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dumbbitchenergy17 · 9 months

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Clan of Three - Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One: The Spies

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 8K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments, character death, massive angst, PTSD, just really fucking sad and depressing

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An evil out in the galaxy, the remnants of a destroyed empire forced to hide in the shadows slowly rebuilding until they can make their return. A man in imperial armor flanked by several soldiers wearing white armor and red sensors. He enters a laboratory full of tanks holding deformed and growing lifeforms, entering a conference chamber that was already going on via holograms.

“The New Republic is vulnerable, but we must be cautious and show no sign of our true strength.” One of the imperial officers states.

“Easy for you to say, Captain. There’s a fortune to be had plundering the hyperspace lanes,” A bald male commander disagrees as the man in the room actually watches the disagreement.

“Commander, your hit-and-run operations are gaining too much notice,” Captain Gilad Pellaeon reminds the commander, “If we are perceived as anything other than a group of unorganized remnant warlords, the New Republic will increase their efforts to hunt us down.”

“There are citizens loyal to the Empire on every planet in this galaxy,” A female officer speaks up, “They’re already getting sick of this New Republic and its rules and regulations.”

Another bearded officer nods agreeing to the woman’s statement “And if we give them a show of strength, they will rally behind us.” The woman nods but Pelleaon shakes his head

“But that strength must not be wasted. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s return will herald in the re-emergence of our military, and provide Commandant Hux enough time to deliver on Project Necromancer.” Pelleaon mentions the formidable Admiral. Hux smiles and the imperial warlord steps forward and Hux motions to speak.

“Captain Pellaeon, you always speak with much authority, and yet, I see,” He scoffs looking around, “Once again, that Grand Admiral Thrawn is missing from your delegation. Any word on when he will be able to participate in the Shadow Council?”

Pelleaon scoffs before replying, “With respect, our one hope for success relies upon the secrecy of his return.”

“Captain, secrets are my stock-in-trade,” The warlord reminds him, “I hear whispers from one end of the galaxy to another, and never a word of Thrawn. You have spoken of his imminent return…perhaps, it’s time we look to new leadership.”

“Hear, hear.” The female imperial officer agrees and Hux nods, “Project Necromancer is in place for that.” He asks the warlord.

“Yes, Commandant.” “What has become of Doctor Pershing and the research you promised us?” Hux asks and the warlord is silent, “Doctor Pershing was captured by the New Republic. His research is lost. For now, at least.” He says and Hux nods,

“I also hear whispers, Gideon. You held Pershing and were attempting your own experiments on Nevarro.” He questions the warlord, Moff Gideon.

“The creation of clones is your obsession, not mine. I account for what goes on in my sector, no more, no less,” Gideon looks around at the council, “The same can be said of every member of this Council.”

“Yes.” “Of course.” “That’s right.” “Yes.”

“And yet, we individually scrape and claw resources awaiting the grand plan to take shape, while you and Pellaeon amass countless resources and equipment which should be shared,” Gideon observes each warlord and Hux nods holding a datapad, “Oh, we already received your request. Three Praetorian Guards,” He scoffs, “Sounds like someone is concerned about an assassination attempt.” Gideon is silently his hand scratching his chin feeling the scars that litter his face. It was more of a second chance of an assassination attempt.

“And he thinks I’m being the flashy one,” Pelleaon remarks, “But following your first attempt it’s remarkable you’re still standing today.” The news had spread quickly through the empire of Gideon’s capture before he was soon rescued. The warlord with control over Nevarro and eyes all over the Outer Rim. But he had a key asset to taking control of a vital planet that could bring the return of the empire and it was thwarted by a man in beskar armor but the scars that would stain his skin forever caused by a young girl with abilities assumed to be extinct.

You stand over him the Darksaber in hand ready to deliver the killing blow. The rage and wrath you were going to enact your revenge.

“And reinforcements for your TIE interceptor squadron,” Hux asks and Gideon lowers his hand from the scars marring his face pushing away those memories, “And… bombers.”

“Yes, I see. And what is your security concern?” Hux asks and Gideon moves towards the middle of the room, “Mandalorians.” The council is confused by this information.

“What? They continue to be an issue?” An officer asks and Gideon nods, “They do. I am increasingly confident that they are preparing to retake their home world of Mandalore. They have a Jedi among their ranks as well that is Mandalorian too.” The council knew of this Jedi girl that had been involved with Moff Gideon but the news she is Mandalorian as well the pieces connected. The name whispered in alleys, through bounty hunters, even the New Republic was looking for her, is seen as the person who took down the Warlord Moff Gideon. Of Mandalorian and Jedi blood. The granddaughter of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze and current wielder of the Darksaber.

“A resurgent Mandalore would hamper our efforts.” Pelleaon remarks and the warlords a nervous about this news.

“Which is why we need to stamp them out now.” The others agree as he meets Pelleaon’s gaze, “You’ll have your reinforcements and your guard.”

“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all,” Gideon turns around looking at his fellow warlords, “Long Live the Empire!”

“Long Live the Empire!”

All repeat as Gideon leaves the council with only one thought in mind. While the Mandalorians were a threat to him only one stood out to him, a man who was willing to tear the galaxy apart for two individuals and his daughter that wouldn’t let someone stop her from finishing off the warlord. Din Djarin and Y/n Kenobi-Kryze were a threat to him but to finish this once and for all both parties need to be separated. The young princess would have wished she accepted his offer so long ago…

The planet Nevarro is serene and peaceful when the loud rumble and citizens look at the sky in shock, High Magistrate Greef Karga works in his office when he notices the tremor seeing a shadow overcast his city. “High Magistrate! High Magistrate!” The protocol droid enters the office, “An Imperial shuttle is advancing over the city.”

The Magistrate moves to the balcony viewing the large fleet over Nevarro City, “First, that’s a light cruiser. And second, it’s not Imperial.” “With apologies, sir. According to my data, it is.” The droid says from its information, and it wasn’t wrong technically.

“No, no. It was an Imperial ship. Look at the markings,” On the bottom of the light cruiser is the large design of the mythosaur, “See, those, my friend, are Mandalorian privateers. I’ll bet you, half that fleet was captured from the Empire.”

“So, they’re on our side then?” The droid asks and Greef nods, “I should hope so. They’re our welcomed guests. Come.” From the Mandalorian covert, the Armorer emerges from her tent other members of the Tribe gaze at the approaching Mandalorian fleet in wonder. On the Gauntlet the four of you fly before the fleet approaching the covert,

“I hope these two groups get along. They’ve never met, and what little they know of each other, they hate.” Bo-Katan says warily, with the new fleet and the new owner of the Darksaber a lot of pressure was on her.

“They will if they wanna survive.” You say trying to soothe her worries as the Gauntlet and the rest of the fleet land. Exiting the ship Bo-Katan led followed by her followers as they move forward as the Mandalorians of the Child of the Watch stand on opposite sides.

“Take the children inside.” Paz Vizsla orders his son and the boy is leading the children away from the situation between adults. You spot amongst the tribe the copper and white armor relieved to see him again. Bo-Katan and her followers remove their helmets as silence fills the area the tension between two groups of different beliefs. You were certainly a fight was to break out when a clanging fills the air you sigh of relief as the Armorer lowers her hammer and tongs.

“Welcome, fellow Mandalorians,” She greets the newcomers, “We invite you to make camp. Let us prepare a feast for our guests.”

It was uncomfortable and tense leading to the feast of the animosity between two tribes as you were pulled away, meeting the new IG-11 when Din and Grogu returned inside the droid while you were with Bo-Katan and the Armorer. You caught glances of the Mandalorian you wished to see but you were too far apart and when he left to join the hunting party for the feast you didn’t see him until night. A large bonfire was used to cook the animal but also to light the area, the two fractions divided a very awkward meal with only half eating the other not allowed to eat before others. They talk amongst their own clans before Bo-Katan rises to stand knowing she has to say something,

“Mandalorians. It is time to retake our home world. Even though the planet is not cursed, there are still dangers. Dormant species have been awakened from the bombings. The remaining magnetic interference has made it impossible to scan the surface from above the atmosphere.” She explains as they all listen in, “Which is why I’m proposing that we leave Nevarro and move the fleet into orbit above Mandalore. We send down a small recon party. We’ll scout the surface, find out what remains of the Great Forge, and establish a safe perimeter. Only then, will we bring down the others. I need volunteers from both tribes.” She says and silence fills the encampment of those averting their eyes from their technical leader’s gaze. You look around before making eye contact with Bo-Katan who tries hiding her nerves but you can feel them.

“I will go,” Din speaks up and Bo-Katan nods gratefully, “Y/n and Grogu as well.” He says and Grogu coos while you nod. It’s quiet once again before you see Koska Reeves grab her helmet holding it to her side as she stands.

“I will go.” She says and Bo-Katan nods now having two from each tribe, “I will go.” Woves says with a nod rising to stand.

“I will go.” Paz Vizsla states standing up as well his gaze meeting Woves as they watch each other. “I will go.” You hear Kaz’s voice and you spot him standing his gaze meets yours and he gives a small nod and you return one back. Soon others are standing volunteering themselves before the Armorer speaks up, “I will go as well.” The scouting party created the rest of the night a bit tense but lighten up.

You don’t even wait for Bo-Katan to return to your small group, you’re already up moving away from the adults towards the person you’ve been dying to see since returning to Nevarro. Din sighs watching you disappear amongst the Mandalorians seeing where that boy Kaz once was is now gone from his spot too. Bo-Katan pats his shoulder as she takes your seat, “She’s going to be alright, besides it’s good for her to be a normal teen for once well I guess adult.” It didn’t seem real that you were an adult, just yesterday Din met the girl on Arvala-7 and Bo-Katan didn’t know it was her grand-niece while helping hijack an imperial cruiser.

“I know..” Din sighs breaking apart pieces of meat for Grogu to eat who accepts it with open hands, he spots you and your Mandalorian off to the side beside the tents your hands holding the sides of Kaz’s helmet. You speak to him with a large smile across your face as he presses his helmet against your forehead. “I don’t want her to have her heartbroken…I wouldn’t know what to do. I barely got her back from Gideon.”

“Kid…hey cyar’ika..will you please look at me?”

He calls out to you, he feels like he lost two of his children, one with the Jedi that had long left and the girl in front of him but seemed to be millions of lightyears away. Moff Gideon was removed from the light cruiser going off with Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune on the Slave I. Leaving himself, you, Bo-Katan, and Reeves as they went to meet up with the other Mandalorians. The female Mandalorian that was apparently your grand-aunt had allowed you two to stay willing to bring them anywhere in the galaxy before they went off for their plans to reclaim Mandalore though without the Darksaber that was now in your possession.

Your eyes were glazed over but they seemed to be focused on an item gripped in your hand as your breathing suddenly picks up. Din looks realizing the weapon in your grasp, prying from your strong grip and throwing it off in the private room you two were given. Din still hadn’t put on his helmet there was no reason to try to hide at the moment, he had already done the worse thing any Mandalorian of his creed could do. Remove one's helmet in front of a living person and he did it for you and the child.

“It’s gone..okay it’s gone.” He whispers holding your face between his palms forcing you to look at him and you barely even register him tears welling in your eyes. The blood drips to the floor from your fingers as it freely bled, your knuckles were shattered no doubt just drenched in your blood and the Moff’s. Your clothes were bloody parts of them ripped and tattered a large open hole was at your stomach and on your back and he assumes it was from…he didn’t want to think of that. He still wasn’t sure how you were standing before him and he thanked his gods and the Force that comes from you. Blood speckles your face and your messy hair as he tries swiping at the dried blood as a tear slides down your cheek wetting some dried blood before another one and they pour down your face like a waterfall. Din felt helpless seeing your innocence completely stripped away from you. Your lip wobbles as a strained whine like a wounded animal is held in your throat as you try not to break down. Din feels his own eyes burn but forces his own sadness to be pushed down as you choke back a cry. It was repressed as you hold in your cries your shoulders shake and before Din can try comforting you hit the ground a cry of pure terror comes out. Din hits the ground with you as you frantically start rubbing at your arms tearing at your skin blood spewing from your deep scratches.

“get it off…get it off…Get it off!” You scream as you try to rid the blood that marks you and Din has to wrestle with your arms to pull them away from each other and from you to stop causing harm to yourself. “Stop it Y/n! Stop!” Din yells fearfully of you being so terrified of Moff Gideon’s blood on you that you were hurting yourself in your panic. Tears blind your vision as he looks over you forcing your hands into one of his and cups your cheek with the free one. He could only describe pure fear in your voice and your face as Moff Gideon continues to plague you despite the fact he was lightyears away from you. “He tried to…” You break down as he pulls you into his arms holding you in the crook of his neck your arms clutching his cape.

“Oh cyar’ika…I got you…you’re safe..it’s just us.” He reassures you blinking away the tears from his eyes as you sob in the safety of his arms, “Din.” You whimper as he presses a kiss to the top of your head whispering into your hair.

“You’re safe…you’re alright. I’m not leaving…I got you cyar’ika.” It was a promise…a vow to always protect you to make sure this never happens again. To never see another tear be shed, shelter you from the harshness of the world, to keep yours in his embrace safe in his arms. He would put his life on the line, let himself die, and break his creed a thousand times over to make sure you never go through this kind of pain ever.

Din watches you speak to that boy as he holds you in your embrace Bo-Katan sees the nervousness and fear coming off the bounty hunter, “She can’t go through it again. That kind of pain isn’t meant for her…this life isn’t meant for her.” He voices his worries. He would bring you away from here, hide you away from the world even if you would hate him for the rest of your life if it keeps you safe he was willing to. But he couldn’t be selfish…he couldn’t live in a world where you hated him, and they were so close to the end. Returning home to Mandalore, start anew and when that time came he would hang up his blaster and sit back and watch you grow older and be a father, not a bounty hunter. So he watches you be happy in this moment of serenity praying to the highest being to keep that boy safe for the sake of your heart.

The next morning after bidding goodbye to Magistrate Greef Karga, the fleet, and its Mandalorians depart from Nevarro to Mandalore. The Mandalorians sit in the hull for the drop while you, Grogu, Bo-Katan, and the Armorer sit in the cockpit. Both the N-1 and X-Wing left on the light cruiser and R4 sadly stays on the cruiser. He was a bit disappointed but you reassured him, he would be the first person you bring when you return from the scouting party. All the ships exit hyperspace reaching Mandalore as the Gauntlet heads towards the stormy surface, “Scouting party descending to surface. We’ll lose comms shortly.” Bo-Katan says speaking to the people in the back as the ship rattles entering the thunderstorms that surround the planet’s atmosphere. Soon you’re breaking through the storm flying over the destroyed cities of your homeworld.

The doors slide open as Din enters holding onto your seat to stabilize himself, “They’re ready.” Bo-Katan presses on a keypad, “Secure infill zone.” Soon the Mandalorians depart to the planet you remain hovering over before you hear a transmission come through, “Gauntlet, landing zone secure.” Woves announces and the ship lands the five of you disembarking. Grogu controls IG-12 as you touch the glassy surface.

“Somewhere below is where our ancient capital once stood,” Bo-Katan tells the other Mandalorians, “We’ll survey the surface until we find the Forge and create a safety zone. Only then will we begin to bring down the settlers. We start scouting in that direction.” She points in the direction of the sunset.

“Form up.” Your expedition begins walking in pairs through the terrain, you walk beside Kaz in front of Din and the Armorer. A large distance is covered before you sense something. You pause and Kaz and Din look at you confused.

“Kid?” “Something’s heading towards us.” You comment to the Mandalorians sensing a large presence looking out and seeing something on the horizon, “There, on the horizon.” You point out as a large land ship with wheels approaches.

“Nite Owls.” Bo-Katan commands and the Nite Owls quickly get into position the rest of you holding your weapons ready for whoever it was. “Flanking left.” You were more surprised about the fact that people were actually here and if so how did they survive the Purge? The ship comes rumbling to a stop a distance away before a voice shouts out.

“Do you have food?” “We do.” Bo-Katan replies and another man onboard shouts, “You wear the crest of the Nite Owls?”

“I should hope so.” Bo-Katan says, “They’re Mandalorians.” The Armorer says.

“Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?” Your party is silent as Bo-Katan decides to confirm, “It is.” Suddenly three Mandalorians activate their jetpacks leaving their ship and landing in front of the scouting party. They remove their helmets revealing tired but hopeful faces.

“We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan. We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.” They lower their heads slightly bringing a hand to rest over their hearts. Your group found itself on the ship eating dinner only those who took off their helmets at. You sat between Din and Kaz with Bo-Katan at the head of the table.

“They intercepted any ships they saw leaving. They took no prisoners. They bombed every surface twice over. They punished us as a warning to the whole galaxy because we refused to surrender.” The Captain of the landship explains and Bo-Katan grows quiet.

“That’s not true….I did surrender.” She says and the Mandalorians went silent before whispering amongst each other, “After our forces were annihilated in the Night of a Thousand Tears and defeat was imminent, I met with Moff Gideon. The ISB had reached out to me to negotiate a cease-fire. In exchange for submitting to the Empire and disarming, all remaining cities and Mandalorian lives were to be spared. That is how Moff Gideon came to possess the Darksaber. I didn’t trust him, but it was the only chance I had to save our people. And then he betrayed me and we were helpless to resist the Purge of Mandalore.” She explains. The air is tense as the truth of the destruction of this planet is revealed.

The Captain swallows harshly turning to the still helmet Mandalorians, “How did these others survive?” “We were hidden on the moon of Concordia.” The Armorer explains.

“Are you Death Watch?” The Captain questions a bit suspicious of the terrorist group that went into known hiding on Concordia, “Death Watch exists no longer. It shattered into many warring factions.”

“Our people have suffered time and again. From division and squabbling factions,” Bo-Katan says looking over the table, “Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.”

“And what does a Jedi have involved amongst our kind? The last time Jedi and Mandalorians fought side by side was the Seige of Mandalore during the Clone Wars,” The Captain says remembering fighting there as well, “I thought the Jedi were all killed off?”

“That is true…I make no sense here. To some, I am an enemy..to others a reminder of the past allies you once fought alongside,” You say holding your hands over the table, “I am here to return to my home planet and see the rise of Mandalore and its people. My father once wished for Mandalore to be a planet for all Mandalorians despite which fraction or division they came from to have a homeworld, no matter if you are Mandalorian by blood or Mandalorian by Creed.” Your gaze meets Bo-Katan's and then Din’s.

“Though I no longer wield the Darksaber….I fight alongside my grand-aunt for the chance that we and the Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy may all return home.” The table is silent surprised and shocked by the words coming from you. The diplomacy and leadership exuding from you, Bo-Katan sees her sister in you with your words.

“You’re…her grand-niece.” The Captain says shocked many of the Mandalorians stuck on this planet see the resemblance between you and the redhead. “I am Y/n Kenobi-Kryze.”

You leaned against the railing of a secluded part of the land-ship it was stationed the traveling continuing in the morning. The breeze cooling on your skin as your elbows rest on the wood looking out on the destroyed planet that was the home of your family. “That was a good speech…told you I can see a leader in you.” Kaz’s voice comes from your side as you glance over at him. You hum returning your gaze to the open space of Mandalore, you only wished you could have seen this planet in all its glory.

“Do you ever wish you were here on Mandalore when it was still standing and in all its glory,” You ask and he leans against the railing beside you as he thinks for a second, “I think it would have been nice being on a planet of our people, but I don’t think I would have survived the Purge of Mandalore.” He says honestly and you give him a look.

“That’s morbid.” You say and he chuckles slightly, “No but it also meant we wouldn’t have met. I mean if you were here you would be in the capital as a princess and me just a lowly commoner.” He says teasingly and you shove him producing a laugh from him.

“I am definitely no princess. Maker imagine me in a dress and those uncomfortable shoes!” You ramble and you notice him silent watching you, “What?” He keeps looking at you before shaking his head and looking away, “No you can’t just not tell me!” You grab his arm and he looks down at you.

“Does my princess command me?” You hear the smile on his tone and you roll your eyes, “Yes she does now tell me.” You cross your arms across your chest and he’s quiet before leaning forward and pushing a piece of hair that gets in front of your face.

“I think you would like quite pretty in a dress.” He says and your face flushes and you turn away making him laugh, “What you told me to tell you!” He says between laughter before he spins you around to look at him and he presses his forehead against yours and you close your eyes slightly.

“Naboo.” You say and he leans back looking at you confused, “What?” “I will only wear a dress on Naboo. I was told that it’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy. And there are lakes and waterfalls and fields of flowers and plants as far as the eyes can see. So if you want me to wear a dress it has to be on Naboo.” You explain and he nods.

“With the uncomfortable shoes?” He asks and you smirk, “We’ll see.” The two of you stare at each other a silence falling over you two its two magnetics coming together. His hand covers your eyes the other pulling off his helmet then his lips meet yours. He drops his hand seeing your eyes closed his hand wraps around your waist and pulls your closer while the other holds the back of your neck. Your hand plays with the back of his hair the other holds his face as you kiss him. It’s gentle but filled with passion as you both pour in your affection for each other. There wasn’t any room left between you two as he slightly bends over and you push yourself on your toes. You both pull away holding your face against his chest trying to catch your breath and you feel the rise and fall of his own chest. A pair of lips press against your hairline and you smile into his chest before you hear the metal hiss as his helmet is put back on. You pull back staring at the copper and white beskar as you feel his gaze on you his thumb strokes your cheek.

“I should go before Din starts his own hunting party.” You say a small chuckle comes from the two of you as he nods. He leans forward his forehead meeting yours, “I’ll see you tomorrow then mesh’la.” You pull away giving one last glance at him before you head back toward the group. You spot on the second level of the ship just before the group is you see the flash of silver beskar under the moonlight. Heading up the stairs spotting the familiar armor of Din and you’re silent as you join his side. He seems to have the same idea of lean against an object and pondering.

“You alright?” You ask and you can feel his brief glance at you before you both stare forward. “That boy…Kaz, is he your partner?” He asks and you're surprised by his question and more of his phrasing.

“Kaz and I aren’t together like that! I mean I don’t think so…we haven’t really talked about it.” You ramble as he looks over at you, “But you do like him.” You’re quiet now that you think about it you two discussed what you two were. Sure he said he liked you and you liked him but did that make you two together? It was all strange new territory that you had no guide to help you.

“I do...It’s just...I’ve never had this before..people like me like that,” You felt embarrassed what if you had it all wrong and this was just a big thing you thought it was. You bury your face in your hands, “Maker I’m so stupid..” Din leans on his arms on the railing looking at you.

“Look, I have no idea what that boy’s intentions are, but…I do know that he would be lucky to have you.” Din says and you lift your head up looking at the older man, “Really?” You ask and he nods and it grows silent once more before you speak up.

“Do you feel like everything is going right that it’s meant to go wrong?” You voice your fear for only him to know, “I mean everything we’ve been through, Grogu and I get rescued by you and the Mandalorians--we get the bounty hunters to come after us, we get to meet Ahsoka and she can’t train us, we go to the seeing stone--the empire gets us, even on Tatooine we got Cobb and the people of Freetown and he almost died. Every time we get close to winning something horrible goes wrong,” Your tone gets slightly frantic all the possibilities making you more nervous.

“What if something happens to the Mandalorians, to Grogu, to Bo-Katan, or you!? I don’t know what to do if you’re gone-” “Hey calm down nothing’s going to happen,” Din grabs your shoulders making you look at him, “I promised you I was never leaving you and I’m not. Ever.” He reassures and you nod before he pulls you into his arms just holding you there. His chin rests on the top of your head nothing is said between the two of you but you could tell he meant every single one of his words.

“I love you, dad…” You say and he freezes slightly before his arms squeeze you tighter to him, “Love you too, kid.” He responds his voice thick with emotion. He was glad to have the beskar helmet on his head covering the tears in his eyes. Hearing the title you called him and the meaning of it to both you and him. Din would always be there for you, to protect you and care for you as a father would.

The following morning the landship returns to the Gauntlet so the Armorer and the weak Mandalorians can return to the fleet to be taken care of while the others lead you to where the Forge is. “Onward, Mandalorians! To the Forge!” The Captain yells to his crew as you set off. Sat on a crate beside Din you see most of the Mandalorians resting or waiting for the arrival of the forge. Two however play a game of chess. Vizsla grabs his enforcer making a flank jump and Woves sighs, “You can’t move an Enforcer like that.”

“It’s a flank jump. And you’re about to submit.” Vizsla says and Woves gives him a look, “But only the Wing Guard can flank jump.”

“The Enforcer moves like a Wing Guard when it’s flanking.” Vizsla retorts and Woves sighs shaking his head and turning to his companions with a laugh, “These primitives make up their own rules for everything.” Insulted by his accusation of cheating Vizsla draws out a vibroblade.

“Seriously?” “Submit or fight.” Vizsla demands to Woves who looks at the Mandalorian, “Can you believe this?” The two suddenly break into a brawl with their blades, punches, and kicks both getting their fair licks in.

“Should I step in?” Din questions and Bo-Katan shakes her head, “Neither side can step in. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” The two continue fighting both ready to strike each other with their blade when Grogu comes between them with IG-12 breaking up the fight as he spams the droid’s vocabulator,

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” The two men are silent before retracting and heading off to different sides of the deck, “You taught your apprentice well.” Bo-Katan comments and Din looks over at the child who is looking at the three of you,

“He didn’t learn that from me.”

A sharp whistle fills the air as the Mandalorian in the highest peak shouts down to the Captain, “There, on the starboard bow!” The ground crackles ahead of you all seeing the green glass shatter and some dragon-like monster appears from the ground its tail swinging down on all of you

“Abandon ship!” The Captain shouts and you feel arms wrap around your waist you quickly wrap your arms around their neck as you’re sent up into the air as the tail smashes into the ship it exploding in a ball of flames. Landing a distance away, Mandalorians land haphazardly around you as debris rains down on you and Din covers you with his body. He pulls back looking over you as people around you shout, “This way! This way!” “Hurry up! Faster!”

“You good?” He asks you and you nod you’re brought to slightly underneath the surface but the rocks above you shake falling around you, “We’re not far. We need to go further down.” The Captain yells and you’re all sent underground the rumbling of the creature that attacked you recedes the deeper down you went. The cave leads to a tunnel that opens up to a large open space.

“Where are we?” You ask looking at the enormous machines that lined the deep trench, “This is what’s left of the Great Forge. This was once the heart of our civilization. But the fires have been extinguished since the bombings.” Woves says as you walk alongside the small outlook showing the forge.

“You lived here?” Vizsla asks and Reeves glances at him, “We all did.”

“We never left,” The survivors’ captain adds, “Survived by migrating along the surface until the war ended. Some tried to explore below, but none survived.” The distant sound of jetpacks echoes through the cave and you see a multitude of them heading toward you all.

“Jet packs?” Din says confused, “More survivors?” Woves comments when you notice the design of the armor and a wave of panic rushes over you. That bad feeling of being close to winning and something going horribly wrong starting.

“Those aren’t Mandalorians.” You call out as they immediately take fire, ambushing you all, “They’re Imperials! Take cover.” All the Mandalorians take cover firing at them. Your saber pulls from your belt instantly deflecting blaster fire it hitting the armor in return but making no impact as they continue firing.

“They’re wearing beskar armor!” You shout as a few land before you and you dodge blaster fire spinning your blade around and aiming at spots not covered in the lightsaber-resistant metal. It’s harder combat against them, one grabs your hair pulling you towards the edge and a vibroblade is stabbed in the trooper's neck releasing you. Kaz’s hand pulls you to your side as you go back to back fighting against troopers that try to get the drop on you.

“We’re pinned down. We need backup.” Din shouts while fighting his own pair of troopers. Casualties happen on both sides as many questions run through your head through the battle. Where had they even come from?! You thought you were the only ones on Mandalore unless they were tracking you and followed.

“I can make a run for the fleet and get us reinforcements.” Woves volunteers firing at the troopers that are up in the air raining down on you all. “No, it’s too far.” Bo-Katan disagrees not wanting to lose any more men and women.

“I can make it. It’s our only shot at taking the planet back.” Woves pushes.

“There’s a split in the ceiling there.” Vizsla points at the opening leading to the surface and moves forward with his large machine gun, “I’ll lay down cover.” Blaster bolts are fired at the troopers some getting hit fatally as Woves takes off. One tries attacking him mid-flight when its armor is crushed quite violently and send falling to the ground. Making brief eye contact with you he continues and flees to the surface. You spin around stabbing your saber between the gaps of armor your free hand pushing out Force pushing them into the cavern. The dwindling troopers against the resistance you show make them retreat into another tunnel.

“They’re retreating!” Vizsla shouts as Bo-Katan reloads her blaster before rushing forward, “Advance.”

“For Mandalore!” The Mandalorians shout as you run alongside Kaz firing after the troopers, Din reaches your side as you suddenly leave rocky terrain and enter imperial flooring and walls. That sense of nerves adds weight to your chest the deeper into their base. The troopers fly off on the jetpacks leaving you all in the base. You take in the TIEs and Bombers that wait patiently to be deployed your fear only growing stronger. The Imps didn’t follow after you…they were here on Mandalore all this time, and with how much was here they must have been here since the Purge.

“What is this place?” Bo-Katan says as you look around when a door hisses shut and you spin around seeing all of everyone minus, yourself, Kaz, Din, and one other Mandalorian on the other side of the blast door. You raise your saber to cut through the door when you hear Din shout and an alarm goes off.

“It’s an ambush!” A squadron of Imperial commandos lands on the platform firing at the four of you. Spinning your blade to deflect blaster fire but it was too many as one takes down one of the Mandalorians. Din and Kaz fire their blasters at them when a fibercord whip wraps around Din’s neck yanking him back. “Din!” You shout barely dodging a blaster fire blocking the attack as he fires another cable wrapping around his wrist and he sends a wave of flames. You thrust your hand out crushing the trooper that was choking Din, his limbs snap in a horrid position as he crumbles to the ground. A loud cry fills the air and you feel the life drain from your body. Spinning around and seeing Kaz holding his hands to his side as he crumbles to the ground, you release a yell raising your saber to attack his perpetrator when a blaster rifle slams against your temple. Stars blind you as you hit the ground your saber falling out of your hands and your quickly jumped by three troopers. Their hands grab your arms and pin them behind your back as you thrash violently.

“Let me go! Kriffing let me go! You son of a bitch!” You shout feeling cuffs being placed around your wrist and you try calling your lightsaber but it remains laying on the floor. Your shouts fill the air as you see Kaz on his side his hands pressed to his side blood quickly spilling from his side, “No! stop it. Stop it! Kaz!” You cry out struggling more and your face is slammed into the ground and blood spills from your mouth and nose.

“Don’t you touch her!” Din roars seeing three of them manhandle you to the ground. He fights against his own restraints, the cable tightly around his neck and one on each wrist forcing his arms to cross his chest so he couldn’t use them as three troopers for him bringing him to his knees. Your gaze is focused on Kaz as he bleeds out, alive but losing blood too quickly. Someone lands on the platform seeing a person in Dark Trooper armor, the Mandalorian-style helmet with spikes on the crown similar to the Armorer.

“Disarm them.” A modulated voice calls out and you struggle in your assailants’ grasp as they remove your blaster and vibroblade from your holster. The Dark Trooper motions to the troopers restraining you and you’re pulled from laying on the ground to shoved on your knees as you fight in their grasp. You watch them grab their helmet removing it and the air leaves your body and it’s silent as you stare back at the man. Who tormented you, ruined your life, kidnapped, assaulted, and tried to murder you, the man you tried to kill but failed. He wasn’t meant to be here…this wasn’t real you would open your eyes and be back on Nevarro or at the Great Forge and you never got into a fight with the Empire. He wasn’t real..this wasn’t real. But when he spoke your worst nightmare was confirmed,

“Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place,” He says, and you are unmoving. Moff Gideon was back. He finds delight in seeing the horror and pure terror in your expression as the Mandalorians behind the blast door has no choice but to watch. “You were a talented people, but your time has passed. However, as you can see, Mandalore will live on in me. Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next-generation Dark Trooper suit forged from beskar alloy and the most impressive improvement is that it has me in it,” Gideon holds his hands out showing his suit off. If looks could kill Din would have killed Moff Gideon a billion times over, his gaze kept moving from Gideon, to Kaz who continues bleeding out, and you who was paralyzed in fear.

“You see, every society has something to offer. The cloners. The Jedi. And even the Mandalorians. By aggregating the best of each, I will create an army that will bring order to the galaxy.” Gideon felt power knowing his plan had worked and he had everyone where he wanted them to be. “Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise? Activate the interceptors and bombers.” He orders and Bo-Katan slams her fist against the glass.

“No!” The Klaxon alarm blares as the Interceptors and Bombers are activating, “In but a few moments, the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.” Gideon grins and a harsh cough fills the air he looks down and spots the weak Mandalorian a few feet from you still kicking. You see Gideon’s gaze on Kaz and you go feral fighting harshly against their hands.

“Don’t you kriffing touch him! Leave him out of this!” You shout blood mixing with tears and your words and emotions reveal the one weak card he was willing to fully exploit. “Strip him of his armor.” He orders and the pair of troopers keeping guard moves forward as you scream for mercy they pull up the Mandalorian to his own knees as one holds him the other being pulled off his armor.

“Let him go! Stop it, please! If you want your heirs you can have them! Please let him go…please!” You shout out as Kaz cries out in pain as he’s stripped of his armor leaving his helmet on Gideon strides forward kneeling before you admiring the tears in your eyes and the blood that comes from your injuries. You hear Din yelling from behind you and Bo-Katan as well. Gideon grabs your chin forcing you to look at him and you feel sick staring at the man his touch sending you into shock.

“Unfortunately that offer is now off the table,” He rises back up and you see him walk towards Kaz not before reaching down and grabbing your saber as you scream and cry out realizing what he was going to do. Grabbing the Mandalorian by the chin of his helmet he rips it off him and you’re staring back at the man you had cared for, giving your heart to. His skin was pale but not sickly, his features sharp with a few cuts littering his perfect face. He was beautiful with short straight black hair you had felt in your hands but didn’t know the color of anything and his eyes piercing and blue like the clearest waters. They were filled with pain but also sadness as he looks at you and you see the acceptance in his gaze that sends you into a panic.

“Kaz, get up. Kaz, kriffing get up and fight. Please stop! Please don’t do this…I’ll do anything please don’t. I beg you!” You shout as he takes in your features one last time though tear-filled and bloody you still look beautiful in his eyes, “Kaz, please get up!”

“I love y-” The blade cleaves through his body and a scream of anguish rips through your throat. Kaz keeps staring at you until you see the life fade before you and Gideon as the boy you loved crumples to the ground.

“Nooo!” You were dead this wasn’t real. Screams and cries tear you apart as you hunch over in the troopers’ arms sobs raking through your body as the air is ripped from your body gasping for air. The Mandalorians behind the blast door and the one behind you are silently looking in horror as Gideon kills the love of your life and worse with the saber that was the symbol of your kind. The weapon of a jedi used to slay your lover. Your gaze was focused on Kaz’s lifeless one as he stared at you with those empty eyes already glossed over. “I’ll kriffing kill you...No! No...I’ll kill you.” You shout not a threat a promise with hatred in your voice. As Gideon holds your weapon in his grasp attaching it to his person.

“Take him to the debriefing room and bring the dear princess to the command center.” Gideon orders and Din is forced to his feet struggling in their grasp seeing the lifeless look in your eyes as you scream out into the air. He failed you, to keep you safe, to make sure you’re heart would never be broken. Din had seen you lose everything important to you and he knew you had lost a part of yourself with this final strike.

You’re pulled to your feet but you can’t stand weak and nauseous as they hold up your weight, “None of this would have occurred if you had accepted. He’s dead because of your actions, princess.” Gideon mocks you as you’re sent into a spiral sobs racking your body and hyperventilating from the shock that has taken over. You’re pulled as you cry out whispering to the man you failed. “i’m sorry…i’m sorry…i’m sorry.”

You didn’t see the meaning of waking up in the morning, a reason to smile, to eat, to breathe, to live. You had lost greatly and your heart could only take so much. His love with haunt you like a phantom, his touch burns and scars your skin, his kiss a mere memory, and his death will drown you until you too leave this plane of existence. You didn’t deserve happiness…you would never love again. You had nothing left in you to love. Your happiness, your love, and yourself had died right alongside him held in his arms with dead promises to visit the far-off planets you dreamed of.

A/N: I'm sorry🫣 Also for those wondering the face claim for Kaz is Freddy Carter. I live for Kaz Brekker so just picture that gorgeous man. One more chapter left!!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three #clan of three series #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader

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lovelessdagger · 1 year

Text

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Repetition of Poetry

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Rating: Mature

Summary: So this is it. The end—or more accurately, its climax.

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. Graphic Violence. Implied Torture. Derealization. Drugging. Angst. Medical Horror. Sith Nonsense. Someone loses a limb. Again.

Words: 8k

Summary: So this is it. The end—or more accurately, its climax.

A/N: Trying out a new way of formatting. The other chapters will be changed to reflect this eventually.

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Doctor Pershing insists on keeping Lumina restrained during their sessions. Her ankles are tethered to the legs of an iron chair. Her hands, free yet restricted in binders, inhibiting her access to the Force. He claims it’s imperative the holds not conduct electricity, a fear of intervention in his study. Monitors to her left attach to her skin and skull through stuck on wire.

Heart rate, oxygen, brainwave activity. A handheld device on the table remains constantly pointed in her direction, reading out any electromagnetic emission. He says she’s radioactive. She isn’t entirely sure what that means.

He asks, “Have you heard any more voices since beginning your medication?”

She answers no.

He requires she take three pills a day, one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and one just before night hours. The morning acts as a super nutrient, the middle for her supposed psychosis, the last for sleep. He watches her swallow, and checks under her tongue after each.

“Any visual hallucinations?”

“No.”

She’d just taken the first of the day.

“Mania?”

“Depends who you ask.”

“Paranoia?”

She shrugs. “Always.”

“But no voices?”

“No voices.”

He types, maintaining eye contact. She looks away. He stands.

“You’ve made excellent progress,” he tells her. “You should be proud of yourself.” He kneels, untying her ankles. “Your levels have finally stabilized to a healthy rate. Many of your symptoms are from a typical trauma response. With time and more sessions they should fade as well.” He takes her wrists, removing the binders.

“Finishing early?” she asks.

He stands, but tells her no, not quite. He asks her to stay seated, and leaves saying he’ll return.

Lumina listens.

She considers helping when Pershing returns, struggling to manually open the doors. Even without the restrictors, there’s no point in it. She sits with her head pressed on the table, sure to leave a mark when it rises. The emission reader pushes against her scalp. She couldn’t understand the numbers if she tried.

“It wasn’t easy to get this approved,” Doctor Pershing says, grunts in-between as he closes the door again. “But, I considered it necessary. For both your healths.”

Both?

A baby coos. She gasps, sitting up and only feels slightly faint.

Grogu squeals, babbling with hands in her direction.

She wells with tears before she can think. “Can I hold him?” she breaks. “Please?”

Pershing nods. “Of course.” He passes the Child over, he clings to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Again and again. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Lumina inspects every visible part of him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” To Pershing, “What did you do to him? Did you hurt him?”

“No,” he says immediate, sitting again. “No I would never. He’s only a child. To be truthful, all I’ve done is extract a blood sampling. A majority of my time aboard has been with you.”

She ignores. “Did he hurt you?”

A wave passes through the Force; No.

She pets back his ears, nodding. “Okay.”

“You should know he’s incapacitated a total of eight stormtroopers aboard.”

“Did he kill them?”

“No.”

“Good.” She taps his nose. “Good job.”

“You’re proud of this?”

“He’s defending himself.”

“And how do you suppose he’ll react himself when he discovers you have rejoined the Empire?” He makes a wave to her uniform. “Is he expected to combat you as well?”

“If I ever to pose a threat to him, yes.”

He types again, clicking a persistent nuisance. “Were you ever expected to combat Lord Vader?” Readings on the monitors increase. “Yes or no,” he pushes.

“On his request. Yes.”

“Can you present an example of a request?”

Her foot taps. “When he first presented me with a second lightsaber. He threw it at me, turned on his own. The expectation was that I fight him.”

“And of the other times when he would become physically violent towards you. What was the expectation?”

Lumina’s head shakes. “That never happened.”

“No?”

“No.” Knuckles crack, pressed against her thigh. She grows quiet, confidence stripped away. “He never hit me. He wasn’t a monster.”

Doctor Pershing stutters. He says the Machine’s name, covered in disbelief. Like he were here in the room, standing behind her. She tries to imagine the Machine, feel his presence, his scratching electronics, his towering figure. The red eyes of his helmet, the pumping of his iron lungs sounding into their dead space of silence.

It offers little comfort, instead she’s supplied with resentment. She becomes the source of what he has left behind. Impatience. Intolerant. Arrogant. Miserable.

She becomes a vessel of her fathers torment.

Beeping from monitors become shrill cries. Doctor Pershing grabs the radiation monitor, waving it over her form. He remains unfazed by the results. He produces a lightbulb, holding it out. His datapad props up, camera aimed to her.

He announces the experiment. “Holo Log One-Twenty-Five under CF-318F1. Test eighty-seven.” She preforms her role, removing her gloves, taking the glass in her right hand. She holds its base, figures pressed around the metal. It indents her.

The results are null. She places the glass down, hands return to her lap. To the Child.

Doctor Pershing sighs, typical of this routine. The camera turns off. “That’s alright,” he says. “Let’s explore something else. Your bond to the Child. How did it begin?”

Lumina leaves him without response in favor of Grogu. Her fingers tickle his stomach, blowing kisses in his cheek. “You’re stinky,” she mumbles. “It’s okay. They didn’t clean me either. I’ll make sure you get a wash soon Bug, I promise.”

“Your relationship to him is greater than I suspected,” Pershing says, a glimmer of awe. “I never would have guessed you could be so… maternal.”

“I try,” she says. “I’ve only really known one before.”

“One mother?”

“Yes. She was kind. Gentle, but strong.” Lumina looks to Pershing. “You’ve seen my genetics. Do I have one?”

“Well,” he stutters. “Theoretically, every being has a mother.”

“So I’ve been told. But do I?”

“I… I’m sure,” he admits. “Though with no match in the database, it’s impossible to say who.”

“Do I have any matches?”

“I am not at liberty to say. I’m sorry.”

“Do you have one? A mother.”

He softens. “I did. Though it has been many years since her passing.”

“How long?”

“Decades. I was only a boy. She got sick.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes. Very much.”

Lumina nods, pensive. “Would you like to see her?”

He freezes. “Pardon?”

“I can help you see her again. If you’d like to that is.”

“How?”

“I can enter your consciousness through the Force, granting me access to your memories.” She bounces Grogu. “I’ve done it with him. It won’t hurt if you consent, and I won’t touch you if you’re too afraid.”

He’s hesitant. “How do I know you won’t harm me?”

“You don’t. Not really. I know there’s nothing I can say to make you trust me. I could snap your neck if I wanted to. Make your brains blow from the inside. But you’ve been the only one aboard to listen to me. Respect me. Despite, everything,” she says to the monitors. “And you brought him back. I have no reason to harm you anymore.”

Doctor Pershing stares at her, he removes his glasses, wiping it on his jacket. “Okay,” he whispers. “What do I do?”

“Close your eyes,” Lumina guides. “Think of her. I’ll go from there.”

The art of presentation of one’s self is not a endeavor to be taken lightly. Absolute perfection must be achieved, errors will not be tolerated. A single strand of hair for example, raised away from the rest, shows a carelessness in grooming, lack of attention to detail, insufficient use of styling tools, stupidity.

Fingers with scooped gel run over white hair. Ghost glares in the mirror to achieve a flawless partition along her scalp. “Regulation states you must straighten your hair,” she says to the girl behind her. “Or at least pull it back. You look like an animal.”

There holds no truth in the statement, an unnerving admittance. The assessment of a mane isn’t too far off however, it’s fitting. Voluminous dark curls not too loose nor too tight. Slept in, cared for. Framing bright eyes, alluring everyone into a dangerous trap.

“I still prefer you with brown eyes,” she continues. Hers meets herself, ice blue into ice blue. Chilling to the bone. “In certain lighting ours look the same.” She grabs tweezers, plucking a single hair from thin brows. “I should tell you I agree with Doctor Pershing’s assessment of you. You are unsettling. I never thought of it much when we were in our younger years, but seeing how we’ve grown… how you’ve grown. It’s undeniable. You’re a freak.”

Ghost turns around, approaching. “How did they do it? Preselect you with such precision?” She whispers, “It shouldn’t be possible.” She circles, a vulture to prey. A pit of darkness in her hungry stomach. Starved. “Who else are you taken from?”

There is no response.

“A Jedi, I’m sure. Your genetics are your only flaw, and yet it is the reason you’re so…” She groans in frustration. Her bun pulls tight on her head, inducing frequent migraines. “You should have been kept in a lab,” she says. “Let Lord Vader keep his mutt for play, not legacy. It isn’t fair. Every day, years spent competing for his attention when you were preselected the whole time. Created for this purpose alone, and you remain who you are. The rest of us were left to starve, fight. You lived in a palace. Everything you could ever want. Power. Money. Glory. It’s should have never gone to you, you’re ungrateful. Even now, when they all praise you for merely existing.”

It’s worse with her presence in practice than it was in theory. They watch her every step down the corridor, every request is met with unnerving acceptance. They salute, they bow, they excite in the knowledge of shared air. Like she were the first and last woman in the galaxy, the answer to every problem, an immaculate creation from the Force itself. They’re all ridiculous ignorant fools, clawing for attention.

She revels in it too, this much Ghost is certain. She has to, it’s only logical conclusion for their position. Unending gratitude for doing nothing at all. A crowd at her feet, submission willfully given.

That’s the worst of it. The power. It suits her, she wears it on her uniform, in every stitch. The meek stray from their mildness, the arrogant from their ego. Ghost has seen so much happen without understanding any of it at all. The most loyal troopers in steady conversation with her, spewing glory to the Empire until she touches them. Their arm, helmet, hands. The intimacy cannot be afforded and should weaken her, yet it does not.

She asks of their person, their interests, where they are from. Irrelevant anecdotal information with no use. No purpose. Wasting time, energy, resource.

They feed from her because of it.

And Ghost waits for the break every time, for the branch to snap, wood falling to echo. Someone will make a mistake. Cross the unspoken line. This is a ploy to goad them into false security. A lesson on trust and naivety. To prove her rank, be the reason for fear and nightmares.

Ghost was so sure it would have happened earlier, with the TK she spoke to. She believed he’d done it, unleashed the monster. Be the cause of revelation of the inhuman creation Gideon boasts of, that Pershing obsesses over. They’ll all fall in terror. Realize truth never lives to legend. Understand an idols facade is riddled in a constructed narrative.

Then, only then, will they crawl to Ghost. They’ll rally, worship. Beg for her to claim the mantle, rise to the greatness of the Sith stand by the Emperor. Become the daughter that should have been.

And it should have happened. He touched her. He grabbed her arm. No warning, no context, only a firm hold. She stopped talking, animated gloves frozen. Her head turned. It should have happened. They should have been made to believe she is none other than Lord Vader’s child. She should have snapped his hand. His neck. Push him through the Force, impale him on her saber.

Ghost should have watched every light behind every visor fade to misery.

Her arm moved, her hand cupped. He should be hit, tortured, executed.

She should have done every horror imaginable.

The demon from her capture, the one who tore limbs and bathed in blood. She should arise.

Instead, her hand fell gently on his. It squeezes, then rests. She nodded. His shoulders shook like he cried.

“I’m sorry. I’m certain they miss you as well,” she told him, quiet.

Ghost didn’t understand at first. Having no lead of conversation to source from. It didn’t make sense, she didn’t make sense. It came upon her later, through an overheard conversation between Pershing and Gideon.

“I theorize her abilities could be useful during interrogations, should the captive party not be willing to divulge information. It would be far safer than a mind flayer.”

“How do you mean?”

“She’s done it to myself, with my participation of course. She’s able to infiltrate consciousness, resurface memories I did not know I possessed. I saw my mother, heard her for the first time in years like she were here. It’s extraordinary Moff Gideon. Like I could speak to the dead.”

Ghost understood immediately, and suddenly years of TK programming flushed away.

“You’re a disgrace to the Empire,” Ghost says. She reeks of venom, it drips from every word. She looks to the air.

“It should have been me!” She shouts. “You promised me everything! Where is it? Have I not done enough for you? I expect my dues!”

The air rings hollow until a knock comes at the door. She grants entry. An officer, one of Gideon’s pets. His favorite. Kane.

“Thirteenth Sister,” she says, holding a data pad. “A report has come in from your Inquisitors on Coruscant. You’ll want a look at it.”

“What’s happened?” Ghost asks, taking it. She skims the words.

Code cylinder, Inquisitors, New Republic, Arkanis, investigations, the Senate, information leak.

“It seems the effects of the initial reprogramming weren’t as successful as we once believed,” Kane says. “Gideon has already been informed. He’s awaiting your word of action.”

“Where is she?” Ghost asks.

“Her quarters. Preparing for her last session of the day.”

“Is the alien with her?”

“Yes. It hasn’t left her side.”

“Tell Moff Gideon I will meet him in the bridge momentarily.” Ghost looks behind herself, static figure remaining. “Until then, you’re dismissed.”

Officer Kane bows, the doors close.

In an instant, Ghost’s lightsaber flies into her hand. The right end powers on, she swings rapid at the girl, a feral beast. Her red blade passes though the illusion with no reaction.

She screams at it. She thrashes like a child. She forces the figment to crane its neck, instills fear in its eyes. She makes it bleed.

Somehow, even now, it’s still perfect.

A gentle waterfall washes over the Child’s face. He growls annoyed, feet kinking in the sink of his bath. “Look at you,” Lumina coos. He splashes, giggling at floating bubbles. “You’re so handsome.”

And decisively less dirty.

She pours water over him again, taking extra care behind the ears. “Your dad is coming,” she whispers.

The room they’ve given her isn’t a far shot from her previous home of a cell. She has a cot, a desk and chair. One tall lamp. A mirror. A small fresher area with a door that refuses to close. She’s been assured there are no cameras in the space, her own detection skills confirming. Still, there’s never a thing as being overly cautious.

Grogu perks up, ears standing alert.

“I heard him,” she goes on to say, draining the basin. “He found out where you are. I think he’s coming today. That’s why we’re washing you now. So you’re nice and clean when he comes. He’ll be so impressed.”

Lumina lifts the Child onto the counter, wrapping him in a towel. “Don’t worry. Come tomorrow you’ll be back on the Crest and no one’s gonna hurt you again. I promise.”

Grogu calms, but falls into this type of silence she hasn’t seen in ages. He knows. He has to, he’s smarter than he looks. Stronger. He asks no questions after, yet Lumina finds the urge to explain regardless.

“I can’t go with you, not anymore. But it’ll be okay. You’ll be with him again, that’s all that matters.“ She pulls his coat on, fixing his feet. “You’ll have to take care of him now. Make sure he’s okay like how he does with you. And you have to listen to him. Be good, do what you’re told.” She taps his nose. “But stay sweet. Keep training. Not be afraid.” Adjusting the collar, Lumina takes him in her arms. “Do you think you can do that?”

He nods. A promise of sorts.

“Good.”

Suddenly, something shifts in the Force, the unbalancing of a scale, slowly tipping. Grogu senses it too, she’s sure. He tries to stand, examining the room. It’s a cold presence, whiskers on his head upright.

“Okay,” Lumina whispers. “Grogu I need you to listen to me. I don’t know how much time we have, but we have to play a game. We have to play pretend, and it might be scary. But it’s just a game, okay? Remember that. It’s not real.”

He listens to her every word.

A recorder clicks, a holoscanner powers on. Doctor Pershing introduces the recording as their hundredth and twenty eighth. He’s granted her freedom from his machines, just this once she’s sure. Lumina holds the Child in her arms, rocking him steady in a bundle of her old cape. The Mandalorian’s old cape, technically. Debates are still out to whom it gives greater comfort to.

In front of her, a green medication bottle, a cup of water. The second pill of the day. She takes the single dose, drinking away the taste, unusually bitter.

“How are you?” Pershing asks.

“Fine,” she answers, soft. “He’s been hungry, no one is answering my request for food. I’ve had to give him my rations.”

“I apologize for that.” He’s sincere, a growing frown and lines of worry on his forehead. “I may have something in my lab for him. Would a travel biscuit suffice? I have plenty to share.”

“You’re getting travel biscuits?” She asks in disbelief. “I’m lucky if I have more than one piece of nuna jerky. My portions are less than half of what’s normal.”

“That is to do with the medication,” Pershing explains. “Your nutrients, most of your allotted income for a day comes in the pill. You aren’t starving, I assure you.”

Lumina makes no comment on herself. How she wore the torn shirt she came in after a wash and it hung to her differently. Her muscles less defined. “He still needs food,” she argues. “Real food. Meat especially, he loves it.”

“I’ll make a note.”

“You’ll do,” she pushes. “I’ve made it clear I don’t care what’s done to me, he needs to be taken care of.”

“Of course. I’ll speak to the Moff.”

“Thank you.” Lumina locks onto the recorder, she presents better, more fitting to her station. Her chin lifts, a facade of pride, her feet plant on the ground. “Let’s begin,” she says. “I’d like to spend the rest of the day with him in privacy.”

Pershing presents her files, adjusting his glasses. “Certainly.” He coughs, reading the screen. Though, quite uncharacteristically, he puts it down. “Let’s try something different,” he says. “There are pressing matters we should discuss.”

Blast doors slam open, an echoing bang into the walls. Moff Gideon enters, three troopers follow. They keep their blasters aimed for assault, focused on Lumina.

Pershing flinches. “Moff Gideon.”

Lumina asks, “Why is he here?”

“You promised me one more session, we aren’t done.”

“You are now,” Gideon says, then to his men, “Hold her down. Grab the Child.”

At first step, Lumina startles bumping the table, glass spilling. Commotion ensues, her chair falling back, left hand extended. Troopers begin to yell. They say they’re prepared to shoot. Pershing tries to intervene.

“Moff Gideon you must not hurt her!” He’s somehow more scared than she is, stepping between her and the blasters. “You can’t!”

“I am well aware,” Gideon says. “Worry not doctor, it will be delivered to your new laboratory as expected.”

“You’re not taking him again,” Lumina fights. “I just got him back, you can’t take him!”

Something crosses Gideon’s face. Something sick, activated. He looks at her like a starved to a meal. She could swear he salivates, smiling, teeth and all. “I don’t want the Child,” he says. “I want you.”

Lumina’s hand dashes to her hip. She ignites her saber, red blade waving it out. “Call them off,” she says. “Call them off or I kill every single one of them.”

“Moff Gideon, please,” Pershing begs.

“Quiet,” Gideon barks. He steps forward, between the troopers. “You have a child in your arms. You’re in no position to fight,” he tells her.

“You should know not to underestimate me,” Lumina says. “Last time you did that half your fleet disappeared.”

Moff Gideon repeats a similar motion to her, his hand drawing to his hip, gripping a cylinder of black metal. A blade ignites from it, dark and light all at once. Humming at a rapid and dangerous pace.

She stills. “What is that?”

“You aren’t familiar?” Gideon hums, matching pitch to the saber. “You will be.” In a violent strike his arm raises above his head and swings down on Lumina. She blocks, plasma clashing inharmoniously. Instinctively she turns out, creating space between Grogu and the scene.

“I’ll give you one chance Gideon,” she says. “I don’t play fair.”

“Neither do I.” And his blade swings again, lower. She matches, a scorch mark on the floor.

The stormtroopers fall back, lining the wall. They know better than to intervene, Pershing follows though his guidance comes with fear.

Gideon swings again, and again. He uses two hands on his hilt and all the strength he can muster, the full weight of his body. Lumina predicts his moves, the sole explanation he can think of for her excellency. Still, he moves in, taking advantage of her occupied left side.

It doesn’t work.

Nothing works.

He can’t win.

In a desperate urgency, Moff Gideon miscalculates. For the duration of their spar she’s worked solely on the defense. Until now. His blocking is just a second too late. Her swing, right on time. Moff Gideon’s saber flies across the hold. His hand goes with it. Cauterized at the point of impact. He crumbles to the floor, clutching to his chest what was once his hand, now a deformed burnt stub. He screams.

Stormtroopers and their weapons flood Lumina’s eye line. Her saber powers off.

She says, “You forget what I come from.”

“I haven’t forgotten thing.” Gideon snarls, a beaten animal. He glares at Pershing as if he were responsible for this outcome. “Has sedative been delivered?”

Pershing answers, quiet. “Yes.”

Sound fades, hollowed in a canyon. Lumina’s vision darts to their table, green medication bottle toppled. Pills spilt. Her heart drops to unsinkable levels.

“What did you do?” She asks, shaking. “What did you give me?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Grab her,” Gideon barks.

They do. The troopers, in her shock they swarm her, yanking her arms. The Child falls. She snaps out of her daze when he yips. Pershing picks him up. Struggling, Lumina’s lungs burn with rapid breath. “What did you do?” she asks again, screaming. “What did you do to me? Ghost! Let go of—Ghost!”

“I’m sorry!” Pershing cries. “I’m sorry! I had no choice!”

“Let go of me! Ghost!” Her breath moves faster than she can manage. “Let me go,” she sobs. “Let me go, please. I’m sorry. Please.”

“Moff Gideon—“

“I’m disappointed,” Gideon interrupts. He stands on bent knee. “I expected so much more from you,” he tells her. “I imagine your father would not take well to your behavior.”

“You know nothing about him,” Lumina snaps.

“I know he wouldn’t tolerate you betraying the Empire. Leaking sensitive Imperial data directly to the New Republic. You have compromised the very foundation of your being.”

“What?”

“The Arkanis Imperial Academy is currently under siege by journalists and investigators. It seems your efforts have taken effect quicker than you expected.”

It hits. Relena.

“She did it,” Lumina whispers. Her eyes flash wild. “You’re fucked.”

“This, is merely a setback. We will overcome.”

“We?” Lumina asks. “This Empire is nothing. What forces do you have now? Admiral Sloane? Commandant Hux? Scraps of what once was? You don’t even have Thrawn. You won’t win. You can’t. It’s over Gideon.”

“I already have,” Gideon says. “I win because I have you.”

“I’ll die before I help you.”

“If you insist, that can be arranged,” he says. “If the reprogramming doesn’t take that is. Of course, once Doctor Pershing harvests your cells, you will no longer be necessary.”

“What?”

“The drugs should take any second now. I should warn you, hallucinations are a harmful side effect. Although,” he muses, “you’re no stranger to that.”

It’s comical, the activation on his word. The flash of heat, beading sweat. “What did you do to me?” Everything is light, floaty, words sound seconds after they’re spoken.

“I’ve done nothing. Yet.” He addresses the troopers. “Time to move.”

They echo, “Yes sir.”

One push, her legs give out, a second, her arms.

“Sweet dreams,” Moff Gideon says. “318.”

A third, her head.

The last thing she hears, “Take her to the mind flayer.”

They throw Lumina on a type of operating table, room separate from the rest. Her head bangs against the base board, jolting consciousness. They strap down her arms, legs, chest, forehead. Nearby electricity stings. Her vision flashes in and out, hazed at the edge.

“Moff Gideon,” Doctor Pershing says. Muffled, miles away. “I must protest.”

“I’ve heard enough from you.”

“Sir please—please. There’s no telling what damage the voltage will cause. Her body will not be able to process high electrical currents in the state its in.”

They had taken her to the mind flayer, hadn’t they? It would explain the burning. She’s heard stories, seen first hand what the machine does to its victims.

Extremist electroshock therapy mixed with sensory overload. To put simply, her own personal hell. The results enough to make Tatooine shiver. Stripping the sentient of all identity. Soulless, they become trapped in a shell of their own bodies. Some lose the ability to speak, to walk, some become so far gone their own organs forget how to function.

They become nothing. A permanent member of the walking dead.

“Moff Gideon I am begging,” Pershing says. “Allow her to come with me unharmed. I assure you—”

Heels click, entering the room. “The Moff is not interested in your negotiations.” Ghost. “Your services are no longer necessary, Doctor. It’s time for you to go.”

“You’re her friend, are you not? Please, tell him to spare her.”

“Doctor,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’re attached to it?” Her face appears above Lumina. “Personally, I don’t care for mutants.” She rises, turning to the doctor. “If it dies, make it again. Make a million of it and keep one to fuck, I don’t care. It isn’t real.”

“You’re wrong,” Pershing says. “She’s more human than you’ll ever be.”

Silence infects the room.

“Then she’s weak.” Shoes squeak against tile, turning. “You two,” Ghost says. “Escort Doctor Pershing to the hangar. A shuttle is waiting for him. If he resists, kill him.” Her face enters focus again, she grabs Lumina’s chin. “You once said you have an uncanny inability to die. Prove it.”

Bo-Katan Kryze is found on a planet called Lafete in the Outer Rim. Cara and Fennec opt to in the Slave I while Din goes with Boba Fett. Their brief discussion of a plan is the most they’ve said to another since Nevarro. Boba warns Din that he and Bo-Katan may not see eye to eye. She doesn’t like clones, he doesn’t expand, but something tells Din the river runs deep. The situation is far more personal than he can divulge from silence, but he knows not to push.

They agree to let Din do the talking.

He and Boba walk into the cantina, finding Bo-Katan with Koska Reeves. The younger one snickers, signaling Bo-Katan with a toe tap to the calf.

He tells Bo-Katan of the Child. Stolen by Moff Gideon. He tells her they have coordinates to find him. Everything is ready, he just needs muscle.

Her interest turns. Din mentions her of his light cruiser, preemptively offering it to her.

“You want to retake Mandalore,” he says. “You do it in that, not a gauntlet.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Boba mutters. “Mandalore? The Empire turned that planet to glass. There’s nothing left. Reclaiming is a spice dream.”

The domino starts here. Back and forth spats. Who is and isn’t Mandalorian. Boba’s armor. His father. His existence.

“You are a clone,” Bo-Katan sneers. “I’ve heard your voice thousands of times.”

He responds on instinct. “Does that include my sister?”

Her brows raise. “So, you’re the Imperial lapdog I’ve heard so much about.” Her stare flickers to Din. “You sure know how to pick your company.”

Boba responds before he can. “Where are they?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Conversation lulls. Din can sense Boba’s eyes on him, through the visor. Bo-Katan follows, exposed, she frowns.

“Where’s my sister?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She’s earnest. “Omega dropped off the map after the war ended. I haven’t heard from her since.”

Boba’s nod is robotic. Up. Down. “And the other two?”

“Alive.”

“Where?”

Intention falls behind every word Bo-Katan speaks, mimicking a knife’s edge. “If you know what’s good, you’ll leave them alone. They don’t need you in their lives. You clones have done enough.”

“Is that what you tell him when he asks of his father? I recall only clones being at the wake. If you care so much, where were you?“

She says nothing.

He continues. “The Empire has taken his child, you know how this ends. You’ve seen the effects. Frankly princess, I don’t care how much you hate me or my kind. But if I find out there have been days where you’ve looked that boy in the eye and told him that his father was a bad man—”

“I haven’t,” Bo-Katan says, quick on the draw. “His mother is one of the only friends I have left. She’s my family. I know what he did. The sacrifices he made. How happy he made her. I would never disparage him,” she says. ”I don’t know where your sister is, but I do know that none of them would want to see you. Not after everything.”

Boba is quiet, just for a moment. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t scoff or shake his head. He just stands there.

“They took her too,” he says. “Moff Gideon took her. She’s gone.”

Bo-Katan asks, “Who?”

Din answers, “Lumina.”

She looks at Boba. “How do you know her?”

He answers slow, accent thick and low. “Why do you think the Empire hired me?”

Bo-Katan freezes where she sits. Din can’t make out much, she hardly gives anything at all. But he watches her eyes, how they flash. Her subtle but present hitching breath. She doesn’t look at Din, only Boba Fett. Boba Fett who says nothing else but nods.

She nods back.

Koska looks just as lost as he is. He can find comfort in that.

“We will help you,” Bo-Katan says. “Both of you. In exchange, we will keep that ship to retake Mandalore.” Then to Din, “If you should manage to finish your quest, I would have you reconsider joining our efforts. Mandalorians have been in exile from our home world for far too long.”

“Fair enough,” Din says.

“As for the girl, I will take her—“

“She stays with me,” Boba interrupts. “I raised her, I’m the only one she trusts. She won’t go with anyone else. I will not debate this.”

Bo-Katan concedes. “Fine.” She turns to Din. “One more thing. Gideon has a weapon that once belonged to me. It is an ancient weapon that can cut through anything. Except for pure beskar. I agree to your conditions on the terms that I be the one to kill the Moff and retake what is rightfully mine. With the Darksaber restored to me, Mandalore will finally be within reach.”

“Help me rescue the Child and you can have whatever you want,” Din says. “He is my only priority.”

Capturing Doctor Pershing is a task easier said than done. Information from the data capture on Morak detailed a scheduled departure for the scientist on a Lambda class shuttle. Tracking coordinates included.

Boba makes quick work of it once discovered, blasting the fighter with an ion cannon. “Lower your shields,” he pings. “Disengage all transponders, prepare for boarding.” He turns to Din, standing behind. “That means you too.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I got that.”

He threatens Cara, or he tries to threaten Cara. The older of the two pilots. He shoots his companion dead for trying to negotiate. He brings up Alderraan, boasting at its destruction.

“I was on the Death Star,” he says. “My brother pulled the switch.”

Cara spares Din a look through the corner of her vision. “Maybe they were friends,” she says.

“Not the time,” Din mutters.

“Do you have any idea how many millions were killed on those bases?” The pilot asks. “Mothers. Fathers. Sons. Daughters. How many people were there just for a job?”

Funny, the point is less sympathetic when he says it.

“The Rebels slaughtered them with no mercy and the galaxy cheered.”

“Last chance,” Cara says, turning her blaster. “I don’t have time for this.”

He says, “Destroying your planet was a small price to pay to pay to ride the galaxy of terrorism.”

Cara shoots him between the eyes and steps over his body. She grabs Doctor Pershing by the arm, pulling him forward. “Let’s go.”

The room is dark.

No, dark does no justice to adequately describe the state of things.

The room is filled with ink.

There are no lights, no sounds, no breeze coming from ventilation shafts. Everything is off, not a hint of energy, not a spark. There are no wires, no monitors, no trackers. The Force itself ceases to exist.

For a long time, Lumina stays in the ink, unmoving. Hours pass with believing she still sleeps, or worse. Caught in a limbo, trapped in her own consciousness she’s rendered unable to move even muscle.

Feeling returns slow, unnoticed until recognition comes with the familiar pressure of fingertips against her thighs. A cool block against her back. In an instant her eyes flash open, greeted by the complete nothingness. Her nerves reawaken through pumping blood, a small fire throughout her body.

Slow and in desperation, she feels along herself. For each of her limbs, fingers, all still attached. She pinches her tongue, then runs it along her teeth. There are no cuts on her face, no tenderness which indicates bruising. She’s clothed, left in the base of a skintight suit.

She explores the cell in caution, running her hands over every inch she can. The walls are smooth, cold. Seams of panelling are flush, nothing is loose, not a screw out of place. The door is found by its indent in the wall, sealed shut with no forgiveness for movement.

She knocks, startling herself with the echo.

She knocks again.

Mouth dry, her tongue sticks to the roof. Nothing hurts, not really. She holds tension in her jaw, a light headache but nothing more.

She can’t remember much of anything, but against all odds she feels refreshed.

What happened?

Her voice is hoarse, crackling. “Hello?” She coughs. “Hello?”

She can’t exactly call for anyone specific, names evade her at the moment. There’s no guarantee anyone would hear her anyways, let alone come. She slumps back, stepping to what she assumes is the rooms middle.

Very well.

“This is Moff Gideon’s Imperial light cruiser,” Bo-Katan says within the Slave I. “In the old days it would carry a crew of several hundred. Now it operates with a tiny fraction fo that.”

“Your assessment is misleading,” Doctor Pershing says.

“Oh great,” Cara snorts. “An objective opinion.”

“This isn’t subterfuge, I assure you. There’s a garrison of dark troopers on board and the Empire’s strongest Inquisitor. She is the one who abducted the Child—”

Something in the air shifts, tangible inside Din.

“What?” He asks.

“What’s an Inquisitor?” Koska asks.

“The strongest Force users left in the galaxy,” Pershing says. “In the case of CF-313, trained from infancy to be high grade assassins.”

“So, murderous Jedi?” Cara asks.

“Jedi killers,” Fennec corrects.

“A crude definition, but yes,” Pershing says. “313 has taken it upon herself to enact as Grand Inquisitor, their leader. She possesses all the skill and strength of Jedi, only dangerous, violent. Unlike Jedi, she has no moral code preventing her from victory.”

“You’re saying she took the Child?” Din asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s not right,” he mutters. He feels the sensation of a migraine, lingering in the entrance of his mind. He swears under his breath.

Cara asks, “You okay?”

“What do you mean—she didn’t take the kid,” he argues. “She… Lu…”

Bo-Katan says, “Take him up to Fett.”

Cara grabs his arm, he pushes her away. “No, no. What are you talking about?” He asks Pershing. “What does she look like?”

“Mando,” Cara whispers.

He repeats. “What does she look like?”

Pershing shifts, his vision flickers from side to side. “Her physical make up places her height at 180. She is extremely pale, white hair, thin. Overall in excellent health.”

“Who told her to take the Child?”

“Pardon?”

“Someone gave her directives. Who?”

“To my knowledge, Moff Gideon prepared strict instructions to all forces that the Child… and you, remain unharmed. The Empire’s use for the Child is now minimal, his extraction was not necessary. She disobeyed on her own volition. The Moff was not pleased, I can assure you that.”

“Wait,” Cara says. “If you don’t want the kid, why attack?”

“To retrieve the Daughter, of course. It was at the demand of her that the Mandalorian and Child be left alone should Moff Gideon pursue a second bombardment following his failure on Daro. I’ve seen the communication myself, she was quite clear on her threat.”

Din discovers his voice travels without his knowledge. “What did it say?”

“In short,” Pershing says, “Moff Gideon extended an invitation into the Empire and a total pardon. The Daughter declined. She stated should Moff Gideon attack again it be directed at her alone. Harm to you or the Child would result in an attack to his family.”

Cara reacts first, physically at least. Din’s stomach drops and twists. She bumps his arm.

“Who said this?” She asks.

Din answers, breathless. “Lumina.”

No one else speaks, not until Bo-Katan raises the question. “Where is she now?”

Pershing adjusts the map. “When our final session concluded, she was delivered to this holding cell.”

“Session?” Din asks.

“We hold various appointments throughout the day. Psychoanalysis, medical, physical, etcetera. At the time, we had completed one for her psychology and mutations.”

“Let’s move on,” Bo-Katan says.

Din ignores. “What mutations?”

“She exhibits a variety of genetic anomalies. Strength, intellect, standard organ function.”

“Energy?”

“Yes,” Pershing says. “Yes precisely. She’s a remarkable piece of bioengineering. I’ve never met anything like her.”

Cara voices Din’s thoughts. “Bioengineering?”

Fennec interrupts. “Your dark troopers,” she says. “They’re droids, right? Where are they bivouacked?”

The map changes. “They’re held in cold storage in this cargo bay,” Pershing says. “They draw too much power to be kept at ready.”

“How long to power up?”

“A few minutes, perhaps.”

Din asks, “Where’s the Child being held?”

“The brig, here. Under armed guard.”

“Is the Inquisitor?” Koska asks.

“Perhaps. More likely the bridge. Wherever Moff Gideon is, she will follow.”

“Very well,” Bo-Katan says. “We go in two parties.”

“I go alone,” Din says.

“Our strength is in numbers.”

He repeats. “I go alone.”

“Fine. Phase one, Lambda shuttle issues a distress call. Two, we emergency land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube, cutting off any potential interceptors. Koska, Fennec, Dune and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we’ve neutralized the launch bay, we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver. Afterwards, Fennec and I will retrieve Lumina before entering the bridge. There, I will challenge the Moff. If the Inquisitor is an issue, we leave it to Lumina.”

“You’re kidding,” Cara deadpans.

“I wish I were.”

“What about me?” Din asks.

“We’ll be misdirection. Once we draw a crowd, you slip through the shadows, get the kid.”

“What about the dark troopers?” Cara asks.

“Their bay is on the way to the brig.” Bo-Katan looks to Pershing. “Can he make it there before they deploy?”

He nods. “It’s possible.”

“Here. Take his code cylinder and seal off their holding bay. Anyone else, we can handle.”

Din responds, “We’ll meet at the bridge.”

So this is it.

The end—or more accurately, its climax.

The end is yet to come, when it does it will not be mistaken. The end will arrive slow, with agony, lingering words unsaid, and acceptance. This is not that, it is entirely too calm.

At a vain attempt to track time, Lumina counted three hundred minutes before giving up. No one has come for her. No one has knocked.

If this is the afterlife, she isn’t impressed. Though, it is fitting for one of her station. Whatever that may be.

Admittedly, the stoic peace is a welcomed wash from the usual chaos filling the day to day. As a part of her training rituals, the Machine would place her in rooms just like this. Completely isolating her from the outside world. In hindsight, he may have meant it as a way to desensitize her to torture, but she always enjoyed it more than she should have. Now is no exception.

Is this the future in which she swore to resent the past? What an odd declaration of intent when taken into consideration that her whole life—every broken fragment of her being, every lie, every name, every mask, every droplet of forced anger, every will she has held for good or evil—has been in reaction and the direct result of the past.

This has all happened before, in one way or another.

The Machine, the war, the after.

Becoming a waitress, a mercenary, something to be wanted but never kept. Someone recognized but never placed.

She has never been of herself.

Not really.

Those days, the before, they have no greater reason to be hated than the rest of it all. There’s no point in it. Directed anger towards one but not another. Acceptance of one but not all.

Why waste thought? Why bother when loss is inevitable?

Lumina looks to the ceiling, head tilting. She can’t see anything, true, but lack of proof does not equate to a lack of existence. The first outward sound she heard echos, turning metal. Landing in her hand, round glass. A lightbulb.

Commotion comes from the outside, a siren alarm, boots running across tile, shouting.

Truly, nothing has changed.

It ends in the absence of peace, as it always has.

She suspects it is night.

Though an argument can be made that night as a concept holds no meaning here. Not in space.

The story has concluded long ago and there is still dark. Ink and tar.

And she resents no one—not for the lack of rivers, forest, mountains, farms. Not for the missing child to hold and call her own. Not for the Mandalorian—not even herself.

She has nothing left.

Finally.

No flowers.

No sun.

No stars.

Though, somehow, through some conception unknown to all but the Force itself… there is light.

It flickers, just now in the palm of her hand. A faint golden glow. There it is again, quick as lightning.

Just as before.

When it comes a third time, it is violent. The door opens, gears rusted, light from the corridor blinding.

"Get up." She hears. "It's time."

So it is.

According to Din Djarin’s internal display, it's been exactly three minutes and eighteen seconds since Bo-Katan departed into Moff Gideons cruiser.

She instructed him to wait for five.

In the allotted time since, he has removed and replaced his helmet eight times. Once every fifteen seconds. Now, he removes it again.

Nine.

When before he was trapped in a slow moving vessel of spacetime, praying for the days end. Now, he prays for the vessel to stop. Time refuses to wait for him.

He stares at his own reflection in the window with no visible emotion and nothing but turmoil inside. What does he do? What can he do?

Nothing.

The headache grows.

Boba said it should have faded days ago. That she used to do the same to him, its only ever lasted three rotations. He refuses to dive into specifics.

Din isn’t sure it would make a difference anymore.

Hands rub across his face, sighing. He welcomes the fresh air like it were his first experience with it. It might as well be. This is something he cannot become accustomed to. No matter his personal wants.

Delusions.

Fears.

It’s all the same.

All meant to be locked away.

The time for thought has passed.

His priority is in the Child, as it should have been all along. He must rectify his mistakes. Retrieve the Child, discover his covert, atone for his sins. Disappear. Forget everything.

Okay, he thinks, okay.

The countdown on his vambrace rings. Five minutes.

The Mandalorian lowers the beskar over his head until it hisses and clicks.

Ten.

This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force. This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed. It is the will of the Force.

There is a reason attachments are forbidden.

It is the repetition of poetry.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Apocalypse

Taglist: @lexloon @jay-bel @xsadderdazeforeverx @spideysimpossiblegirl @sarahjkl82-blog @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @hello-th3r3

#Din Djarin x OC #Mandalorian #Mandalorian Fanfiction #Mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian Fanfic #Din Djarin x Original Female Character #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original character #mando x original character #mando x ofc #Mando x original character #mando x original female character #Starlight

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burnwater13 · 6 months

Text

Looking back at it all, Grogu wondered why he stayed with the Mandalorian after being called a ‘creature’ by the tall bounty hunter. Like it was some great honor for him to be called a enemy sorcerer. He was just a simple person making his way in the galaxy and strangers, mostly humans, treated him like a thing or a pet and not a person. That just annoyed the womp rats out of him.

Grogu understood that the quest that the Armorer was putting Din Djarin on wasn’t something easy. It wasn’t just like taking your kids to the park or to their grandmother’s house. There was no over the hills and through the woods for this trip. Nope. They’d be out in space flying from sector to sector looking for the world or worlds that attractive green beings who were petit in height and had lovely ears inhabited.

If the Mandalorian had ever stopped for a moment and asked Grogu for advice about where to go, Grogu would have happily recommended a beautiful green planet with oceans and rivers and lakes and swamps, where frogs were plentiful and where nothing that the former empire valued could be found. Well, maybe except for Grogu himself. But if you were in a huge swamp it would be much harder to find him. Not places like Nevarro, where there were so few people it was almost impossible not to find him because he stuck out like a sore thumb or a potted plant.

Grogu would have told the Mandalorian that they should explore Takodana. He’d heard his masters talk about it and comment on how the Force was very strong for a planet with such a small population. It was on the Great Gran Run and connected many Mid-Rim worlds with the Outer Rim. That made it an ideal spot for traders to meet and plan and set up bargains and deals. It sounded like a better place for a Jedi Temple than Coruscant.

But, the tall human, covered in armor, and sporting a grumpy attitude, didn’t ask Grogu for his thoughts and opinions on the matter. At least not in any serious way. Nope. He decided that he had to find another Jedi, like one of them wasn’t enough. And, he thought that Jedi would help him.

Grogu had to laugh at that. He didn’t like to seem bitter, but it was pretty obvious that if the any Jedi were still around and they knew how to help, and they actually wanted to help… well, they would have shown up years ago. Arvala-7 wasn’t some sort of summer retreat. It had been pretty awful being stuck with the Nikto gang members, even though they hadn’t turned him in to the Imp remnants.

That was probably what Din Djarin should have done first. Find out how and when the Nikto gang first got a hold of him. They weren’t some sort of altruists. They had him for a reason. Figure out what that reason was and who was behind it. After all, it’s not like those folks were law abiding. They trafficked in all sorts of people and rare critters.

Why not just sell him whichever bounty hunter offered the most? Or just sell him to the client? Grogu had seen the Mandalorian prove that he was the best hunter in the Outer Rim, but the Client had obviously given those fobs to lots of hunters. Why not set up a meeting and get the funds for themselves?

Instead, Din Djarin had gotten all emotional and had kidnapped Grogu from the Client and Dr. Pershing and Grogu was extremely grateful for that. But instead of following up on leads with the gang that had held Grogu, the Mandalorian had tried to lay low. Eventually Cara or his dad had spilled the beans that a hunter had followed him to Sorgan and that should have been a clue that they were dealing with something deeper than an old man and a weird doctor.

Had his dad even thought for a moment about how easy they’d been to find? The galaxy was vast and had thousands upon thousands of planets in it. Sure, a lot of them were inhabitable, but they still shouldn’t have been that easy to find. That, in and of itself, felt like the sort of thing that only another actual enemy sorcerer should have been able to accomplish.

Then, based on what the Armorer told him to do, Din Djarin had a second opportunity to follow up on all that. And he had. They went on a search for one needle in a pile of bantha fur by looking for another needle in a pile of bantha fur. Grogu guessed that the Mandalorian figured that another Mandalorian, if he found one, would be more likely to know where a Jedi was, forgetting that in his own lifetime he’d never even heard of Jedi. Why he so automatically thought other Mandalorians, if he could even find them, would know the whereabouts of a survivor of a purge that made Mandalore look like Coruscant from a population perspective, Grogu would never understand.

In his mind he’d heard Master Kelleran reminding the younglings that the Force worked in strange and mysterious ways. This had just seemed ludicrous to Grogu. He really didn’t think the Force did ludicrous. But then, it was it any stranger than Din Djarin had decided to rescue him from the Imps? He’d never explained why he’d done that to Grogu or anyone else and that was pretty mysterious. Now he was considered to be Grogu’s father and when you looked at the two of them side by side that seemed pretty ludicrous. So it all fit. The Force wanted something from both of them and it was going to get it no matter how great the odds of success seemed.

Grogu giggled. That had reminded him of his friend Ian who used to say, ‘Never tell me the odds kid’. Grogu finally understood what he meant. A thing could be mysterious, strange and ludicrous and still be real, like being a foundling and then finding yourself with a Mandalorian bounty for a dad. Grogu liked those odds.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #Redemption

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kalinara · 1 year

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Finally catching up with the Mandalorian. I don't have any good meta yet, but I do have some immediate reactions. In no particular order.

I feel like I should probably feel sorrier for Doctor Pershing, but that was a really obvious trap? Then again, I suppose that sort of thing is more obvious from the outside looking in. I'll have to rewatch and see if I can empathize a bit more with the guy. (I do think they did a good job of humanizing him, and giving him some realistic layers.)

I don't get the people who are like "this proves that the New Republic is JUST AS BAD AS THE EMPIRE." It proves that the New Republic has flaws, just like the Pre-Imperial Republic had flaws. But there's a difference between well-meaning-but-flawed and the full on Nazi-allegories in the Empire/First Order.

I didn't expect the twist of Bo and Din staying with the covert and am fascinated. Especially given all the theories about the Covert/the Armorer. And the clear Death Watch references. I feel like Bo-Katan's past will be roosting pretty soon. (Darth Maul casts an interesting, unspoken shadow over this part of the plot.)

There's something fascinating about the fact that the child who looked so much like Din in the first episode of the season (I actually assumed we were watching a flashback at first), is Paz's own Foundling.

Like father, like son. Everyone has traumatic flashbacks in the forge. Does the Armorer know?

I still think it was fair to criticize Jar Jar Binks as a character/racial stereotype, but that was never the actor's fault, and I'm thrilled that the he's getting a better role.

I'm adding Kelleran and Grogu to my list of hoped for reunions (also Reva and Grogu!).

Din Djarin interacting with the children of the Covert is endlessly entertaining. "Perhaps this lesson is for you then." As I said above, I have the distinct feeling that the kid, Ragnar, is probably really similar to Din himself as a child.

Of course the Mandalorians socialize their children by toddler fisticuffs, and hang around a planet where a giant bird monster kidnaps MULTIPLE children. AND giant crocodiles. Mandalorians are fucking hilarious.

I've said this before, but I could ship Din/Bo. I like femdom pairings, and she'd definitely top him gloriously.

And of course Ragnar got eaten (and spat out) by the monster. He IS Din 2.0. And Paz is his father. The Force works in mysterious ways.

Monster foundlings!

Damnit, I really am going to have to suck it up and watch the Mandalorian episodes of the Clone Wars, aren't I?

#gun-toting victorian governess in space #problematic princess who pegs

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themosleyreview · 1 year

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The Mosley Review: Star Wars: The Mandalorian (Season 3)

Honestly, I have mixed feelings about this season. The past 2 seasons were so well crafted and had a direction that ultimately met its amazing conclusion. That same quality of storytelling continues here in a strong opening, but something was truly off. The idea of it moving away from Grogu being the Mcguffin and on to reuniting the mandalorian clans was a great strategy. The problem I felt was that there were some serious logic problems when it came to the traditions and some inconsistencies involving the tech. I don't mind when a story decides to pivot and go off on a exploratory missions because that's what Star Wars does best. It just felt cheapened this season because of a few cameos that took me out of the story and could've been given to someone less popular. What I did love is the amount of political and underground spy games that were being played while the titular character was running around. I loved the subtle and straight up references to Star Wars: Rebels that made my heart flutter with joy. The majority of the characters we love return and many of them actually take on the heavy lifting of the story this time.

Pedro Pascal returns as the voice of the titular character Din Djarin/The Mandalorian and he delivers yet another strong and emotional performance. Din this time around was on a path of redemption and it was great to see him explore the more spiritual themes of the creed. I enjoyed the continued father son dynamic between him and Grogu. Brendan Wayne and Lateef Crowder's physical performances as Din were amazing as Brendan delivers that trademark swagger and Lateef knocks it out of the park with the many action sequences. Honestly both of them had an equal amount of action between them. All three of them make up this character and they deliver in spades. Din takes a bit of back seat this time around as we delve deeper into the other Mandalorians. Katee Sackoff continues to deliver a stellar performance that she started way back in The Clone Wars animated series. As Bo-Katan Kryze, she takes the lead as she comes to grips with her issues with the the creed, culture and you finally get an answer on how she lost the darksaber. I loved that she was seeking to find her place again and how she handles getting back to being the leader she was born to be. The chemistry between her and Din was a fun dynamic and I also liked the buddy cop aspect of their adventures. There is a illogical moment between them that really urked me and I wish it was handled way better when dealing with the ownership of the darksaber. Emily Swallow returns as the Armorer and I loved that she has stayed consistently mysterious about her past and devoted to the creed. The scenes between her and Bo-Katan were the best moments as you see the many comparisons between them. They are different sides of the same coin and I loved how they quickly realize that. The one and only Carl Weathers returns as the magnificent Greef Karga and I loved his jovial nature as the new High Magistrate of the planet Navarro. He may be more of the governor type that’s more friendly, but he stays as the great business man and badass that you don't want to cross. Omid Abtahi and Katy M. O' Brian return as Dr. Pershing and Elia Kane and I loved their episode. It showed how each character dealt with refugee life as a former Imperial officer and doctor. I loved that they finally got a taste of what the Empire forced many civilizations to live like. Omid did an amazing job showing the immense compassion the character has toward wanting to help the New Republic instead of condemning it. Giancarlo Esposito returns as Moff Gideon and he is even more pissed off and determined than ever. You get to the bottom of his ultimate goals and how he doesn't really care about the more expansive plans that other Imperial remnants have in store for the future. I love villains that have a goal and plan that is clean cut.

Although Ludwig Goransson didn’t compose this season, the reins were left in the hands of brilliant composer Joseph Shirley and he did an excellent job creating new and haunting themes that are easily identifiable. I did miss Ludwig's touch on the series, but Joseph did a great job never the less. I loved the sound of the N64 generation inspired theme for the "Coruscant Steet Fair" that has The Resistance theme playfully mixed into it. The very ethereal and then renaissance influenced "High Magistrate" piece was awesome and I could listen to that all day. The epic and somewhat gothic tone of "The Great Forge" plays toward the last half of the season and illuminates one of the best scenes of the entire season. Like I said, the pacing of the series felt off as the focus was shifted too many times. The adventure is always the highlight of Star Wars, but the central plot and tone of the series felt second hand instead of the forefront like the past seasons. We got to the point, but it was messy. I didn't like the cameo of 2 major stars as I felt the storyline with them had no real bearing on the overarching plot. There's a Blade Runner style chase that happens in that story that introduces something that would've changed the direction of The Clone Wars if a certain droid could move like it did. Even with all the problems, it ended on a good and somewhat rushed note. Will I be here for Season 4? Absolutely. Have my expectations been lowered for the future of this series? Yeah. All the references and cameos aside, this was a season that was fun in many ways, but it was missing that polish that the first 2 seasons had. Let me know what you thought of the season or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#star wars the mandalorian season 3 #pedro pascal #brendan wayne #lateef crowder #Katee Sackhoff #emily swallow #carl weathers #omid abtahi #katy m. o'brian #giancarlo esposito

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voteformightyclocks · 1 year

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Mandalorian Season 3: Episode Ranking

WHOO! It's that time again! Vote For Mighty Clocks comes back from the dead in order to write a very different post from anything he's ever posted before! Let's get into the episode ranking, and be warned, there will be spoilers for Season 3!

Episode 3: The Convert. I know this is a controversial first pick, but The Convert added so much depth to the galaxy, gave us a peek into Doctor Pershing's mind, an idea of how the Imperial Remnant managed to continue operating, and just so much juicy lore, as well as a predictable yet epic cliffhanger

Episode 7: The Spies. This one makes the high end of the list for much the same reason as The Convert. A lot of lore and depth was added here. The sacrifice of Paz Vizla was emotional, and the cliffhanger made us fear that no one, not even Din Djarin himself, was safe. It was everything we needed to save The Mandalorian. I only wish the finale lived up to the cliffhanger of The Spies...

Episode 2: The Mines of Mandalore. This is where I start to lose interest in Season 3 to be honest. The Mines of Mandalore was another great episode in my opinion, with all the lore and references presented, however in order for this to truly work, it needed strong context. That's where Episode 4 needed to pick up, and unfortunately it failed. Otherwise, this would have been much more impressive

Episode 1: The Apostate. At the time, I criticized it by saying it sacrificed itself for Season 3. It felt more like buildup than an actual, real episode. Looking back, I stand corrected. It was the most sane episode out of all we got, it left an open ended future for the show, and it's not like I wasn't excited to watch it. It held the individualistic nature of Din Djarin while keeping the political intrigue that comes with Mandalorians. The rest of the series needed to learn those same lessons. Even then, however, I'd be lying if I said The Apostate was what I wanted out of The Mandalorian

Episode 8: The Return. Look. This episode was garbage. But it was visually stunning garbage with amazing fights. Moff Gideon felt wasted, destroying the Darksaber was a mistake, they kinda cheated the sacrifice Din Djarin, Bo-Katan, and Grogu made, and as cute as it was, the whole adoption thing was basically Lucasfilm trying to bribe us into liking Season 3. BUT, aside from all that, the visuals were gorgeous, the setup for Season 4 was brilliant, and the show did a great job of reminding us how weak Grogu actually is. We needed to be reminded of that, especially since he's been shown as capable ever since Season 2

Episode 5: The Pirate. This story was kinda bland, and had a setup that ended up being completely ignored, however it's saving grace was the Mandalorian siege on Nevarro against the pirates. It was awesome!

Episode 4: The Foundling. This episode was just bland and lacked memorability. It's only silver lining is Bo-Katan doubting her beliefs. I hate Bo-Katan as a character, and yet I loved her in this episode

Episode 6: Guns For Hire. This episode was...cringe at best, and incredibly frustrating at worst. Grogu was adorable and I loved seeing Jack Black in Star Wars, however absolutely nothing about this episode screamed "Star Wars" beyond that. It relied too much on celebrity cameos and fanservice to truly be what any nerd wanted. This was an episode designed solely to keep casual fans interested in the show, and as a nerd, I found the episode as a whole to be insulting

This is where I abruptly end the post with no real elaboration

#the mandalorian #mandalorian season 3 #mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #bo katan #grogu #mandalorian season 2 #star wars #lucasfilm #darksaber #moff gideon #paz vizla #nevarro

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megasaurusssss · 4 years

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Dr Pershing

If people like this fic, I’ll continue it to the best of my abilities over the school holidays.

I started shipping these two about a week ago and they’re all I can think about. They’re so cute together and we need more content for them. This fic can also be a standalone one-shot if I can’t continue, so technically, even if I never pick it up, it’s still finished, right? Lol.

I do have big plans for this though.

Enjoy some Dr Pershing/Din Djarin

Title: Dr Pershing (subject to change)

Words: 4836

Summary: Din Djarin finds him in the sewers. Starving. Beaten. Bloody. On the brink of death. Pershing is trying to figure out why the Mandalorian bothered with him at all.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

"I'm so- so sorry, I didn't mean to alarm-..."

He cowered.

He seemed to be doing that a lot.

"I-I protected him! I protected him!"

He cowered from Imperials and he cowered from those who threatened them.

It seemed cowering was the only thing he was good at.

"If it wasn't for me he would already be dead!"

He trembled and stuttered and all he could think about was, oh god, I'm going to die.

Each and every time.

"Please."

But each and every time, he was spared. He was safe. He was okay.

Never had he been more afraid, though, never had he been more terrified, in the moment that he threw himself in front of the child. Even as he was shoved aside, he begged, please, don't kill him. He's just a baby. He's just a child. He can't even speak. He doesn't understand.

He was never more afraid than in that moment. But for once he found himself afraid for someone else.

But then it was over. The kid was gone. The Mandalorian left with him. Taken. Their work, gone.

And he would take the brunt of it.

There was no being spared. There were no empty threats. He would be killed. Blasted in the head.

Because why should he live when everyone else died at the hands of the Mandalorian if it were not because he betrayed them?

He ran.

He hid.

He cried.

He bled.

They were out to get him. There was a price on his head. No staying in one location. You have to keep moving. Don't get attached.

(You can't stay with this man. You will get him killed.)

(He died anyway.)

Nevarro was not an option. Not when the troopers took over the town. Not after the Mandalorian covert massacre. But he couldn't leave.

(He made money. Used the money he was paid to pay them not to say anything.)

(It didn't work. They didn't care about him. Only about getting what they wanted.)

(He vomited.)

He couldn't stay and watch the sunset. He couldn't stay in one town for the night. Had to keep moving. Get money from sketchy people. Use the remaining to get enough food to not starve.

Pass out in the woods. Wake up in a cold sweat and a searing pain in his spine.

Didn't stop moving.

He wondered if it would have been better had the Mandalorian had killed him after all.

(He never thought he'd reach such a low point, where he envied those living in poverty but held a roof over their heads.)

(His client smashed his glasses.)

It was his just desserts. It was his karma. He chose to work with the Imperials. He chose the life of a scientist.

Look where it landed him.

Dying. On the streets which he ran away from. Not by the hand of the troopers, but the ribs showing through his skin. The hollowness of his cheekbones. The hypothermia. The sleep deprivation.

(He was so unrecognisable that the troopers didn't pay attention to him.)

(Or perhaps they knew he was fucked either way.)

Despite it all, though. Even as he slipped away, even as his vision darkened and his heartbeat slowed to a crawl, even as he slumped against the wall of the sewers, he didn't regret it.

He didn't regret being afraid for someone other than himself, for once. Even if it cost him his life.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬*

When you die, it's a generally accepted fact that you don't wake up.

When he woke up, though, he was warm. Not hot. Just comfortable. Content. The best he'd felt in... well, he lost track of time.

He thought to himself, that if this was the afterlife, he rather liked it. But then his senses filtered in, and he realised with a start: he was not dead.

He was laying on a soft surface. His hair was no longer pooled around his shoulders, his beard no longer scratched at his neck. There was no longer a searing pain in his stomach or his spine. The wounds no longer stung.

His fingers twitched as he awoke. The darkness filtered away and he could see light through his eyelids. He breathed. The rattling in his chest was gone.

It was an easy conclusion. He was in a hospital.

He felt the presence of someone at his side. They did not talk or move, only breathe.

He didn't know how, but eventually, he pried his eyes open. They burned like they were on fire, but he didn't close them - he would not give up.

"Where-" such a weak voice. "Where am-" then again, that's always been the case.

He couldn't finish the sentence, though. A gloved hand suddenly grasped his arm. But it was gentle. It did not startle him.

"You're awake," came a low, modulated voice. It was him.

He didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could.

"I'm sorry."

You have nothing to apologise for.

"It's my fault you turned out this way."

He closed his eyes again. The pain was too much. He was so tired.

"If I had known..."

You couldn't have helped. It's okay.

"You protected him. You protected the kid. I can't thank you enough. He's okay because of you."

It was all he ever needed to hear. That the child was safe. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he opened them once more.

A silver helmet looked down upon him, blocking out the light situated above his head.

A tear ran down the side of his face.

"I'm... sorry," he rasped. And he was. He really was.

"You don't have to apologise for anything."

Except he did. He was a part of this. He was working with the Imperials.

He could have left at any time. But he didn't.

The Mandalorian's helmet was the last thing he saw before he fell back into unconsciousness.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

He didn't know what time it was. The lights were off, and the air was cold.

Pershing, with all the strength he could muster, hoisted himself up so that his back was against the bed rest. It made his head spin, for a moment, before his vision returned to him.

He allowed his eyes to get adjusted to the darkness.

The Mandalorian was still in the room, but he was unmoving and hunched in a chair. Asleep. Something was huddled close to his chest, something breathing and alive. The child.

If it weren't for the situation, he would have found it incredibly adorable. To think he was afraid for the child's life when all the Mandalorian wanted to do was protect it.

He looked down at himself. A needle was stuck in his arm, feeding nutrients and water. It seemed they hadn't given him a nasogastric tube just yet.

Even in the darkness of the room, now that all the dirt and grime had been washed away, he could see how pale he'd become. And how frighteningly skinny. He never had much body fat in the first place, he was surprised he hadn't died of starvation earlier.

The bundle in the Mandalorian's arms stirred. He watched with bated breath as the child turned his head, slowly, cautiously. Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry," Pershing rasped. "I'm so sorry."

The baby shifted out of the Mandalorian's grip, landing with surprising grace on the cold floor of the hospital room.

"You didn't deserve any of this. I'm so sorry."

He watched the child as it shuffled to his bedside, stopping at the edge of the bed to look up with curious eyes.

The tears welled up in Pershing's eyes. All the pain and trauma and overwhelming guilt hitting him like a tidal wave. The tears fell onto the floor below him. "I can see why he didn't want to harm you," he spoke in a broken voice. "You're so cute." A broken sob escaped him. "I'm so so sorry."

"I told you you didn't have anything to apologise for." The Mandalorian sat upright in the chair. His helmet tilted side to side as he stretched.

"I hurt him."

"You protected him."

"He was crying and he was afraid. I gave him a needle to force him to sleep. I hurt him."

The Mandalorian fell quiet. But it was not an angry silence. It was not judgemental. Pershing watched as he trudged over, leaning down to pick up the child. As he did so he did not break eye-contact.

(Or, at least, that's what Pershing imagined - since he couldn't actually see the Mandalorian's eyes. He'd still like to imagine he was looking into them.)

He decided to break the silence. "How long have I been unconscious for?"

"It's been a day since you last woke up."

"I don't remember waking up."

The Mandalorian gave him a look. It was incredible how one man could portray so much emotion with a helmet covering his face. "You apologised, and I told you you didn't have to apologise. And then you fell back asleep."

"I don't remember. I must've been out of it."

The Mandalorian didn't respond. The child cooed as he settled back into the chair. "Yeah."

"What about before then? The last thing I remember is... the, the sewers."

"You were unconscious for two days."

"I see."

He spared another glance down at the tubes feeding into him. He wanted nothing more than to eat real, solid foods, but he knew the consequences. He had a feeling he'd be having soup for a while.

"Why did you stay?" he asked. He turned his gaze back up to the Mandalorian.

"What?"

"I've been... I've been here for three days. And you've been here the entire time."

"That's correct."

"But why?"

For this, it seemed, the Mandalorian didn't have an answer. Even with the helmet, confusion was written across him in bold red pen. "I... don't understand."

"You could have left by now. With the child. You could be far away from here. You don't need to care about me of, of all people..." he trailed off, averting his gaze to his lap. He fiddled with a loose string on the hospital gown.

There was no answer, and if it weren't for the shadow, he would have thought they'd left.

It was then that the door swung open, and a nurse entered into the room. She cried, "Oh!" before leaving the room as quick as she'd come.

"Interesting." He sighed. He supposed it was a shock to her that he was awake, after nearly dying of starvation. Or...

"Did I die?"

The Mandalorian looked over in surprise. "Not that I know of. When we found you you were breathing. Which is why I took you to the hospital."

"You brought me here?... thank you."

"I couldn't just leave you."

"Still. You didn't have to do that, I... I work for the Empire. Nothing will change that."

"As far as I'm aware you were being hunted by those Imps. I don't think you work for them anymore."

Pershing shrugged. "Being hunted comes with the job description." It would have been funny had the circumstances been different.

"Same for us," the Mandalorian sighed.

Just as Pershing opened his mouth to reply, the nurse reentered with another nurse on toe. A male twi'lek.

The light flickered on.

"You're awake," the Twi'lek nurse said, rushing over to check the nutrients. "We weren't expecting that for another day or so."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." He chuckled. The nurses did not.

"We're going to have a Doctor come check your vitals. Take your blood. Since you're, well... since you seem to be up and ready to go, you should be able to leave within the week."

Within a week? He was shocked, but he supposed it made sense. It's not like he was injured. Physically at least. Just mentally.

How funny.

The human nurse left, leaving the Twi'lek to fuss over the equipment. The nurse got increasingly closer, encroaching on Pershing's personal space. As he did so, there was a sweet aroma emanating from his neck like he'd had coffee beans poured down on top of him. The lekku grazed his shoulder and, despite himself, he felt his heart rate quicken and his face flush a violent scarlet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Mandalorian shift in his seat. He imagined him with a raised eyebrow.

Finally, the nurse moved away, and he could breathe again.

"The doctor will be here in just a moment." And he left.

The Mandalorian (thank god), didn't pry into what had just occurred. That or he was just not paying attention - to which he would have been incredibly grateful. But that would have been lucky and Pershing was not a lucky man. Luck all but abandoned him as soon as he took the job and title as Imperial Scientist.

The child made a cooing noise, and the Mandalorian seemed to know what it meant. "He's hungry. Do you mind if I-?"

"Not at all."

"Okay."

"Wait-"

The Mandalorian paused in the doorway, turning to look over his shoulder back at Pershing.

"What does he eat?"

The child cooed again. The Mandalorian shrugged. "He's a carnivore. One time he swallowed a full frog, in one go. It was..."

"Oh, no! Oh no oh no oh no. He swallowed an entire frog whole? Children don't have a concept of what's poisonous and what isn't, and- and goodness, an entire frog? Without even chewing? It could have catastrophic consequences on his digestive system, how long has it been since he-?"

"He's fine."

The low, modulated voice calmed him down immediately. A chill ran down his spine, and he shivered.

"It's been well over a month. I've done enough holding him over the vactube as he makes direct eye-contact to know that he's fine."

"Oh, but..."

"He's fine."

"If that frog was poisonous he would be dead!" he snapped. He knew immediately that he'd overstepped his boundaries when the Mandalorian shifted his stance. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I wasn't aiming to imply that you-"

The Mandalorian stared as Pershing trailed off. He glared down at his lap in shame. His entire life had been leading up to this moment. Every decision only brought him to this. This was his lowest of lows. He couldn't ever be forgiven.

"You're right."

"What?"

"You're right. I need to monitor what he eats. I haven't had much time to think about it. Being hunted will do that- stop trying to make yourself look small."

He hadn't realised he was doing it. "Sorry."

"No need."

The child cooed once more, and the Mandalorian sighed. "I'll go get him some food."

Pershing watched them leave, and suddenly found himself wishing they hadn't. It's not like he had anything else to do in his small little hospital room. But he wasn't in wretched silence for long, as only a couple minutes after the Mandalorian and the child left, an Arkanian doctor entered the room with a clipboard.

"It's good to see you awake," she said. "We weren't expecting it for another day or so, but you seem to have recovered quickly."

"I'm full of surprises," he repeated his joke from earlier, but this time, he didn't laugh. The Doctor ignored it.

"How long were you on the streets for?"

The question embarrassed and mocked him. But it was fair so he supposed he had to answer. "A bit over a month."

"How much did you eat during that time period?"

"Close to nothing." He stared down at his arms. A wave of emotion rushed over him, but he did his best to conceal it.

"What about water?"

He shrugged.

The Doctor sat down on the bed. He felt the weight shift. "What was your source of income?"

She stared at him with a knowing eye.

He didn't answer and he didn't need to.

She wrote something down on her clipboard with a sigh. "You should be able to leave within a week. Until then we're going to closely monitor you. Try not to move around too much, and you're not to eat solid foods until you're dismissed."

His heart ached. No phrase in the entire universe could have ever caused so much pain. You're not to eat solid foods. How he yearned for the crunch of an apple.

It truly felt like his world was crumbling around him.

"Don't look at me like that," the Doctor sighed again. "You're a scientist, right? You know what'll happen if you eat too much too quickly."

"Yes, I- I know."

"Then you won't have any issues with it." She abruptly stood from the bed, and there was another abrupt shift in weight.

Ah yes, the arrogance of the Arkanians rivals no other. She radiated superiority complex. "Sorry."

She gave him a condescending look - probably intentional, knowing their species - before leaving, the door slamming behind her with a bang.

He was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of fatigue. He knew it would be a while since the Mandalorian returned, so... he slipped back down so that he was on his back, resting his head against the pillow. He allowed himself to stare at the ceiling for a moment, before he slipped into another deep sleep.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

The next time he woke up, the lights were still on, but he guessed it had been a couple of hours. He was disappointed to find that the Mandalorian was not in the room, and neither was the child... but he shook the disappointment away immediately. The Mandalorian didn't have any obligation towards him.

He's probably left already. He knows you're fine now. Why would he waste time staying with you?

The door pushed open, and for a moment he had a smidgen of hope, but it was just the twi'lek nurse from before. And, well, while he didn't complain, necessarily, considering the alluring properties that this nurse possessed...

"You're awake again, good." He was holding a plastic tray, and situated on it was a small glass of water and a bowl of soup. "I was worried I'd have to wake you myself," he chuckled.

Pershing's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah."

"Don't want to deal with a grumpy patient."

"Yeah..."

The soup smelled nice, and he was sure it tasted wonderful, but he still yearned for something to actually chew. Alas. He knew the risks. Refeeding syndrome wasn't to be taken lightly. Soup it was, he supposed.

"I understand Dr Alva visited you earlier today. I'd like to apologise for her attitude." The twi'lek took an elongated gaze at Pershing's eyes. It's as though they were frozen in time.

The twi'lek was so young. He was round-faced and wide-eyed. So naive.

"The- the Arkanian? Yeah, she..."

"She's brash. You can say it, everyone knows it."

"Yeah."

The doe-eyes of the twi'lek lingered for another moment before the nurse turned away. At this point, Pershing felt his entire face was on fire.

He averted his gaze to the soup and picked up the spoon.

"My name's Jad'futi, by the way. I don't believe I caught yours."

Now the twi'lek was sitting in the chair that the Mandalorian had previously occupied. "Oh," Pershing tried to swallow the knot in his throat away. It did not go away. "Don't you have a record?"

There was a flash of disappointment on Jad'futi's face. "I thought I could ask you." He smiled widely.

Ah. Pershing thought. I see. Maybe if circumstances were different, he would have given into it. Maybe if he wasn't bedridden and out of his mind with anxiety. "I'm... I'm too old for you."

This time the twi'lek actually frowned. "You don't even know how old I am."

"Not old enough."

"I'm seventeen!"

Pershing blanched. "You- you- that's even worse!" he spluttered. "That's! You're not even-"

"I'm an adult! The twi'leks come of age at sixteen, so it's fine... right?"

He stared back down at the soup. He could see his flushed reflection on the wavy surface. "That's not it, I know that... it's just, I'm more than double your age..."

There was a long stretch of silence, then a surrendering sigh. "Alright. I respect that. Technically I'm not allowed to date you anyway," he chuckled.

Pershing glanced back up. Jad'futi was staring at the opposing wall with a furrowed brow. Or at least, as furrowed of a brow as you could get when you didn't have eyebrows. "How long have you been a nurse for?" Pershing asked.

"A little over a standard year, sir."

He winced at the sudden title. He wished (not for the first time) that twi'leks weren't so naturally beautiful. "But if your species reaches adulthood at sixteen, you... how long have you been studying for?"

It had taken Pershing years to gain his title, even with his increased intelligence - if you'd pardon the modesty.

"My whole family has been in the medical field," they met eyes again, "so they started me young."

"Didn't you want to do anything else...?"

Jad'futi seemed to think for a moment. His gaze averted to the floor. "I've been fascinated by the New Republic ever since it was established. But- but my parents would never have allowed me to join, too dangerous they said..."

"Your parents are right."

"I know..."

"But I think you should go for it."

Jad'futi stared. He blinked. "I couldn't possibly."

"I thought the same way about becoming a scientist," Pershing smiled wistfully. "Now twenty years down the road I-" work for the Imperials, "-have my dream job." Not anymore, you moron.

At least this kid isn't in danger of accidentally working for the Empire. But there were so many more dangers. X-Wing being blown up. Having a run-in with storm-troopers. Mission going wrong.

"I don't know... it took me so long to become a nurse. I'm not as strong-willed or smart as everyone else in my family. And my family says that, that I have to be a nurse. Because everyone else is. I can't just abandon that."

"If you're an adult, then you can do whatever the hell you want."

Jad'futi raised his brow-less eyebrows. Before he could refute, though, the door pushed open, and in came the Mandalorian, the child tucked safely in his arms.

"...am I interrupting?" came the low modulated voice.

"I-I was just leaving!" Jad'futi stood abruptly from the seat, causing the chair to screech against the stone flooring. "I'll go now. Um, thanks for the talk."

With that, the twi'lek, with incredible speed and absolutely no grace, flung himself out of the room. The door slammed behind him.

The Mandalorian gave him a Look. Pershing shrugged, then finally took a sip of the soup he'd been brought. It was nice - and he would have expressed this had his tongue not just been burnt on the spoon.

"Ow."

"Hot?"

"A bit."

The child made a gurgling noise, then giggled. "Ow!"

Both Pershing and the Mandalorian had been stunned into silence. They both stared down at the little green baby.

"That was... you, right?" said the Mandalorian.

"No... it wasn't you...?" They both continued to stare. The child bore a large grin like he knew the exact significance of what he'd just done. "Was that his-?"

"Yeah."

"His first word?"

"Yeah."

The child cooed and bounced in the Mandalorian's lap. He definitely knew the significance, and he was proud of it.

"You should get him a treat."

The Mandalorian looked up at him. "A treat?"

"Something nice. Like new clothes for starters," he sighed. "He's wearing the exact same thing as when I last saw him."

"I haven't put much thought into it."

"Yeah, I can tell." There was a prolonged silence. Pershing took another sip of the soup, but it was still too hot. He seethed. "You'd think hospitals wouldn't serve their soup piping hot to bedridden patients. Oh," a sudden thought popped into his head, "What planet is this? There aren't any hospitals like this one on Nevarro."

The Mandalorian shifted, like he was unsure of himself. "We're on Obroa-skai."

Pershing nearly choked on his own spit. "What?" he croaked. "Are you sure it's a good idea for me to be here?"

"As far as I know they have no idea you worked for the Empire."

"But... my patch!"

"They didn't see it."

"But-?"

"They didn't see it."

They stared at each other. He couldn't see it, but he felt the Mandalorian's eyes burning into his skull. There was something there, stirring between them; but he couldn't quite place it...

"Mandalorian... um, how should I address you?"

"Mando is fine."

"Mando, then. If... if the people on this planet find out who I am, I'm... excuse my language, but I'm fucked."

"This medical facility houses all variations of alien life." He gave Pershing a pointed look as if to say, please don't swear in front of the child. "Even if they knew, they wouldn't turn up their nose."

"This planet is the stronghold of the New Republic. If I were anyone else..."

"Well, you're not anyone else." There was a certain bite to Mando's words, but they were still low and soft-spoken. Like he hadn't intended to snap.

Pershing hesitated. "You... you have no reason to trust me."

It baffled him. He worked with the Empire, willingly. He gave his life to them. Dedicated every day to be the best he could be, fought against the Rebellion, made gadgets for the troopers. Improved their tie-fighters. Spent twelve years slaving his life away for the Imperials.

And yet, this Mandalorian took one look at him, even knowing what he was, what he'd done, he took one look and decided he was trustworthy.

Why?

If he had anything other than good intentions, that child would be dead. Or the Imperials would have been hailed.

"You're right." Mando stared at the far wall. "I have no reason to trust you. You hurt the child - my child. You wore that symbol with pride on your shoulder, you stood tall next to the client."

"Yes. I-..." I'm sorry. Is that what he wanted to say? There was no use in it now.

"The Empire has caused nothing but pain. They've brought genocide upon my people. They took happiness and they tore it to shreds. They killed Kuiil, they tried to kill the child." The helmet turned. Pershing refused to look up at it. He refused to look the Mandalorian in the eyes. "I have no idea why I decided to trust you. I have no idea why I wanted to stay and make sure you were alright."

Drowning himself in the soup suddenly sounded appealing. "I'm sorry," he sniffed.

"I just knew I didn't want anyone else to die."

"Well, I'm fine now. So... I won't hold it against you if - not that I ever would, of course - I won't hold it against you if you want to leave now."

There was a long stretch of silence.

And then more silence.

Then even more.

It was deafening. It was suffocating. Pershing's heartrate quickened and his throat tightened and his fists clenched. The soup lay forgotten on the tray, and the tray quivered as his knee involuntarily shook.

He'd always hated silence. Always hated the fear that came along with it. The pure anxiety that washed over him, as his mind raced, thinking about everything and anything that could go wrong.

What's he thinking? Why isn't he saying anything? Should I never have spoken?

He's thinking he should have just left me for dead. Maybe it would have been better off.

Am I annoying? Am I too shy? Does he think I'm weak?

Maybe I am weak.

I'm a coward.

There never was an answer. When the Mandalorian left the room, the child with him, Pershing expected that the tension in his shoulders and the quickening of breath would fade. But they didn't.

He wished in those moments that please, somebody, just help me. Save me from this. I can't control it. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to suffer anymore. I don't want to be a coward. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to live.

Even, though, as these thoughts raced through his mind, and even though he willed it, he couldn't cry. His shoulders shook and his breathing hollowed out, the heart rate monitor beeped wildly and five nurses came in with defibrillators, only to discover him in the midst of a mental breakdown, and not cardiac arrest - but even so, he couldn't cry.

And, an hour later, when he heard the sound of the Mandalorian's ship taking off, he didn't feel a thing.

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agentscamander-romanoff · 2 years

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What the hell happened to Moff Gideon after The Mandalorian season 2 finale? Was he arrested by The New Republic or he managed to escape? Is he being interrogated right now? What about Doctor Pershing ? Is he being interrogated too? Is he talking or Moff Gideon muzzled him? Does Gideon has his own people in The New Republic goverment? Does Din Djarin/ Bo-Katan Kryze/Cara Dune/Koska Reeves helping interregation? ̶̶̶W̶̶̶h̶̶̶e̶̶̶r̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶'̶̶̶s̶̶̶ ̶̶̶M̶̶̶o̶̶̶f̶̶̶f̶̶̶ ̶̶̶G̶̶̶i̶̶̶d̶̶̶e̶̶̶o̶̶̶n̶̶̶?̶̶̶ ̶̶̶I̶̶̶s̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶s̶̶̶a̶̶̶f̶̶̶e̶̶̶?̶̶̶I̶̶̶s̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶a̶̶̶l̶̶̶r̶̶̶i̶̶̶g̶̶̶h̶̶̶t̶̶̶?̶̶

#Will we know answers in s1 of The Book of Boba Fett? Probably no #but it is still interesting #star wars #moff gideon #the mandalorian season 3 #the mandalorian series #the mandalorian season 2 #the mandalorian #doctor pershing #new republic #din djarin #bo katan kryze #boba fett #mando #the book of boba fett #koska reeves #cara dune

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tainted-gay-ghost · 4 years

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Would you fuck a clone of yourself?

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 11 months

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Clan of Three - Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: The Rescue

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 9.3K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, blood, semi-angst, PTSD, some wholesome moments, sad moments, Fatherly Din

------

Din wasn’t sure what he felt about Slave I they had found Dr. Pershing’s ship and were currently pursuing it when he felt this feeling that something is either going to go horribly wrong or something already has. It was like a gut feeling but he had to push it aside his priority was the two kids of Moff Gideon’s ship. The ship had just been disabled by an ion cannon and he could hear their panicked voices through the close-range communication, “They hit us with an ion cannon. Avionics are down. Comms are down!”

“Lower your shields, disengage all transponders, prepare for boarding,” Fett says as the ship docks the shuttle. Din leads first followed by a shock trooper as he enters the cockpit taking in the two pilots and the person he was after, “Before you make a mistake, this is Dr. Pershing.” One of the pilots says and Din nods,

“We’ve met. Are the kids alive?” Din looks over at the doctor whose face grows still.

“Yes, the child’s on the crew–” He starts but the second pilot grabs Pershing holding a blaster to his head. The door behind Din opens and Cara steps in with her blaster also raised. “Stay back, Dropper.”

“Easy, pal. Okay? I’m not with him. We can work something out.” The other pilot says holding his hands up easily surrendering. A bullet hits the pilot and he drops dead as they aim their blaster at the one holding Pershing hostage, “Drop your weapon.” Cara warns.

“No. No, you listen to me. This is a top-tier target of the New Republic. This is a clone engineer. And if they find out that he’s dead because of you, you’re gonna wish you never left Alderaan,” He says and Din sees Cara freeze slightly at the comment, “I saw the tear. You wanna know what else I saw? I saw your planet destroyed. I was on the Death Star.”

“Which one?” Cara grits and the pilot gives a fake laugh, “You think you’re funny? Do you know how many millions were killed on those bases?” He says pushing a very thin line and Din could feel the anger coming off Cara from the insults of her home planet.

“Drop your blaster.” She says her finger resting on the trigger, “As the galaxy cheered?”

“Last chance.” Cara warns her patience is stretched thin but the pilot just kept pushing, “Destroying your planet was a small price to pay to rid the galaxy of terrorism.” A bolt hits the co-pilot in the face narrowly missing Pershing, who screams in pain clutching his ear from the part of it singed off. Din turns watching Cara walk out heading back to the ship and Din grabs the doctor forcing him to the ship.

Arriving on the planet Lafete Din followed by Boba Fett enters a diner a hush instantly falls in the room with the appearance of two Mandalorians. Ignoring them Din heads to the corner where two Mandalorians in blue armor sit, “I need your help.” He asks and Bo-Katan turns to look at the man.

“Not all Mandalorians are bounty hunters. Some of us serve a higher purpose.” She comments taking a swig of her drink, “They took the kids.” Din says and Bo-Katan pauses slightly now fully looking at him.

“Who?” “Moff Gideon.” Din says and Bo-Katan turns away hearing the name disdain in her voice, “You’ll never find him.”

“We don’t need these two. Let’s get outta here.” Fett says to Din and Bo-Katan looks over at the man wearing Mandalorian armor, “You are not a Mandalorian.” Bo-Katan comments and Fett shakes his head, “Never said I was.”

Reeves scoffs taking her shot of spotchka “I didn’t know sidekicks were allowed to talk.”

“Well, if that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy. Easy there, little one.” Fett comments and the girl stands getting nose to nose with the bounty hunter, “You’ll be talking through the window of a bacta tank.” She hisses and Bo-Katan raises her hand.

“All right, easy. Save it for the Imps.”

“We have his coordinates.” Din says and Bo-Katan has surprise written on her face, “You can bring me to Moff Gideon?” she asks and Din nods,

“The Moff has a light cruiser. It could be helpful in your effort to regain Mandalore.” He brings up and Fett scoffs, “You gotta be kidding me. Mandalore? The Empire turned that planet to glass.”

“You are a disgrace to your armor.” Bo-Katan says her voice laced with venom, “This armor belonged to my father.” Fett retorts and the woman snarls, “Don’t you mean your donor?”

“Careful, princess.” Fett warns the former princess, “You are a clone. I’ve heard your voice thousands of times.”

“Mine might be the last one you hear.” Fett threatens and Reeves strikes with fists and kicks the two brawl out in the bar, Fett getting thrown onto a table and breaking it as he responds with flamethrowers before pulling out their blasters but the other female Mandalorian finally steps in, “Enough! Both of you! If we had shown half that spine to the Empire we would’ve never lost our planet. We will help you. In exchange, we will keep that ship to retake Mandalore. If you should manage to finish your quest, I would have you reconsider joining our efforts. Mandalorians have been in exile from our home world for far too long.” She says to the two before looking over at Din

“Fair enough.” He agrees, “One more thing,” Bo-Katan adds, “Gideon has a weapon that once belonged to me. It is an ancient weapon that can cut through anything.”

“Almost anything.” Reeves adds and Bo-Katan nods, “It cannot cut through pure beskar. I will kill the Moff and retake what is rightfully mine. With the Darksaber restored to me, Mandalore will finally be within reach.”

“Help me rescue the kids and you can have whatever you want. They are my only priority.” Din says as he gains the final two allies he needed as they return to Fett’s ship.

“This is Moff Gideon’s Imperial light cruiser. In the old days, it would carry a crew of several hundred. Now it operates with a tiny fraction of that.” On Slave I Bo-Katan briefs them all with the hologram of Gideon’s ship, “Your assessment is misleading.” Dr. Pershing speaks up seated with restraints.

“Oh, great. An objective opinion.” Cara says rolling her eyes, “This isn’t subterfuge. I assure you.” He says and Bo-Katan holds her hand up to Cara, “Let him speak.”

“There’s a garrison of dark troopers on board. They are the ones who abducted the Child and the girl.” Pershing explains and Din nods having seen these Dark Troopers with his own eyes on Tython. “How many troopers do they have armed in those suits?” He asks

“These are third-generation designs. They are no longer suits. The human inside was the final weakness to be solved. They’re droids.” Pershing explains that these troopers sound like a threat to their plan, “Where are they bivouacked?” Fennec asks and Pershing looks over at the map and then at Bo-Katan silently asking for permission which she grants before he points at a second of the map as it grows larger.

“They’re held in cold storage in this cargo bay. They draw too much power to be kept at ready.” He says, “How long to power up?”

“A few minutes, perhaps.” He says and Din is staring at the map

“Where are the kids being held?”

Din notices the slight hesitation in Pershing before he pointed at another section of the map, “This is the brig. He’s being held here under armed guard.” Pershing says and everyone seems to notice how he only addressed one.

“Where is the girl being held?” Din says and sees the fear in Pershing’s eyes and hidden behind the beskar helmet his expression was grim. “Where. Is. She.”

“Moff...Moff Gideon disposed of the girl,” His words were like knives that impaled Din and the room went deathly silent as Pershing tried to find a less harsh way of describing it, “Gideon saw her as a threat.”

“A threat!? She’s a child!” Cara hisses at the doctor her own anger and sadness thick in her tone. Din couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe, this wasn’t real. He would close his eyes and be back on the Razor Crest, you and the child would be with him and everything would be alright. He would take you to a planet where you all could be safe..you were safe. You weren’t de- He felt bile fill his throat but he forced it down.

“She was a threat to the revival of Mandalore,” The comment brings attention to the Mandalorians in the room, “What revival of Mandalore?” Bo-Katan says hearing this news of her homeworld and Pershing feeling the danger of not speaking more and being forced to keep going.

“Gideon planned to retake Mandalore and rebuild the empire from there…with the girl, he initially gave the option of her taking the Mandalorian throne beside him,” He pauses the thought itself even disgusted him, “To take the throne beside him and produce Mandalorian heirs..” Din felt sick no he didn’t want to picture any of this. You were a child you were only seventeen, you haven’t lived and to hear you would be forced to create children by Gideon...He was going to rip Gideon apart.

“But the girl is from Tatooine how could she…” Cara comments stopping from saying that part, “Do that.”

“She is born on Tatooine her mother is from the planet but her father…” Pershing starts and his gaze briefly meets Din before moving to Bo-Katan, “Is of Mandalore..her father's parents being...Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze.”

Bo-Katan’s head instantly snaps up hearing the names before it all clicked, “No..” She shakes her head stepping back slightly, “They said neither of them survived. No, they didn’t survive. I-” The fear crossed her face before there was no way of denying the truth. How did she not see it..her nephew’s daughter..how did she not see the features of her nephew or her own sister in the girl. Bo-Katan covers her mouth the truth that her entire family was truly gone was too sickening.

“What did he do to her,” Bo-Katan whispers the horror in her eyes as Pershing guilty has to continue, “She rejected his proposal and he..he killed her.”

“Where is she,” Din speaks up having been deadly silent and the energy coming off him was only rage. Anything could set him and he was going to kill everyone on the cruiser…and when he got to Gideon. He was going to put him threw more pain than he’ll ever experience. Din wouldn’t grant him the mercy of a quick death but something that will last years. He would push aside his own survival to make sure he feels this pain to remember what he did to you.

Pershing looks at the Mandalorian in fear, “Gideon put her in the brig.” He says and Din looks forward.

“We split into two parties.” Bo-Katan says quickly swiping the tears brimming her lashes as she quickly clears her throat, “I go alone.” Din says his word final and everyone looks at the grieving man and doesn’t argue.

“Okay. Phase one, Lambda shuttle issues a distress call. Two, we emergency land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube, cutting off any potential interceptors. Koska, Fennec, Dune, and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we’ve neutralized the launch bay, we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver...” Bo-Katan’s voice drowns out as Din is pulled into his head. His hands were in tight fists his armor felt like a deadweight on him he couldn’t think it was just acting now. What was he going to do when he finds you…how is he to tell the child..he would have to tell Cobb. He wasn’t even sure how he was keeping it together, he was split between killing anyone in his path or screaming and crying his heart out. He was never more thankful for the beskar for hiding the tears that silently slid down his face as their meeting for this final fight ended and they moved to the shuttle to go to Gideon’s cruiser. He was going to avenge you and you would be given a true Mandalorian burial…maker he was going to do everything right for you. He was going to save the child he would promise you that he won’t fail twice.

You open your eyes finding yourself in your old home in Mos Eisley… it was the night you lost your parents everything looked exactly the same. “Mama? Papa?” You call out as you see a shadow blur past you entering your parents' room. Walking towards the door you pause before pushing it open about to step in.

“Y/n? What are you doing up?” Your mother’s voice makes you turn around and you see her standing in the middle of your living room with a confused look on her face. She didn’t look different at all shock was written on your face. “Mama..?” You whisper your voice gets choked up as your eyes begin to burn. You step closer looking at her with wonder as she smiles cupping your face a gasp pulled from your chest feeling her warm touch. Her smile is comforting as she frowns slightly wiping a tear you didn’t know was there, “Why the tears sweetie?” She says and you were certain she was real..this was real.

“I-” The doors cuts you off as a tired-looking man walks in, “Now where’s my little womp rat!” Your father’s voice produces more tears as he drops his bag spotting you scooping you up in the air just like when you were a child hugging you, “I’ve missed you, my daughter.”

“Papa…” You whisper your hands instantly digging into the back of his shirt holding him close, your face pressed into his shoulder breathing in the scent of your father. His touch, his voice, his warmth, everything..this was real. You pull back seeing the wide smile on his face and you can’t help the broken cry to come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong darling?” Your father asks and your mother joins his arm wrapping around her side and you have to take a step back looking at the two of them.

“I…I just never thought I’d see you again.” You whimper trying to hold in the broken cry, that little girl praying maybe it was a cruel joke and you would see your parents again. The hope that girl held onto all these years was that she would have her mother’s comforting words again and her father’s strong hugs back in her life. She thought that girl had died along with her parents but they were in front of her.

“You must have missed me a lot when I’m gone from work.” He says with a laugh and you chuckle with tears in your eyes from his joke. You still couldn’t believe your eyes. You must have died and gone to heaven for this to be real.

“This is the non-diplomatic option,”

A searing pain fills your body and you feel your insides rip apart. You cry out hitting the ground as your parents rush to help you. Your hands hold your stomach as they help you to your feet, pulling your hands back seeing red coating your hands and stomach. Your gaze snaps up and your parents are gone the lights in your home out leaving you in eerie darkness. “Mama?! Papa!?” You shout looking around and your stomach churns seeing your father’s deceased body on the ground the sandstone soaked with his blood. You gasp turning away from the view only making yourself see a part of your mother’s body through the doorway to their bedroom. You hit the door pushing hard against it to let you out and it slides open as you fall out. The sand digs into your palms as you try to catch your breath focusing on calming the panic in your heart.

“Y/n?” Cobb’s voice calls out and you look up as he stands over you looking over you with a concerned look on his face. “What are you doing out?” He takes your hands helping you up and he doesn’t even notice the blood that covers your hands that doesn’t transfer to his.

“Cobb…I..was just..what am I doing..” You try to explain but grow even more confused looking around not in Mos Eisley but Mos Pelgo the second home you had with the Marshal looking after you.

“I think you had a long night of training and you need some sleep,” Cobb says trying to lead you toward your guys' home. Training..going across the dunes…the jedi texts…your lightsaber..the Krayt Drag-no that didn’t happen.

“Ni vor entye gota'la par ner ad's oyay” “Ni'm Ni ceta Din.”

Arms hold you close as comforting words are whispered to you a language spoken lightly to you. There was a man he had…you never saw his face..why?

“Din…” You whisper out and Cobb gives you a look as he tries bringing you inside but you pull away.

“Din? Not sure where you got that name from come on I’m taking you off helping the elders tomorrow you need rest.” His hand reaches out but you recoil back. Why had you thought of this man…who was he. Cold flashes of metal, a ship of the old republic, the giggles of a child.

“No..this..why am I-” You shake your head moving further away from Cobb concern on his face, “Come on kid, this isn’t funny whatever joke you’re pulling.”

“Put her in the brig and let her die a jedi,”

You gasp in pain as it grows stronger your knees hit the ground hard now metal not the sands of Tatooine. Your hand presses hard against your stomach cringing in pain a metallic taste fills your mouth as you spit on the ground seeing red. Struggling to stand and looking around find yourself on a ship the hallways are long, and the coldness surrounded you as you move through them feeling yourself grow weak. Your hand is still held against your stomach as your other grabs the wall to stabilize yourself as a gasp of air tries to fill your burning lungs.

“Kid..” A voice calls out and your head snaps up at the end of the hall stands a man covered in armor. He seemed familiar but you couldn’t remember where as you stand on opposite ends, “olaror yaim,” He calls out the language smooth on his tongue his hand raised held out for you to take. Then it was flashes of memories watching them as they played out in front of you.

“You need to get patched up or it’s going to get infected.” You look over your shoulder glaring at him. “I don’t need your help.” His hands are rough as he cleans the cut on your temple on Arvala-7 the first real interaction between you two.

“Come on we have to go!” He jumps off the speeder grabs the child and you jump over the side almost falling to the ground if he didn’t grab you. You shake your head trying to keep the pain in. “I can’t...my foot.” You say your voice trembling and he looks around before handing you the child again and scooping you up being held in his arms as blaster fire soars over you as bounty hunters and Mandalorians fight for your escape.

The bolt hits the pan dead center it knocking over. Your hands drop down holding the weapon to your side. “You did well.” Mando says and you look up at him before nodding slightly returning the weapon to him, “Keep that up and you’ll be a sharpshooter.” You can’t ignore the warmth that fills your chest hearing the compliment and noticing the pride that was in his voice. The confident feeling didn’t leave you just hearing the pride in his voice something you could never get rid of the feeling.

“I’m assuming you knew I was coming.” You say and he looks down at you the damn helmet hiding his emotions. “No, not really, just a shot in the dark.” He says taking the rifle and slinging it across his back but not taking the blaster, “Keep it…it will keep you safe.” He says pushing the blaster back into your hands and you look down at the item gifted to you, just like the knife.

“Down!” He yells and you drop down as his flamethrower burns two droids as they melt together. You stand up your blaster firing at the droid he was once fighting in the head, while he shoots at the droid you cut the foot off. The six droids lay dead around you, oil and parts surround the two of you. The cheers from the prisoners witnessing the fight. “You good kid?” He looks at you silently checking you for injuries and you nod. “I’m fine Mando.”

“No what are you doing?! Cara let go of me. Mando get up! We have to go!” Cara begins pulling you towards the sewer vent, struggling slightly pulling you with one hand and the other holding her blaster. “Mando stop her! Please don’t leave me! Din! Get up, please! I don’t wanna go! Cara let go of me! Din! Din Please!” Your voice screams out your hand trying to reach out to him as his hand drifts off you falling to his side.

Your body collides into Mando’s your arms wrapping around his waist tightly and his free hand rest on the back of your head keeping you close to him as he whispers words that you can’t understand. The beskar cold on your skin as tears fall down your face. You pull back looking up at him grateful to see his metal helmet, his rough gloves wipe away the tears on your face. “I thought you were gone.”

“I know I shouldn’t have done that but there was no time to explai-” You’re cut out and pulled into his chest as he holds your head close to his chest not caring the saliva was getting on him. This surprises you and Cobb as well who feels like he’s intruding on a moment. “Ni vor entye gota'la par ner ad's oyay” Din mumbles so quickly that you could barely pick up any of the words he rushed in Mando’a. Din holds one hand on your upper back the other clutched within your hair though it doesn’t hurt you. You felt safe in his embrace.

You curl up against his side the child cooing in your arms as you try to steal as much heat of the Mandalorian, his arm around your back holds you tight against him, “Get some sleep kid,” He says looking down at his two children making sure they were alright before worrying about himself. The cold was harsh but the heat you had gotten by being cuddled with two others made going to sleep pretty easy.

But it wasn’t coldness from the air but his words as your heart breaks, “Din I only just learned your name! You probably weren’t ever going to tell me anyways. No matter how much you try to teach me about the Mandalorians I won’t be one. I’m not your daughter and you are not my father!” You spit and the atmosphere is quickly cold and you step back realizing the words that came out of your mouth. “You're right…You're not my daughter and I sure as hell ain't your father. When we meet the Jedi we will be going our separate ways.” Din declares and you can’t ignore the malice in his words. You knew you hurt him with what you said but just hearing him say those same words back to you felt like a dagger in your chest. You nod sharply looking away from him trying to keep the quickly forming tears. You don’t deserve to cry...you caused this. You just ruin everything and push people away. What you feared so deeply...being alone had smacked you in the face so face

The pain in your heart turned physical as you gasp for air as he holds you down, “You’re going to be alright..you hear me…you’re not leaving me.” He promises you his hand squeezes tightly on you before he pulls away slightly and you see him rip something off himself and you feel rough skin against your hand and on your face. Your eyes though weak and hazy widen feeling the skin touching yours, the contact of his against yours. You knew the importance of his creed the reason his skin, his face is hidden behind beskar and he just broke a part of it…for you. He squeezes your hand again his other swipes the tears from your cheek the pads of his fingers warm, “You’re going to be alright.”

“I don’t wanna die…please...please I wanna stop…dad.”

You freeze watching yourself cry out to him..you weren’t sure what you feared more. Knowing that you would never have the chance of having a normal family, never see your mother’s smiles or feel the embrace of your father, or have that little girl get part of her dream back. To have someone love her, protect her, make her smile, make her cry, to have that figure back in her life. You couldn’t stop it you said it and it scared you. He had fit the characteristics from the moment you met him.

“Dad..” You call out to Din your weak limp as you try to grow closer to him but it seemed like the hallway stretches farther your limp turned into a weak run. “Dad…Dad! Dad!” Something trips you and you hit the ground gasping for air the pain in your stomach only grows stronger as you push yourself to your knees but you stop when you see what lies in front of you. You’re frozen…paralyzed looking at the body that lays before you, her face dull as she stares straight up her eyes lifeless.

“No…no no No!” You cry out scrambling over your body your hands colliding with your shoulders as you shake yourself trying to wake them up. “Wake up…wake up wake up!” You cry out as your lifeless eyes stare back at you, the wound in your stomach too great. Your hands press to stop the bleeding the blood pouring past you like a river feeling the pain in your own grow stronger making you cry out in pain,

“Please you have to wake up...I wanna go home..you have to live.” You cry tears fall from your face as your cry into your chest feeling defeated. Your life felt like a grain of sand so minute as it blended with the rest of the dunes. Would you remain here forever forced in this state to watch the world around you? Was Din going to find your body or were you to rot in this cell until they dispose of you themselves?

“You gotta wake up..please you have to.” You whisper into your chest as silence is your only response a hand rest on your shoulder and you jump looking up and seeing a man staring down at you. He’s dressed in robes with auburn hair and a thick beard there’s sadness in his eyes as he looks at you.

“It is not your time young one…” He speaks his voice calm but with strength behind him as he bends down before putting his hand over the wound where yours lies. Another hand joins in and you stare at a beautiful woman with an elaborate headpiece and kind eyes, two more join, and your father smiles at you his hand cups your face though you only feel coldness off it while your mother just smiles, people, surround you their hands touching your shoulders or your legs any part of your body they can touch and you feel strength grow in your limbs.

Someone touches your chest right where your heart lies and you feel a wave of energy flow through you it was a shadow of a man but you catch the details of Mandalorian armor though old and unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You stare into the helmet feeling his gaze back.

“These are your final steps.”

You wake up with a sharp gasp your cuffed hands instantly going to your stomach seeing the hole in your clothes feeling your back as well feeling the hole in your shirt your skin was clear only covered in blood but there wasn’t a single scratch on your body. You bring your hands up to your temple feeling the stickiness of the blood but no pain when you press down where the cut was. A faint whisper brushes your skin as you turn to look off in a direction and through the walls and everything you can sense him.

“Moff Gideon..”

It’s a silent rage one no one suspects just building as the doors to the cell open easily and you enter the hallway. Turning the corner and spotting a lone trooper walking down the hall you follow after your footsteps silent as you pull the vibroblade from their belt stabbing them rapidly on their neck as they let out a blood-filled gargle before collapsing on the ground. You kneel down prying the blaster rifle from its grasp seeing it had one round in it before needing a new charge. That was alright you were going to make sure you didn’t miss and if not you were going to rip him apart with your own hands.

The plan was set as they traveled through hyperspace Din was off to the side silently watching everyone else prepare his mind was only focused on two things, Save the child and if given the chance kill Moff Gideon himself.

“Prepare to exit jump space.” Fett calls out through the comms on Slave I as Bo-Katan pilots Perhsing’s shuttle, “Copy that. Get the hell out of there as soon as they clear us to dock. And your shots have to look convincing.”

“Power up those shields, princess. I’ll put on a good show.” Fett comments and they could hear the smirk in his voice, “Watch out for those deck cannons.” Bo-Katan warns while powering up the shields.

“Don’t worry about me. Just be careful in there.” Fett comments as Reeves jumps in, “Exiting hyperspace in three, two, one…” The ship jolts out of hyperspace as the plan begins.

“This is Lambda shuttle, Two-Seven-Four-Three. Requesting emergency docking. Repeat, requesting emergency docking. We are under attack.” Bo-Katan fakes distress as she dodges the blaster fire sent by Fett as they fly toward Gideon’s cruiser.

“Copy, Lambda shuttle. Request received.” A comms officer responds, “Stay clear of the launch tube. Deploying fighter squadron.” Two TIEs launch from the cruiser but Bo-Katan continues straight toward the launch tube, “Request denied! Please clear the launch tube until fighters deploy!” The comms officer speaks up.

“Negative! Negative! We are under attack!” Bo-Katan cuts in as they draw closer to the launch bay ignoring the shouts from the comm officer, “Clear launch tube immediately.”

“Hang on,” Bo-Katan says as they fly straight through the launch tube crashing into the bay the ship jerking around the large scratching as the shuttle drags against the ground. Troopers stand outside the ship as the ramp lowers down.

“What are you doing? Get that thing out of here!” A trooper shouts out but a bolt hits him in the chest and he drops dead. Blaster fire is quickly exchanged as the troopers in the bay are quickly taken down and Gideon watches this all from the bridge listening to their screams

“Activate the dark troopers.”

“Moff Gideon,” The comms officer calls to him as he turns away from the large control table and the look on her face as she tries to hold back the horror, “The girl…she’s not in the brig anymore.”

The women move ahead clearing the bay with ease and Din silently exits the ship looking over the damage as he makes his way toward the dark trooper bay. The halls empty most of the stormtrooper after the women as they head for the bridge leaving the path clear for him. Reaching the dark troopers’ cargo hull right as the doors begin to open and Din hears the heavy metal marching as they move towards the door,

“No. No!” Din yells dashing forward and putting Pershing’s code cylinder into the slot to close to the door but one droid holds the door open and manages to get through. It fires at Din with precise shots hitting the beskar making him stumble back. Din fires back with his blaster but it has no effect the bolt bounces off its armor just like beskar it swings its long arm and Din slides under it sending his flamethrower and melting the face but it still doesn’t react as it grabs Din by the throat slamming him against the wall the beskar denting into the thick metal wall. His whole body is rattled as he is repeatedly slammed deeper into the wall. Sending the whistling birds they explode around the droid only staggering it and dropping him. Past the droid, he can see the others punching the glass windows trying to break through. A punch straight to his chest sends him sliding across the floor and he stands pulling off his spear gifted by Tano fighting against its sheer strength and size before he stabs it straight into the neck. It malfunctions before falling down defeated. Din rushes over turning the code cylinder right as they pry the doors open, depressurizing the cargo bay the troopers are sucked out into space. Leaning against the wall sucking in a heavy breath from the battle his body aches being thrown around. Moving towards the droid grabbing the beskar spear before heading for the brig. His mission to save the kid was his only priority.

In the turbolift, Cara continues to fiddle with her large gun that is jammed, “Dank farrik! Son of a mudscuffer!” She hisses and Bo-Katan looks over at her, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?’

The shock trooper slams the gun against the wall and it powers up right as the doors open “I think that did it. Excuse me.”

“Hostiles! Stop!” A trooper yells out as they enter the bridge but Cara mows them down with her weapon they quickly enter the bridge taking down the officers inside that try to fight.

“Weapons system disarmed,” Reeves says disabling the systems on the large console as Bo-Katan looks around only one thought on her mind.

“Where’s Gideon?”

The halls are silent as Din travels turning the corner and spotting two troopers guarding a cell. Coming up behind one he juts the beskar spear stabbing the one further away from him before bringing the spear up to the trooper's neck and pulling back. Their legs shake as they grasp the beskar spear trying to stop it from choking him. Din pulls harder pulling the trooper into the air and with a sharp jerk, a crack fills the air as he snaps his neck. Putting away the spear taking out his blaster he moves to the door panel and opens it. Relief fills him spotting the child who coos happily seeing Din. He rushes forward grabbing him and releasing the cuffs from the child’s small wrists.

“You’re alright kid..” He whispers to Grogu still keeping his guard up. He felt guilt in him a grieving father having to give the news one of their own was gone. But when he looked at him it was almost like he knew something he didn’t...that things were going to be alright. “Bo-Katan..come in Bo-Katan.”

“I read you, did you rescue the child?” Her voice comes through his comm, “I have we heading towards the bridge, you have Moff Gideon in your custody?” He asks and it’s silence that only fills a pit of fear in Din.

“Moff Gideon wasn’t on the bridge…we thought he was with the child..” Bo-Katan’s voice comes through and Din is confused and nervous about what this meant.

“What.” He had assumed they were with him but it did make sense he would be with the child if he was neither here nor there…where was he?

“Din.” “What?” He calls out hearing the urgency in Bo-Katan’s voice, “Head to the main hall we’ll meet you there. We found Gideon.” Din’s already rushing to the map location sent to him.

His presence moved through the walls before stopping in one location as you follow it entering a grand hall on the light cruiser. It only held one door and you spot him standing completely alone his back towards you. Raising the blaster aiming at him to pull the trigger and deliver the final kill. “A bit of a coward’s kill don’t you think princess? At least give me a warrior’s death just like you Mandalorians.”

“You don’t deserve a warrior’s death you monster.” You growl moving towards him until you were an arms-length away, “Amusing. I’ll be sure to give you one then.” The blade of the Darksaber swings out and you lean back dodging the attack. Firing your only shot at him but he blocks the blaster fire swinging again making you move back again. He attacks in wide sweeping motions and your still cuffed wrists restrain you from the force leaving you to yourself. Pulling the knife from your belt ducking under his arms cutting at his side as he growls out in pain swinging the blade with rage in him.

“You just don’t know how to stay dead!” He shouts and you smirk the knife coated in his blood in your grasp, “Try killing me better.” He roars arching the blade down and you are forced to move backward as he swings the blade out you lean to the side but he raises his foot kicking you straight in the stomach and you fall to your back. Gasping for air as he stabs it towards the ground but you roll out of the way.

“You’re weak! A thief from Tatooine! You’re insignificant, your scum, from a dying race. The Jedi are gone! The Mandalorians are gone! And the remaining hidden in the gutter will be brought out and slaughtered.” He shouts swinging the blade down on your again and you thrust your wrists forward as it cuts through the cuffs and the spark before falling off your wrists. You stare up at him as a look of horror crosses his face as he sees the cuffs restricting your abilities fall off.

You swipe your hand out the Darksaber sliding against the floor and your other hand in a fist. Gideon grabs his neck and pulled straight into your grasp as your fist slams straight into his face and he sees stars. Your other fist is swinging right after digging into his face and a loud crunch fills the air as his nose shatters blood pouring like a fountain and getting all over your hand as you grab the back of his head and slam it into your knee. Each punch for everything he's done, for your grandparents, for your planet, the death of your parents, for all the Mandalorians, for Kuill, for IG-11, for you. He deserved every hit and you weren’t stopping until his blood painted your skin. You scream bringing your fist down on his face, you ignore the pain that fills your hands you would break yourself until you knew he was dead. Gideon’s on his back unable to defend himself as this girl pounds her fists into his face breaking both his and her bones. Blood splatters against your face and his features are covered in blood as he tries to fight off you. You hold your hand out the beskar weapon pulling into your hand as you activate the blade over him as you stare at his defeated face and him staring at the wrath in yours.

You’re ripped off him and you fight hard kicking your legs out throwing your head back to hit them your arms trying to break from their grip. You swing the weapon in your hand but you’re quickly disarmed. “Get off me! Kriffing let me go” “Kid stop! Stop it!” A voice yells out to you as you’re pulled away your vision is blinded seeing someone come to Gideon’s side. You lose sight of him as your turn around your wrists grabbed to stop you from fighting and you stare back at metal.

“Kid it’s me! Stop it…stop!” You weren’t sure you would ever see him again, as he holds you still though you try fighting. “He has to die! I’ll kriffing kill him. Gideon has to!” You shout trying to break free from his grasp but he’s like beskar unbreakable your anger moves from Gideon to him as your hands pound on his chest and you try pushing him away. The pain in your knuckles that were definitely shattered fuels you further. “I have to kill him…I have to…let me go!” Your fighting grows weaker as he pulls you into his chest holding you tight to him as your shouting turns to cries your fist against his chest weak as you break down in his arms.

“I have to...I have to stop him...Din..” You cry into his chest as his hand strokes your back the other holds your head to him, “Shhh…gev…gar cuyir morut'yc…ni cuy' olar…ni ganar gar cyar'ika...I got you..it’s alright..” He whispers as he holds you close to him. He never wanted to let you go and he wanted to take all your sadness and pain from what you experienced and cast it away. He wanted you and the child to be safe and happy living the rest of your lives in peace.

Din pulls you to your feet holding you to his side as you look at Gideon lying in a crumbling mess of blood on the floor. The group had entered the room ready to take on Moff Gideon but hadn’t expected to see you above him about to give the killing blow. Din had to grasp onto the wall his whole body felt weak just hearing seeing her he felt thrown in two different directions one removing all the air in his lungs and the other filling him back with life. Cara checks Gideon’s pulse as he sputters awake but weak, “He’s alive.” Though it’s not in relief but for other reasons. Your body felt on fire the blood coating your hands and face as you hold your hand out calling the weapon back to your hand. It was heavy a weight to your grasp whispers coming off it but your gaze was drilled to Moff Gideon as he is shackled.

The group was surprised to see Gideon and yourself but one is surprised for another reason looking at the weapon in your possession, “What did you do?” Bo-Katan asks looking at you.

“She left him alive, that’s what happened. And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.” Cara says looking at the New Republic prize but Gideon has a weak smirk on his face, “That’s not what she’s talking about. Why don’t you kill her now and take it but you wouldn’t do that to dear family? It’s yours now.” He coughs some blood out then looks over at Bo-Katan

“What is?” Din asks confused about what’s going on, “The Darksaber. It belongs to you.” Gideon comments looking at you with a bloodstained grin as you look at the weapon in your grasp. You look at the hilt before moving towards Bo-Katan holding out to her.

“Now…it belongs to her,” You say. A pained look on her face as she doesn’t accept the blade, “She can’t take it. It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.” Gideon explains the joy on his face watching the frustration and pain on the female Mandalorian’s face.

“I yield,” You say pushing the blade further out to her, “It’s yours.”

Gideon laughs shaking his head and moving closer from the ground but is pushed back by Cara, “Oh, no. It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.” Din looks at the expression on Bo-Katan's face as she knows he’s right,

“He’s right,” Bo-Katan says her history of the Darksaber having not rightfully earned the blade a crack at her integrity. “Come on, just take it,” You say, this wasn’t you. You weren’t a ruler, you weren’t meant to lead people, especially ones you didn’t even know you shared blood with. The weapon branded you for the responsibility it carried and the pain it has inflicted on others and yourself. You felt your skin burn just holding it you felt sick just looking at it.

“Well, perhaps she’ll get another crack at it,” Gideon smirks right as an alarm goes off blaring in the bridge as Fennec looks at the schematics on her vambrace, “The ray shields have been breached. We’re being boarded.”

“How many life forms?” Bo-Katan asks as they prepare for the fight and Fennec looks at them with a concerned look on her face, “None.”

“Seal those blast doors!” Cara says as Fennec quickly closes the blast doors and they move further back preparing for the dark troopers to come to their doorstep. “You’re about to face off with the dark troopers. You had your hands full with one. Let’s see how you do against a platoon.” Gideon sneers at Din who holds the child now furthest away from the blast doors prepared for the fight.

A bang on the blast door makes you jump and you see the blast doors slowly dent as the pounding on the door grows louder, “They’re here.” Reeves says. Din pulls you to stand bringing you to stand behind him, you could see Gideon was moved to the side. You look away down to your hands seeing the blood that coats your arms and the weapon held in your hands. Looking forward as the dent in the blast doors grows larger when another alarm sounds and Reeves moves to see what it is, “An X-wing.”

“One X-wing? Great. We’re saved.” Cara says sarcastically preparing her blaster and Bo-Katan speaks into her comms, “Incoming craft, identify yourself.” You look out the window as well as Grogu looking at the starship grow closer, you could sense something great coming from them as they boarded the light cruiser. You’ve never felt this strongness in the force before as it washes over you. At the same time, the droids stop attacking the pounding on the blast doors ceasing,

“Why did they stop?” A woman in black and orange armor says you look through the hologram on one of their vambraces a hooded figure disembarks the X-Wing making their way through the halls before they encounter dark troopers in a storage hall and you see a blade emit as they cut through the droids. You watch this person deflect blaster fire, cutting down dark troopers and even crushing one.

“A Jedi?” Bo-Katan whispers as you hear fighting come from right outside the blast doors with loud blaster fire but it sounded like this jedi on the other side was winning. As they grew closer you see the jedi finish off the last of the dark troopers the presence of this jedi was strong.

“Open the doors,” Din says and the others look at him like he’s crazy, “I said, open the doors.” The other armored woman shakes her head, “Are you crazy?” She disagrees and Din moves to open the doors himself. They open and you see the destruction and the defeated droids as the hooded figure enters the energy is almost overwhelming as the jedi removes his hood and your jaw drops staring at the man.

“Luke Skywalker…” You whisper in awe staring at the jedi from your home planet. Small farmboy from Tatooine to Master Jedi, the one that took down the Death Star and defeated Darth Vader.

Din steps forward looking at Luke, “Are you a Jedi?” He asks and the man nods his hands folded in front of him,

“I am,” He says before holding out his hand, “Come, little ones.” He looks over at the Grogu in the seat and over at you who stands behind Din. You feel frozen being addressed and you look over at the child who doesn’t move as well. Din seems more focused on the child as he looks back at Skywalker,

“He doesn’t want to go with you.”

“He wants your permission,” Luke says, “He is strong with the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect the Child and the girl… but they will not be safe until they master their abilities.” He explains and you look at Din seeing him look at the child and you. He moves towards Grogu picking him up and holding him in his arms and you finally move coming to stand by him as he looks down at the both of you,

“Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind…” Din says looking at the two of you, “I’ll see you again. I promise.” He says and your eyes burn with tears watching the sad moment between him and Grogu but also knowing you were losing him as well. The small hand of the child reaches up touching the metal of his helmet before looking up at him with sad eyes. Your chest tightens seeing Din’s hand reach up and he removes the beskar that shields him from the world. The most important part of his creed was broken for you both. You weren’t sure what you expected but he had a strong jaw that was covered in a patchy beard to a rugged face, his eyes were brown, and his short hair brown as well sort of untamed being covered by the helmet. His eyes were filled with sadness and his lack of control over his expressions due to the helmet was apparent. Grogu reaches his hand up touching his skin for the first time as Din closes his eyes trying not to break. You looked away feeling like you were intruding on this moment between the two. Opening his eyes he looks over at you a bit surprised seeing you looking away and then down to the child, “All right, pal. It’s time to go. Don’t be afraid.” Placing the child to the floor he looks up at Skywalker but cooing comes from his leg seeing the child holding on to his pant leg. The sound of the droid appearing as an astromech droid appears in blue and white colors as it beeps almost speaking to Grogu as he moves towards the droid. It beeps shaking with happiness making the small child smile as you watch with a bittersweet smile. Luke looks down at the child as he raises his hands to be picked up and the jedi complies holding him in his arms. He looks down at the child before the Jedi's gaze meets yours, “Come, little one” He says holding his hand out and you feel frozen in carbonite. You felt embarrassed and scared as you stood covered in blood that was not your own like this was proper material of a jedi.

“Y/n...” Din calls out to you and you feel torn between two worlds, one world where you become a jedi learning of the force but meaning you leave Din, and the other you learn more of your past but never get the proper training from a jedi. You shake your head panic flooding your veins, “Kid..” Din’s hands grasp your face making you look at him and you still were not used to seeing his actual face. There was sadness but he was also trying to look strong for you.

“I just got you back..” You whisper as he swipes away a tear that falls down your face and he gives a sad smile, “You won’t be safe with me..you have to go.” He says and you shake your head trying to refuse.

“You’ll be alright cyar'ika.” He says as he helps you turn to face the jedi stepping forward feeling the warmth from the Mandalorian leave you as you stand in front of the Jedi quite intimidated by his presence. You holster the hilt to your belt feeling its presence and your hands nervously swipe at your pants trying to get any excess blood off them as you look at Skywalker and then at Grogu in his arms. Tears burn your eyes as your fingers gently rub his ears a coo coming off him, “I’ll miss you so much.” You whisper to the small child that looks at you with wide eyes before you step back away from the jedi shocking him and Din who watches.

“I can’t…I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as you reject his offer and the Jedi looks over you sensing something in the force and seeing the weapon resting at your hip, “Without proper training, you will cause harm to those around you and to yourself.” Luke warns you trying to get you to reconsider, he knew what he felt in the force when the two of you were at the seeing stone. He felt the trained guidance that the child in his arms went through as he handled the force, but yours was frantic and unstable with a lack of training you lacked balanced and could be easily swayed to either the light or the darkness that he feared. Your emotions guided you through the force and you tread on a very thin line where one step could quickly pull you to the dark side.

“Your connection to the force is driven by your emotions without proper guidance you walk a thin line that can have you fall down the path of the dark side,” He cautions you trying to get you to understand the decision you were going to make. Even Din was worried that this Jedi knew that your choice of not going could end with you turning evil he didn’t want that for you.

“Kid-” “I’m sorry…I’m not going,” You cut Din off looking at the Jedi, “I’ll take my chances.” Your decision is final as you step beside Din your hand slipping into his. While he felt fearful of your rejection to join the Jedi Din couldn’t ignore the happiness he felt knowing you weren’t leaving. Luke looks over at you one last time before nodding at you and Din.

“May the Force be with you.” He says before turning you watch the child as he looks at you two standing holding hands being each other's pillar. Skywalker, his droid, and Grogu enter the turbolift and you look at the child for once last time giving a weak smile as tears slide down your cheeks and you could feel the sadness coming off Din being forced to say goodbye to one of his children. You both lost a part of your clan but the two of you would support one another until that fateful day the child would return to you and you all would be together again.

A/N: Season 2 of Clan of Three is done! It's been so exciting continuing this story and I'm so thankful for the support! You all are amazing and I can't wait to release the book of boba fett and season three!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three series #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #mando x reader

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lovelessdagger · 1 year

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Starlight - Chapter Thirty-Two: An Image of Perfection

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

Warnings: Explicit Language. Horror. Angst. Suicidal Ideation. Medical Horror. Nonconsensual nonsexual touching. Panic Attacks. Torture/Whump. Imperialism. OC only chapter. Feminine despair

Words: 8.3k

Summary : “It’s better she die now, killed away from him and in such a circumstance to guarantee he never mourns her. Never spares a thought aside from regret and with all feeling lost but bile in his throat.”

A/N: Yell at me, I’m not even sorry. I had Mitski on repeat while writing this.

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Thirty-One Here

Read on AO3 Here

“When beginning my studies under Mistress Nala Se approximately twenty years ago on Mount Tantiss, there were two primary objectives,” Doctor Pershing tells Moff Gideon. The Imperial enters the private study where the girl continues to lay—once again unconscious on the surgical table. “To perfect successful cloning of Force Sensitives, and somehow, enhance preexisting DNA for something not unlike a super solider. Under your payment and generosity,” he chuckles, “These efforts have been continued by myself and my colleagues in the years since. So far, as you know, results have been null. Until, now.”

Gideon approaches the girl, lifting and letting her arm fall. “Explain them to me.”

“Every test I have sent of the Inquisitors, genetics are entered into an Imperial database. In the past when sampling was collected from Project Harvestor for example, it would be for identification purposes. Now, per your request we merely hold it for study. When there is nothing extraordinary it’s erased.”

“Get to the point.”

“Of course. Regardless of what we do with the sample, it’s always run through in case of possible matches to what we already have. Now, matches aren’t uncommon. Some appear with links to Jedi lineage from those captured by the Inquisitors of the past. Others to criminals, Senators on rare occasion.”

Pershing approaches the girl, correcting her position. He presents the datapad containing the report to Gideon.

“What you see here is a model of a typical DNA strand. In humans at least, we can quantify half being from the mother, half being of the father. When a match appears in our system it links to whatever half is represented. Generally when a link is found to… a Jedi for example, it is a percentage. Reproduction was frowned upon in the religion, they’re typically a relative through some design. Cousin, shared aunt, grandfather. A match such as child to parent never happens. It’s thought to be impossible. It’s part of my job to understand the possible and impossible.

He swipes, chaining the screen. “This is a model of her DNA. What has been flagged is a direct, perfect link—“ he swipes again, a third labeled stand appearing, “to this.”

Gideon takes the tablet, his hands almost shake. “You’re certain?”

Doctor Pershing nods. “As the night is dark.”

“How?”

“That is the question of the hour, and it’s not where shock ends either.” Pershing takes back the tablet, continuing to scroll. “If we take a closer look,” he says. “There are several mutations, and coincidentally none have negative affect on the girl.”

“What are they?”

“Most are unknown currently, but her health is perfect. No conditions, no… misshapen organs. In fact I would say her quality of life is improved. Lung capacity, strength, heart.” Pershing clears his throat, guiding Gideon down the table. “What do you think of her?” He asks. “Physically. How do you perceive her?”

“She has an ideal build,” Gideon offers. “Decent height, weight. Excellent strength.”

“And of the face?”

“Attractive.”

Pershing snaps his fingers, moving to her head. “Yes!” he says. “She’s attractive.” He cups her jaw from behind, raising her head. “Ideal distance between features, plump skin, free of blemish. Perfect teeth, nose, lips. All her proportions… flawless. This is with no evidence of surgical work. But the question comes, who does she look like?”

Gideon shrugs. “No one I would recognize.”

“Now who doesn’t she look like?”

“I see your point.”

“Moff Gideon,” Doctor Pershing says. “The shock of this girl, it shouldn’t come from the link found. Were it just the one, the answer would be clear. We could call her a clone, like the many I’ve seen and seen be created before. That is not the case.”

“Then what is it?”

“There remains a link unfounded, and that simply cannot happen through natural reproduction. That is impossible. I’ve seen many clones start, live, fail, die. Millions of samples have been created in my career alone. None turn out to be force sensitive by chance, and as we’ve seen there are extreme difficulties with the intervention of high M-Count blood. It is of my belief that this girl is genetically engineered. Every part of her, mutations, genetics, appearance. It’s all been preselected and implemented to perfection.”

Moff Gideon looks to him, air caught inside. “She’s a strandcast?”

“She’s a miracle.”

---

“Would you say you have a soul?”

Primitive, is one way to put it. Insulting, is another. This little shoebox of a room—white and sterile, twenty paces from one end to the other. The space is relatively dark, three of the five overhead lights blown out. One remains over her, and one above the door—a clunky gray thing needing to be manually opened and closed.

Unwillingly, Lumina lays in the sole interrogation chair of the room, arms and legs bound by metal straps, leather for her waist. The wires and machines from the doctors study followed her here, heart rate slow, steady on a monitor to her left. An IV and a sedative run down her arm that she cannot feel.

The world is warped and she cannot create, much less comprehend thought. Her muscles have the strength of jelly. Her head falls against the board of the chair and she must breathe through her mouth to receive her necessary oxygen.

It’s like she’s drowning.

Throughout random intervals of the day a sporadic changing of the doctor and a bobbling medical droid enter the room, signaled by the prison-like buzz sounded by the door. The droids says nothing to her as it checks her vitals, only repeating the numbers to itself.

The doctor does not share its silence.

In her sleep, he’s conducted a vanity cleaning. Wiping her face and hands free of blood. This is known through the bound hours spent staring into the reflection of the pane of one-way glass directly across.

She looks insane, though how much of a departure that is from her usual appearance is a thought she won’t dwell on. Circles run dark under her eyes, hair knotted and frizzy. Her clothes have dried to her skin. They’re stiff and smell of mildew.

The doctor encourages the stare. He tells her about the experience of becoming self aware and realizing the state of her reality. Realizing the she is in fact human. Whatever that can mean.

He always asks how she is, if she’s slept at all. All she can do is sleep, the drugs in her system don’t allow for consciousness longer than two hours at a time.

She doesn’t say this.

He has a habit of taking her chin between his fingers and tilting her head from side to side. He always apologizes for touching her so intimately.

He asks her questions, simple ones requiring one word answers. He never mentions the name Vader, he doesn’t ask how she escaped the Death Star, he doesn’t care. He asks about her favorite color, what time of day she prefers, if the room is too hot or too cold for her liking.

She’s yet to answer any of it.

There have been times where he comes with an IT-O unit. The black orb circles her, rod posed for an electrocution that never comes.

They refuse to torture her.

Instead, audio of Imperial propaganda plays into the room on a twenty-four hour loop. It’s the same combination of tracks she’d heard as a child.

“After the betrayal of the Jedi, Chancellor Palpatine rebuilt the failed Republic into the Galactic Empire,” the female voice says, soft like were saying a fairytale.

The Emperors voice comes in after a second of static. “In order to ensure the security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire! …For a safe and secure society,” he says.

“You have been chosen to lead the Empire into glory,” the girl continues. “The Empire depends on you.”

A flashlight blinds, inches from Lumina’s face. It waits until her left pupil is entirely dilated before moving to the right.

“Do you understand the concept of soul?” Doctor Pershing asks. “Do you understand that you are alive right now?”

“Yes,” she answers.

“Do you want to be alive?”

Her tongue smacks to the roof of her dry mouth, chewing on air. She feels rancid.

“Cui ogir'olar,” she answers.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize that language,” Pershing says. “How many do you speak?”

She repeats words in her head, counting on her finger for each one remembered.

Ge’tal, red. Tal, blood. Kyr,amur, kill. Kyrayc, dead.

A scanning flash of red light passes over her face. “Do you find learning new things easy?”

Lumina’s head falls against the rest, closing her eyes.

“You exist to serve the Empire,” she says in time with the recording. “You are nothing without the Empire.”

“It’s late,” the doctor concedes. “You’ve had an eventful day. We’ll continue in the morning.”

“The Empire needs you.”

She’s left with no one but herself.

“You need the Empire.” ---

“I am going to present to you a series of images,” Doctor Pershing says. “There is no need to be vocal if that is not a wish. The monitors on your head will capture your neurological reaction.”

In the hologram, each picture is tinted blue and fuzzed with static. They skip on a perfect interval of three seconds. It is the same planet assessment given to her as a child. A basic intelligence quiz.

In her mind, she answers perfectly.

Coruscant.

Lianna.

Corulag.

Lothal.

Naboo.

The exam pauses here.

“I looked over your supporting documents,” Doctor Pershing says. “You mentioned how Naboo felt familiar, do you wish to expand on that? What is it particularly about Naboo that you enjoy?”

With no answer he continues.

The images change to sentients, different species, officers she would be required to know. Inquisitors now long dead. He stops on the profile of a human male.

An Inquisitor, estimated age, thirty.

“You’re suspected to be thirteen when it happened,” he says. In the corner of her eye, she catches the line of her heart monitor quicken. “Do you remember the events leading up to the incident? From what I understand, you claimed to have acted in self defense. It’s quite unusual that a child of your size would be capable of such an attack.” Then, “Do you regret what you’ve done?”

Once more she is silent.

The slideshow continues as normal, more familiar faces appearing. Tidhel, Petiko, their friends. Neri, Relena—the latter etching a particular frown on Lumina.

When a blond appears—one of unfortunate interest—the corner of her mouth twitches. She can’t help the laugh that comes, the long awaited break of sanity—bold, cackled. She runs out of breath, gasping.

“Comments?” Doctor Pershing asks, more than startled himself.

“It’s the boy savior,” she almost sings, defeated.

“Have you met him?”

Her head shakes. “I wasn’t allowed to.”

“Why is that?”

Inside the projector its lightbulb shatters, concluding the exam.

---

Dreams are flashes of events already passed. She can’t stop seeing Din’s face, staring. He screams at her, she hears every word she made him say, and all the ones she didn’t.

Either way, all observations made are true.

What’s worse is she would do it again. Not the lying or secrets, but the manipulation. She’d make him say those things a million times over if she had to. Convinced she’d never survive any longer under his affection.

It’s better she die now, killed away from him and in such a circumstance to guarantee he never mourns her. Never spares a thought aside from regret and with all feeling lost but bile in his throat.

She craves to be another mistake. It’s all she knows.

Deep in unconsciousness Lumina wants nothing more than to sleep in the bed she’s made. To not wake.

One way or another her mind drifts to the Child. Lost and alone. She doesn’t spare a moment to debate if Gideon is right in his statement that she is blame for his taking. She now accepts guilt with no jury.

She’s always been at fault, why should this be different?

If she cannot rectify the sum of her twenty plus years of life, she can at least fix this.

She will reunite the Child and the Mandalorian.

And then she will be content to be nothing.

---

Waking up, Lumina jolts upright, panting. The room spins for bit, lights dizzying. She tries to wipe her face, but both wrists remain shackled.

The doctor sits across from her, chair cushioned. He carries a datapad, and one lamp powered on atop a small table.

“Look around,” the recording says. “You are weak. You are nothing special. Everyone is waiting for you to fail. Are you going to let that happen?”

“You’re awake,” Doctor Pershing says. “Excellent. Welcome back.”

He grabs a cup she hadn’t noticed before, placing it to her lips. She peers inside to the still water. He encourages her to drink, and she does.

“You’re very special,” he tells her. “You need your strength. It’s important you stay at peak physical ability.”

“What happened?”

“You had a negative reaction to truth serum. You fell unconscious the moment it entered your veins.”

“How long was I out?”

“Around five hours.”

Regretfully she does have Vader to thank for that. Regular endurance training meant going over every trick in the Imperial handbook. Multiple times. Psychological drugs are hardest to combat, Sith or not. Best to shut down, avoid the torment, deal with the aftermath.

“While you were unconscious, I took it upon myself to further examine your psychosis; hallucinations, delusion, mania, paranoia. Medication can treat this.”

Her eyes close, audible breath through her nose. “I’m not crazy,” she whispers.

“You should have no shame in it. Profound trauma, such as you’ve received, at a young age is a known factor to an onslaught of psychological disorders.”

Lumina scoffs, forming into a chuckle. “You’re a clone engineer. Not a shrink.”

“Yes,” Pershing agrees. “But I have studied the psychology many clones. It is essential to understanding how to best improve production. What I mean to say is, I want to help your…” he motions to her, “Current state.”

“If you want to help, you’ll let me go.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. Not yet at least.” He sets the cup back on the table. “I’ve come to realize I’ve never gathered a proper name for you. According to my documents, you’ve used plenty in your life. Is there a preference of one over another?”

His foot taps the ground, powering on his data pad. “Let’s see here… Midnight? That’s quite pretty. Nebula, Estelle… I see you have a preference for names related to space,” he chuckles. ”Do you enjoy stars?” Doctor Pershing pauses before his next words, setting the tablet down. “You’ve met someone named Star before, is that correct?”

Reality comes back together.

“What” Lumina asks. Her brows push together, nails biting into her palm.

“From what I understand, you two were great friends. It’s quite upsetting, what happened.”

“What happened…” she repeats.

“You killed her,” he says.

“No—”

“They found you with her body. You killed her. There is no easier way to phrase it. Killing the Inquisitor… Star. Those were not directives given by someone else, were they? You wanted to do those things.”

“He deserved it,” Lumina says.

“Did she? You were both children, I can’t imagine that’s justified.”

She’s quiet, scrunching her face. “It was an accident,” she whispers. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“So why did you?”

“I don’t know…” She’s slow, quiet. “She was my friend. I don’t know what happened—we were practicing and— she couldn’t breathe.“

“And she died.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember what happened after?”

“I was put in solitary for—for months I don’t—“ Lumina’s breathing quickens. “They put me in this room and—there were lights on the walls but, the wiring was bad it wouldn’t turn on.”

“How do you know the wiring was faulty?”

“I felt it.”

“The wires?”

“The energy. It couldn’t pass through. It was trapped. I wanted to help it but nothing worked. I got so upset and—“ She stops, swallowing the air. “And I remember I was—I was—and no one—and and then it all turned on—”

“The lights?”

“Everything. It kept flashing and turning on and off and on and then it all broke. The door opened and I tried to run but… they sent me back with the others and acted like it never happened. I tried asking and… no one listened. All anyone wanted to talk about was her. And not that she was dead, that somehow I was the one who did it. They said I was crazy, and they never locked me up. It never happened.”

“And…” Doctor Pershing clears his throat. “What do you believe?”

Lumina’s face goes blank, sorrow wiped in a second. Her head tilts, body leaning forward. “I know what I saw.” She laughs, passive. “My whole life these things have always happened to me. Things no one can make sense of, and instead of trying, they say I’m psychotic and I’m not— I’m not crazy. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I think we should take a break,” Pershing says.

“I’m not crazy!” She laughs again, a sudden stop with lips pressed together. “Nothing is real,” she whispers. “None of this is real!”

She hears her own heartbeat in double time, muscles tense and spasm. A lingering effect of the serum.

The voice of the shadow returns, laughing in her ear.

“I’m afraid it is all very real,” Pershing tells her. “What you need is rest.”

“Just tell me what you want,” Lumina pleads. “Tell me what he’s making you do. What does he want? I’ll give it, just—make it stop. Please.”

He looks from the girl to the data pad, and back again. ”Make what stop?”

“Make him go away.”

“Who?”

The light overhead flickers.

She cries at the ceiling, eyes pinched shut.

“Star received her name from being the star student, is that correct? Is that where this name of yours comes from? Star—“

Lumina lunges forward, held back by the straps. “Finish that and I rip out your throat,” she growls. She heaves every breath, sweat beading on her forehead. “I have sat through all your stupid tests. I’ve had no food, no water, you force to lay in my own filth for days. Fine. I don’t care if you want to strap me here for the rest of my life. Do it. If anyone says that word to me, I’ll kill everyone on board and save you for last. Do you understand me?”

“I,” Pershing stutters. “Yes, yes. Yes. I apologize.”

“Get out,” she mutters. “Get out!”

The buzzer sounds, and two stormtroopers open the door from the outside. The doctor leaves, and the room is committed to darkness. ---

The next day Doctor Pershing acts as if it never happened. He doesn’t give her a name.

“I spent time ruminating over your story with the lights,” he says in place of his usual greeting. “Something similar happened in the cargo hold before you came. I have a theory.” Pershing reaches for the lamp, still on the table. “And if I am to prove it, I will need your cooperation.” He grabs under the shade then presents his hand holding the lightbulb.

In caution he places the glass in Lumina’s hand. She rubs her thumb over it, warm to touch.

“I want you to turn it on,” he says. “Holding it, just like that.”

“What?”

“There is enough energy inside of you to turn on this lightbulb. I would like to see you do it.”

“Inside of me?”

Doctor Pershing grabs the tablet, he presents the screen with a labeled line. “All sentients carry some form of an energy field solely by living. If we look at a spectrum, humans emit electromagnetic radiation on the lower end here,” he says pointing. “Your levels—“ his finger moves up the line, “—are here. This should be fatal, and yet here you are in perfect health.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Physical health at least… I’ve noticed when you are upset, electrics fail.” He points to the ceiling and says, “Lights are a frequent victim.”

“I don’t break them on purpose.”

“I know. However, upon my further inspection, I’ve discovered you indeed don’t break them. Take the projector from the other day, for example. When it occurred, I believed you only shattered the glass. That is not true. What you have done is provide a voltage so high, the filament burns out and explodes. That,” Doctor Pershing says pointing to her, “is the result of chaotic energy you provide.”

“And… how am I doing that?” she asks.

“I theorize you absorb nearby energy and release it. The issue is, you don’t know have control.” He takes her hand, setting down the lightbulb with the other. “If you are cooperative in my testing, I will help you master this ability through science. I’ve told you from the start, I do not want to hurt you, and I have remained true. You can trust me.”

Lumina pulls her hand away, wiping it on her soiled pants. “Is that what Gideon wants?”

“Moff Gideon does not know, and I do not plan on informing him. The study will remain between us. I give my word.”

She scoffs. “And why should I care for that?”

Clearing his throat he says, “Because I believe everything you’ve said. Who else can say that? Help me in my studies,” he whispers. “You are everything I have been waiting for. Allow me the honor of not just becoming my subject, but my partner as well. We could accomplish extraordinary things together. Not to mention the betterment to your situation it would cause. What do you say?”

Lumina sits in silence, cringing at the lazy use of the muscles in her hand.

She spits at his face. “Eat my shit.”

---

Gideon visits later that day. He comes with a league of four troopers who never point their guns away. Lumina stares at the red dot on her chest.

“I see your patient is comfortable,” he tells Pershing. “How are the tests coming along?”

“She continues to be uncooperative,” Pershing replies. “Her heart and oxygen also continue to decrease to alarming levels. I fear the worst if proper care is not taken. Food for instance I believe would benefit her greatly.”

“Is she actively dying?”

“No.”

“Then she will learn that nourishment is a privilege here. She can eat when she complies.”

Part of Lumina wants to respond, tell the doctor not to worry. That she’d been kept in isolation for far longer than some odd days without nutrients. She’d sooner die from exhaustion than starvation.

Of course she says nothing. Watching Gideon pace the room, hands behind his back, examining like he understood.

“I should have you killed,” he says, sparing her a glance. “Doctor Pershing has more use for your body than your mind. But I’m not as generous as he is.”

“You made me a promise,” Lumina coughs. “I would’ve helped you.”

“No you wouldn’t. You see, unlike your precious Mandalorian, I’m not that gullible. You never had intention to rejoin the Empire, that much I could see. You’ve lost yourself. I was correct in my assessment. You are nothing but a scared child without your father to protect you.”

“I could tear this whole ship apart if I wanted,” she pants.

“Is that so? Because from where I’m standing, you can hardly stay awake.” He frowns, bending to match her eye line. “You’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he whispers. “It’s an accomplishment how beautiful you are, even like this.”

“Touching,” Lumina scoffs. “But I just got out something serious. Rather not rush into anything else so soon.”

“Once your programming is reestablished, you will become everything I dreamed of.” Gideon steps away, positioning himself behind the control unit of the chair.

“My programming?”

“Children in the Harvestor Project are conditioned to be incapable of acquiring a sense of self,” Pershing says, stepping beside him. “They form a dependance on direction, but curiously, you’ve always had a mind of your own. Your purpose since creation was to serve the Empire. To obey, to not act out of turn. However, independence is where you excel.”

“You’re defective,” Gideon says.

“I’d argue she’s more deviant,” Pershing counters. “She understands the rules, her position, what’s expected. From our time together I’ve discovered the circumstance isn’t from a flaw of conditioning. Rather, something she consciously denies.”

“She wouldn’t be the first needing reprogrammed.” Gideon flips the main switch on the control board, and rods release from the ceiling to circle her.

Lumina peers above, a flood of panic entering her eyes in a second. It leaves just as fast, replaced by coldness. “You really think shocking me is the best idea when I’m hooked up to half the room?”

“Have no fear. We have no intention of harming—” Pershing attempted to reassure.

Gideon raises his hand, commanding silence. “I can handle the asset from here.”

“Sir, I must protest. If she receives electricity—“

“Doctor Pershing, I believe you have another subject to care for, no? It isn’t wise to leave children unattended for long periods of time.”

“Children? What are you doing to him?” Lumina bites, pulling against the restraints. “If you hurt him, I swear—“

“The Child is in good hands,” Gideon tells her. “Far better than you are, certainly.”

“Where is he?”

“You have far worse to worry about currently. Doctor Pershing you are dismissed. Be sure the door is closed on your way out. Sound tends to travel.”

“I am going to ask you a series of questions,” Gideon says after he leaves. “You will answer truthfully. If I feel you are lying or you are uncooperative, I will ask until I am satisfied. Answer enough, you’ll be rewarded.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Lumina says. “When I get out of here. You’re dead.”

“When you are released…” Gideon muses. “All of this will be nothing more than a distant memory.” He shrugs. “A bad dream. Let’s begin.”

---

Lumina’s first meal is a serving of exactly three items. One slice of toast with egg, one bowl of sliced fruit, and one cup of water. The items are fed to her by a protocol droid. She eats all but the egg, flopped on her plate with a broken yolk.

When she is finished the droid exits, the horrid sound of the door buzzing again. She can’t say she’s resentful for the meal. Though nothing extraordinary, she’d forgotten she was hungry at all until the smell wafted through the room.

This did however pose an interesting and certainly humiliating predicament of what should be done after digestion has run its course. They have yet to allow her a wash… other bodily needs be dammed.

“Inquisitors are stronger than Jedi,” Lumina mutters in time with the tape. She stares at her reflection, the image getting worse with each day. She yawns, “Inquisitors have purpose. You will have meaning.”

The door sounds again, metal slab pulled open. The usual IT-O unit floats in, forked rod waving about.

“I had one of you as a pet when I was younger,” she says to it. “Called it Itchy. Dad let him poke me when I acted up. I think I’ll name you…” Trailing, she follows it around the room. “Scratch. As tribute.”

“Maker, you’re pathetic.” The voice comes from outside, feminine, Coruscanti oddly enough. It’s overly modulated, static breaking at the end. The owner walks in, tall and dressed head to toe in black. She wears a mask over her face, and a uniform Lumina could never mistake for anything other than that of an Inquisitor.

Her lightsaber must be hidden… behind the cape maybe.

Lumina gasps. “Scratch you could’ve said you brought a friend,” she chastises. Her gaze bounces between the two before settling into the chair. “My stars, a real Inquisitor. I have been waiting for you to show up since I got here. You people really know how to edge a girl.”

The Imperial stalks to her, a foot away from the base of the chair. “How in the Force did you survive?”

Lumina blows out air. “You’ll have to be more specific, but if you mean after Rebels won, I fulfilled my dream of letting men look at me half naked for money. It was exhilarating.” She stretches her neck, knuckles cracking in her fist.

The Imperials walks away, to the control panel of the chair. “You put on quite a show yesterday,” she says. “Certainly entertained me.”

“Well some of us have to have fun here. Haven’t you heard? I’m apparently—“ Lumina laughs, “—Clinically insane.” Her eyes narrow. “You are real, aren’t you?”

The mask looks up. “As real as you are.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Good.”

One by one the restraints on Lumina’s limbs and torso unlock. With the chair in a vertical position, she falls on her knees. Hands slap the floor to break her fall.

“If we’re jumping right to the execution,” she says. “I hope you people manage to actually keep me dead this time.”

“Get up,” the Imperial tells her. “We’ll have to act fast before they notice you’re gone.”

“What?”

“Get up,” she repeats, hauling Lumina to stand by the arm. “Can you walk?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

The Inquisitor grips the bottom of her mask, pulling it off with a mechanical hiss. Underneath reveals pale white skin and blue eyes that match ice. “I’m an old friend.”

Lumina’s jaw drops, eyes blown wide. “Ghost?”

“It’s good to see you Killer.”

---

Moff Gideon’s light cruiser is different to other ships Lumina’s had the misfortune of being on. The skeleton crew onboard makes the ship which holds hundreds feel eerily empty. Her footsteps sound in time with Ghosts, marched side by side.

Granted, Lumina is noticeably less graceful, stretching her legs to keep up. This was far easier when they were the same height, now being towered over.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “You’re alive.”

“Yes,” Ghost answers, turning a corner sharp. “I am. My question,” she starts, looking down at Lumina, “is how we all watched you die thirteen years ago… and here you are.”

“I didn’t die,” Lumina says. “I fainted.”

“Vader said your heart stopped. He carried you out himself.”

“I was in a coma. He kept me on his ship until I came to. Everything else followed.”

Ghost hums, short and paired with a huff. ”Did you know he would take you?”

“No. How could I?”

Her gloved hand closest to Lumina clenches. “Aren’t you lucky then.”

“Hardly.”

“People would kill for what you got,” Ghost tells her. “They did. You had greatness handed to you. You never had to work for it.”

“I worked plenty.”

“You lived in a palace with servants and private training from one of the greatest Sith in the galaxy. You became legend without anyone knowing who you are.”

Lumina frowns, tilting her head. “What are you doing here? And I don’t just mean here, I mean why are you working for the Empire? Palpatine ordered all Inquisitors be terminated two years after I left. That included the school. You made it out, why come back?”

“You may have found lesser living to be—exhilarating was it? But some of us believe in serving a higher purpose. We were humiliated before given a chance to prove ourselves. Don’t you find it interesting the Empire began to lose against the Rebels once we were cast out?”

“I can’t say I ever connected the two.”

“Of course not.” She stops their walk, leaning with her back against the wall of the corridor. “Inquisitors were the best weapons the Empire had. One of us against a fleet of them, who wins?”

The hypothetical needs no contemplation.

“You make a good point,” Lumina says. “But I actually served in the war, skill wouldn’t have saved you from the Death Star’s fate. Either of them.”

“You made it out.”

“I have an uncanny inability to die, believe me I’ve tried. Besides, the Rebels had Jedi on their team as well.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ghost groans, rolling her eyes. “If I have to hear name Skywalker one more time—“

Now Lumina gags, her eyes doing the same. “It’s better you don’t say it at all. I understand your frustrations, if it weren’t for Blondie I’d have actually gotten somewhere in life.”

“How do you mean?”

“The Emperor,” Lumina smiles, “gave my father a choice. Continue with me as his heir, or the street rat. My death, the story you’ve all heard? It only exists because Vader had preferred a son.”

“He gave you up?”

“Happily.”

“That’s devilish.”

“I know.”

“It’s quite admirable.”

Lumina nods. “I know.”

“He ruined your life,” Ghost says, tossing her mask from one hand to the other. “Do you ever want to get back at him?”

“Being able to kill him myself is all I’ve dreamed of for ten years now.”

“Why don’t you?”

Lumina shrugs. “He’s an intergalactic celebrity and the poster boy for this ridiculous New Republic. I’m a Sith legend with debated existence. Our paths don’t cross. Besides, I was in hiding until… fairly recently, and I’ve had more pressing matters to attend to than find a wannabe Jedi with a bad haircut.”

Ghost snorts. “It is horrid isn’t it?”

“I’m at least grateful he never wore that stupid little braid they all have. I’ll get to Blondie eventually, right now I have a couple other names on my list I have to cross off.”

She almost misses the way Ghost’s eyes flash wild, brows raising in intrigue. “Care to divulge?”

“For starters, I’m not a fan of your boss.”

“Gideon?” Lumina hums. “He is not my boss, it’s insulting to imply so.”

“Then what is he?”

She smirks. “A pawn. In reality, we’ll soon have no further use for him. He will be disposed of and we will continue onto the next until perfection is reached.”

“You know,” Lumina says. She runs a hand through the top of her hair, cringing at the tangles. “You’ve mentioned we quite a bit, you’re the first Inquisitor I’ve seen in years.”

Second.

The other grins, pushing herself off the wall. “While you were busy playing Coruscant’s local tramp and—I’m sure, wallowing due to your sad pathetic life—“ her arms stretch out, walking backwards “—I took it upon myself to rebuild.”

Lumina follows, scowl present. “I hold the record for most kills in the history of any single Underworld syndicate member.”

“Weren’t you the one who called keeping track of kills cheap?”

“Not when other people do it for you.”

“Yes well, I’m sure common thugs were quite the challenge.”

“I put Red Axe on the map,” Lumina argues. “What have you done?”

Ghost shrugs, turning to walk proper. “I met God,” she says. “I wasn’t impressed.”

---

“A few years ago I heard some idiot defector talk about Vader having a child,” Ghost says at the end of their walk. She guides Lumina inside a dark room, small blinking lights the only vision. “They say that watching you die was the only time Vader looked human.” She plays with the central computer system, the main hardware in the rooms center activating. “That he carried your body out himself, just like he did then… I think you’re the only person he’d ever been remotely compassionate towards.”

It showers the room in in blue, screens on the wall turning to a static fuzz.

“He’s the one who found and brought me to the Academy in the first place,” Lumina says, looking around. “It was always the plan to take me in. I don’t know if you can watch over a kid for that long and not care about them.”

“Even Vader?”

“He always wanted a family.”

“We were family once.” With a changing output of frequency, Lumina cringes. “I always knew it was you, from the stories. You always—You’d keep to yourself, but when lessons were over you never stopped. You never gave up. I never doubted you were alive,” Ghost says, closing her fist. “I spent years looking for you. Did you ever think about me once?”

“No,” Lumina admits, with no inflection of emotion. “I was told you were all dead. There was no point in thought after that.”

Ghost nods. Her posture changes, her slightly slumped shoulders turning straight and stonelike. “I knew I’d find you again, just as I promised. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

”Moff Gideon says you’ve been resisting since you arrived. I thought you’d be excited to return,” she says, looking down at her mask. “To finally be free again.”

Frowning, Lumina steps forward, now directly behind. “It’s hard to feel anything these days.”

Ghost turns sharp, facing her. “I wanted to give you a gift, to welcome you home.”

Lumina raises a brow. “Gideon’s head on a stake?”

“Not yet,” Ghost smiles. “But soon.”

In a projected hologram, a list of numerical names scroll in aurebesh, followed by numbers and locations.

“What is this?” Lumina asks.

“My army,” Ghost says. “Our army. This is every Inquisitor I have recruited into the Empire. Their designations, and the location they were found.”

“You put together a band fifteen Inquisitors?”

“It was sixteen. Blaze was once a part of the cause. Unfortunately he went missing some months ago. I assume he died.”

Ah.

“His weakness was most disappointing. Now, Law and Fortune are of the last of our class.”

“Fortune was on Raxus?”

“Gambling if you can believe it,” Ghost says. “Luck holds a different name with her.” She reaches into the hologram, expanding profiles to display mugshot like photos. “Her prediction accuracy has exceeded tremendously since last you knew her.”

“That’s useful.”

“I’ve tried my best to ensure we have only human recruits,” she says. “Though with limited options I’ve had to settle.”

Ignoring the comment, Lumina asks, “You’ve done this all yourself?”

“Yes. When I met Moff Gideon there were only a few of us. Thanks to him we’ve more than tripled in numbers.”

“Does he run testing on everyone?”

“Yes. It’s a part of our agreement.”

“Agreement?”

“In exchange for my access to unlimited Imperial data and resources, I grant Gideon favor and an opportunity to examine every Inquisitor I create.”

“So you allowed him to treat me the way he has been?”

“No,” she denies quick. “You are not an Inquisitor, and I certainly did not create you. Had I known they’d keep you locked up—they’ve disgraced you.“

Lumina nods, pursing her lips. “You act like the Grand Inquisitor.”

“It’s a role that suits me, don’t you agree?”

“It is what you’ve always wanted.”

“It was on the list.”

“You don’t wear the pendant,” Lumina says. “You bare no signifier at all.”

“I’ve had no one to bestow me the title,” Ghost says. “A position like that is given and earned.”

“Well who’s in a position to do it?”

“You of course.”

She almost chokes. “Me?”

“You are the chosen one,” Ghost tells her, looking over. “The natural successor to lead us. You are—“ she mocks a bow of her head, “—our great Lady of the Sith, after all.”

In truth it comes with a feeling Lumina isn’t sure she can become accustomed to. “I’m not sure I agreed to that.”

Ghost’s eyes roll, and the reflection of the hologram within them. “I have come to the understanding that you entertained a new lifestyle, briefly. One more… intimate than regulation allows.”

“It meant nothing to me.” She’s too quick in the response, bitten like venom.

“I thought so. Now, I have no qualms if you only sought pleasure. But to lower yourself to the likes of a Mandalorian, I knew you could never demean yourself in such a way.”

“You realize they are warriors, don’t you?” Lumina asks. “I would think you’d find their valor formidable.”

“Mandalorians exist through reactionary fear of Jedi. Any group who finds Jedi a difficult opponent earns no respect from the Empire. I say their planet was destroyed for good reason.”

“Being?”

“To eliminate weakness, and make way for something stronger. ”

“Your Inquisitors?”

“Our Inquisitors,” Ghost corrects. “They’ve been waiting for you to lead. They all think you’re a god, their chosen messiah.”

“What do you think?” Lumina asks.

She takes a moment before answering, “I think you’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

“And what would that be?”

“A chance. They’re yours if you’ll have them.” She stops on a profile of a young girl. The data beneath lists as no more than eighteen in age. Her stare is blank, soulless.

“Does that include child soldiers?” Lumina asks. “She’s far too young.”

“She’s capable.”

“She’s a kid.”

“So were we,” Ghost counters. “CF-802 comes from outside the Academy and already holds her own against members.”

“If she’s from outside the Academy, how did she end up here?”

“The same way we all did,” Ghost offers. “She was found.”

“Stolen,” Lumina corrects. “Children of the Academy were taken, not found.”

“Taken to live free of mediocrity,” Ghost laughs. “Found to have purpose. You shouldn’t get lost in semantics. You say Lord Vader found you. How do you know you weren’t taken as well?”

“That is what he told me.”

“And that, my dear sister, is what we tell her. Her and all the other outsiders. I call them The Lost,” she says. “It’s what they were before joining. They’ve been under our training for years. You’ll see them to be the most obedient and hungry. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do. They will obey your every command, no questions, no arguments.”

“I still haven’t agreed,” Lumina says. “I’m not the same as I used to be.”

“Yes, you’re stronger.”

“I’m slipping,” she bites as a whisper. “Everyday I feel myself get weaker. Physically, mentally. And it isn’t as if Gideon’s been any help to me.” Her hands turn to fists. “It’s like I’m being buried alive everyday inside of myself. It’s harder to stay awake, to breathe, to think. I’m in no position to lead anything, much less an army.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“They say I’m a maniac.”

“Good. We all are.” Ghost takes Lumina’s hand, placing hers on top. “The Empire rests on your shoulders. It has for years. Are you so willing now, once the control you’ve always wanted is yours, to deny your destiny? Don’t you lay your loyalties to the Emperor?”

“Of course I do,” Lumina mutters. “I always have. But I refuse to play nice with Gideon after what he’s done to me.”

“You don’t have to play nice, you have to play smart. If you’d prefer to return to your cell and stay in treatment until you die, fine. If you want to get even, you’ll stay in the game.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gideon wanted to bring you in peacefully, that’s why he hired you in the first place. I don’t know what happened the day contact should have been made, but it scared him. He overreacted, correct, but only because you scare him. They say you’re crazy? Be crazy. Scare him so bad he’ll never think of hurting you again.”

“How?”

Shrugging, Ghost says, “Make him think he got what he wanted. Answer the doctors questions, commit yourself to serve. He has ego, he won’t doubt you for a second. Then, when the time is right, we strike.”

“Or, you can get me out now. You help me make a plan to end him once and for all.”

“Possible. Although…”

“What?”

“I overheard Moff Gideon tell Pershing that… Well, I couldn’t make sense of it, but he said that once you comply, that he’ll reunite you with a child?”

“A child?” Lumina repeats, color fallen.

“Yes. What does he mean by that?”

Her head shakes, brushing sweaty palms on her thighs. “Where do you keep the rest?”

“The rest?”

Pointing to the list of Inquisitors, Lumina says, “The other children you train, the ones not yet ready. If I’m to be in charge I need to know every detail of operation. Where are they?”

Ghost looks at her, a small tilt in her head and a smaller tight-lined smile. Her tongue smacks the roof of her mouth. “You should get back to the room. If anyone notices you’re gone the whole ship will be on lockdown. They’ll kill you on sight,” she informs. “Besides, if we’re to do this right, you shouldn’t be out of uniform regulation. No one will take you seriously looking or smelling like death.” She takes Lumina’s arm in her own, hooked by elbows. “Don’t worry, there are excellent tailor droids onboard. When the time comes, they’ll make you perfect.”

---

“Flowers,” Lumina says on Doctor Pershing’s entrance. Retied to the chair, not a hair is misplaced.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve asked why I liked Naboo. Naboo has flowers.”

“Flowers?” he repeats.

“Someone showed them to me once. I never knew they existed, and when I saw them… it was like seeing a piece of myself.”

---

To her own regret, Lumina is thinner than she last remembers, staring at the reflection of her wet body. Her arms wrap around her back and front, gently pressing the space of flesh between. She spends ages examining every piece of herself as she rubs in lotion.

Nothing is ideal, but it is a welcomed sensation to be free of filth.

If that.

She takes extra care at her scars, her hand running up her arm until her shoulder is reached. She gathers her hair in her hands, lifting it above her head until it falls again.

Slow, she dresses in the simple undergarments left on the counter. She turns on her toes, eyes never leaving herself.

Gideon’s obsession with her appearance mimics all that she’s received before. He behaves like Neri Kelli, the soft inconspicuous touching, the gentle words filled with poison. The first time Neri saw her he wouldn’t let her out of his sight for a whole day.

At the time she thought nothing of it.

Vader became invested in her appearance the moment she began to grow into her own. Mandatory haircuts disappeared until it reached her just past her shoulders, regulated to stay at the exact length. Too short to tie up, just long enough to get in her way.

He decided she should practice balance and strength through dance and gymnastics. On days he’d bother to watch her progress, critiques focused on her landings. He held a perfect vision of exactly how she should look.

Like it came from memory.

Every meeting they had, he would begin by staring. He’d watch her kneel, and even when she could stand he would say nothing. At times he instructed her to close her eyes, and he’d continue to watch.

It stopped when Boba first gave her a scarf.

Vader hated her eyes, they were the last things he’d want to look at. Now they’re the first anyone notices.

Why wouldn’t they be?

She grabs from the inside of a cloth bag, set by the sink, laying its contents down one by one. The protocol droids were kind enough to follow her every instruction for her uniform, down to the placement, length, and color of zipper.

The base of her dress is a catsuit, the fabric hugs her body and the zipper rides down half the front. Its high collar and long sleeves leave only her hands, feet, and head exposed.

She dresses from the top down. Metal pauldrons double layer painted black with red trim. The color repeats on her arms, one an accented durasteel vambrace, hollowed for a knife to fit. The other wrapped in cloth from elbow to wrist. She pulls on leather pistol garters around her thighs, tall boots to match.

“A kama?” The droid asked while Lumina watched the holographic image of herself dress. “Those haven’t been in style since the Clone Wars. Might I instead recommend an overcoat with a longer train?”

“Make sure the kama is made of armorweave,” Lumina told it. “With a storage case on each side.”

The piece belts around her waist, falling even over her hips.

Stepping away, Lumina takes in all that she is—and all that she isn’t. In truth she never found herself particularly attractive, never mind beautiful. She’s only seen her bruises, her blood, her scars.

But now… perspective shifts.

She looks like a fighter, a leader. It’s as if the dying part inside of her stopped, reversed. She can’t say it bothers her, in fact it’s the opposite. It’s what she should have felt playing dress up in Canto Bight.

She realizes she doesn’t know how to not be pretty.

It’s uncanny, standing in what she’s been told is her prime. Freshly picked, collected in ripeness. Fallen.

She stands enjoying the fruit without shame.

And in turn, releases that very thing.

Ghost waits for her outside the door, oblivious. She’ll never know how this feels.

Lumina invites her in, opening the door with a flick. She says nothing as host, tying her hair back.

“You clean up well,” Ghost says, stepping beside her. She pins the Imperial symbol to Lumina’s chest. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll enjoy it.” From behind, Ghost presents Lumina with her lightsaber in open palms. “I wanted to get you one like mine,” she says. “But you’ve always been different, why stop here?”

“Gideon took this from me,” Lumina says, grabbing the hilt. “I thought I’d never see it again. Thank you.”

“Don’t,” Ghost says. “It’s your right.” She steps back, examining Lumina in full. She smiles. “Now you’re perfect.”

“Almost,” she corrects, pulling on leather gloves. “Something’s missing.”

“What?”

Lumina leans into her reflection, nose inches from the glass. She pulls away. “How soon can I get contacts?”

----

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Fruits of Sin

Taglist: @lexloon @jay-bel @xsadderdazeforeverx @spideysimpossiblegirl @sarahjkl82-blog @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

#mandalorian fanfiction #Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin x OC #din djarin x original character #Din Djarin x Original Female Character #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x ofc #Mando x oc #Mando x original character #mando x original female character #Starlight

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