~~~

“Is Senator Organa available?” Teva hadn’t even waited for his feet to hit the ground with the question.

“Last I saw she was just heading back to her apartment,” Trapper Wolf, who was only waiting for him to return so he could head out, furrowed his brows. Teva wished he could explain, but he still wasn’t sure if Wolf was interested in their - at the moment - small band of rebels. So, he ignored the look with a quick thanks and hopped on the closest speeder for hire to the Organa-Solo home, a small holo-pad hidden in his hand.

Han Solo answered the door with a curt, “What.”

“Sorry to bother you, sir. I’m Captain Teva, New Republice X-wing pilot, looking for Senator Organa.”

Solo raised his brows, “Must be important to come knocking on our home this late in the day.”

“I believe it is, sir,” Teva said after a beat, realizing Solo had no intentions of inviting him in, standing there blocking the entryway. “I got a holovid message from-” Teva took a quick glance of his surroundings and seeing no-one, took a step closer in order to whisper, “The message comes from Mandalore.”

“Mandalore?” Solo’s brows scrunched. “Wasn’t that planet turned to glass? Completely inhabitable.”

“Not anymore. On my patrols in the Outer Rim these past few years, there's been a lot of changes.”

Sensing he wasn’t going to get any more information until Leia was present, Solo invited him in, stating his wife was putting their son to bed and should be out momentarily.

“Want a drink?” Solo asked after a few silent, awkward minutes.

“Captain Teva,” Senator Leia Oragana’s voice had the men spinning to find her entering the living room. Teva noticed she didn’t look fazed by his presence and thought maybe there was more Skywalker in her than he originally thought. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” she motioned to the sofa and he sat, happy to let himself relax after his rush there. Not many things made Carson Teva nervous, but this message was beyond his understanding and mulling over it in a never ending cycle since he first saw it had him at his wits end. “Would you like a drink? Last I heard, you were out patrolling the Outer Rim,” she sat in a chair adjacent to him.

“Thank you, but no. I,” Teva cut himself short, glancing at Solo, wondering if it was okay to speak further with him around. The rebel group Organa was slowly building was small and he didn’t know if the past smuggler was part of it.

“Speak freely, Carson. My husband knows all about our venture. In fact,” she gave Solo a wide smile, “he’s part of it.”

Teva nodded. “I’ve received a message from Mandalore-”

“Mandalore? They just got a new king, didn’t they? And have started settling themselves back on their home planet, yes?”

“Correct. And I thought you might like to see it, so I flew here straight away.”

She gave him an assessing gaze. “Well, let’s see it.”

Teva set the small holo-pad down on their caf table and held his breath as it started.

“Captain Carson Teva,” the blue-tinged, fully-armored figure stood, blaster on one hip and knives on the other, a spear strapped to her back and arms at her side. She seemed completely relaxed, if not a little bored, yet her voice was succinct and full of certainty. “The Mand’alor invites you as his guest to Mandalore. Come alone and at your earliest convenience,” the mandalorian’s head snapped, looking over her shoulder. “Marshal Dune sends her regards.”

“Marshal Dune?” Organa’s face pinched.

“She was a shock trooper. Turned Navarro into a safe place. I recruited her for a marshal position. Took a bit of convincing, though.”

“And her relation to Mandalore?”

“I’m,” Teva dragged the word out, remembering an old Razor Crest entering hyperspace as he entered Navarro’s atmo. It was an uncommon enough ship those days and he only knew of one person who flew one. A Mandalorian. But Dune had never mentioned knowing any Mandalorians and when he asked the now magistrate about the Razor Crest, he had shrugged and denied a Razor Crest was ever there. He hadn’t seen either since, but had spoken to Dune over comms. Nothing of note came to mind as he thought over those conversations, though.

“Hello,” a fingers snapped in front of Teva, bringing back from his thoughts. “Captain. Mandalore,” Solo, who was now sitting next to him, made an impatient gesture for him to continue.

“Right. Sorry, senator. I’m not really sure what Marshal Dune’s relation is to Mandalore, but,” he took a deep breath, sighing heavily as he let it out, shaking his head. “There was an incident a few years back when I recruited Dune,” Teva looked up to find Organa giving him a nod to continue. “An old Imperial base was destroyed on Navarro. I saw a Razor Crest entering hyperspace when I hit their atmo. I had thought I’d seen it before - it always seemed to be running from trouble - but Greef, Navarro’s magistrate, had implied there was never a Razor Crest there. I didn’t believe him, of course. But I wasn’t about to make a big deal about it.”

“I see,” she hummed. “As much as I wish I could go with you to have a chance to discuss political matters and Mandalore joining our cause, it’s clear they only want you. Are you okay with going alone? Do you think it’s safe?”

“I believe so, ma’am. The summons didn’t seem threatening.”

“True. It would be nice to get a feel for what they want,” her fingers drummed against her thigh. “Please, report back with what you find and be safe, captain. I hope to become allies in the future. I would hate to be on a Mandalorian’s bad side.”

Teva gave Senator Organa a weak salute, grabbed his holo-pad and left, letting her know he would leave in the morning.

~~~

Captain Teva landed in the Keldabe - an old city on Mandalore - shipyard with trepidation. He could not, for Maker’s sake, think of why he would be summoned to Mandalore at all. He had spoken to that one Mandalorian after shooting a few ice spiders, and no others. Had he seen a few from afar? Yes, especially since Mandalore had become habitable again. But still, unless that one was still mad about him and Wolf leaving him stranded on the Maldo Kreis - which he fervently hoped was not the case - he had no idea why he would be a guest of their king. He was nobody. Just a simple pilot of the New Republic.

Teva shook his head, ridding himself of his circling thoughts and opened the hatch, reminding himself that he was not an easily intimidated man. He would not allow a bunch of Mandalorians to change that. Besides, he needed to figure out what they wanted and if they would be interested in becoming allies with the New Republic or help the senator’s cause.

“Captain Teva,” a familiar, modulated voice spoke. The very same one he had listened to on the holovid message at least a hundred times. His thoughts immediately fled, gaping as he noticed his greeting party. His eyes roamed. There were at least a dozen, all carrying varied weapons as though they were extensions of themselves. All seemed relaxed, no blasters in hand at least. All painted differently, even if some had the same colors. Except one. The one from the Maldo Kreis who stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Suddenly, his mouth was dry and tongue felt swollen.

Maybe this particular Mandalorian did hold a grudge?

Teva gave them all a curt nod, swallowing, uncertain of the proper way to greet them.

“I’m Vyktoria,” she stepped closer, apart from her entourage, and grasped his forearm in greeting. “Aide to the Mand’alor. I, along with a few guards, are here to escort you to the throne room where the Mand’alor will greet you.”

Teva thought the ‘few’ who came to escort him was a bit extreme, but muttered out his thanks, nonetheless, happy he was even able to get the words out. Vyktoria made a simple motion for him to follow as she turned around. The others followed suit, except the silver Mandalorian, who stared him down, keeping Teva frozen in place. A beat later he also turned and allowed his arms to relax at his sides, walking forward. He spoke not a word. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he held, Teva followed, heart pounding as he wondered who the Mand’alor was.

The Mandalorians spoke amongst themselves in a language Teva had never heard, allowing him to relax. He would not have to make conversation nor did they see him as a threat. That was good, even if the silver one had slowed his pace to match his own.

“If I’m correct,” Teva said before he could stop himself, noticing the helmet turning to face him in his peripheral. “I believe you may be the same Mandalorian I once saved from an incident with ice spiders a few years back.”

The man stayed quiet, giving no indication that he was the same guy, gaze moving to face forward. Teva had no doubts that he was. He looked too familiar, felt too familiar. Not being Force sensitive, Teva trusted his gut and his gut said they were one and the same. Although, he remembered, he talked a bit more when hoping for a ride off of Maldo Kreis.

Teva tried for conversation again as they passed piles of rubble and crumbled buildings, not seeing a newly restored city past the Mandalorians in front of them. “I’m glad to see you made it off that Maldo Kreis.”

Still, his companion did not speak. 

“I’m sorry your home still has reminders of war,” Teva tried one last time, gesturing at the emptiness around them, the half crumbled ruins, the sands that turned to violent sculptures of glass. Teva couldn’t imagine his home planet, green and filled with the noise of life, ever feeling so empty. “I hope your Mand’alor,” he fumbled over the word, even if it was similar to the planet’s own name, “is making it feel like home again.”

When the man next to him, once again, did not respond, Teva gave up on his one-sided conversation. Ahead, he could hear a crowd of people and as they got closer he saw a large marketplace, filled shoulder to shoulder with Mandalorians, countless without helmets or even armor on at all. All were talking at once, weaving through each other, and laughing. It put a smile on Teva’s face and calmed his mind.

“It seems your Mand’alor is doing good for his people,” Teva couldn’t help but say, eyes never focusing on one thing as he soaked in their surroundings. The marketplace was basic, but most planets didn’t have big cities with large shopping structures. He could see homes - many with children running in and out, laughing and shouting as they played their games - made of sand and stone. No rubble or half ruins in sight. He gave the silver Mandalorian a wide smile. “All this joy after being away from their home planet for so many years. And the children! not a care in the world, it seems. It’s amazing. I find I like your king already.” It was the truth, he realized, surprising himself. After seeing all these carefree people, Teva knew their Mand’alor was a good man. He was still curious about the summons, but could now confidently say he did not think he was in any danger.

As they walked, the crowd shifted to allow them room, all taking the time to pound a fist to their chests, nodding their heads. Teva noticed none in his group were reciprocating the gesture and thought maybe it was respect toward the guards. Still, Teva nodded in greeting as he walked by, feeling odd not to acknowledge them.

Further in the city Teva could see a much larger, more distinguished home. Several stories tall, looking like a castle. Half built with steel and the rest with sand and stone, mixing the old building with the new. It was tragic and beautiful. A reminder that Mandalorians will never stop fighting and will always find a way.

The noise of the market faded, bringing with it new sounds. Familiar sounds from his rookie days. Mandalorians, young and old - all in full armor - sparred and shot targets on one side of the field next to the castle while the other side held line after line after line of young soldiers doing drills. Blaster shots and the clanging of metal on metal rose to his ears just as loud as the perfectly aligned drills. The group he followed started to holler and shout their encouragement and praise, simultaneously cheering and booing in good fun.

Captain Carson Teva was astounded by the sheer numbers there were, how carefree they could be while seeing how seriously they took their practice. Mandalorians were always known to be the best fighters - guardians in a cruel galaxy - but those tales of grandeur he heard as a young boy had been silenced by rumors of how fearless, ruthless, heartless they became when they were driven from their home. Practically destroyed. The galaxy thought them dead. Extinct. Yet here they are, alive and thriving.

Before he knew it, Teva was inside the castle walls. A chill made him shiver, but not from being cold. No. But from the knowledge that he was about to meet the man who made it all happen. The man who gave these people hope. A home. The man who brought the Mandalorians of old back to life. This man, Teva knew, deserved the title of king.

But would this same king believe in Senator Organa’s cause? Would he welcome allies after they had done so little to help them? Would he willingly put his people in harm’s way to help bring peace to the galaxy? To rid them forever of the Empire? 

Teva could only hope.

Two overly large, decorated doors opened - the kind one had to push or pull - by two sentinels standing guard. Inside, there were dozens of Mandalorians standing, all fully armored and, as one, turned to the group and pounded a fist to their hearts when they entered. The force of which caused the simple pilot’s ears to ring. The guards who had escorted him scattered to the outskirts of the open room where the walls held banners of a creature’s skull with two rounded tusks and a long face. Teva’s gaze followed them until his eyes caught sight of a large tapestry of a mudhorn’s head, made in a simple design, hanging on the opposite side of the entrance. Further down and in front of the tapestry sat a throne. It was simply made, and sturdy with no extravagance. Teva’s first thought was that it looked uncomfortable. He noticed, with a curious tilt of his head, that a small, green, big-eared being sat on an arm of the chair. It was babbling to the guard standing next to the throne and the guard, holding a spear in his hand, listened as if he was enraptured by its words. Like he could understand what it was saying.

Not for the first time that day, Captain Carson Teva, was confused.

The small being was obviously a child. A young one, at that. And one who was allowed to sit on a king’s chair. He had never heard of such a thing. Never before seen such a thing. It didn’t make sense.

What in Maker’s name was going on?

A flash of silver caught his attention, his eyes instantly glued to the one Mandalorian he knew. Teva watched the man’s steady, confident stride end at the throne. He sat. The voices died down, watching the man on the throne. The T-visor gaze surveyed the room until the kid, squealing excitedly, hopped onto his lap. The king’s gaze quickly landed the child, lifted wiggling fingers in the air as a threat for tickles, causing the kid to laugh so loud it echoed off the walls, enveloping everyone with its joy. Quiet chortles at the scene caused Teva to glance around, finding most of the Mandalorians had taken off their helmets, holding them comfortably under their arms like a limmie ball. Suddenly, as though the last piece of a puzzle was finally put in place, Teva understood.

The silver Mandalorian was the Mand’alor. 

It made sense now, why everyone pounded a fist to their chest. It was the Mandalorian equivalent of a bow. They were showing him the respect that was his due.

Teva felt all blood drain from his face, only for it to pool nauseously in his stomach.

“Captain Carson Teva. Long time,” a heavy arm landed around his shoulders. “Come on,” Marshal Dune smiled, dragging him forward as everyone started conversing again. “Let me introduce you to a friend of mine.”

“A friend,” Teva deadpanned, feeling slightly better now that he wasn’t the only one without a helmet.

Dune hummed, face scrunching in faux thought, “More like a brother really.”

“To a Mandalorian?” He was skeptical, learning over the last few years through their comms that Dune could have a dry sense of humor.

“Not just any Mandalorian,” she whispered. “The Mandalorian.”

“As in-”

“Mm-hm,” she nodded, her smile turning feral as they stood in front of the very man they spoke of. “And when he made a comment about an X-wing pilot and some ice spiders, I asked him which one. And, of course, he didn’t know. Not until I pulled it out of him with as many details of the tale as possible. And what do ya know? The X-wing pilot he owes his very life to is my friend, the captain.”

“I’m not so sure abou-”

“Now, Captain Teva,” she held up a hand to silence his protest. “Don’t go selling yourself short. If not for you, my friend may very well be dead, may not have become Mand’alor, and may not have brought his people back together on their home planet.”

Teva was certain he heard the Mand’alor give a long-suffering sigh.

“So, after knocking some sense into the guy, I convinced him to throw a celebration in your honor.”

“You wha-”

“What’s the point of having a royal friend if you don’t get to enjoy a good old fashion party every once in a while, am I right?”

“I suppose so-”

“Exactly!” She slapped him hard on the shoulder, making him wince. “So we celebrate tonight, but first,” she pointed at the silver Mandalorian, laughter in her eyes, stretching an arm out for the kid to climb up to her shoulder. “Pay up, Mando,” and walked away with the child babbling away at her.

Teva, once again, did not understand what just happened.

“Captain Teva,” the beat of awkward silence ended at the Mand’alor’s words, forcing him to face that dark, T-visor gaze. “She’s right, I never did properly thank you.”

“There’s really no need. I was only doing my job.”

“That may be, but still, I thank you,” the visor stared down at Teva from his throne, waiting.

“You’re welcome,” Teva finally said, not knowing what else to do.

“Prepare yourself,” the Mand’alor whispered and stood up, causing the room to go silent once more.

“Prepare? Wha-”

“A few years ago,” the Mand’alor’s voice carried without him even trying. All eyes on him as he told the tale. “Before I had even won the darksaber, I was traveling sub-light in order to hold up my end of a deal for a passenger I was shuttling to Trask, where her husband awaited her there. On my way, two X-wings ended up chasing me through the tunnels of ice on a freezing planet. I landed my ship to hide, not wanting to deal with them, and instead ended up falling into a cave filled with ice spider eggs. It was here that Grogu decided to have a snack,” the crowd chuckled. The Mand’alor continued the story. Telling everyone of his near-death experience with the ice spiders, barely making it back to his ship that was practically done for after the fall into the cave, afraid he had failed. Failed his passenger. Failed his son. “When suddenly the X-wing pilots found me again, just as the largest ice spider had started cracking the transparasteel, and shot it down,” he looked over at Teva and held out a hand. Taking his cue, Teva grasped his forearm as Vyktoria had done earlier in the day. He nodded, “So tonight, in  honor of this man, Captain Carson Teva, for saving my life… We feast!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!