hooie

The pond is peaceful at sunset. You twist your bracelet, watching the orange-patched fish drift through the kelp. The hanging leaves of the tree you're sitting beneath shields you like a curtain. This is your favorite part about your spot; the quiet, the privacy. In the past year, you've been keen on being alone and nobody did anything to stop it.

Shaking your sleeves over your hands, you rise reluctantly. A sanctuary is only a sanctuary because it is brief. Your skirts trail behind you as you climb the hill in your soft, flat shoes. This place is hidden because it is so low, the trees at the top concealing it. You squeeze between bushes, situating yourself back on the main path in the gardens.

Even though you've lived here all your life, Naboo's beauty never fails to take your breath away. You feel like you're in a painting, and sometimes it is sadder than it sounds.

A strand of hair catches on a low-hanging branch and you tuck it behind your ear immediately. You haven't let your hair down all week, opting to keep it in a braid even while you sleep. The feeling of loose hair on your neck and cheeks has been irritating lately. You don't let your handmaidens assist you anymore, and so your updos are simple, reliant on decoration. Today, a silver circlet secures it in place.

Compared to your usual blacks, dark purples, and blues, your light grey dress feels nearly cheerful. You woke in a decent mood, took breakfast in the sunroom. Last night, you only woke once, totaling five hours of sleep. Sometimes you only get three.

Yawning, you turn the corner and a blaster shot whips over your shoulder. A jolt in your heart, you duck and throw yourself into a rose bush. Burying your face in the leaves, your chest heaves and a familiar fear seizes your bones. The light, which once had been soothing, was burning a hole into your neck. More blaster shots. Your nails stab the inside of your palms.

"Princess!" You look up at the familiar sound of one of the palace guards' voices. He pulls you up, guiding you back to the path. "We got him. Let's get you inside."

"I'm fine." Pulling leaves off your skirt, you stagger at the guard's side. "I don't need any help. You can go back to your post."

"You're bleeding, princess. I must escort you to the infirmary at least." When you touch your cheek, your finger comes away red. You thought it was dew from the roses.

"I guess roses weren't the best place to hide," you say softly.

"They'll be able to fix you up in no time."

You wish the infirmary had a pill or a bandage that could help you. The scratches are a pinprick into your numbness. Even as the medi-droid takes your vitals and dabs your cuts with antiseptic, you fix your eyes on the wall, heart pounding.

All that screaming last year. The blood on the balcony. You blink yourself back to the present, nails creating half-moons in your palms.

"Your heartrate is fast. A common sign of shock." The medi-droid dabs at one of your scratches. "Shaking hands, dilated pupils. It will all return to normal soon." You sip at the water you were given to help regulate. remaining silent.

You are released with a note to take things easy, escorted back to your quarters. Your handmaidens are waiting to dress you for bed, but you dismiss them. Tearing off your gown, you kick it to a corner of your closet.

This room is too quiet. Your bed looks vast, empty. Something seizes in your chest at just the idea of sleeping there. You think you might suffocate under the rich embroidered covers, sink into the heavy mattress and drown. There isn't enough air in here.

In a split decision, you drag the blanket off, retrieving another from the closet beside your bed. Throwing open the doors to your balcony, you exhale when wind hits your face. The chatter below from palace workers lightens your heart, and you breathe easier. Spreading out one of your blankets, you settle on it, rolling yourself up. Sleep comes faster than you thought it would, and you sink into it, willing this day to melt away.

Your uncle summons you in the morning and you begrudgingly dress yourself presentably, decorating your updo with flowers. You don't feel like impressing anybody today, and so your gown is dark blue.

Taking your time wandering the hallways, you stop at the window, peering down at the shipyard. Your uncle's Royal Starfighter is being polished. There is one ship you don't recognize at the end. Maybe pre-Empire, but you aren't well-versed in machinery. Your uncle is fond of collecting, so you assume this ship is his newest venture.

The throne room is unusually empty today. Your uncle likes an audience, but right now he's flanked by one advisor and someone you've never seen before. A Mandalorian based on the T-shaped visor in his helmet and Beskar armor. Perhaps your uncle has dealings with a Mandalorian clan.

Sinking into a deep curtsy, you bow your head. One, two, three. He looks pleased when you rise. "Princess. I requested your presence at the beginning of the hour."

"Apologies, Your Majesty." You fix your eyes on the floor.

"You are forgiven." He waves his hand when you look back up. "We've received word that your attacker yesterday was working under an Imperial warlord. Perhaps the same who went after your brother last year."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod modestly. "Oh."

"The New Republic is helping us apprehend him. In the meantime, they've sent security." He nods at the Mandalorian.

"For you, Your Majesty?"

"For you."

Usually, you are the picture of decorum, but you can't help it; you frown. "Uncle, I am not in need of security."

"The Mandalorian will act as protection for you until we track down the assassin's Imperial employer." Your uncle's tone is final. You fold your lips together, looking at the Mandalorian. He hasn't said a word, or even moved.

"Fine." Your days of being insistantly unaccompanied are over. To him. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

The Mandalorian trails wordlessly behind you as you leave the throne room. The second the doors shut, you turn to him, bringing yourself to your full height. "What did they tell you to do?"

"Protect you, Princess." His voice is low, huskier than you would have thought. Maybe it's the helmet. "I'm to stay with you at all times."

"I don't need a bodyguard."

"That isn't up to you to decide." Even without the mask, you imagine him solemn. Staying solemn means staying alive.

You fold your arms. "You can tell them you've been protecting me. I never leave the palace. Nobody will know the difference."

"I was hired to protect you."

"Not many people want to work for my uncle."

"Not by the king. By the New Republic."

"It doesn't matter. You'll still get paid and you don't have to follow me around." You wish you could meet his eyes, but you settle for where you think they are. "Neither of us want to do this."

"I'm not interested in a way out. If you want me gone, your best bet is that they apprehend the warlord." The Mandalorian is unmoving. You resist the urge to huff.

"I assure you I'm very safe here. You must have better things to do. Better jobs."

His stance shifts, shoulders rolling back. "Why are there scratches on your face?"

You're quiet for a moment. "I jumped into a rose bush."

"I see."

Scrambling to defend yourself, you say, "It was when I was being attacked!"

The Mandalorian says nothing.

A dozen half-formed sentences pop into your head and you open your mouth to attempt to utter one, then shut it. Silently, you start walking again. He follows you.

The next day is a dance. You skirt around him and he stays close. It is strange how perceived you feel by someone whose face you can't see. At first you try drawing everything out, hoping he'll get bored, but he doesn't say a word. You've never met someone so stoic before.

You wander through the gardens, ducking to trace the petals of every flower, picking up stones and weighing them in your hand. You wonder if he thinks you're going to try and throw one at him. There's a remarkable blaster on his hip, and you know his armor is equipped with other features. If he's a bounty hunter, he's faced worse than a sheltered princess.

He insitituted a curfew you don't know about until sundown, when you're still in the gardens. Brusquely, he tells you it's time to head inside and you begrudgingly obey.

"I'll be taking dinner in my room tonight," you inform him.

"I'll be here," he responds, stopping at your door, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Your not-so-subtle attempt to get rid of him was for naught.

You mill around your quarters until you hear a knock on the door. He's probably checking to see if the food's poisoned, you think as you head over.

There's a noise outside, some kind of whimpering. Stopping in your tracks, you tilt your head. Is the Mandalorian hurt?

Now you can hear his voice. "No, that's not for you. Get back inside."

Curious, you open the door. A little green creature with pointy ears in a beige-ish covering is sipping at the bowl of soup on your tray. The Mandalorian is crouching beside it, trying to pull it away without tipping the bowl over. "No, Grogu. This is for the princess-"

"What is that?" You lean against the doorway as they both look up. The creature has enormous dark eyes. It's nearly burrowed in its clothes.

"My ward. He was supposed to stay in the room." The Mandalorian looks down at the creature and you think that under the helmet he's giving him a pointed look.

"What is he?"

"I don't know. Sorry about your soup."

"It's alright." Kneeling, your skirts pool around you. The creature has freed himself from the Mandalorian's hold. He's looking up at you with wide eyes. You don't think you've seen anything this adorable in your life. Addressing him, you ask, "Your name is Grogu?"

At the sound of his name, Grogu blinks. "La?"

"You can have the soup. I don't mind."

He hums, waddling back to the bowl and tilting it toward his mouth. You can feel the Mandalorian watching you, but you keep your eyes on Grogu. "You're hungry, huh? Poor thing. He doesn't feed you?"

"I feed him."

"I wouldn't have known." Grogu has finished the soup, and now he's reaching for a slice of your fruit. You hand one to him, taking one for yourself. It almost feels like a picnic.

Not to leave your protector out, you offer him a slice. "Muja?"

No response.

You shrug, giving the Mandalorian's slice to Grogu, who gobbles it happily.

"I didn't know a Mandalorian could have a ward." You watch Grogu help himself to the pastry on your tray. "Where did he come from?"

Silence. You try again. "How long has he been with you?"

Nothing.

You turn your attention to Grogu, letting him crawl to sit in your lap while he finishes off the pastry. "I bet he's taken you on lots of adventures, huh? My older brother used to do the same thing with me. We'd take a speeder and he'd show me all kinds of places. I don't know how he knew about them. It was like magic." You smile when Grogu closes his hand around one of your fingers, playing with the ring there. "When he got older, he had to focus on becoming king, so I would go by myself. It wasn't as fun without him."

Grogu blinks up at you and you can't help your smile. Looking back at the Mandalorian, you ask, "Where are your quarters?"

He tilts his head to the door on the other side of the hall. You never knew what was behind it. "Why so close?"

The Mandalorian just looks at you. Really?

"Fine." Grogu hops off your lap, scurrying back to his guardian. You watch him pick the little creature up, gentler than you thought he'd be capable of.

"Sorry about your dinner." You don't know if you'll ever get used to his voice. It rubs you in a way you aren't able to discern yet.

"Don't be. I wouldn't have finished it anyways." You tidy the tray and leave it beside the door before standing. He gets to his feet too, and Grogu crawls up to sit on his shoulder. You smile. "Bring him along tomorrow. I can't imagine he likes being stuck in your room all day."

"Sure." He's looking at you. It feels different than before.

You shift towards your door, pausing when you have a thought. Turning around, you fix your eyes on him again. "The king never mentioned your name."

This part of the palace is always quiet, but there's something different about this. "I never told him my name."

"Will you tell me?"

He folds his hands in front of himself. "It's of no importance."

"It is." You tilt your head. "How am I supposed to call for you if I'm being attacked?"

He exhales. "Mando."

"That's your name?"

"No. That's what everyone calls me."

"That'll do." You smile, smoothing your skirts. "Goodnight then, Mando. Goodnight Grogu."

He doesn't move. When you're about to shut the door, you hear, "Goodnight, Princess."

You don't mind Mando's presence so much now that Grogu has shown himself. He's like the little sibling you never had. It's much more fun to take your daily walks now that you have a willing companion. You ask the kitchens to increase the quantity of food they bring you so that he gets enough. Mando refuses to eat with you.

Learning about Grogu softened Mando in your eyes. You notice the way he watches you both, that air of protectiveness in his stance. The more time you spend with him, the easier it becomes to read him, even though he is faceless. It's his shoulders you watch, his hands. His feet are a constant, always in a defensive stance. You've wondered how long he's been a bounty hunter, how many years he's spent looking over his shoulder constantly. To do it with a child must be ten times as hard.

"How did you come to work for the New Republic?" you ask one day in the library. Grogu is next to you on the table, looking at a richly illustrated fairy-tale book that you remember enjoying in your youth. The Mandalorian is sitting across from you. There is an entire puzzle to him that he won't give you the pieces to, save for a few curt words.

"Long story."

"I finished my book." You slide it over to him. It is an Empire-era romance about a Resistance medic and a TIE fighter pilot.

He stares at the cover, rather racy for the royal library. "It's not anything like this."

"I'm sure I can keep up," you respond prettily, batting your eyelashes.

He rests his elbow on the table. "It's a legal line of work. Better for the kid."

"That's not a very long story."

"I left out a lot."

"You won't tell me anything about yourself," you complain, slumping in your seat in a very un-princesslike fashion.

He leans in. "I don't know anything about you either. Call it a fair trade."

"You've seen my entire daily routine for a week and a half."

"I've observed. You haven't told me anything."

"Oh?" You're caught up in your curiosity for a moment. "What have you observed?"

His head tilts down, like he's leaning in. "You're good with the kid."

"Is that all?"

You think he might be raising an eyebrow right now. "You don't eat much."

"That's subjective."

"You're a liability."

"Obviously."

"You don't sleep either."

He's not wrong about that one. "Wait, hold on." You sit up straight. "I was asking about you."

He leans back in his seat. Squinting at him, you ask, "How long have you been a Mandalorian?" When he hesitates, you give him a pleading look, wide eyes, lips turned down. "If we're going to be together all the time we might as well get to know each other."

For a moment, you don't think he'll answer. Then, gruffly, "They took me in when I was a child."

"Wow." You imagine being that young, taking a vow for life. Folding your arms on the table, you smile at him. "You can ask me something if you want. Since you answered me."

He takes his time thinking of something, enough to make you feel foolish for offering. "You're a princess."

"Is that your question?"

Mando ignores you. "All the royalty I've seen before are surrounded by people. Servants, friends."

"You want to know why you're the only one here?" He nods, waiting.

"I don't have friends. Used to, but girls are usually married off at my age. Everyone I played with as a child is gone now." You scrunch your brow. "Even if they weren't, I wouldn't keep them around. People close to me get hurt." The last part is said quietly. You bunch your lips to one side. "That's why I was so harsh when we first met."

Your words sink into the silence. Grogu flips another page, and you watch him.

"I understand." He's looking at you, maybe into your eyes. "Being around me isn't safe either."

"I guess we cancel each other out."

"Hm."

"Are you laughing at me?" You lift your eyebrows in surprise, smiling slowly.

"Maybe." Never a straight answer with him. You want to make him laugh again.

Grogu shuts his book, and you both turn to him. "Do you want a snack?"

He babbles, reaching for you when you stand. The Mandalorian gets to his feet too, and you choose to walk beside him instead of in front this time.

That night, you entrust Mando with a package of cookies before retiring. "For him. But also for you. You should eat more often."

He takes them, fingers brushing yours. His shoulders are tense, not defensive. You turn away before you notice anything else, retreating to your outdoor nest of blankets. It's a quieter night than usual. You burrow into the hard ground, trying to find sleep.

I understand. The second hint of vulnerability you've seen from him. The first was with Grogu.

His fingers brushing yours. You feel restless. Throwing away your top blanket, you get to your feet, pacing. Maybe a little movement will aid you. Your activities today were less involved. You need to make sure to lengthen your garden walks.

Pausing, you lean on the stone railing, pushing your weight into your hands. There's an excellent view of the lights in the city from here. It's been so long since you've been there. Not since your brother.

Shaking your head, you bring your fingers to your temples, rubbing gently. Everything's fine. It just feels like something's shifted. Why are you thinking about the city again? Why are you imagining Mando's hand in yours? Covering your face, you release the scream that had been building in your throat. It was quieter than you thought it'd be.

The door to your bedroom bursts open, and you scream again, jumping back against the railing. "Hands up!"

You raise them, eyes wide, fingers shaking. The Mandalorian comes slowly into view, blaster aimed right at you.

"What did you see?" he barks, lowering his blaster, but not sheathing it.

"N-nothing. Nobody." You're stammering. Lowering your hands, you move to fold your arms over your chest. The sleepwear you chose is light and sheer because of the heat, but not particularly modest.

"Why were you screaming?"

"I was frustrated. It was just a moment." Your eyes are still on his blaster. "Do you sleep in your armor?"

He gives no response, surveying the balcony and pausing at your makeshift bed. "Is this where you're sleeping?"

You feel oddly defensive of your corner. "Yes."

"How long?"

"Since I was attacked."

"Absolutely not. You need to be inside with the doors locked. All of them." He sheaths his blaster and gathers your blankets up in his arms, pushing past you to get into your bedroom.

"Hold on a second." You follow him, tugging at his arm, frustrated when he doesn't budge. "You can't just move my bed."

"I'm supposed to be protecting you and you're making it harder on purpose." He tosses the blankets on your sofa. "You don't want to use your bed, fine. But you're not going to sleep somewhere so vulnerable while I'm here."

"I can't sleep in this room," you manage, panic rising in your chest at the thought of being locked in here all alone. Your nails dig into your palms. Since you started sleeping outside, your nightmares have lessened, and you've even slept through the night. You think of before, when you'd wake with sweat clinging to your neck, seeing shadows in the dark quiet. "Please. I need to be outside. I don't want to be alone."

He stares at you. "I'll stay in here with you."

Your night terrors. "No."

"It's either that or sleeping with the doors locked."

There's no way to fight him. He's giving you a choice but either way you lose. You send a silent plea to a higher power for the night terrors to end. "Fine. You and Grogu can sleep here."

"I'll go get him." He locks the balcony doors before he disappears.

You clutch your mug of caf, blinking sleepily at your breakfast, which you've hardly touched. Grogu is burbling over his meaty sandwich. You're happy someone's happy.

Mando pushes your plate toward you. "Eat."

Leaning your cheek on your palm, you take a bite of toast. This isn't what you want.

"The fruit. It'll taste better." He doesn't have to tell you twice. You abandon the toast and take a bite of Muja. "Did you sleep last night?"

"A little." No nightmares because you weren't asleep long enough to have any. "Did you? I can't imagine the sofa was very comfortable."

"I've had worse."

"I'm sure." You didn't change for breakfast in your room, pulling a dressing gown over your sleepwear. Your hair is loose. You don't feel like yourself. Not the princess you're supposed to be.

You don't feel like teasing him today for being overbearing. When you finish your fruit, you abscond to your closet to change. Even the task of selecting a dress is overwhelming. You take the first one you see, lavender with blue beading.

An updo would require you to hold your elbows up, and you don't have any desire to do that right now. Leaving your hair as it is, you emerge to find Mando with his back turned. His cape is tattered at the bottom. You never noticed that before.

You choose not to announce your modesty, instead making for the door. He'll follow you. He always does.

Today you need to be outside more than you need to breathe. You haven't been back to your secret spot since the incident, but today you feel a yearning for it. The pink blossoms on the tree are blooming, petals drifting down into the fish pond.

You sit under the tree, your spot nestled in the roots. Without your usual jewelry you feel light. The only thing you have is your silver ring, but you never take it off.

Twisting it around your index finger, you watch Grogu watch the fish, too tired to smile.

Mando is sitting beside you, his shadow tilting into yours. You stifle a yawn. It feels so nice out here.

Before you know it you are leaning back into the trunk, eyes drifting shut. The birds are singing you to sleep, encouraging you to dream. You should have brought your fan. Maybe Mando will carry one for you if you ask.

When you open your eyes, there's a pillow under your head. You're holding something that in your sleepy mind you don't want to let go of.

It tenses and you blink. Fingers. Familiar ones. You jolt up, releasing Mando's hand. He watches you fluster, trying to form sentences. "Did I-?"

"It's okay." It sounds okay, and he looks okay, but you are mortified. Grogu is laying on Mando's other side, his hand protective at his back.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." Your hands slide from your cheeks into your hair, pulling a little.

Mando produces a flower, twisting the stem between his fingers. You watch him. He holds it out to you.

"Hm?"

"It fell out of the tree."

You soften, taking it, tucking it behind your ear. "Thank you." He nods.

It's still warm, and you're sleepy. Without thinking, you tilt your head into Mando's shoulder. He is perfectly still, solid. Your hair spills onto his Beskar.

You mumble, "You love him."

His helmet tilts down, at Grogu. "He's my responsibility. My foundling."

"He is, but you love him." You wiggle your finger at the little creature. "Is attachment forbidden as a Mandalorian?"

"No." Mando is looking down at Grogu. "Many Mandalorians have children. And spouses."

"Oh." You lift your head. He looks at you. Scrunching your brow, you try to picture him married, erasing the image as soon as you conjure it. "Do you…have anyone?"

"No." It's a stupid question. If he did, he wouldn't be here, letting you sleep in his lap behind the walls of a palace on a planet foreign to him.

You frown in thought. "So Grogu…?"

"You thought he was my son by blood?"

"Well, no. I just…you never know." You shrug, heat rushing to your cheeks.

He always chooses his words carefully so he doesn't have to use them often. You think he's going to tell you some shortened story with no details.

"Grogu was a bounty," he finally says, and his ward looks up at the sound of his name with a Mm? "I delivered him and accepted the payment, but I couldn't leave him."

"It was because he's so adorable, right?" You reach over Mando's knees to pinch one of Grogu's ears lightly.

Mando's voice is quiet. "He was vulnerable. He needed help."

He keeps reshaping everything you thought of him, and you don't mind it, almost eager to know what will change next. Going against the grain of a bounty hunter's code because he saw someone who needed him is precious. Not many people in the galaxy would question themselves that way, let alone someone as firm in their rules as him.

You touch the stem of the flower behind your ear. "I think that's admirable."

Mando busies himself adjusting one of his gloves. His shoulders are slumped and you think he's bashful, which delights you. "That's kind."

You lean against the tree trunk again, deciding to give him a way out. "If we're still playing our game, I think you can ask me a question now. Maybe even two."

He adjusts one leg, bending the knee. "Why were you sleeping outside?"

"I already answered that last night." You pluck a blade of grass, spinning it between your fingers.

"You only said you didn't want to sleep alone."

"I can hear the sounds of the palace on the balcony. Droids, servants, speeders. It's not so lonely out there." You hug your knees to your chest, thumbing the beading on your skirt. "Next question?"

"I don't have one."

"Just because I can't see your face, doesn't mean I don't know when you're lying."

"It's sensitive."

"Go on." You mean it when you say, "I don't mind." Mando isn't going to spill your innermost thoughts to the palace staff. His chosen silence makes you want to talk to him about everything.

He gives it a moment. "You speak of brother often, but I've never seen him. Does he live somewhere else?"

The corner of your mouth tilts up, but you know your eyes are dead. "He was killed last year by an Imperial assassin."

Even though you didn't have a nightmare last night, it still replayed in your head, insomnia feeding fear. You feel shaky every time you let it come back in full.

Grogu has wandered over to your side, his little arms reaching. You pick him up, letting him settle in your lap and lower your hand to the mossy ground, realizing it's shaking. Your fingers start to curl inward, nails making for their usual indents.

Mando's palm covers your knuckles. You look up at him, surprised. Gradually, your fingers still, and you breathe with him into the silence of the garden.

"I'm sorry." You know he is looking at you, even though your eyes are on Grogu, the little creature distracting you from the turmoil he can't see.

You twist your hand, hoping he isn't skittish. Your palms touch.

You still can't sleep.

It's getting exhausting. Having Mando and Grogu nearby soothes one fear, but it has awakened something else. You've been lying staring at the dark ceiling for two nights in a row now. He asked you yesterday if you were sleeping better, and you lied.

For someone so stoic, Mando has a softness to him. You think his armor masks it. Everyone assumes faceless means void of something, but you know the helmet hides an ocean.

The flower he gave you is drying on your nightstand. You watch the shadow of it even when the lights are off.

One night when your eyes start to grow heavy, you get excited, letting sleepiness drift in. Forgetting why you don't want to sleep, you slip into a dream.

It starts the same as always. You're standing beside your brother in your gown and then everything glitches and he's on the ground and there's blood dripping from your hands. This time though, it shifts. Now Mando is still and sprawled out with red staining his Beskar.

You wake with a start, clutching your heart. Sitting up, you try to regain control of your breathing. It's warm in here.

Swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you make for the balcony, flipping the lock. When fresh air fills your lungs, you expect the panic to fade, not increase.

Collapsing to your knees, your fingers curl around a spindle. This dream felt vivid, more so than it usually is. Before it was a memory, but this time it's a dark fear from the shadowy corners of your mind.

The ground is a sinkhole. You claw at the spindle, tears burning in your eyes. Curling into yourself, you plead it all to stop, but every thought is crushing. Shutting your eyes, you try to take a deep breath but it comes out in sharp bursts.

"Princess?"

You startle, jolting toward the door. Mando does sleep in his armor. He's always up before you, so you haven't been sure. It's shiny in the moonlight.

Trying to muster up an excuse, your jaw trembles, and he crouches at your side, voice soft. "You need to breathe."

"T-trying."

"No, with me." Mando hesitates before setting his hand on your knee. Your heart slows. "In…hold…out."

He repeats it and you follow him, trying to stay lucid. You shudder, fingers flying to his. He's the only rock you have in this storm.

"You're tired," he states gently. "You need to go to sleep."

"Can't." You shake your head violently. "Bad dreams."

"What do you need?"

"I don't know."

You shut your eyes and clench your nails into your fist. Mando takes that hand, unfurling the fingers. "That's not going to help."

It fills your eyes with tears. Maybe you're tired or maybe you never realized how good it would feel for someone to care that you were getting hurt. Mando rubs your hand with his thumb. "Let's go inside."

"No." You don't want to be trapped.

"I'm with you. We're going inside and it's going to be fine." Mando helps you slowly stand, and you clutch his arm. "Keep breathing like I taught you."

You manage to focus in as he guides you back into your room. Grogu is sleeping on the cot you insisted be brought in for Mando to replace the sofa. You offered a bed, but he refused.

"I'm sorry," you whisper as he sits you on your mattress, pulling your covers back.

"Don't be." He doesn't leave after you're tucked in, staying sitting on the other side.

"You didn't sign up for this."

"I did."

"No, I mean the panic attacks and the nightmares." You let your head fall miserably onto the pillow.

His eyes are on you, it is obvious even through the layers of dark and mask. "Not when I agreed to do this job for the New Republic." You are still holding one of his hands, and his fingers twitch in your grasp. "But I did after I met you."

You melt into your pillow. Mando's shoulders are tense like when Grogu wanders too far into the garden grove. He lets you hang onto his hand. You tap each one of his fingers. "You like to collect lost things."

"Lost things?"

"Grogu. Me." You yawn. "You…your job used to be finding people nobody else could. You still do it, even when it's not for credits."

His shoulders are relaxed now. You close your eyes and slip into a dreamless sleep

"You'll need different shoes." Mando nods at your dainty slippers.

You frown. "Why? It's just the gardens."

"We're going somewhere different today." He offers no further details, only turning to lift Grogu into his satchel once you've put on a pair of boots.

Your dress is fairly simple today, a light blue with no sleeves and lace at the neckline. You left your hair down but tucked flowers into it. Mando stares at you until Grogu tugs on his wrist.

When Mando takes you to a landspeeder outside, you hesitate. "Where are you taking me?"

"You'll like it. C'mon." He extends a hand and you believe him too much not to take it.

You settle in next to him, fidgeting with your fingers. It's been so long since you've left the palace. Even though before the death of your brother you did it a million times, it feels so unfamiliar now.

As soon as Mando starts the engine, it starts to come back. You gasp and grab his elbow when he speeds up, leaving fingerprints on his Beskar. Grogu's hands are in the air, and he's giggling contagiously.

"Relax," he says easily. "We're safe."

We're safe. Your fingers loosen, but you still don't want to let go.

When you arrive at the bustling village miles from the palace, your eyes widen and you turn to Mando. "What-?"

"You said your brother used to bring you here." He steps down from the speeder and removes his gloves, flexing his fingers. Your lips part and you just barely hear the rest of what he says. "It's time you came back. Make some new memories."

"With you?"

He replaces his gloves. "I can stay far behind within reason."

"No." You sit up, shaking your head a bit.

"Okay." He adjusts his satchel and Grogu squirms. Mando addresses him. "Stay in here. I don't want you wandering."

You smooth the skirt of your dress, suddenly self-conscious. "Usually I dress down."

"You'll be fine. I've passed through here before." He nods at the market. "Lots of nobility here. Nobody's seen your face for a long time, and you're with me. You're safe."

He offers a hand, and you take it, climbing out of the speeder. You stumble and his arm shoots out, wrapping around your waist. Your fingers hook on his armor, breath nearly knocked out of you.

"Are you okay?" He rights you, and you hesitate before stepping back.

Grogu is pointing at a vendor selling denta bean buns. You nod, patting the hidden pocket of your dress for your purse of credits. "I'm fine. Let's get something to eat."

You purchase a bun for Grogu and a fruit juice for yourself. Mando politely declines your offer to get him something for later.

Wandering through the streets, you keep your eyes down, paranoid everybody recognizes you, that someone will tack you down as the sister of the prince who was killed.

Mando stops behind you when you pause bravely to examine a stall of flowers. You don't know your jaw is clenched until he whispers, "Relax."

Gradually, you learn to loosen up, able to bring yourself to make eye contact with the people of the town. Mando becomes a walking shopping bag, depositing your purchased trinkets into his satchel. When you reach your tenth flower stall, however, it becomes apparent he doesn't have enough space.

"These are so pretty!" You give the vendor a few credits for your bouquet.

"For your room?" Mando asks beside you. He migrated there when you became cautious around a shady-looking man and hadn't left.

"Flowers brighten up a space. I want it to be nice for us." You kick your foot up behind you, excited. "I'm tired of living in a cave."

"Let me." He tucks the bouquet between his satchel and his hip, the neck of it hooked on the strap. It's such a contrast that you want a painting of it; your flowers and a baby against the background of armor and a blaster.

At nearly nightfall, you spot a tavern bursting with light and music. Grabbing Mando's elbow, you tug him in that direction.

"No," he tries to protest, but you force your lips to turn down, eyes to widen. Exhaling, he says, "Stay close. No wandering."

You order drinks, hoping he'll partake. He lets Grogu sit at the table to drink his soup. When you suck at the bottom of your glass, Mando orders an entree, pushing it in front of you. "Eat."

Swaying in your seat, you giggle. "Even though I've never seen your face I know what it looks like."

"You do?"

"I know you're going like this." You twist your face into an annoyed expression. "Cause I'm tipsy."

"Eat this and you won't be." Mando is sitting up straight. "Why'd you order two drinks?"

"Want you to have some."

"One of us has to drive home sober." He sounds pleased when you finally take a bite of food. "The king wouldn't like it if I wrecked his speeder or hurt you doing it."

A drunk man tilts into you over your chair, slurring something. He smells sour. You frown, trying to nudge him off.

Mando is on his feet in seconds, shoving the man off you. He shouts something at your protector that gets drowned out in the noise of the tavern.

You giggle. "I don't think he likes you very much."

"A lot of people don't like me." He sits, still facing the direction the man stumbled off in.

"I like you." Feeling warm and sentimental, you feel the sudden urge to sit on his lap and curl yourself around him. He has such nice thighs.

In your impulsive quest to do so, you fall out of your chair. These drinks are stronger than you remember. Or maybe your tolerance has decreased in the last year. Mando lifts you back up. "I think that's enough for tonight."

Pouting, you say, "But we haven't even been here that long."

"You're tired." You are. "And drunk." Debatable. "Besides, we shouldn't be out too late."

"I don't want to go back." You pout at him.

"The tavern is closing. We have to go somewhere." Mando has an arm around your waist as he puts Grogu back in his satchel.

You let him guide you out, conscious of the fact that you are not walking in a straight line. Eventually you give up, whining and slumping into him. "I don't want to walk anymore."

"You're fine." He scoops you up anyway, and you mind your arms so they don't hit Grogu. You tilt your head into his shoulder, shutting your eyes until he puts you in the speeder. Sleepy, you cling to his arm all the way back.

The walk upstairs is a blur, and before you know it you are being tucked into bed and he is leaning over you, smoothing hair from your forehead. You sleepily say, "I wish I knew your name."

"Why?" His finger lingers at your temple.

"Oh." You shrug clumsily, eyes heavy. "Just want to know you. Will you ever tell me?"

He tugs the blanket up to your shoulders. "Someday, maybe."

It's good enough for now. Before you drift off, you murmur, "Stay." In the morning he is sitting upright against your headboard, helmet tilted down, breathing even. Your hand is clasped in his.

You've been in a good mood as of late. Your uncle even commented when he summoned you to observe the arrangement with Mando, "You're wearing pink."

There's no easy answer to the question of what makes you want to wear brighter colors and smile, to why your skin grows hot whenever Mando is watching you, which unfortunately for you is always.

He plucks flowers to give to you, lingers nearly at your side when you walk. You've become rather familiar with his elbow because you squeeze it when something startles you or when you see something exciting like a pretty bug.

The nightmares have whittled down to nothing, but they are replaced with dreams of an equally heart pounding nature. A dark room, your hands in someone's hair and you can't see their face. A familiar, husky, low voice.

You wake breathless the first time it happens. He grasps your hand in seconds, asking what is wrong. You feign another bad dream, craving his touch, the gentle tension in his shoulders when he cares about you.

Slowly, you draw more details out of him about his past. "I don't remember much of my parents." His head is leaned against the trunk of your tree. "They were hardworking people devastated by the war. The Mandalorians found me, raised me under the creed."

"And you've kept at it." Your head is on his shoulder, heat making you lazy.

"I always thought that someday I'd be able to repay what they did for me." He gestures at Grogu, who is stacking rocks by the pond. "I think it's why I was drawn to him."

"You have a special bond. It's sweet." You close your eyes, twisting the stem of the flower he gave you. "You're sweeter than you think."

He goes still at that, wordless. It makes you smile.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're soft under here." You reach up to pat his armor. "Not enough people take the time to look."

"You're not so stoic yourself."

You tilt your head. "Hm?"

He shifts. His shoulders are relaxed. "You think everyone believes you're a statue. You're not."

"No?" You soften.

"No. Not even close."

As you lean on his shoulder, you mumble, "You're the only one I could ever fall asleep around."

His silence speaks volumes. You smile to yourself, smudging his armor with your cheek as you nuzzle into him.

A few days later, you're sitting by the fireplace in your room, skirt pulled over your knees and feet. It's a chilly night and you requested the fire in hopes that it would warm your room.

He appears beside you, mug in hand. "Here."

"What is it?"

"Tea." Mando wraps a blanket around your shoulders. "Sometimes I don't know if you're torturing yourself or me."

You giggle, clasping the blanket around yourself. "I was lost in thought."

"Next time get lost in thought when you aren't shivering." He sits beside you, taking your free hand and clasping it between his. "Stay still."

"You want to hold my hand," you accuse, flexing your fingers over his palm.

"I want you to stay warm."

You sniffle, taking a sip of tea. "It was so nice the other day."

"There's a storm coming. My radars picked it up." Mando rubs your hand between his. Grogu is bundled up on the cot nearby, dreaming softly.

"Are we gonna be okay?" The question is childish, but you can't help asking. Thunder rumbles outside your window.

"We are." He doesn't hesitate and it's one of your favorite things about him.

You've never struggled to believe him, not from the moment you met. His sincerity is a gift in a world where people tiptoe around you. Maybe that's why you can sleep around him. He is honest and that makes him safe.

When you startle at the next crack of thunder, he opens his arm and you dive into him, sheltered under his shoulder.

He grunts. "Is that comfortable?"

"Uh huh." You're smushed into his armor. "Are you scared too?"

"I'm fine."

"Does anybody ever get to protect you?"

He guides you up into a softer part of him. "I protect myself. I'm pretty good at it."

"Grogu protects you too," you mumble, watching the fire crackle.

"He does, in a lot of ways." Mando adjusts your blanket. "More than I know."

You want to hold his hand again, and so you wrap your fingers around his palm. "I can protect you too. I want to."

Maybe he's smiling now. It would be nice if he was smiling so you choose to believe he is. He sounds like he is when he says, "I don't doubt it, tranyc."

You sit up, tilting your head. "What was that?"

"What was what?" When you try to sound out the word, he dips his chin. "Don't worry about it."

"What language is that? You speak a lot of languages, don't you?"

"A few."

"Was it Huttese?"

He exhales. "You'd know if it was Huttese."

"So what was it?"

Mando hesitates, like he's trying to decide if telling you is worth the inevitable questions that will follow. You've experienced that silence a few times. Finally, he relents. "Mando'a."

"Oh," you say softly. "Was it a good thing you said?"

"I think it is." His fingers twitch over yours.

You sink into a smile. "I trust you." It's the way he said it. More than fond. Fond is when he's telling Grogu it's time for bed. This is something different.

The silence speaks volumes. He lifts his palm so slowly that you aren't sure if it's really happening. When his glove cradles your cheek, you lean into it, something igniting in your heart. There are a million things you want to tell him and you're not quite sure what they are yet.

"Tranyc," he repeats, and you close your eyes, savoring it.

The fish are hiding today. You tear your eyes from the pond and look up at the sky, watching the grey clouds. It's the first time in weeks you've had a moment to yourself. Mando made you promise to go back inside if it began to rain.

He received summons from the king under an hour ago and left you, tucking Grogu into his satchel. Though he was wary to leave you alone, you assured him you would be fine. Palace guards were around, scattered about the walls. Mando didn't trust them, you knew, but he had no choice but to leave.

The sound of his voice when he assured you he would be back as soon as possible lingers in your ears. You lean back on your hands, sighing for no other reason than the fact you could. Slipping into a daydream, you imagine Mando's big arm around your waist, cheeks flushing when you remember yourself.

He's your security. A temporary fix. As soon as they figure out who is trying to attack you, he'll be off to the next job. He's been kind, even personal, but you were bound to grow close with all the time you spend together.

Still, you can't help yourself. He hasn't just protected your physical being, he's cared for your heart. Mando doesn't have to keep your hands warm or take you to the market or listen to you talk about your brother. He's not one to do a half-baked job, but this feels different. You don't dare to hope.

Maybe it's for the best that his position is temporary. If he gets too close, he might get hurt. The assassin might come after him. You shiver remembering the image of his Beskar stained with his own blood.

If this is a little crush on your part, so be it. But you can't let it go further. Even though he's been here for months only, you can't imagine a time without him. You can't be responsible for him, the only sure, true thing you know, being erased from the world.

A drop of rain like a tear hit your cheek, and you touch it. Another drop on your ear. You stand, wondering if it's just dew from the tree. Something plunks into the lake, sending circles drifting out from the spot. Remembering what Mando said, you turn to head inside.

The rain picks up, soaking through your bodice and sticking your skirt to your thighs. You're glad you chose blue today or else your clothes would be see-through. The ground is muddy so you swiftly remove your shoes, laughing at the feeling. Your heels are sticky with mud and your hair is clinging to your cheeks. You wish Mando could see you like this because you feel happy.

Everything moves in slow motion in the rain, so much so that you don't know if the man who knocks you to the ground is real. Maybe you tripped over a root. Maybe the rag he's holding over your mouth is a leaf slick with rain fallen from the tree above. The pain in your wrist is real, though. Maybe Mando will take you to the infirmary once you crawl inside.

You try to turn over, roll in what you think is the direction of the palace, but something kicks your side. Crying out, you curl up, the edges of your vision blurring. There is a flower nearby in full bloom and you think if it fell, Mando would give it to you, another souvenir for your bedside table. Nobody is coming for you, no clinking of the armor of the palace guards. You realize you've never known a time when there was nobody who cared if you screamed.

When you wake up, everything hurts. You're on your side, knees bent up into you like the spiral of a shell. Muffled voices. This is not your bed. Something thin is clasped in your hand. Opening your eyes, you observe the pink blurry petals. The stem is mangled. You don't remember pulling it out of the ground, but maybe in your lucid state it was a lifeline as they were taking you away.

Someone wants you dead. The realization sets in, the one you've been trying so hard to avoid. This is what Mando has been trying so hard to keep you from. To these people, you're worth just as much a corpse as you are breathing, maybe even more.

Clutching your flower close, you dip your chin to your collarbone, trying not to cry. If you're lucky, they'll make it quick. You just hope Mando won't blame himself for what happened to you. Uneasily, you manage to soothe yourself to sleep again, hoping they'll be kind and end it while you're unconscious.

That word he called you echoes in your dreams. Tranyc. Tranyc. Tranyc. You feel caught between waking and sleeping. Is this what death feels like? Floating somewhere with the ghosts of your good things? You can almost feel his hand in yours, hear Grogu babbling somewhere in the room.

"Tranyc." You shift. The ground is hard beneath you. Opening your eyes, you swear you see the outline of him, that familiar helmet you've practically memorized.

Your throat is dry. When you try to say something, he shushes you, soothing a hand up your arm. "It's okay. I'm gonna get you out of here."

Your arm hurts when you try to move it, wrist pained separately. Everything feels so woozy. Mando helps you sit up. Your skin feels hot and too tight. When you try to stand up, it's so uncomfortable that you whimper, shaking your head. You wore your hair down the day it rained and now you're certain it looks witchy, unkempt.

"They must have given you something." He rights you, urging you to relax.

"Gave me something?" Your chest feels tight, and you start to panic. Shivering, you imagine them sticking poison into your veins and letting it slowly rot you from the inside out.

"Kryotin by the looks of it." He's holding your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your face gently from side to side, presumably in examination.

Your lower lip trembles, and a sob builds up in your throat. "Am…am I gonna die?"

His palm shifts to cup your cheek, and he shakes his head. "Not today."

"B-but the drug-"

"It's not potent. You're going to be fine. Lightheaded for awhile maybe, but fine." He tilts his chin forward. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

When you hesitate to answer, tongue thick in your mouth, he asks, "Do I look worried?"

You scrunch your eyebrows and stare at the T of his helmet. "I don't know."

He ignores you. "I'm not worried. When I'm worried, then you can be worried. We're going to get out of here and go home."

"Go home," you repeat, feeling floaty.

"That's right." He rubs your cheek with his thumb. "Do you think you can walk?"

You lean back on your hands, trying to figure out how to stand. After you struggle for a few minutes, he leans down, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up. "It's okay. Just keep your eyes closed. You shouldn't have to see any of this."

He lifts you up, one arm around your back, the other hooked under your knees, blaster in hand. You obey his command, relaxing in his arms. Mando is strong. You knew it before, but it's so apparent now as he carries you through whatever place this is. There are so many things you want to ask him, but for now you keep your mouth shut, letting him concentrate.

The drug weaves you in and out of consciousness. You think you hear a blaster sometimes, but it's hard to know. Sometimes he speaks to you, maybe comforting. One might think you wouldn't know the difference, but it's obvious.

When you wake up, your hand is under your pillow, and you're laying on your side. These are your silk sheets, your embroidered covers. Now you're almost certain everything was a dream. It had to be. You're so cozy. Everything feels hazy, sweet.

Opening your eyes, you stretch, staring at the wall. Then, in focus you see Mando slumped into a chair, Grogu is on his thigh, eyes shut. Sitting up, you hum, throat dry.

"You're awake." His voice jolts you like lightning.

"Mhm." Inching to sit up, you try to stretch, wincing. Your arm is abnormally sore.

"They were giving you drugs." His voice is soft. "The medi-droid confirmed it was kryotin." Leaning in a little, keeping his hand over Grogu, he asks, "What do you remember?"

Your head hurts, but you try to turn back time. "Was…was in the garden. Someone took me there."

He nods. "Don't hurt yourself. Just tell me what you can."

"I remember you saving me," you offer.

"Did you recognize anyone?"

"No. No, I can't remember anyone's face. Just you." You lay your palm on your forehead, trying to make it stop hurting.

"Relax. The medication will kick in soon." Mando sets Grogu down and gets up to help you lay back down. You close your eyes, knees curling upward. "You're going to be fine. I'm not leaving your side again." The last part was said with more conviction than you'd ever heard from him.

"Thank you," you breathe, fingers finding his wrist. "for saving me, Mando." Everything is hazy, and you feel tired.

He pauses. "Din."

"Mm?"

"My name is Din." You open your eyes at that, holding his wrist tighter.

A tiny smile creeps up your lips like vines over a trellis. "I can call you your name?"

"Yes." Maybe it's your imagination, but you swear he brushes your cheek as you fall asleep.

"I want to eat lunch on the terrace."

"No."

You pout, eyes widening. "Why?"

"Too dangerous."

"But you're out there with me! When I was kidnapped I was all alone."

Din's arms are folded. "I'm not interested in taking risks."

You lift your chin. "You can't ban me from outside."

"I'm not banning you forever. Just until we get more information." He reaches out, lifting your chin with his thumb. "No more garden walks, tranyc. We'll find something else to do until they catch the kidnapper."

Your shoulders slump, but you're still looking at him. "Okay."

You find solace in the library over the next few days. Sitting in a window seat, you gaze at the clouds, half-reading a book. He remains faithfully close.

His name changed everything. Your foolish heart is a temple of wanting now. He is more to you than a paragon of protection. You care about him so much that it aches in your fingertips. Din stays close when you walk the palace hallways, your hands brushing every so often, Grogu in front of you.

"The king wants to see you." An attendent stops you one day, sounding grave. "Right away."

Heart pounding in your throat, you take your time finding the throne room. Din makes no comment. When you stop in front of the doors, you swallow thickly, looking at him. "Could you tell him I'm not well?"

"I'll be right behind you, Princess." The title sounds so intimate when he says it. In your head, Din is now the only one allowed to call you that.

You curtsy shakily in front of your uncle, remembering the furrow of the attendent's eyebrows. "Your Majesty."

"I have good news." He looks pleased. "The prince of Onderon has requested your hand in marriage."

A rock sinks in your chest. Your eyes widen, and you step back, knees feeling weak. Din's hand is at your back in an instant. "Princess…"

"I thought…no…" You shake your head, brow furrowing. "I'm the only heir. I…I'm s'posed to take over eventually."

"As the heir, you serve your kingdom in the way I see fit." Your uncle's face is unchanging. "You are forging connections with other kingdoms, serving us. My decision is final."

"I didn't know this was something you were pursuing, Your Majesty." You try not to let the shakiness creep into your voice.

"Portraits were sent out weeks ago. This happened to be the first one who responded." His tone is even, like he's conducting business.

Your breath hitches. "I-"

"You're excused." The king sits back in his throne, daring you to say another word. You debate it, a million retorts at the tip of your tongue. Ultimately, decorum wins and you clench your jaw, turning away. Din is hot on your heels as you hurry out of the room, nearly wearing a hole into your slippers.

Halfway to your room you stop, biting the inside of your cheek. Din is at your side. Grogu went back to your room after you were summoned and you miss his little footsteps.

Your hands are shaking. You lift one to study, willing it to stop. Not now. Why not later when you're alone in your bath? Not in front of Din, who has never stopped watching you.

He says, "Princess."

"I'm fine." You swallow a tear or two. "Everything is fine. I'm doing my duty to my kingdom."

Din's voice is softer now as he repeats, "Princess."

Your lip trembles. Squeezing your eyes shut, you gasp sharply, tipping into him. His arm fastens around your waist. "I've got you. It's okay."

"I can't do it. I can't," you breathe, and his palm cups your crown, tilting you into his shoulder. You want to bury your face in his neck, but it's impossible with his armor.

"You don't have to, tranyc." His voice is rough. "Let me take you to your room."

Din's words don't quite sink in until you're sitting in your room, next to him on the sofa. His knees are slightly spread. He is relaxed, but alert. You took his hand as soon as you sat down.

Your knees are bunched up on the cushion. Din's thumb is running up and down your knuckles. You look at him. "I don't have to?"

"No." He continues his motion. Back and forth.

"The king has commanded it."

"I took an oath for you. Not the king or the kingdom. You are the one I protect."

Your heart is beating double time. "Din-"

"This is hurting you. I'm going to protect you from it." He is looking into your eyes; you know it. "No one is going to take you away from me again."

You soften, eyebrows furrowing. "From you?"

His hand freezes over yours, beginning to inch back as he looks away. You seize his fingers again. "Din, please. What did you mean by that?"

"I'm supposed to keep you safe."

"That's not it. Din-"

"Stop saying my name." He doesn't remove his hand, but his other grows stiff at his thigh. "Please, tranyc. Don't give it another thought."

"I feel the same way about you, Din." You ignore him, leaning up and into him, squeezing his hand. "Please."

He breathes in and out. You watch his shoulders, waiting for an answer. Grogu is sleeping softly in his cot, maybe dreaming. Din's shoulders slump and you lighten, hope in your heart.

"Protecting you. Watching you. Being close to you?" He finally looks at you again. "It would be impossible for there to be no…feelings."

You can't help it. You whisper his name again, reaching up to touch the side of his helmet. "You care about me."

"How could I not?" His other hand is at your side now, tugging you closer. You go willingly, one knee crossing his leg so you are sitting on his thigh. It is so thick, firm, that it makes you shiver.

You want to see his eyes. Hoping he knows you are trying, you whisper, "I care about you. More than I have about anyone."

"You don't deserve to be married off. Traded like you're for sale." Now his hands are creeping up your sides, making you shiver. "You need to be treasured. Safe."

"You keep me safe," you whisper, hands tensing on his chest. His breathing shifts. "You're the only one I want to be with."

"Tranyc," he breathes, and you melt.

"Will you tell me what it means?" you plead, reaching for him.

Din catches your wrists, planting your palms on his shoulders. "It means 'sunny'."

You tilt your head. "Sunny?"

"Someone like you could only be made of sunlight." Now his hand is at your cheek, and you lean into it, smiling dreamily.

You wind up laying on your bed side by side, facing each other. He's got his hand at your side, like he can't stand to let go of you ever again.

"What color are your eyes?" you murmur.

"Brown." You can hear devotion in his voice, and it gives you goosebumps.

"Do you always sleep in your armor?"

"Sometimes. Why?"

"Because I want to lay on you and it might be hard."

He huffs a laugh, sitting up. Before you can complain, he starts unknotting, unbuckling, removing. You watch, mesmerized as each particle of his shield comes off, and then he is more man to you than ever before. He is arms and legs and a chest and feet. Still covered, of course, but softened.

"I have to leave this on," he says, tapping the side of his helmet.

"It's okay. I want you to." You smile, leaning into him when he lays back and opens his arm. Now you snuggle into his side, more than content.

"You're tired, tranyc." He sounds amused.

"I can't sleep. I want to know everything about you," you murmur half into his chest. "Where do you live when you aren't working?"

"A cabin on Nevarro." Din smooths some of your hair away from your cheek. "Close your eyes."

"I wanna see it."

"You will, someday."

"Go to sleep," he soothes, rubbing your back. You love his hands. You think you could draw them.

Suddenly, you never want life to end. You are cocooned in a reality with Din and it is enchanting.

"Here." He tugs you into his arms under your willow tree, tucking a flower behind your ear.

You giggle, snuggling into him. "Can we stay out here forever?"

"That doesn't sound very safe."

"I'm safe here with you." Your fingers skate the edge of his armor.

"Not while you're distracting me." He surveys the perimeter as he runs his fingers through your hair. His gloves are shoved in his belt.

"I've heard you're good at your job." You kiss his shoulder. "You should be able to multitask."

"I am." He rubs your spine with his fingertips.

Everything feels brand new. Nothing has ever been this bright, not even when your brother was alive. You can't even focus on your books when he's beside you. Knowing he cares about you too has taken over every thought. Like a ball of yarn, everything connects back to him.

You spend half your time with your head in his lap, asking him whatever you want. He answers sometimes vaguely, sometimes in specifics. You love it all the same.

"I think we can run away," you say dreamily one night in the library.

He looks up from watching Grogu turn pages. "Oh?"

"I figured it out." You sit up, crossing your ankles and depositing them on his thighs. "Your ship is here."

"It is."

"We sneak out, avoid the palace guards, get on your ship and fly away." You smile proudly. "There's details to work out, of course."

"Of course."

"But I think other than that it's pretty flawless." You lift your chin, waiting for him to respond.

"Is there a reason you want to break out of the palace?"

"You said we could see your cabin." You stick your lower lip out. "I wanna see it."

"Someday. When you aren't under attack." Din sneaks his hand over your ankle. "When it's safe."

"You're obsessed with safety."

"It's my job, tranyc." He's smiling, you know it. Sighing, you lean against the window. He pulls you back. "A blaster shot could shatter the glass and you would fall."

You fight a giggle. "If we can't go to your cabin, can we go into town again?" Din hesitates, and your shoulders slump. "We went there before."

"That was before you were kidnapped." His fingers stiffen at your ankle, tracing the delicate ribbon on your shoe.

There's no winning this argument. Din is firm and impossible to get around. Instead of pushing, you softly say, "They won't come for me again. You killed them, right?"

"I doubt the one who told them to take you was there." Din sets your feet on the ground and stands, pacing. "When you were gone I…it can't happen again."

You stand, the furrow in your brow deepening. "Did something happen when I was gone?"

"No. It was just-" Din cuts himself off, looking away. "I was worried. The second we knew what happened I was hunting them down. You were the only thing that mattered."

You crease at the idea of him worrying over you. "Din."

"I have you now and that's all that matters." He stops, takes your hands. You feel like crying watching him lift them to where his lips would be. Your fingers hover for a moment, and then you're touching his neck, above the edge of fabric. "I found you."

"I think you always will," you murmur, tracing his silhouette with your eyes. "There isn't anywhere I could go where you couldn't find me."

He is still. You reach out, wrapping your arms around his waist. When Din's arms fold around you, it feels like coming home. He rests the side of his head on yours, and you smile.

"There are so many things I want to do for you," he mutters. "Beyond this."

"You're putting your life on the line for me, Din."

"That's just life." His hand shelters your crown. "Dying for you is nothing. I need to build something for us."

"You feel like you have to do so much," you say, thumbing up and down his neck, buried in him. "This is enough for me. It always has been."

"It is the way it's done," he says. "I want you to have it."

His words are not empty. You can feel it in your heart, in your soul. All your feelings are running deeper than a river. You smile, soft. "I want you to have it too."

When you are summoned by your uncle next, you stand tall with Din behind you. He lengthens your spine, keeps your words clear. "We spoke just last week, Your Majesty. I was surprised to hear from you again."

"There has been an urgent development." Your uncle leans on his hand, elbow steady on the arm of his throne. His fingers web over his mouth. "We have apprehended the assassin. Your kidnapper too."

"Oh!" You blink, leaning back on your foot. It's warm in here. Din shifts behind you. "You found-?"

"We've taken him in. He'll be put to death as soon as possible." He says it too casually. It makes something pang in your chest. You fidget with your sleeves uneasily.

"I see." You try to compose yourself, unsure why you're so bothered. A few minutes in Din's arms tonight, and you'll be all right.

"Since you're no longer in danger, the Mandalorian will be dismissed," the king says, and your world turns to ice. Your breathing shorts. Suddenly everything is blurry.

The room flips on its side. You hear Din say, "Princess?" And then his arms are under you, steadying your fall.

Your uncle calls for assistance, and you slump into Din's chest. "'M okay."

"Just breathe. Stay still." He tips something against your mouth, cool liquid rushing forth. "Swallow. I've got you."

"Don't leave…can't leave…" You're clinging to his wrist. "Please."

"I'm not leaving. Breathe for me. Remember how?" He demonstrates slowly. "In, hold, out."

"Mhm." You try it, every breathe shaky. In, hold, out.

"Good." He gives you another sip of water. "Stay still."

You look at your uncle, who is in conversation with an attendant, gesturing in your direction. He looks back at you. Maybe it's your imagination, but he seems unbothered. He never was good at showing affection.

"Princess." Din's voice brings you back. "Can you sit up?"

You nod, easing onto your knees, palms on the ground to keep yourself steady. "I'm okay."

"Don't stand up yet. I'll help you." He is kneeling behind you, hands ghosting over your arms.

"I assure you, Princess, this is no fainting matter," your uncle continues as if you hadn't collapsed in front of him. "You'll still be protected."

You feel weak. "I know."

"The Mandalorian will return to the New Republic and you'll focus on your impending nuptials." Your uncle flicks his hand. "You're dismissed." He addresses Din. "See to it that she is well."

"I will, Your Majesty." Din helps you stand, and you take his elbow, moving slowly out of the room.

You're in tears by the time you reach your bedroom. The sun has set and everything is shadows. Grogu is at your feet in an instant, mewing and reaching up. Trembling, you lift him, hugging him close and sitting on your bed. "You can't leave me."

"Princess-"

"Don't call me that. I don't want to be that anymore." You squeeze your eyes shut. "Take me with you when you leave."

When you open your eyes, he is kneeling before you. "I can't."

Your face crumples. "Why not?"

"We have to do this carefully, tranyc. I can't just take you or the king's guards will hunt us. We'd never be safe."

"I don't care about being safe anymore." You cling to his hands when he puts them on your thighs. "Please."

He is unmoving. "I am not going to put you in danger. We'll find another way."

You blink back tears, looking down at Grogu as a distraction. He's playing with the sleeve of your pale purple dress. "How?"

Din rubs your knuckles. "I'll come back for you in a month. If you meet me in the village, nobody will know." A week without him may as well be a lifetime. One of your tears slips free and melts into your skirt. He squeezes your hand. "I promise I will come back."

Swallowing thickly, you finally dare to look at him. "You'll find me?"

The space between you is smooth. He lifts your hand to his heart, echoing your words. "There isn't anywhere I won't find you."

His callback lifts a weight off your chest, but you are still trembling. Din puts Grogu to the side so he can bring you fully into him, sitting on the bed. You grasp for him, sniffling into his Beskar. "I know."

You feel drudged up, a dam in a river. Still, you dress yourself for bed, let your hair loose. Din has taken off his armor and turned off the light and his arms are open, ready. As soon as you are close enough you sink into him.

Pressing your cheek to his chest, you try to breathe him in, absorb all you can. A thought creeps into your head, the same one you've been trying to suppress, the one that plagued you after you regained consciousness. It's a horrible thing to think. You know you should tell him, but that would make it real.

It slips out before you can think about it anymore. "I don't think they caught the right person."

He cups your head. You think he's going to reassure you, but he asks, "Why do you think that?"

You rest your chin on his chest, eyes still closed. He strokes your hair, big hand steady. You think he's imitating his own helmet, protecting you even in rest. "He was too casual. I don't think he's telling the truth."

Din is quiet for a moment. Then you hear a hiss, a quiet click. Holding still, you wait for him to speak, to say you're crazy. You feel crazy for questioning what the king said.

You go still when you feel his lips, nestling against your hairline. He has scruff, itchy against your forehead, but it makes you smile. Without thinking, you reach up, sinking your fingers into his hair, fingering each dip and wave. You gasp. He tucks you into his neck and you press a kiss there, feeling real and alive and in love.

"I'm proud of you." His voice is still gruff, even without the muffle of the helmet.

"Hm?" You're melty in his arms, relishing his skin on yours.

"You want to live."

"Of course I do." In the darkness he can't see you frown in confusion.

"You used to sleep on the balcony and walk around alone. Now you're telling me when something doesn't feel right." Din wraps both of his arms around you, and you feel like you're wearing armor.

Humming contently, you sink into him, fingers lingering on his chin where it is prickly. He's real. There is an overwhelming fountain of joy inside you, overflowing at everything he's given you today. His face, his heart, his future.

You touch his cheek, trying not to shiver. "You could just leave me behind and get away while you can."

"No."

"Why?"

"You're precious." He kisses your forehead. "You make me better."

"I do?" You can't stop running your fingers through his hair. It is thick, more wavy than curly in some places.

Din catches one of your hands, kissing your knuckles. "Yes. You make everything beautiful. You're beautiful."

"You are too. I know you are." You snuggle into his side, nestled between his arm and his body. He is always warm.

He is quiet. You bite your tongue, hoping you haven't said something that salted a wound. Then in an instant he leans down, capturing your lips. You try not to gasp into it, but it's so sudden, so warm that you let yourself at least sigh.

The kiss is the missing piece of you. He holds you like you could break, kisses like you're invincible. When you tug at his hair he groans, scruff dragging scratchy lines over your cheeks.

In the split second when your lips part, he breathes your name and you feel like the air in your lungs crystallizes. It is his air you've been breathing. Your name without the filter of his helmet is a temple he's been building for this moment.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you, Din."

He seizes you again, crushing you into another searing kiss. Your heart is in his hands and he's guarding it under lock and key. His skin might as well be iron and he lets you under it.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," he whispers like he is entranced. "You're the sun. You make my world."

It is intoxicating to be the object of true adoration. He loves you behind closed doors, not as a performance. It's all so new and beautiful that you feel exhausted, but still you try to keep up, kissing him because you want to and you don't know when it'll happen again.

Din puts an end to it, pressing you to his heart and tucking your head under his chin. "Go to sleep."

"Mm." You're too sleepy to argue. He is the coziest pillow you've ever had.

"Shh," he soothes, and you want to cry. His hand is rubbing a path up and down your spine.

"I'll keep my eyes closed tomorrow," you mutter, gripping a handful of his shirt. "Kiss me good morning and then put the helmet back on."

You're awake when he keeps his promise, pressing a long kiss to your forehead before shifting until you hear mechanical breathing. It makes you smile, and you snuggle closer when he dips back down to hold you.

It rains the day he leaves, but you don't cry. Instead of letting your emotions spill out your eyes, you pull Din into your dark closet for one final kiss. He tells you he loves you one more time, his words thick in Mando'a. You bury yourself in his chest, holding your breath as if it will slow time.

Hugging Grogu goodbye is almost worse. He touches your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours. It is hard to stay solid. If you could take it out of your chest and give it to him, you would.

"Stay alert. Keep this on you." Din presses a blaster into your hand. "It won't be more than a week before I come back." You keep it tucked in your garter. It made you swoon that he took your worries seriously, but he kept your head on straight. "Don't wait, just shoot. I won't be here to protect you and-" He cut himself off and you thought he might be holding something back. "No more garden walks unless you have someone with you. Stay in your bedroom if you can."

"I'll meet you in the village," you promise. "I'll find you."

He cups your cheek. "I'll find you. You'll know when to come."

"I will." Leaning into his hand, you absorb his touch one more time. When he lets go it feels like a broken chain.

That night, you are catatonic. A part of you hopes he'll send a sign the next day, but one never shows.

You feel like a ghost, floating around the palace, staying clear of the gardens. Your uncle summoned you once but you feigned a headache. In reality, it was your heart hurting.

Every time you hear servants in the hallway you imagine it is Grogu's little footsteps. You miss Din's Beskar clinking against your jewelry. Before he left, you slipped one of your favorite bracelets into his hand. "So you have a reason to come back."

He cupped your cheeks after that. "I already have one."

You didn't realize until he was gone how few people you trusted before. He is the one person in the world you believe every single time. Now that you don't have him in your shadow, you keep it all inside.

Your dreams feel like nightmares because they're all of him, and you can't reach for him when you wake up. The third day without him you keep to your room, curling up on the side he used to sleep on. In your heart, you know he wouldn't want you to be like this. He would tell you to keep your wits, but everything feels so heavy.

On week two, you are given a note about wedding preparations. Dress fittings and lessons of all kinds. Etiquette, economic history of the planet you're being shipped off to. You don't open the books they leave at your door for lesson prerequisites, put off at the thought of reading for once. Din will be here before that. You'll make a plan to get out of here.

The third week, you are restless. He told you no garden walks, but you venture outside anyways, hoping that somehow he'll sense it and come back right now. You lay out beside the koi pond, practically begging for someone to kidnap you again. Din seems to have a sixth sense for danger, and he beamed it at you the entire time he was here.

You remain un-taken and safe, much to your dismay. When you get back inside, you are escorted to the king's offices. You traipse up there cautiously, wary of the conditions. It has been years since you've been up here, since your father passed away.

The king is stone-faced when he sees you. "I've been trying to speak with you for the past few weeks."

"I know. I haven't been well." A piece of your heart is maybe lightyears away.

He stacks a pile of papers, and you wince when he sweeps his hand at you. "You haven't been attending your lessons."

"I've been studying privately."

"I see." You're trying to stay calm, but the look on his face is so sharp that you can't stop your heart from pounding. He straightens, eyes hard. "I hope you've been studying hard, because you're leaving in two days."

"Leaving?" There is a pang in your chest. "The wedding isn't for another month."

"It is tradition for you to assimilate to the culture before receiving a new title," he says cooly. "You should have learned that in your studies."

"Of course." You scramble to retain your verbal footing. "Yes."

He stares at you for another minute before dismissing you, fed up. As you walk away, you feel the same way about yourself.

You wait until you're a reasonable distance from his offices before bolting the rest of the way to your bedroom. Shutting and locking the door, you press your hands to your chest, trying to breathe. It's useless to wait for Din, but you have no ship, no supplies.

He made it clear he wanted to take care of you, but with the looming marriage, you can't depend on him. You'll find a way to contact Din once you make it to the village.

You throw a few things in a bag, sentiment clawing at your chest as you look around your room. This place has been your life for years. You swallow, thinking of Din. The palace is your past. He is your future.

Retrieving one of your gauzy scarves, you thread it around your neck, shutting your bedroom door behind you. With any luck, nobody will notice you're gone for at least a few hours. Since you never have servants or attendants with you, it won't be suspicious that you aren't seen.

It is easy to steal a speeder when it's dark. The feeling of the controls is so familiar, and you are lost in nostalgia all the way to the village. You think of your brother teaching you how to do this. And your arms around Din's waist, Grogu in his satchel. It is heavy in your chest as you trek through the woods after stashing the speeder, headed for the lights of the village.

Pulling your scarf over your head, you keep your chin ducked as you weave through the crowd. When you were with Din, nobody would even look at you, eyes instead on his blaster. Now you feel like everyone is staring.

You know there's an inn somewhere nearby. You have some money, but you don't know if it'll be enough to buy a room. Maybe you can sleep where you've hidden your speeder.

Ducking into an alley, you let yourself catch your breath. You've done it. You've really escaped. The thrill is so invigorating that you squeal into your hands. You're going to be free with the man you love.

Looking both ways, you sidle into the street again. The inn isn't too far from here. Maybe someone will be generous if you don't have enough money. Or maybe they'll at least help you get to Din. In the worst case scenario, you would sleep in the woods for a few more nights and look for him in town during the day.

When someone bumps elbows with you, you think nothing of it. Then your arms are seized, your scarf ripped from your head. You try to cry out, but something covers your mouth and your eyes grow heavy. You kick your legs out, angry at this drug and everyone who thinks they can use it against you. The darkness turns your eyes to lead, your lungs to steel. You sink, free-falling into an endless pit.

Your cheek is squished into something cool and your head is throbbing like a knife, slicing thin stripes into your skull. When you open your eyes, you can see the blur of someone's shoes. One reaches out to nudge your face, and you groan, the palm of your hand flat against the floor to prop yourself up.

The village, the inn. It all swims in your head before you remember Din. He could be there right now and you aren't. How will he know where to send the signal?"

"In the future, don't run away in a dress that stands out so much." You squeeze your eyes shut, then open them again, hoping this time you won't see your uncle in front of you. He looks calm, which is somehow more terrifying than the quiet rage from earlier.

"Wha-?" Your tongue is almost numb.

He sits and that is when you realize you're back in your bedroom. "You'll hurt yourself. We gave you a heavier dose than last time." Your eyes widen, and he raises an eyebrow. "That's not why you were running away? We thought you found out we killed your brother." He hums, leaning back. "We tried to kill you too, three times now. Of course, we never got you on the ship to Onderon, so perhaps it is only twice. There was supposed to be a malfunction."

He knows he's being cruel, telling you how long he'd wanted to get rid of you. Your eyes sting and you swallow, chest trembling as you look at the man you tried to trust, who you thought was trying to protect you. You find the strength to say the only word in your mouth. "Why?"

The king rubs his chin. "You were the only thing standing in my way. I could rule for the rest of my life."

You would have taken the throne in a year unless something else happened. Your mouth feels less dry now. "Why…not marry me off…instead?"

"Too risky. You'd still be alive." He watches you check your thigh for your blaster. You pale when he lifts it from his lap, turning it over. The room is still dark, no promise of dawn in sight. "We took this from you as soon as you got back. Nice of the Mandalorian to give it to you." The king exhales, the corner of his mouth turning up. "He was too good at his job. We had to get him out of the picture."

"Who did you kill?" you ask in a tearful whisper.

"It doesn't matter." He points the blaster at you. "I suppose you'll find out who he was soon."

You surge forward, seizing his ankle and sinking your teeth in. He grunts, kicking your cheek, and you steady yourself up on your elbows. Willing your legs to work, you get to your knees, making for the blaster, but he bolts up, foot sinking into your chest. You cry out, flinching when a blaster shot misses your shoulder by an inch, head whipping to the side so sharply that one of your crystal earrings falls out.

"You can die a quick death or a slow one," he seethes, and you can practically see the blood boiling in his skin. The barrel blaster of the man you love is pointed square between your eyes, and you don't want to die with a shot that could have been his. You choke on your breath as he roughly seizes your arm, forcing you up to your feet. Even though your knees are trembling, you hold your chin high.

His chest is heaving, fingers shaking around the gun. "I tried to make this easy for you. It could have happened in your sleep. You practically wasted away anyways. You wanted it, I know you did."

Your fingers curl around your fallen earring. You think of Din, his hands on your cheeks, telling you he was proud of you. Opening your mouth, you gather every word you could say about Din, about how he made your heart come alive again. Tranyc, tranyc, tranyc. Your hand swoops forward, and you stab his eye with the tip of your earring.

The king's cry is strangled, blood spurting from the wound. You grasp the blaster and lift it, finger catching the trigger and sinking, sending a burn of a shot into his chest. He staggers, dropping like a stone in a lake, uninjured eye round and shocked, aimed at the ceiling.

You stand frozen, staring at his body. For once, the palace is silent, no footsteps in the hallway or chatter in the courtyard below. It is as if the world knows, without knowing.

Blaster tight in your grasp, you float out of your room, aware of the ragged hem of your dress fluttering at your ankles. It feels hard to breathe.

Your feet take you straight to the garden, to your beloved fish pond. Even though your knees protest, you collapse onto them, uncaring. The sky is lightening as the sun promises to rise, orange blooming over indigo. You think you'll weep, but everything is dried up. Something is dripping down your cheek, and you don't realize what it is until you brush your thumb over and it comes back red.

For awhile, you measure time in the colors of the sky; the pinks and oranges and yellows. The blue and purple enchant you when they streak over the clouds. You close your eyes and try to breathe the way Din taught you. In, hold, out. And again.

Everything you've done kicks in, and you slide down the willow tree, curling up over the roots and shutting your eyes. For the first time in a year, you feel light.

You think you're dreaming when you hear his voice. "Tranyc." Your eyes flutter open when something touches your forehead.

He says your name so gently, like it is sacred. "I'm here." Your head is lifted into the crook of his arm. "You weren't in your room, sweetheart. I had to come for you." A little hand pats your leg. "We had to come."

Shivering into tears, you throw your arms around his neck, leaning your forehead into his Beskar. "He tried to kill me. It was all him."

"I know, tranyc, I know." He cradles you close.

"He's dead now."

Din pulls back, presumably meeting your eyes. "Good."

Ducking back into him, you reach for Grogu and hug him close. He coos, face in your neck. "I tried to reach the village."

"I tried to get to you sooner." He smooths your hair, voice hitching. "The New Republic didn't want me interfering and I had to plead my case. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." You find his hand, squeezing it. "You can't risk your job, your credit."

He tucks your hair behind your ear, letting his finger trail down your cheek. "I would let it all burn if it meant you were safe."

Your heart jumps. Din gathers you up, getting you to your feet. Hanging onto Grogu, you let him guide you back through the gardens. It's all a blur. You don't care where you're going, as long as he will be there too. When your knees hit a mattress, you fall into it with no hesitation.

Sleep is dreamless and long, hazy like fog. When you wake up, you aren't even sure if you're alive. He nudges you up to have a bath, promising he'll be right outside the door. You beg for him to stay and he does, sitting by the tub and folding your ragged dress.

"Come in with me," you plead, tugging at his arm. "Turn the lights off."

He doesn't say anything, standing and doing as you asked, leaving only a candle on the counter flickering. You keep your eyes averted as he undresses, sliding forward so he fits neatly behind you. Din's arms are slung over you, his scruff scratchy on your cheek when he kisses it.

You nuzzle your head back into him. "You're here."

"I'm here." He kisses your crown. "We'll figure out what's next together."

"I don't want to be here anymore, Din," you murmur. "I don't want anything to do with ruling or being the princess."

"You don't have to," he promises. "We can do anything you want."

"I want to go to your cabin. Live with you and Grogu."

"I'm not always there, tranyc. My life is catching bounties." He rubs your shoulder.

"I don't care," you say, lifting your chin. "As long as you come home." Finding his hand, you lace your fingers between his. Din's chest is solid, firm. He's dependable to his core. "Naboo will be fine without me. I can't live without you anymore."

You close your eyes when he turns you around, kissing you with fervor. Melting into him, you slide your palms over his chest to hold his big shoulders because you know he wants to be touched, to be loved. His heart is big, but he only lets a few in, giving you space to stretch and nestle right in the center.

Back in his old bedroom, he bundles you in blankets, lights off. Grogu is munching on a delivery of cookies in the little nest Din made for him. Din tells you quietly that he suspected foul play and tried to alert the New Republic about it. Once they finally believed him, they granted him permission to fly back to you right away while they prepared to infiltrate your uncle's system. When Din arrived to the village, he heard reports of a young woman being carried away by palace guards and rushed to you.

"I didn't want to leave," he says thickly, and you press your cheek to his heart. "Giving you the blaster was the best I could do."

"That blaster saved my life, Din," you say softly.

"I'm proud of you." He grasps you close. "You kept yourself safe when I couldn't."

You spend ages asleep in his arms, and Grogu comes around to rest on Din's elbow. When you wake up again, you kiss your lover's wrist, his signal to put his helmet back on. When he is mostly dressed, he sits at the edge of the bed and you lay on your side, watching him put his boots on.

"We can spend a few days here or leave for Nevarro right away," he says, leaning over you and stroking your temple. "Anything you want. The New Republic will take it from here."

"I want to go," you decide, sitting up on your elbows. Then, hesitantly, "Can we plant a garden? At the cabin?"

"Of course." He lifts your hand to press over his heart and repeats, "Anything you want."

He helps you re-pack, folding dresses and stacking books and laying jewelry in a trunk. There isn't much you want to hang onto that you can hold in your hands. He helps you onto the Razor Crest and gets you situated in the cockpit next to him. You're giddy to be in his beloved ship, to be surrounded by him. Din is in his element here, flipping switches and working the ship into a hover. He looks back at you. "Ready?"

You smile, leaning back. "I'm ready."

When you reach the quiet peace of space, coordinates set, he turns and holds out a hand. "C'mere." You squish into his lap, his arm at your waist. It sends your heart into a flurry. Din murmurs the estimated arrival time and you hum, curling up and watching the stars pass you by.

He's outside tightening screws on the Razor Crest. You brought him his dinner and went inside, straightening a few things around the cabin. Today was overcast, so you spent some time in the garden before riding into town with Din. He spoils you, always returning from a shop with a new dress or a bracelet for you. He treats you like a princess even though you aren't one anymore.

When you hear his footsteps, his low voice and Grogu's name, you turn off the lights and keep the candle. Your pretty nightdress is one thing you made sure to bring from the palace because Din likes it so much.

He finds you laying down, turned toward the wall. When the bed dips and his arms slip around you, you roll over, pressing your cheek to the spot it fits. "How's the ship looking?"

"Good as new." He dips to give you a quick kiss. "How's the garden?"

"Beautiful." You reach up to scratch his head the way he likes. He has such nice hair; you could run your fingers through it for hours. Yawning, you nuzzle into his neck. "This is my favorite time."

"Sleeping?"

"No." You rub his chest. "Being here with you. Nothing to do, nobody in danger. Just us and Grogu." Thinking of his meditation early this morning, you say, "He did really well."

"He's getting better every day," Din mutters. "He's more powerful than I know."

"He's incredible. And he believes in himself because of you." You tilt him down for another kiss, noses bumping in the dark. "One of your lost things. Like me."

"Not lost anymore," he says.

In a way, he took your armor off. Yours used to keep you from getting anyone else hurt, but he peeled it all away, protecting the both of you. It's the last thought you have before drifting off. You're together now, armor-less.