#bkw

Bo-Katan blinked her eyes open to The Armorer getting ready for her day. “Mesh’la,” Bo grumbled, thick as sleep clung to the edges of her arising consciousness. Her hand reached, stretching out across the bedsheets to grasp the edge of the thick leather of her Riduur’s skirt. 

Bare fingers brushed through her hair, causing the woman to finally work on blinking sleep from her eyes to stare at the woman before her. Every time she saw her Riduur without her helmet, it truly felt like a blessing. She would equate seeing The Armorer’s face to the same calling as the Mythosaur still living in the depths of the living waters. 

“Good morning, cyare,” The woman rumbled softly, leaning across the mattress to press her lips to Bo-Katan’s forehead. “Din Djarin will be arriving shortly,” She whispered against cool skin, bringing a groan from the redhead. 

Life had settled down for the reclaimed planet and its inhabitants, with an alliance with the New Republic, and the promise to still remain a neutral system, Mandalore became a safe haven for thousands of their stars spread across the galaxy. The other planets in the system were brought back top thrive, and Mando-motors was even back in full starship production, with contracts from the New Republic. 

Bo-Katan had a thriving chain of command, she hadn’t needed to bear a single burden alone, thanks to those she trusted to handle other matters and aid her as well. She’d been more herself than she had been since before… any of this, really. It gave her a comfort she’d never thought she would obtain in her age. 

“He can wait,” The Mand’alor groaned, fruitlessly trying to tug The Armorer back into their bed, only bringing a heartwarming chuckle from the other woman. 

“You did promise, Lady Kryze,” She reminded, prying the pillow Bo had been trying to burrow herself under, and tossing it into Akaan’s bed, who yipped, before trying to initiate a game of tug-of-war with himself. 

The redhead groaned, now pushing on The Armorer’s shoulder, contrasting her decision to tug her closer. “Alright, but you’re all mine, later,” Once she was out of bed, cool air brushing her legs, Bo pushed away the thought of the warmth and comfort of the bed, to reach for The Armorer once more, grabbing the fur around her shoulders top tug her close and press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Go, I’ll be out shortly,”

True to her word, the Mand’alor got ready in near record time, considering she was not preparing for battle. Her armor had changed little over the years, though she still bore the crest of the niteowl, and the combined crest of the Mythosaur, with the sigil the two women created when they’d spoken their vows. The Mythosaur’s tusks wrapped around the sigil of Clan Kryze, with The Armorer’s hammers outlined in the back, sitting proudly on both shoulders now. The previously silver piece had long since been painted red, like the blue painted pauldron that now protected The Armorer’s shoulder. Their Beskar hearts still sat alternated in their chest plates, Bo’s blue contrasting beautifully against The Armorer’s red, reminding them both that neither of them would have to be alone again. 

There was a sweetness in the air as she stepped out of the bedroom, boots quiet against the hard stone under her feet as she approached the woman, who always seemed to add an otherworldly amount of sugar and other sweeteners to her caff. She stepped up behind the shorter woman silently, arms wrapping around stocky shoulders, with her forehead resting against the back of her helmet. 

“You do not wish for me to go,” The Armorer observed softly, as she began to pour a second mug of caff for Bo. 

“I never wish for you to go,” Bo agreed, before relenting to let her go so she could grab the offered mug. The Armorer’s helmet hissed as it was removed once more and settled gently on the counter so she could enjoy her own caff.

Before she was allowed to touch the mug though, The Armorer’s still bare hand moved to rest against the Kar’ta that rested in her chest, the piece that had come straight from her armor. “No one’s ever truly gone,” There was a smirk pulling at her lips and a twinkle in dark eyes, her amusement giving Bo the permission she needed to swat her hand away.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” 

“I do, but you will not be alone, and you will not be without my company for too long,” The Armorer promised between sips. The caff was still hot on her tongue, but Bo knew by now that with all the cool liquid sweeteners she added every morning, it helped make it bearable. 

“Just come back safe, don’t be a dikutt, and please, don’t let Din swim,” Bo relented as she leaned her back against the counter, reaching idly with her free hand to hold onto the other warrior’s skirt once more. 

Skira’s head tilted to the front door, a warm amusement in her gaze as she rose her mug to her lips. “Tell him yourself,” The Keshian nodded towards their door at the same time as a loud knock echoed. 

“How do you do that?” Bo questioned with a shake of her head, before she leaned up to press a kiss to The Armorer’s lips, before the woman would have to don her helmet once more. “I’ll go say hi, finish your drink,” 

The door swung open just enough to allow Bo to prop her hip against the frame, the toe of her left boot hooked around the heavy door to keep the breeze from outside from blowing it open. “She’s still getting ready,” She greeted to Clan of Two on their doorstep. 

“Patu!” Grogu called, his fingers flexing as he held his arms out, practically vibrating in his fathers hold. 

“Good morning, Lady Kryze,” Din’s head bowed, before lifting enough to ruffle the patches of white hair growing on Grogu’s head. 

“How has Navarro been treating you two?” Bo continued, reaching her hand out to the excitable child, who grew very interested with gloved fingers and the armor on the back of her hand.

“It has been nice, calm. Grogu has been learning a lot, I wish to bring him with me for our next outing, but he needs to be big enough for his own armor,” At the mention of armor, Grogu lifted his head, lips pulling into a sharp smile, and bringing a shake of Din’s head at the little one’s reaction.

“I understand, besides, you n=deserve some time with her alone,” Bo agreed. Din was The Armorer’s foundling, after all, she understood their bond, even with the prior strains, they still deserved some time together as the mentor and apprentice they once were. ‘The Shining Lineage,’ as Ragnar had once referred to them.

Grogu began squirming in Din’s arms, towards Bo, who’d taken her hand back to cross over her chest. “Here, give ‘im here,” 

“You can handle him? Din Darin questioned carefully as he passed Grogu into Bo’s arms, where the child instantly latched onto her, babbling quietly as she settled his weight in her arms. 

“He’s not my first Jedi, or nephew,” Bo assured him as she pressed a soft kiss to Grogu’s forehead. “Your dad woke you up way too early, too. I get it,” She sympathized, nodding her head seriously as he yawned. 

The Armorer squeezed past the front door, her hand resting heavy on her Riduur’s shoulder.  “I don’t believe that is what he is worried about,” The golden helmeted warrior leaned down, a gloved finger moving to rest under Grogu’s chin. “Take care of the Mand’alor, don’t let her do anything reckless,” 

“Patu!” The child babbled, before the two Mandalorian’s took their leave, leaving Grogu and Bo-Katan alone. 

“Well, kid… this is where the fun begins,”

* * *

It would turn out that ‘fun’ for a Mand’alor with a working government, and a lack of civil war, meant showing Grogu around the newer structures and city blocks of the rebuilt Sundari Civic Center that he hadn’t seen since his last visit. 

The pair had gone all over the city, from sparring arenas, to some of the smaller shops of armor, weapons, and trinkets, to bakeries that had been more than happy to give the child ‘just a taste’ of their freshest goods, ranging from Uj cake, all the way to delicacies made from immigrated bakers from Coruscant itself. 

The two were fairly exhausted by the time Bo brought Grogu back to the living waters, dropping herself heavily onto a stoop before she settled her nephew in her lap once more.  

“See, that was fun,” She started as she gazed past his head and to the dark waters below. It was much clearer now that filters were running, though no one had ventured deep since Bo-Katan had seen the Mythosaur. If she looked real closely, she thought she could make out a tusk, but she understood the reality of the water’s depth meant she truly did not. Still, having the knowledge that it was down there was a different feeling in itself. 

“Patu,” Grogu agreed as he leaned into her, little clawed hands reaching for the lip of her armor to keep himself up. 

“Tuckered out? Me too,” One of her arms wrapped around him to keep him steady, before she was laying back in the dirt, where Grogu instantly made himself comfortable against her chest. Before long, small little snores filled the cavern, and Bo-Katan was falling asleep shortly after.

* * *

She awoke to the feeling of sharp nails lightly tracing the scar across her forehead. Her eyebrows pulled together and scrunched her nose, forehead wrinkling before her eyes even opened. 

Grogu still sat on her chest, big eyes staring in wonder at the streak of discoloration against her skin. “Nice nap?” Bo grumbled quietly, hands moving to steady Grogu as he nodded and shifted his weight on top of her. 

There was a silent question in the air, one Grogu still lacked the means to articulate, as his finger once again traced against the purplish scar. “Mmm, you want to know about that,” She grumbled, her own hand raising, sliding beneath little clawed fingers to touch the scar herself. 

“I didn’t always wear my armor, not when I was younger. I have many more,” Many more that she would rather tell the story about. Though, unfortunately, Grogu seemed all too intent on this story.

The redhead settled in, exhaling slowly through her mouth. For a moment, she felt as if she could reach out, and draw upon the Mythosaur for the strength she would require. One of the tricks Ahsoka had spoke about once, when she’d explained how she was able to find strength in the worst times. 

“Mandalorians have not always been on the same side, as I’m sure you’ve seen. We’ve spilled a lot of our own blood, through the years...” Her gaze turned to the vast ceilings, watching a droplet of water slide from the sharp tip of a stalagmite. 

“My Ori’vod, my sister, Satine- she was the Duchess during one of these times,” A soft smile pulled at her lips at her memory. “She did everything she could, preached pacifism, peace, safety. There were many who refused to listen, myself included. I wanted to be a Mandalorian, and I allowed that to cloud the importance of my clan, for a very long time.”

“The day I’d left to join The Death Watch, Satine and I had gotten into a fight. I was so… angry,” A frown replaced the smile, as she recalled the fire in her own veins, fueled by the words of a dead man, who’d traded their planet for power in the dar’jetti. 

“I blamed her for the opposition of our people, for the death of our Buir, and for a dozen other things that must not have been important enough to remember. I put it all on her, because I was too… afraid, to look at the truth, to see that the state of the galaxy went beyond what she could control. I refused to see that she was doing the best with what she had, what was expected of her.”

In the recesses of her memory, she could still hear the splintering of wood, echoed voices shouting, glass shattering, her own voice, renouncing Satine as her vod, removing herself from her aliit. 

“My actions are my own, as are the consequences are mine to bear, along with these scars. I did not search for strength from my clan, but from a man who truly did not have mine, or Mandalore’s best interests at heart. We had fought,” It had been explosive, and Bo often blamed Satine’s deeper dive into pacifism on the outcome.

“I never truly was able to beat her, she was.. she is my ori’vod. Taught me most of what I know, too. I just kept pushing, if she hadn’t,” Once again, her fingertip traced the scar. The leathery feel of Grogu’s finger against her cheek, wiping away wetness, brought her attention to tears in her eyes. “Thank you,”

“If she hadn’t defended herself, I may have seriously hurt her,” She would have killed her, of this, Bo-Katan was certain. She had been angry enough, had Pre Vizsla on her shoulder, whispering in her ear that Satine needed to die so Mandalore would not be lost. “So she did what she had to,” 

The knife, she remembered, had come from her own gauntlet, had sliced through her face and dropped her just as fast. The Guard had been fast in their response to the Duchess’s calls. Bo could remember the sight of her blood on Satine’s hands, could still hear herself snarling out insults ‘If this continues, all Mandalorian blood will be on your hands!’, and then the enveloping darkness, before she’d woken up on a transport, exiled away from the Mandalore system with the others who had refused to turn over their armor or warrior ways. Pre had saved her from the transport, had taken her to Concordia, and promised her the place she deserved, at his side.

“I walked away from my clan, that day. I refused to acknowledge it for so long. I was just Bo-Katan. And yet…” A pause, her head turning to the side to catch her helmet, sitting by the pillar with the Living Water’s plaque. “She did not turn me away, when I came back. She accepted me as her sister once more, as readily as I had denounced her,”

Grogu watched with big eyes, his hands eventually coming to rest on Bo-Katan’s cheeks, squishing them together as he stared into her eyes with all the intensity of a child and a Jedi Master alike.

“Family is important, endlessly so. While they do not deserve your love for simply existing, when they are willing to accept you, however you may come, whatever you may have done, we can’t take that for granted,” 

The sounds of a pair of footsteps echoed through the hall, and soon enough, the gold and silver duo appeared under the torchlight of the caverns. 

“Hey, look at that, our aliit,” She whispered, giving Grogu a gentle nudge, before he was using the force to fling himself into his father’s arms.

“Did you two have fun?” Bo questioned as she started to rise, taking The Armorer’s offered hand for assistance once she’d come in range. 

“Oh yes, however, Din Djarin will be returning shortly for assistance with swimming,” The Armorer announced with a shake of her head. Even without being able to see his face, the way Din shifted his weight showed his mild embarrassment. 

“Hey, I’m sure Axe can come learn with you. He dumps enough fuel to get out of the water, but not enough to keep him out of it,” She assured as she patted her hand against his shoulder. 

“Did you two have a good time?” Din parroted as he brushed some dirt and old crumbs from Gorge’s face.

“Oh yes, just leave Xiti out of any questioning. Also, Akaan may have gotten into Paz’s,” Though truly, that was the man’s problem. It was clear that Akaan liked Paz even more than he liked The Armorer, which led to silent fights between lizard and Mandalorian at night.

The Armorer hummed softly, as if there were anything to ponder. Though she had been certain that the two would set something on fire, so otherwise, it seemed like a desirable outcome. 

A gloved thumb swiped at the remaining moisture under Bo-Katan’s eyes, though she batted the worry away with a quiet promise of later. 

The small family made their way back to their quarters in peace, exchanging stories of the days events between each other, with Grogu’s babbling cutting in every so often. They’d parted ways with the Clan of Two outside of Din’s residence on planet, before retiring to their own home.

As the women removed and cleaned their armor of the days grime, The Armorer turned her attentions back to before. “You were crying, before we’d come in,”

Bo deflated with a soft sigh as she picked caked in dirt away from her clan’s sigil. “I don’t always talk about a lot of my scars,” They had moments together, laying in bed late at night where they would pass questions and stories, though there were still many scars that Bo-Katan could not bring herself to speak on. Her forehead was not the only scar she would not speak on, like the white-purple slashes down her back, or the claws across her abdomen, or even the scars clustered tight together on her legs. 

“You have lived a lot of life, in a short time,” The Armorer comforted as she settled her helmet down on its stand and lowered herself on the arm of Bo-Katan’s chair. 

“We all have,” The Mand’alor reminded, fingers tapping against The Armorer’s knee, where she knew the scars from an early knee replacement resided. “I’ve had a lot more second chances than many ever could have,”

“You were chosen,” The woman reminded gently, her brows furrowed as she stared at her Riduur contemplatively, attempting to figure out where she was going. It was no secret that the redhead would often slip into a rut. Not every day was easy, for any of them, but Bo would often doubt her worth in her title, her value as a Mandalorian, and the meaning of her survival. 

“I’ve accepted that, for the most part,” Bo promised with a hand on her knee, steadying her worrying thoughts. “I bare the marks of many of my mistakes, from my family, to my Niteowls, to many other failures, and I should not get to… to hide behind them all,” 

“You are not hiding behind anything,” The Armorer promised, before she moved to raise Bo-Katan’s thigh plate from the floor. “Yes, you have scars, as does your armor,” A gloved finger traced a large dent across the silver streak in black paint. “Not all are bad, many have simply helped to shape you,” She turned the piece around so Bo-Katan could see it. 

“The sparring session, when your hand had first healed, and I first began courting you,” She traced the chipped paint once more, before reaching to grab the plate of armor that covered the back of Bo-Katan’s hand. The metal was reforged and welded together, after having to be sliced away from Bo-Katan’s hand to get it off, to treat the shattered bones beneath. “When Gideon destroyed the Darksaber, and you came to terms that you did not need the weapon to lead our people,”

Bo-Katan followed each movement across her armor, as The Armorer told her story between all the marks that cut across blue and black paint. When the other woman shed her gloves, Bo’s brows had furrowed once more. 

She’d paused at the zipper of Bo-Katan’s flight suit, meeting her gaze, waiting. It took Bo-Katan an embarrassing amount of time before realizing that her hesitance was her searching for permission. “Please, be my guest,” Before warm, calloused fingers were spreading the zippers and her fingertips were brushing against the textured skin of different scars. 

Her hands wandered, until they were moving down the expanse of muscle of Bo’s back, across the old scars that stretched across her skin as she’d grown. “You have given yourself over to slavers for the chance to help your people,” Bo-Katan paused, because truly, only Ursa Wren had ever known that story, had been one of the rookies in Death Watch when Bo-Katan had sacrificed herself to keep the Zygerian’s away from them. She’d only been freed, because Ursa, Alrich, and Axe had gathered a squad with Pre’s minimal consent, to get her back.

The warm tingle that followed The Armorer’s fingers spread to the claws against her abdomen. “You have put yourself in direct harms way to save children, even at your darkest,” Death Watch was far from innocent in slave trafficking, she’d been part of it all… but she’d saved those kids, when the Akul had bore down on the Togrutas. She’d been young herself, fresh in The Death Watch, but she’d acted as a True Mandalorian should have, instead of what Pre would have preferred from her. 

The kids lived long enough for the others to enslave them and sell her off, and she’d been forced to drag herself back to base camp in the deep recesses of Shili alone. There had been two Togruta, who’d helped her, briefly. They did not like her, but in their words, at the time, they’d owed her, for saving their own from one monster (even if she’d turned them over to another, in the end). 

A small squirm from the redhead, as her flight suit was pushed further away. Fingertips brushed across the scar tissue on her thigh. “You have repented in many ways,” Bo’s gaze locked onto Akaan, tired and spent, snoring on the floor just feet away. “Even for events out of your control,” 

“You have lived a life of love, grief, failure and victory, loneliness and companionship. You have lost and learned, have given as good as you’ve gotten. These are not the stories of a woman who has hidden, but of a woman who has proven herself worthy in every aspect. Worthy of love, since the beginning, worthy of companionship, from the beginning, and worthy of leadership, once you learned from it all,”

“I’m going to cry again,” Bo warned in a low grumble, and The Armorer let. A warm, rich laugh pass her lips, as she pressed forward to wrap the redhead in an embrace. 

“You are more than free to, Lady Kryze,”

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” Bo whispered into the thick furs, as the safety of the arms around her allowed more tears to slip out. 

“This is the way,” She returned in kind, fingers brushing through Bo-Katan’s hair. Their clan went beyond the two of them. It went to the Clan of Two, across the stars, to all Mandalorians who’d made mistakes, and grew from them, instead of submerging themselves in the proverbial darkness.