Vacations and Vows
Thanks @thegildedquill for the prompt for the Mando’a Challenge! Had a blast writing this one, obviously, since it almost hit 7k LOL. Mando x reader Summary: The Mandalorian meets a ruthless failed Jedi, who somehow manages to navigate the intricacies of the man beneath the beskar. He whisks her away on vacation to pose a very important question that’s been weighing heavy on him.
Prompt: Gett’se (nuts, or brave)
Word count: 6.9K
Warnings: Mandalorian typical violence, minor description of injuries, some season 1 spoilers.
Thanks @thegildedquill for the Mando’a Challenge! Summary: The Mandalorian meets a ruthless failed Jedi, who somehow navigates through the intricacies of the man beneath the beskar.
Prompt: “gett’se”, Mando’a word for ‘courage’, ‘nerve’ or ‘nuts’ (generic) Word count: 6.9K
Warnings: Mandalorian typical violence, light mentions of injuries, season 1 spoilers
“What’s wrong?” The deep voice from the captain’s chair jarred her from her thoughts: not only from the sudden, almost deafening onset of sound in the otherwise silent cockpit, but his sporadic initiation of conversation. She wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been staring out into the black void of space that laid before the ship. Ten minutes? Maybe twenty? “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking, is all.” She relaxed back into the seat, fingers blindly trained on the edges of the domed crib beside her. A sharp intake of air. Was that a laugh? “Don’t hurt yourself.” She cocked her head towards him, incredulously. “What are you thinking about?” He continued, not turning his helmeted head. “Oh, you know. Just everything, I guess. We’ve been on the run for…How many years now?” Pressing the autopilot button, his chair swiveled to face her, expressionless as always. He slumped down, placing his elbows on his beskar clad legs. “Five years? Six?” The subtle tilt of his helmet told her that he hadn’t really considered it until she brought it up. He peered at her through his visor, suddenly glad that she was unable to see his eyes, trained on her petite form.
She was a far cry from the drunken brawler he had met all those years ago, and his lips, hidden behind beskar, tugged into a semblance of a smile at the vivid memory. The newly failed Jedi stood in a darkened back alley of Canto Bight, chest heaving after escaping from a mob of angry gamblers. Her gift with the Force allowed her to cheat her way through a game, winning her a substantial amount of money. Giddy, and moderately tipsy from the free drinks, she shoved credits into the pockets of her long, satin dress, fingers brushing against the lightsaber strapped to her leg. As the young woman navigated her way through the slimy underbelly of the city, blaster shots rang out: her keen senses knew it was only a couple of blocks away, and she stealthily navigated towards the sound. The moment she turned the corner, her heart lurched. Momentary flashes of silver were illuminated in the firefight, and she could see all of the shots were trained on one individual. “I always have to root for the underdog, don’t I,” she whispered under her breath, hiking the skirt of her dress up to remove her lightsaber. With a running start, and a drunken stumble, (Y/n) activated her lightsaber, illuminating the alley in a sunset gold hue, and sized up no less than 8 people nearly surrounding the figure. Slashing through the one that stood directly between her and the figure under attack, she turned, pressing her back towards the cold feeling of what she quickly recognized as beskar. “Who…” the voice called to her, before she quickly cut him off. “We can discuss formalities later, Mandalorian. For now, I’ve got you.” Another round of shots flew directly towards the pair, and she deflected them with ease with the saber. For a moment, the Mandalorian paused and watched the woman in the long dress, admiring the way she fought: she clearly had training, but there was a chaotic element, something unrefined, about the way she took out her enemies. Singlehandedly, the woman took out all but one of them, with the Mandalorian vaporizing the assailant in one swift motion. She sheathed her lightsaber, hiking up her now filthy dress to replace it in its holster. A cocky grin plastered her face, as she reached out towards him. “I’m (Y/n). I’d love to chat more, but seeing as how you’ve clearly made some enemies, we should probably get this show on the road. You got a ship?” The helmet tipped forward, a subtle nod of affirmation. The motion would be the only invitation the woman would receive from him. The Mandalorian turned mumbling quietly to himself about the woman’s apparent mental state, a deathwish, and she followed.
“Definitely closer to six.” The woman hummed, propping her feet on the side of his captain’s chair, wiggling her bare toes. “I’m getting a little….antsy.” “Antsy? About what?” His voice held no indication of what he was feeling. Fear, perhaps? The Mandalorian knew the day would probably come that his traveling companion would grow weary and branch off on her own, leaving him and the Child for good. He could never tell her how badly he wanted her to stay. She had become his best friend, his closest confidante, and a mother figure to the child. “You know….Like maybe we could make a stop for a couple of days. Like a vacation or something. Take the kid and visit Cara or something.” It wasn’t completely lost on her that he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I don’t know, Din. I feel like I’ve been staring at the inside of this ship forever. I want to see a sunset, put my feet on solid ground.” She frowned when he didn’t immediately respond. The captain’s chair swiveled back to its original position. “Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin,” her whine drawled, awakening a slew of butterflies in his stomach. “I’ll see what I can do.” He answered succinctly.
The sound of the docking ramp woke her from a peaceful slumber. Stumbling from her cot, she slipped on a loose, knee length dress and boots, scrambling to see where the Mandalorian had taken her. The hulking figure stood poised at the edge of the ramp, cradling the small bundle. “Navarro? This really your idea of a vacation?” She glided to his side. The child cooed at the sight of her, making grabby hands in her direction. Din slid the child into her arms, silently admiring the care with which she held him. She is the perfect dichotomy of deadly and nurturing, he thought to himself as he continued peering down at her out of the corner of his visor. “No, quick pit stop,” he placed his hand behind her elbow, guiding her off the ship, towards the center of the city. The small gesture of physical contact caused a flame in her cheeks, as she quickly adjusted the baby to sit on the swell of her hip. “CARA,” (Y/n) screeched, passing the child to Din to fully engulf her dear friend in a tight embrace. “It’s been so long!” Din joined the pair, and the child gurgled and cooed excitedly. Cara reached down and stroked the child’s long green ear. “Hello there, little one! What do you think about staying with Aunt Cara for a few days while your mom and dad go have some fun?” She peered pointedly at the Mandalorian, knowing full well that he was blushing under his helmet at the implication of their partnership. (Y/n) glanced quickly at Din, mouth fully agape, then back to Cara. “We couldn’t possibly inconvenience you like that!” she protested, “I mean, this guy is getting to be quite a handful, with his….thing. You know. *the Force*” she mouthed silently, knowing that Force users are generally unfavored, sought after by Imps. Cara found purchase under the child’s arms and pulled him gently away from (Y/n). “Look, if I can handle all the weird shit his mom does, I can handle whatever he can do. You two haven’t had any time to yourself in years now. Stay the night here tonight, we’ll catch up, and you can get an early start in the morning after a night of good sleep and a full belly!”
(Y/n) was one of the few women Cara knew that could drink her under the table. Cara narrowed her eyes as the woman giggled, leaning into the shoulder of the heavily armored man. Through heavy wheezing and laughter, she continued her story. “You should have seen the look on Din’s face when I sabered the guy clear through the chest right before the guy pulled the trigger on him. I have saved your ass SO many times.” Cara doubled over in laughter. “Really? ‘The look on his face’??” She tipped the flagon of alcohol towards her mouth, spewing a bit in her fit of laughter. “So you’re telling me you’ve seen his face?” (Y/n) bristled a bit at the comment. “Well, no, of course not. But I know what he’s thinking sometimes, I can feel it. So I can….imagine, I guess?” She peered up at him with big, glossy eyes. “Right, right. So is that part of the ‘Force’, or the fact that you two are clearly hopelessly in love with each other?” (Y/n) shot her gaze towards Cara, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, mind reeling. Would that really be that far beyond the realm of possibility? She knew she would be lying if she tried to deny it, instead opting to lean forward, away from Din, and grab her drink off the table. Certainly, their relationship held a peculiar degree of intimacy: what some would consider a simple gesture, such as revealing their real name, was a huge step in her friendship with the Mandalorian. They sat in the hull of the ship in silence after acquiring a particularly difficult asset, the pair both bleeding from fresh injuries. Through heavy, altered breaths, he finally spoke. “You really don’t have to stick around. Bounty hunting is a dangerous business.” Thuds of beskar hitting the cold floor punctuated his sentences, as he peered over at the woman through his visor. She had hastily stripped out of her minimal armor, revealing a startling amount of bruised and bloodied flesh underneath, a large gaping wound staining red the pale flesh of her upper arm. The Mandalorian quickly averted his gaze down to his own wounds, barely visible through the cloth of his underclothes. “I’m not made of glass, Mando. I was one night away from becoming a Jedi Master…you know. Before I ran.” A hiss escaped her lips as she staunched the bleeding from a deep vibroblade cut. His curiosity was piqued. “Seems like a lot of effort to go through just to run off at the last second.” He slid a medkit across the floor over to her, as she busied herself with the next most severe wound. “Do you know anything about what it means to become a Jedi, Mando?” she asked, no hostility in her voice. “Hm. I imagine it’s similar to my Creed.” Bacta spray coated his split knuckles, his gloves discarded to his side. “Well. Because of my…skills…I was taken away from my family as a child. Told to surrender my entire past, my entire self. And for what? To come of age and be told I can never get married or have a family, can never pursue anything that would fulfill me. I couldn’t have anything. So the night before I swore my oath, I took my lightsaber and ran. I didn’t stop running for what felt like an eternity. Hopping from planet to planet, swindling, fighting, killing if I absolutely had to.” Her wounds tended to, she laid back on the cold floor of the Razor Crest. She exhaled. “Honestly, it’s for the best. I’m having too much fun now. And now, all of my choices are my own.” Turning her head to peer at him. “What about you? What’s your story?” “My uh…parents. Got killed. I became the Mandalorians’ foundling. They raised me, and I adopted their Creed as mine. I owe them everything. It’s why I kept the Child as my own.” Suddenly, she reached across the space between them, taking his bare hand in her own. He was taken aback at first: this marked the first non-violent physical contact he had had with anyone in a long time, especially skin to skin. It felt foreign, but something else. Pleasant. “Mando….I’m so sorry.” He laced his fingers through hers, earning a quiet gasp. “Din…Din Djarin.” His voice through the modulator was breathy, as if the words escaped from him on their own volition. She quickly rolled onto her side and pulled her hand away, much to his chagrin. More confidently, he spoke again. “I would like for you to call me Din.” In one swift motion, he reached towards her, initiating the contact again.
“Oh my gods, (Y/n), are you EMBARASSED?” Cara continued laughing, sloshing her drink. “Your eyebrows are about to disappear into your hairline.” She stumbled to her feet. “I’m going to go check on the baby.” She navigated through Cara’s small lodging towards the room that held the child’s crib.
“Really, Din? REALLY? You haven’t told her yet?” Cara leaned forward, chastising him. His helmet tilted slightly as he stretched his arms across the back length of the seat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cara.” “So you’re telling me. That you’ve been traveling together for five-“ “Six,” he interrupted. “SIX years, and you haven’t told her that you love her?” He cleared his throat beneath his helmet. “She is the bravest warrior I know. I show her that I appreciate her service every day. That’s why I’m taking her on a vacation. She fights beside me well, and cares for the child as if he’s her own.” Shifting his weight, he glanced down the hallway she had gone down. “Din Djarin, you are staring down that hallway waiting for her to come back. You love her.” “She left the Jedi order so she could have some sense of normalcy. Marriage. A family. I cannot give that to her.” He husked angrily. Cara paused, blinking at him for a moment. “But you already did. Do you think it’s normal for two people to gallivant around the galaxy together, raising an adopted child together? Honestly, when you told me you were coming to visit, Greef and I made a bet: he said you two would already be married by the time you got here. I said you would announce it when you arrived.” “It is not the Way,” he replied simply. “I happen to know that Mandalorians can get married. The Armorer loaned me some books on the Creed. Maybe you should go talk to her.” “She still here in Navarro?” His interest was piqued. “Yeah, maybe you should go see her before you guys head out.” She stood, stretching her arms above her head. “And on that note, I’m going to bed.”
Din crept down the hallway towards the room with the crib, noting the door was slightly ajar. Peeking inside, he saw the child nestled against (Y/n), both fast asleep. Sighing heavily, he exited the building, in search of the Armorer.
The new covert wasn’t far from the old one. A handful of Mandalorians in their armor spread out in the comfortable common area, a handful of children toddling about. He couldn’t contain the swell of pride in his chest, seeing how the tribe was starting anew, with a fresh generation of foundlings. “Ah, Din. It’s been a long time.” A voice called from behind him. He turned, regarding her warmly. “How is the child? Where is the foundling?” “He’s with his moth-…Uh, with my traveling companion.” He barely caught himself. “Ah, a companion? The woman from the siege of Nevarro?” Her voice lilted in what could only be described as amusement, his near slip up wholly noticed. “Yes,” he replied in short. “A failed Jedi Master.” “A dar’jetti. Interesting. She understands the Force, then. Did you choose her companionship for her to teach the Foundling?” She busies herself with a gauntlet from the forge, not looking in his direction. His shoulders slumped, “She put her life on the line for me. She fiercely protected the child and I. More than once. First time on Canto Bight.” “How long ago was that?” Placing the gauntlet on the armory shelf, she turned, as if to urge the truth out of him. “Six years,” his voice was nearly a whisper. “So you have been traveling together for six years. Has she seen you without your helmet? Have you made her your riduur?” Tilting her helmet inquisitively. “You are raising a foundling together. It is a practical decision; we can extend the protection of the Covert to her. Aliit ori’shya tal’din.” He struggled for words, finally resigning to silently hooking his thumbs into his utility belt, shaking his head ‘no’. The Armorer walked over to him, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. “If you take her has your riduur it is still within the Resol’nare. To remove your helmet in front of your family...It is the Way. It is right, and just, a clan of three.” With that, he turned on his heels without a word, finding his way back to Cara’s homestead.
Din arguably never slept. Between the Child, piloting duties, and watching over (Y/n), he had learned to rely on as little rest as possible. It was no surprise when Cara rose that morning that the Mandalorian was comfortably reclining in the common space. “Morning, Mando! You find the Armorer?” she plopped down on a tufted cushion beside him. “Mhm” he answered flatly. A silence hung thick over the air, as if Cara was waiting for something more. “I’m taking her to Canto Bight. Called in a couple of favors.” She clapped her gloved hands together. “You’re taking her to the place you first met because you’re going to ask her to marry you. I KNEW it.” “Keep your voice down,” he husked. “I need you to take some of these credits from the last bounty, go with her to buy some clothing before we leave.” The creaking of a door startled the pair. (Y/n) dragged into the room, the Child toddling behind her. “Good morning, Cara, Din.” She stretched, and Din regarded her clothing. Her shoulder was exposed from the loose linen top she wore, her black jodhpurs torn and frayed from numerous falls. Since joining him, her style had become simple and practical, but all he could think about was the long dress she wore when they first met. “Um, good morning.” Din stood awkwardly. “Cara is going to take you shopping before we head out. Is that alright with you?” (Y/n) leaned down and picked up the Child, eyeing Din suspiciously. Glancing over at Cara who by now had a shit eating grin plastered across her face, she nodded slowly. “Sure, that sounds like it could be fun.” “I will take care of the baby until you two get back, cyar’ika.” The Mandalorian closed distance and collected the child from her. Before she could react, he leaned his helmet down, pressing it gently to her forehead. “I will see you soon.”
The two women meandered towards the market, (Y/n)’s face still flushed. “You know what that was, right?” Cara asked when they were out of earshot of her dwelling. “That was like, the equivalent of kissing by Mandalorian standard.” She dragged her hands down her face, “I KNOW what it was, Cara. I just don’t know WHY. What the HELL was that?! Was that MANDO’A? WHAT DOES CYAR’IKA MEAN?” He had only ever spoken to her in his native tongue once before, and the low growl of his words always sent a fire straight to the flesh of her neck and face.
Everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. They were cornered, bruised, and broken, under heavy fire from just beyond the cantina doors. A booming voice had just called the Mandalorian by his name, and the woman clutched her saber so tightly that the skin of her palms began to crack. Despite the debris from the ammunition and explosions digging into her knees from where she crouched behind the bar, his name being revealed to everyone wounded her somewhere deep behind her ribcage. Something sacred that he had gifted to her out of trust and mutual respect, shouted with indifference to the seemingly infinite number of troops as they pinned the group down.
The rag-tag group desperately clamored for some promise of an exit, a path to safety. The medical droid turned child protector had uncovered a small opening that could potentially lead the group to safety, but there wasn’t much time. Cara, Karga, and IG-11 crouched towards the small opening and began moving forward. (Y/n) scrambled towards the hole, turning to make sure Din was close behind, only to see him collapsed on the ground, unmoving. She scrambled over to him, tapping the side of his helmet. “Din! DIN? You have to get up, we have to go NOW.” As she slid her hand behind him to try to assist getting him up, she found that he was covered in something dark and slick. Blood, and lots of it, was seeping from a wound that was concealed by his helmet.
His breath came through the vocorder in slow pants. “(Y/n) I’m not going to make it. You take this, take the child, and get to safety.” He pressed a necklace with the emblem of a Mythosaur into her palm, then reached up to press his gloved hand to her cheek. “The covert. They’ll know…..know I sent you.”
Years of Jedi training had taught her about stoicism. It had taught her about loss, and death, but nothing had prepared her to say goodbye to the Mandalorian. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, as she violently shook her head in protest. “No, Din. I’m not leaving you. I will slaughter every Storm Trooper that comes through this door. I will slay Moff Gideon myself and watch the light leave his eyes. I swear this to you.” She looped the necklace around her neck, and slowly stood up, flicking her golden lightsaber and taking a fighting stance.
“Cuyir gar gett’se?!” The Mandalorian wheezed through his vocoder, struggling to catch his breath. “Don’t do this, the child needs you, you’re his mot-.” He stopped speaking abruptly, and she screamed for IG-11 to assist he Mandalorian.
Several Storm Troopers pressed their way inside, and the only thing she could focus on was holding them off for long enough for IG-11 to get Din to safety. As they fell one by one, a much larger Storm Trooper entered with a flamethrower and began spraying his flames towards her. Her palm pressed forward, as she used everything in the Force to keep the flames at bay. Her strength began to falter, as she peered down to her side. The child had waddled up beside her, and she quietly pleaded for him to get back. “Baby, please. Please, you’re going to get hurt. You’ve got to go back.” He raised his tiny three fingered hand and mirrored her position, and the flames began quickly receding. They soon engulfed the Trooper, and she clamored to scoop the now unconscious baby from the ground, running past IG-11 and the body of the Mandalorian. Cara chuckled to herself, “So now that it’s just the two of us, be honest. You’ve got it bad for him, don’t you?” “No shit, Cara. You can only be stuck with someone on a floating chunk of metal for so long before you start to think they look pretty appealing,” she rolled her eyes. “How long?” Cara guided her into a vendor stall, lined with dresses and garments. (Y/n) traced her fingers absentmindedly over the lush fabrics, deep in thought. “Uh, remember the story when he was getting jumped by the eight dudes in Canto Bight?” She picked up a long black dress with an open back. “….You mean the night you met? Are you insane?” Cara looked at her incredulously. “You’ve kept your shit together for six years, without even giving him a hint that you were feeling something?” Her skin flushed. “NO. I was just gonna say this dress is very similar to what I wore that night. GEEZ, Cara, I didn’t even know him yet.” Cara huffed in frustration. (Y/n) draped the dress over her arm, and placed her hand on Cara’s shoulder. “I can’t describe it. Let me just….show you, okay?”
It all came at once as a flood: everything was suddenly warm, like the heat of the sun on a perfect day, or the way spotchka burned just a little on the way down. It was a small, smoldering pile of cinders, giving way to an unquenchable blaze. The feeling of being surrounded by cool, blue water, and a fearless feeling of sinking all the way to the bottom of the sea. The undeniable sensation of falling from some high distance, unsure of when you’ll reach the bottom.
Cara’s eyes opened. “Damn, (Y/n) could you warn me before putting me through the ringer? I didn’t know that was a thing you could do.” (Y/n) turned towards the dark dress, and shrugged her shoulders. “This is the one.” She gestured to this shopkeep, shoving a handful of credits into their hands. “Let’s get out of here. I need a vacation.”
The Razor Crest docked in Canto Bight, and (Y/n) could barely contain her excitement, a stark contrast to the man behind the beskar. “if you would like to get dressed, I’m going to run an errand. Will you be ready in half an hour?”
(Y/n) peered at herself in the small mirror as she dabbed a deep rouge color to her lips. The dress glided behind her as she strode towards the weapons cabinet and pulled out her lightsaber, still in pristine condition. The high slit of the dress allowed her easy access to strap the weapon to her leg. The loud hissing of the ramp to the Razor Crest alerted her to Din’s arrival, and she stood expectantly awaiting the moment he got to lay eyes on her.
The man in the shiny beskar paused in front of her, his helmet tilting downward to take her all in. “You look….” He paused, seemingly choking, noticing the Mythosaur necklace he had given her during the siege situated on her chest. “Really nice, (Y/n).”
She smirked, enjoying how flustered he seemed to be. “You look pretty nice yourself, Din. Did you shine your beskar up just for me?” He quickly nodded.
“I uh….wanted to look as nice as I could for this. Are you ready to depart?” He gestured towards a speeder at the bottom of the ramp. “I got a speeder with a sidecar so you wouldn’t have to…um….straddle it in a dress.” She broke into a giggle, which swelled into a belly laugh.
“That’s surprisingly thoughtful of you. I really can’t believe you pulled all this together for me. Thank you so much.” “Don’t thank me until you see the rest. There’s a lot more to see tonight.” He held out his arm, chivalrously as they walked towards the speeder. “Do you trust me?” She thought for a moment. “Well, that depends. Are you making this nice for me so it’s an easy let down? You’re dumping me back off here or something?”
He scoffed. “No, never. I’m not sure what I would do without you.” The sincerity in his voice caused her to falter a bit. He regained his stoic composure quickly. “Keep your eyes closed, I’ll tell you when to open them.” The speeder ride felt painfully long, and a bit disorienting. She had absolutely no concept of space, nor any idea where he might be taking her. The whirring of the speeder engine slowed to a halt, and she could vaguely make out the sounds of waves crashing somewhere nearby. The Mandalorian disembarked, and strode around to gently lift her from her seat.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” His voice through the vocorder gravelly beside her ear.
The woman wasn’t prepared for what sight was in front of her. A large dock surrounded by blue ocean stretched out before them, leading towards a large yacht. The sky was beginning to display a twinge of orange and pink, reflecting off of the gently rolling waves. (Y/n) looked over at the Mandalorian, speechless for the first time since they had met. “Din, this is really too much. It must have cost a fortune in credits to get this boat. And if I recall correctly, you HATE the water.”
He shook his head. “I had a few favors to call in from some associates here. This is yours to enjoy while we’re here.” She jumped up and down gleefully, and began running towards the boat. It never ceased to amaze him her ability to run in high heeled shoes.
The pair embarked on the yacht, and she watched puzzled as Din entered coordinates into the GPS system. The boat began moving towards some undisclosed location, and she ran towards the front of the boat. She perched herself against the railing, staring down as the waves passed quickly as the boat sped along. Innumerable fish passed by, many species she had never seen before. Din stood back and watched her, arms crossed, an immense amount of hidden enjoyment spreading across his features. The young woman quickly turned back towards him. “So where are we even heading? I saw you input some coordinates.” She kicked off her shoes to the side unceremoniously, enjoying the freedom to move about.
“I know a spot.” He answered plainly.
“Hmmmm, a place where you dump the bodies?” She chided, eyeing him suspiciously.
“No. Just a place I thought you might like to see. I don’t imagine you got to enjoy many spots in Canto Bight during your time here.” She thought for a moment.
“You’re right. Most of the time I was just ducking out in alleyways. I think I only even got to see the coastline twice during the time I was here. And never like this.” The setting sun caused her to squint her eyes a bit as she peered out, and the Mandalorian took that time to really take her in: she was truly beautiful, all pointed features and sharp angles. He very seldom had the luxury to see her this way, without lines of worry across her forehead, or thinking deeply about how they were going to capture the next quarry. She consistently held a brave face for him and the child, so much that it was often easy to forget that she was a living being. For a moment he tried to imagine her other life, one where she was a hardened Jedi master: fierce and unrelenting, but also quiet and solitary. He thought, that life would have never suited her, she was like a wildfire, wild and unquenchable. Her smile when she held the child, or the attitude she so quickly gave the Mandalorian when he agitated her. No, she felt far too much to be confined by the life of a Jedi. She looked back over to him, smiling.
“You know, sometimes I actually can feel what you’re thinking. You try to keep your thoughts quiet, but sometimes you’re so loud in there.” She shook her head, almost embarrassed. “You’re right, though. That was never the life for me. I’m a little bit too erratic for the discipline they expected from me.” He moved towards her, placing his hand tentatively on her shoulder.
“There’s nothing shameful about that. You’re impulsive at times, wild even. But you know, sometimes I’m not sure this is the life I want to live either.” She gazed at his hand for a moment, before turning her attention to the T shaped visor, confused at his confession. He continued, “There are many days when I think maybe it’s time to take off the armor, to give all of this up. Maybe settle down with the kid somewhere and try to have some normalcy.”
“Din, where is this coming from? The Creed is your entire life….” The boat sputtered to a halt, and he gently guided her to turn back around: all that could be seen around them was a beautiful sunset undisturbed and untouched by the Canto Bight skyline. Her mouth hung open in shock. “Din, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Every planet I’ve seen, in all my travels. Nothing this beautiful.”
“Neither have I.” He spoke softly, and she smiled back towards him. She immediately noticed his visor didn’t face the sunset, he was looking down at her. “(Y/n), I want you to do something for me.” He clasped both her hands in his, shocking her at his blatant display of affection.
“After you put all of this together for me? I’ll do literally anything you ask of me.” She winked at him.
He slowly lifted her hands to the edge of the beskar helmet on his head, exhaling shakily. Her fingers traced the cool metal that shielded his face from the world, as he let go of her hands. She felt herself starting to tremble at the immense amount of trust her placed in her, allowing her to touch his helmet. His hands now found purchase at her waist, another action so intimate she felt her heart swell.
“I want—I want you to take it off.” His voice was uneven and gentle, as though he couldn’t believe the words had slipped out to her so easily.
“Din, NO,” she quickly removed her hands and tried to pull herself from his grasp. “Your Creed. I can’t see you without it. Why the kriff would you want to give that up now, after all this time?” His grasp on her waist didn’t falter, instead pulling her in closer to him. She slapped her hands on his cuirass, agitated. “I won’t let you throw away your entire life for me.”
“I don’t have to ‘throw away’ anything for you, cya’rika. All these years you’ve traveled with me…You’ve followed me to the ends of the earth to protect the child…OUR child. You have never betrayed my trust, despite your absolute ruthless nature. I want to give this to you.”
Tears began welling up in her eyes. “You can’t, Din. As much as I wish I could say yes, we can’t. I know what it means to throw away everything you worked for, but I made that choice. Your Creed is everything to you.”
“I don’t have to give up my Creed to show you my face…” He spoke barely above a whisper. “We’re a clan of three. Aliit ori’shya tal’din: Family is more than blood.” He echoed the phrase the Armorer had told him.
“I’m familiar with Mandalorian customs, Din: You can remove your helmet in front of your child.” She grew increasingly more agitated and anxious.
“Or…my riduur.” She shifted her weight nervously.
“Din, I’m familiar with customs, not the language. I don’t even know what that means.”
His hands moved to grasp hers again, placing them on his helmet with more conviction. “Wife. It means, my wife.” “Are you….are you asking me to…?” He nodded. “You’re not just messing with me right now?” He shook his head in response, and she began a combination of laughing and crying all at the same time.
“So will you do it?” He whispered softly, and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she lifted the helmet. A quiet hiss echoed around them, as the sun began to dip just beyond the horizon. Din took the helmet from her, and placed it to the side. “Open your eyes, (Y/n).”
She slowly opened her eyes to the man before her. The rays from the finally setting sun settled upon his golden tan skin, framed by loose brown curls. Her hands shot up to her mouth in shock. “Din, you’re…..hot? Like, I knew you had swagger, but you’re….you’re a vision.” He looked at her shyly, and began to laugh. “Stars, and your smile? I can’t believe you never told me how beautiful you were underneath that tin can.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned towards her so dangerously close that their lips were almost touching. “I mean, I figured all this time you thought I looked like the child.” She reached up to touch his face with nothing but reverence and adoration.
“You could have been a Mon Calamari under there and I would love you…” She paused, her cheeks flushed with her confession. His gloved hand cupped the side of her face, and she leaned into him, never breaking eye contact. “I love you, (Y/n).” She released his face and threw her arms around his still armor-clad shoulders, pressing into a tentative kiss.
“I will marry you, Din. Under one condition.” She murmured, lips still hovering close to his.
“Anything you want, cyar’ika.”
“You gotta start teaching me Mando’a.” She felt his chest move, as laughter began bubbling up from deep within him. “Hey, it’s not funny! You keep slipping in words and phrases and I’ve been in the dark this whole time!”
He brushed his lips against her forehead. “Okay, anything you want to know.”
“When we were on Nevarro, and you were….um…dying. You said something. What was it?” He pulled back and thought about it for a moment.
“I’m pretty sure I told you that you were nuts.” Her fist connected with his shoulder. “OW, what was that for?”
“All this time, I’ve been sitting here, thinking that you were professing your love with your dying breath. And you were just telling me that I was CRAZY?”
He gently thumbed over the necklace he had given her. “In a way, I was. Gar cuyir gett’se. You’re the bravest, most fearless, insane woman I have ever met. Cyar’ika, my beloved.”
The pair had spent their travel time back to Nevarro, with Din patiently teaching her phrases of Mando’a, particularly phrases for their wedding vows. They had made the decision to have the ceremony performed on Nevarro, with the child, Cara, Greef Karga and the Armorer present, even though Mandalorian weddings were a simple exchanging of words. As they approached the docking bay, (Y/n) seemed to vibrate with excitement. The hatch opened, and the pair could see Cara laughing with the baby settled on her hip, and Greef Karga gesticulating animatedly.
(Y/n) practically skipped off towards the group, Din following slowly behind. He was still tentative; he didn’t know what to expect with their news. As (Y/n) approached, the baby wiggled and writhed away from Cara, and she plopped him down watching him waddle over and clasp onto (Y/n)’s leg.
Cara eyed the pair carefully, cutting between the two of them. “Something’s different, isn’t it? You’ve got an awful lot of spring in your step to just have some vacation afterglow.” (Y/n) turned, smiling at the Mandalorian.
He nervously cleared his throat, and moved to stand by her side, dwarfing her in his height. “I have asked (Y/n) to be my riduur.”
She proudly bounced on the heels of her feet. “Wife. That means wife, everyone. He’s been teaching me Mando’a on the trip back.” Everyone gaped at the pair, the baby cooing and sputtering excitedly. “What’s everyone staring at?” For a brief moment, seemingly suspended in time, everyone was too shocked to speak. Greef Karga broke the silence by stepping forward and clapping the Mandalorian on his pauldron covered shoulder.
“I knew you had it in you, Mando. I’m glad you’re keeping her around. She’s always been crazy enough to get things done.” He shot a quick wink over to the woman, who beamed up at the expressionless helmet.
“She certainly is, which is why she wants to go ahead and do it today.” As if the baby knew what Mando was saying, he began cooing and gurgling excitedly. He reached down and stroked the child’s slightly furry head. “We would like all of you to attend as our witnesses. Mandalorian wedding vows are a simple exchanging of words, but we would like for all of you to be a part of it.”
Later in the day, as the blazing sun hung above the city, the group found themselves in the Mandalorian covert. The Armorer greeted the group warmly and led them to a common space with comfortable seating. Din and (Y/n) stood before them, hand in hand, as they began to recite the vows he had taught her on the flight back to Nevarro.
“Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dhar’tome. Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.” Din clasped his gloves hands on her cheeks, pulling her towards him. Gently, he pressed the forehead of his helmet to her, and she beamed back at him.
“So that’s it? You’re married now?” Karga slapped his hands to his knees. The Armorer nodded.
“Yes. Mandalorian custom dictates a simple exchange of words as a binding marital contact. This is the Way.”
(Y/n) strode towards Cara, collecting the baby. “Well that’s it little guy, I guess I’m officially your mom now.”
The Armorer nodded her head in agreement. “A clan of three. Go forth and raise warriors.” (Y/n) chuckled.
“I think warrior, singular, is about all we can handle right now. I think our little clan is finally complete.” She gazed at his visor adoringly. “Now, we better get back to work. I blew a bunch of our credits at the casino on Canto Bight. Karga, got any pucks for us?” The group stared at her incredulously, as Din wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“I told ner cyar’ika no using the Force to cheat. We didn’t need their security ruining her vacation.” She shrugged under his weight.
Karga grumbled. “Nuttiest bounty hunters in the entire Guild. I swear, they were made for each other.”
The baby cooed happily between them, and (Y/n) felt her chest swell with pride. After all those solitary years, the brutal Jedi training, she finally felt as though she had the entire galaxy within her reach. The things she so outrageously dreamed of, prematurely stolen from her in her youth, restored by a fifty something year old child, and a man clad in armor as impenetrable as his heart: a family all her own. A clan of three.
