FORGED BY FLAMES:
1.0 (Prologue)
THE INQUISITOR
CHARACTER(S): Din Djarin PAIRING(S): Din Djarin (Mando) x Fem Reader TYPE: Long Fic 📜 WORD COUNT: 668 REQUESTED: No ❎ CHAPTER WARNING(S): Blood & Gore, Character Death (Not Major), Violence SERIES OVERVIEW: Two bounty hunters, one a lone Mandalorian living by his honorable creed, and you, a retired warrior driven by revenge and survival, cross paths and are forced to work together on a covert job out of desperation. When you discover your mysterious target is a vulnerable child with abilities that are wanted by imperial remnants, you and the Mandalorian make the ultimate sacrifice to become fugitives in hopes of protecting and reuniting it with its kind by navigating the galaxy as fugitives. The only way to survive is to learn how to trust the Mandalorian while concealing your former identity that could put an end to you and your newfound comrades. CHAPTER SUMMARY: Many in the galaxy have a past they want kept secret. And with a history like yours, it'd be best to follow that trend. NOTE(S): Finally getting this up onto Tumblr! 💜
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ALT LOCATIONS: Wattpad | AO3
𝟏𝟎 𝐁𝐁𝐘
Flames whisked around your cape as they parted, making way for you. They were the only obstacle between you and the trembling man before you who tripped over his feet. His lightsaber illuminated a green aura around him, contrasting the red glow of your saber that reflected in your impassive gaze.
It was underwhelming, traveling to Hoth and tearing down a village just to eliminate one man. A man who could hardly defend his home, or himself. He lay on the ground, hissing as small sparks of fire singed his dirty skin. You stood stiffly, towering over his inferior form when you activated your weapon's second blade, which quickly began to spin.
“Stop! Please!” His voice trembled. “I know who you are!”
You paused your pursuit, your red blade inches from his neck. Peering down, your fists clenched in impatience. “Begging won't spare you.” You asserted. If it weren’t for the sliver of control you maintained, he would’ve been buried in the snow beneath your feet.
He shook his head, deactivating his saber before standing with raised hands.
“You’re Y/N Nintri, correct? I remember you, Plo Koon’s Padawan. Commander Nintri of the 104th Battalion.”
Your lips pursed and your grip on the handle of your saber tightened. The Jedi Order and the Republic had long been demolished, destroyed by the very man who had sworn to lead it valiantly.
“My association with them was tethered long ago. They turned their backs on me.”
“Please! You have to understand! None of us knew it was coming!” The man cried, insisting to prove the order’s innocence.
“They were warned long before it happened! I tried to save us, and they responded by slaughtering my friend! My brother!” You bellowed, shoving the spinning blade towards his jugular. His flesh sizzled under the immense heat, producing a pungent scent that swiftly wafted to you.
He wailed and gritted his teeth, enduring the agony of his skin melting under pure plasma. “You can’t blame everyone, Nintri. You have to understand. Look deeper!”
You tilted your head, scowling at his utter ignorance. “I blame the man who ordered my execution. And now, I will work under him and wait for the moment when I get to slice his throat.”
Rage surged through your blood, urging you to complete the task entrusted to you. Your bloodlust was immense, suffocating even. Similar to a craving, it influenced your very being. If it wasn’t satiated, it would take whatever it needed to thrive, practically making you its vessel. You wanted nothing more than to feel the man's life force hang on by a threat, before inevitably fading.
When your wrist communicator rang, you didn't care enough to glance down, keeping your narrowed eyes fixed on the man.
“First Sister. Have you completed your task?”
The man's eyes drifted to your comm, quivering when he understood his dire situation. He looked at you again through a teary gaze, silently pleading with you. Your lightsaber stopped spinning, leaving the two of you in silence with the only sound being your heaving breaths, and the steady humming of your blade.
“First Sister? Report!”
You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply, then jabbed the button on your comm to respond.
“It'll be done.”
Without further response the other line died, and the man hurriedly reached to his side to retrieve and activate his lightsaber. “Stop this! You don't have to-!”
He gargled, blood oozing from around his wound and trickling down his chest as your lightsaber pierced his throat, granting him a swift death. You watched as his life force left him, his eyes becoming lightless voids before his body fell to the ground. His beige robes were stained crimson, and the color soon painted the pearly white snow below, marking his grave.
You achieved what you were meant to. You upheld your end of the bargain and received your wish yet were still unsatisfied.
Because the man’s head you wanted severed on a platter was still alive.
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