got it for me?”

He furrows his brows. “You didn’t think I bought this for me, did you?”

“No. I just assumed it’s for one of your other wives,” you jest.

He stops, cocking his head at you. “Let me see your hand.”

“Or what?” you question. “You’ll add Bo-Katan to your secret little harem?”

As he shifts his weight to one leg, his eyes shoot daggers at you. “Give me your damn hand.”

Giggling, you offer him your right wrist. He carefully wraps the bracelet around it, tying off the knot in a way that will stay in place.

“There,” he says, finishing it off. But he doesn’t allow you to retract your arm. Instead, he grabs your hand, raises it to his lips, and plants a kiss on its back. “I hope that it will remind you of how amazing you are and how much I appreciate every little thing you do.”

“Should I be concerned by how sweet you’re being?” you question, a sly smile on your face.

His eyes crinkle at the corner as he chuckles. His laugh is as fresh as a breeze on a sweltering day; an invigorating breath of life.

“Can’t I just do something special for my riduur every once in a while?”

You are engrossed in each other, so much so that you don't notice the footsteps quickly approaching.

“Mando!” you hear, Greef’s voice sounding urgent.

The two of you turn toward him, confused.

“There’s something you need to see.”

“Go home, Mythrol,” Greef commands gruffly, leading you into his office.

“I just have one last thing to finish up then I-”

“Now,” he bellows. “Or do you want another thirty years thrown onto your sentence?”

“Okay, okay. Jeeze.” The blue amphibious amphibian man rises from his seat. “A please would’ve been nice,” he grumbles before leaving the room.

Greef closes the office door, ensuring that no one outside can hear or see inside.

“What is this all about?” Din questions, setting his helmet down on an empty chair.

“I’ll let you see for yourself.” He approaches the holoprojector on his desk.

This can't be good, you think, crossing your arms.

Those few seconds it takes him to press the device's button seem like an eternity. Suddenly, Moff Gideon appears in front of you, flickering in various shades of blue, and it’s clear you were right: this is definitely not good.

“Din Djarin. Or do you prefer to go by Lord Mandalore now?” the message begins. “I was wondering when we would meet again and am delighted to hear that our reunion is imminent. I look forward to delivering in person my sincerest congratulations on your new marriage and impending parenthood. It’s a shame the bastard child may never know its father.”

You feel your stomach drop, as if you'd fallen from hyperspace, and instinctively your hands reach for the small bump, as if wanting to protect the child growing inside. He knows. How could he know?

Din's anger appears to be rising as he glares at the holo, standing with a fist clenched at his side.

“You may think you have some idea of what you’re getting yourself into, what Bo-Katan is getting you into, but you have no idea. I have no doubt that you will make a valiant stand, but I think we all know that, in the end, you and your remaining clans will be squashed like the insolent little pests that you are. Unfortunately, it’s too late for you to turn back now. The question remains: will you follow through with your plan or will I have to come to you…on Nevarro? Truthfully, I hope to be able to show you have Mandalore fell. Either way, I look forward to your demise. Long live the Empire.”

The message ends, and Gideon disappears.

“Damn it,” Din swears, pounding his fist on Greef’s desk. “That fucking bitch.”

“What?” You’re obviously confused. It takes you a moment to understand what he’s saying. “You think Bo-Katan had something to do with this?”

“Don’t you see? She’s playing us,” Din roars. “She’s only ever been willing to help us when it benefits her. When it helps her take back control of Mandalore. Now, she’s just trying to get me killed.”

You’re even more confused, trying to understand what he’s thinking. “Gideon killing you doesn’t make her Mand’alor.”

“She’s playing dejarik, cyar’ika. We are all pawns in her game, and she is going to take pieces out one by one until she gets what she wants." Without another word, he moves to the holo.

“You know that’s not true… What are you doing?” you question, watching him as he starts to make contact with someone.

“I’m not playing her stupid fucking game anymore,” he growls.

“Din. Please,” you beg, knowing he’s going to confront Bo-Katan. “Stop and think for a minute. I mean, what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“But what if you are?” you insist. “If you piss her off, then we may lose the only chance we have to end this.”

The second you finish speaking, Bo-Katan’s form appears before you.

“Lord Mand’alor,”she greets. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so-”

“Cut the formalities, you traitorous bitch,” he growls, the fire in his eyes burning away the warmth that usually accompanies them.

Bo-Katan hardly seems phased by the accusation. “What did I do this time?”

“You know what you did,” Din snarls.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be specific.”

“Din, please,” you beg quietly, wishing you could reason with him before he does or says something he’ll regret. You can’t quite pinpoint why, but your gut is telling you that Bo-Katan isn’t betraying him. Your mind is swirling, trying to figuring out how you can convince him.

“Gideon,” Din states, ignoring you. “I know you told him everything.”

“Why would I tell him anything?”Bo-Katan asks.

And then it hits you. “Din,” you growl brashly, ensuring he can’t ignore you any longer. He looks at you, and you add, “It wasn’t her. Gideon knows about the baby.”

“The baby?”she questions.

“See?” you point out, nudging your head toward the visibly confused holo of Bo-Katan. “She only knows about our marriage. Not that I’m pregnant. But Gideon knows. Someone else has to be feeding him the information.”

Din is silent, as if trying to remember if the pregnancy had in fact never been mentioned to her.

“It wasn’t me,” Greef finally interjects, his hands raised innocently. “And as far as I know, Nevarro is good and clear. But if there are any Imperial sympathizers here, you can bet I will punish them accordingly.”

“Will someone tell me what in Malachor is going on?” Bo-Katan asks, seeming confused.

Din huffs, and you know he knows he was wrong. “We received a message from Gideon,” he reveals. “He knows everything. He knows about us wanting to invade Mandalore.”

Bo-Katan eyes seem a mixture of hurt and angry. “And the first thing you think is that I'm trying to cross you?”

“Do you blame me?” Din asks rhetorically. “It’s not exactly easy to trust someone who ran a terrorist organization that committed atrocities against their own people. Who staged attacks against innocent people to play the hero and gain support.”

“No. I can’t blame you,”she responds meekly. “I’m aware of the things I’ve done, and I will spend the rest of my life paying for the consequences of my actions.”

As if to regain her composure, she glances downward for a moment, like she does not want to allow herself to feel any emotions. When she looks back up, she continues, “Look. I know you have every reason not to trust me. My loyalty to our people, our culture –it cost me everything. I can’t change the things I’ve done…but I can help frame the future. We can frame the future. Of Mandalore. Of the galaxy... To do that, we need to be able to trust each other. The fate of our people rests in our hands. In your hands. Our strength does not lie in our numbers, but in our unity. It depends on it. I can’t do it without you.”

Din looks down at the ground, like he doesn’t want her to see him as he considers what to do.

Bo-Katan speaks her next words in Mando’a, grabbing his full attention. “Ni dinu ner gaan naakyc, jorcu ni nu copaani kyr'amur ner vod.” Honor my offer of truce, for I would not willingly shed my brother's blood.

Your eyes gleam with sympathy as you look at Bo-Katan, and you find yourself believing her. She doesn’t want to betray Din. She truly just wants to unite her people, to bring them home. She wants to undo everything she’s done.

“You want Mandalore to be everything Satine thought it could be,” you murmur, realizing why she’s so adamant on restoring the planet. You think of the look that was on her face a week ago, when Din mentioned how she destroyed her own family. “For her legacy to live on.”

“My sister and I had our differences, and unfortunately those differences tore us apart,” Bo-Katan discloses, and you can tell she’s being honest. “Maybe if I had been good at something other than war, she would still be alive.”

Guilt creeps in, knowing you had encouraged Din to distrust her. Perhaps people can change after all.

You turn to him, looking at him with soft eyes. “Din…,” you call softly.

You don’t have to speak further. He knows exactly what you want him to do.

“We all have pasts we aren’t proud of. Myself included,” Din says solemnly. “N’eparavu takisit.” I eat my insult. The Mandalorian version of “sorry.”

Bo-Katan nods, accepting his apology, and awkwardness fills the air.

“How do we proceed now?” you question, changing the topic.

Din’s silence allows Bo-Katan to offer an opinion first. “Now that Gideon is aware of our plans, we need to move quickly from here on. Every minute we waste gives him an opportunity to either slip away or better prepare for battle.”

“I agree,” Din immediately concurs, leaving you surprised that he didn’t argue with her for once. “What do we have to work with?”

“The number of our forces is growing, and we could do better with time, but I feel at present we can repel the Imperials,” Bo-Katan assures him. “As I am afraid this transmission will be intercepted, I won't divulge any more than that. It would be better if we discussed matters in person.”

“Let’s get this ball droid rolling then,” you suggest, eager to move forward before Gideon can do any additional damage.

“Can you be here in three standard days’ time?” Din questions.

“Yes. Plenty of time to grab additional recruits on the way.”

Din seems to accept her response. “Exercise discretion. We don’t know who we can trust.”

“Of course.”

“Do not mention anything of the message from Gideon to anyone,” he adds. “Assure the others that speeding up the timeline changes nothing. Tell them if they wish for peace…to be ready for war.”

With those words, you straighten yourself. Deep down, you’re terrified, though you don’t let it show. There’s no stopping it.

The war is here.