I have a mandalorian prompt if you take them.... 🥺👉👈 I have looked everywhere but I can only find a few...I really want a story where Mand'alor Din finds his birth parents alive. Can you imagine their amazement, their son... who they haven't seen since he was little... now an undefeated warrior and a king of an entire creed, of an entire planet AND has a jedi son to boot!I really want more stories like this
Reunion (1300 words)
Din feels too small in the throne room that’s supposed to be his.
Din feels too big for the throne itself. It’s clearly made for slighter form than his.
He’s sitting on his cape. It’s uncomfortable. He tugs at it and finds its caught on his belt. He leaves it alone, letting it gently tug at his neck while he shifts around trying to find a comfortable position.
Grogu sits in the middle of the carpeted rug leading from the double-doors to Din’s new throne, acting like its a runway for his toy star cruisers. His burbling fill the empty space, joyful confetti that raises to the high ceilings.
Din smiles under his helmet.
He has kept the helmet on since he landed on Mandalore, awkwardly holding out the dark saber that no one would take from him and that he didn’t want.
He kept telling them he didn’t want this life. Not for him. Not for his kid. Instead, they put him in this throne room, told him to take all the time he needed to get used to the idea...and here is where he would sit.
Forever probably, because I will never be used to this idea.
He turns the saber on. It hisses in his hand like a viper denouncing Din’s new title as strongly as Din. He cuts the air, watching the dark light streak with deadly ethereal grace.
“Not bad, I guess,” he murmurs to himself. He prefers a blaster, or his pike, or literally anything else, but...
Grogu’s watching him.
Grogu’s smiling...wide.
“No,” Din says, knowing what that smile means.
Grogu lets the star fighters floating all around him drop suddenly and he shoots a clawed hand out towards Din. The saber rattles in Din’s hand. His grip tightens.
“Hey,” Din growls. “Knock it off, ya lil womp rat!”
“Brrrp fwa!!” Grogu’s ears lower and he squints.
No, you! He says. Or rather that’s what Din can feel in his mind. Din’s thankful Luke was tutoring Grogu here instead of a temple. He’s also thankful he taught Grogu how to communicate, if only to confirm what Din already suspects about the kid: He’s as stubborn as a reek in a rainstorm.
Suddenly Grogu’s hand drops. His head whips towards the door.
“Huh? What is it, kid?”
He feels Grogu broadcast his feelings to Din.
Family. Grogu said. Family back.
Din stands up, walking towards the double-doors, picking up Grogu on the way.
His heart sinks selfishly. “What do you mean? Your family?”
No. Yours.
“No,” Din says, almost too fiercely, too sharply. Grogu’s ears lower. “Sorry, kid, I don’t mean...it’s just...They’re gone. You’re my family.”
Din halts before opening the door, seeing a pair of shadows on the other side of the door. He hears whispering through the amplifier in his helmet.
“If he’s really here, we should wait until he comes out,” a feminine voice whispers.
“If he’s really in there, do you really want to wait another second to see him?” a deeper voice responds.
Din’s hand goes to the one of the door knobs, but his hand is shaking so badly he can’t bring himself to grasp it. He takes a step back.
Grogu lets out a gentle coo, then lifts both his hands as the doors fly open on his command, revealing the visitors on the other side.
Ice hits his veins...
Shock frays his nerves...
His heart which had been shattered for decades start to sweep itself back into a neat pile and begin the arduous task of repairing itself.
“Is it you?”
The question is asked by three people simultaneously: Din Djarin...Lupita Djarin...and Paolo Djarin...
“...Mom?...Dad?...”
Grogu lets out a sharp chuff and Din realizes his helmet is still on, a dark saber still in his hand. He quickly shoves the saber away and rips his helmet off faster than he’s ever wanted to. It falls with a heavy thud on the carpet.
Beneath the helmet is a scruffy-faced man who has lived too many lifetimes in thirty some odd years he’s existed. And yet, at the same time, he looks like a frightened boy who watched his parents die at the hands of battle droids, and now, with large, soulful eyes, wants so very desperately to believe they somehow survived the attack.
Truly it doesn’t sink in until Lupita and Paolo run towards him. They ignore the discomfort of hard beskar, heavily-armed holsters and a thick belt full of grenades and gadgets. They throw their arms around their son and he embraces them back, just as Grogu climbs onto his back so he’s not crushed by the affections.
“How...” his voice breaks.
“Your Jedi friend found us,” Lupita’s hair is more gray than black, but the ringlets tumble over her shoulders just as he always remembered them. Her nose wrinkles in that familiar way as she smiles brightly through shimmering tears. “He said the Force guided him there and so the Force would guide us back to you.”
“Luke did this?”
Paolo runs a hand through Din’s hair and Din realizes immediately his dad is fussing with it as he would every day before school. Din’s hair is always unruly, the helmet had nothing to do with it. And ironically, he inherited this from his father.
Paolo’s hair is as still dark as he remembers, but the bionic replacement eye is new. It’s very close to organic, but the vectors in the iris give it away. There are scars around one side of his face. They’ve long since healed.
“I thought you were both dead.”
“It’s a long story, son,” Paolo says gently, giving up on his son’s hair and wraps a comfortable arm around Lupita, resting a hand on Din’s shoulder. “And we have plenty of time to explain later, but for now...”
“You’re a king!” Lupita says, brightly, looking around the throne room.
“Ah, sort of. I’m a lot of things. I’m a Mandalorian first...no...” Din let his tears run free, not bothering to wipe them away. “I’m your son first. I’m also a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and...a father.”
Grogu knows his cue and pops up from behind Din’s shoulder, letting out a loud pfffft sound to present himself.
“Oh...” said Lupita coos and Din can hear her heart melting as she speaks. “Hello, little one...what’s your name?” She is already reaching for him and Grogu doesn’t hesitate to leap into her arms, eating up the attention shamelessly.
“Grogu,” Din says, proudly. “I’ve adopted him.”
“We’ve missed so much,” Paolo says, also not bothering to wipe the endless stream of tears away. “But no more. We are here now. And here we’ll stay, though...are we interrupting something?” Paolo sees the festive banners around the room and surely they walked by all the festitivies outside welcoming the Mand’alor who doesn’t want to leave his throne room.
“No, you have excellent timing,” Din says. If there was any chance he was going to join the day-long festivities for his reign before, they were dashed now that his parents were here. “We all have long stories to tell. Don’t worry about the Mand’alor situation, I’ll-”
“The what?” The Djarins asked in unison.
Family! Grogu interrupts, wiggling out of Lupita’s arms Family Play! The Negotiator! The Falcon! The Hound’s Tooth! The Razor Crest!
Grogu toddles over to his pile of toy ships and plops down, waiting expectantly.
“Grogu wants to know if you two would like to play what he calls ‘star wars’ with him.”
Paolo purses his lips, and it looks as if he may break down into sobs, which, Din knows, is a very valid reaction at how darling Grogu can be during emotional times.
Lupita rubs Paolo’s back, holding herself enough together to say. “We would love to. May I be the Negotiator?”
Paolo sniffles and follows Din and Lupita. “I declare the Falcon.”
DIn looks back at Grogu who is already floating the Razor Crest possessively.
“Stuck with the Hound’s Tooth again, huh kiddo?” Din asks.
Grogu lets out a proud grrrruuuuuu!
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@permanently-exhausted-witcher thank you so much for this writing prompt! I wasn’t actually taking prompts at the time, but this prompt broke my heart in the best ways so I hope you enjoy!
