#glimpsed

He had never been able to fully pull himself out of the darkness that had descended when he'd been pulled from the Temple and hidden away.

But he was able to wrestle with it with dignity.

Perhaps that was enough.

He did not think the Jedi who raised him would agree.

But they were gone and dead. Different things had survived.

On his belt was a chain that bore a smooth metal knob. Around his neck was the mythosaur.

And on his armor was the mudhorn.

And in front of him was a training circle and a fight.

"Again, you will go." He raised the saber in his clawed hand.

In front of him the young girl took the position.

More than many of the others did she remind him of a long gone man. She had the exact chin and line of nose, though the other features had evolved over time.

"Tell me again."

The green alien waited until she sighed and said, "Please."

"Long ago, hunted was I. Lost. Alone. Frightened. No home. No clan." He made her attack as they talked and he parried with an ease that bordered on boredom, "One day a man comes. A hunter was he. There to bring me to the Empire. But goodness did I sense in him. Saved me from them, he did. Safe. Flew many parsecs to find me a Jedi. Training did he wish for me. A clan. Realize I had one already he did not. But he would. Return would we. A king he was. King of Mandalore."

"The Mand'alor."

"Yes."

"The first Mand'alor of our clan."

"Yes." Grogu chuckled, "But not the last."

She seemed to consider this, "Will I be Mand'alor?"

He taunted her with the saber, but sweetly, "If win this from me you can."

She was too young to do it.

But when she had been born her father called her Dinui.

A gift.

And Grogu thought, perhaps, she was. She would be. A Mand'alor like her forebear: kind but firm, hardworking but relaxed. Loving, but shy of affection.

She would rule well for always fearing she was not the right choice but swearing to do her best despite that.

Grogu had been….disenchanted. He had seen a half dozen Mudhorn children grow and rule and die. He had been heartbroken in new ways each time.

Then, when he was low, a shock had come: the flash, the broken hyperdrive, the temporary thrust of his father back.

Back.

Alive and whole.

But from a time when he felt broken and alone.

Grogu was a baby then but he could long see the scars. Long remember the pain in the man’s eyes the first time he had sent him away.

Din.

A family name these days. Passed down in different forms.

His father had looked so tired. Seeing the baby offered him hope.

But seeing his father had reinvigorated his own hope. Dinui. She was the best hope they’d had in a generation.

A gift.

A gift he would not fail to appreciate, accept, and protect.

Family was not a guarantee. You did not become whole in the world without people shaping you one way or another. Seeing his father reminded him: you shape people in good faith, the best way you can. You love them for what they are. You don’t hold their past against their future. You accept.

Grogu dodged the child’s eager advance and smiled, “Close, little one.”

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A/N: Again, many of you asked for a sequel to "Glimpses" and this is what came to mind.

Never Beta Read!

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