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beskarberry · 3 years

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Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

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

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.”

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator. “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile.

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair.

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past.

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son.

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

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TAG LIST

@mandoinevarro @mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #hurt/comfort #fluff #smut

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val-aquenta · 3 years

Text

Here folks. Take an impromptu Mace centric fic as a token of my affections xD

Here on ao3

1. It takes 14 seconds to fall from the Chancellor’s office to the ground. Mace counts them slowly. Almost a meditation. Each second stretches for eternity, each centimetre passing with an agonizingly slow speed. Mace blinks and even that feels like it takes forever. Mace feels, well he really can’t feel his hand. His wrist, however, is another matter entirely. It throbs and throbs and does not stop. He supposes that soon he won’t have to worry about it.

2. Mace has time to feel betrayed. Feel the sting of anger and hurt for a moment before he is occupied by other things. He has known of a shatterpoint poised around Anakin, precariously on the point of breaking at any point. He had hoped that when it broke, the balance would be restored, but now… well the rise of the Sith is hardly balance. There is a moment of this anger, that Anakin could not have chosen better, did not deem balance important, but within moments it leaves him. He can do precious little now, weakened as he is, to stop his fall. He can only think about what he is about to leave.

3. He wonders how Depa is. Alone in the darkness of the world, struggling with her padawan, the newest member of their lineage. He wonders how young Caleb is. Whether the clones have befriended him, whether he has seen some interesting animal or tradition that he would have shared over tea next they met. He wishes, oh how he wishes, that he could see them one last time, could whisper his farewell to them, could press against their essence in the Force and feel them, feel his family, his daughter and her son.

4. Mace feels something twang, some kind of resignation from up above, from the office he has just been thrown out of. The dark, cold, oppressive feeling suffocated the surroundings. Young Skywalker, he realises, is truly stepping for the dark. He feels pain because that is where the path will end. With Anakin and all of Anakin’s friends in pain. The shatterpoint that has hovered over Anakin for all the man’s life breaks and shatters with an intensity he has only felt a few times before. Of course, it would be Anakin that aggravates the pain of his death in such a manner, he sardonically notes. However, the loneliness, the fear, the pain, and the resignation is painful to feel. Part of Mace feels bad for Anakin considering the path that he will walk on guarantees pain. He hopes that Anakin will turn from this path, but already he feels the strings of fate being drawn together as though this inevitability has been years in the making and is finally culminating in the man's fall.

5. The Force is dark. It has been darkening throughout the war, and even darkening before that. Slowly, but surely, using the Force to sense things had become akin to wading in a swamp through fog with nothing to provide light. True darkness had hidden within the despair, anger, and hate of the general populace, tired of the galactic war that sucked up resources. The war machine, fueled by uncaring individuals who had sought profit had pushed and pushed and pushed until it had taken up every thought. Until classrooms became war meeting rooms, and until the mosaics and gentle art of the Temple were chipped and left in disrepair as it simply became too expensive to keep clean and intact.

6. There is regret he feels for not having noticed what Palpatine was, what the man was capable of. He has never truly liked Palpatine. The man was a slimy politician like many others who somehow managed to put off a kind font for all his friends. The man has never done something like that for Mace, and Mace has always found the act somewhat manipulative. He spares an idle thought, wishing that the Zillo beast had somehow succeeded in eating the Sith. As a Jedi, he probably shouldn’t entertain such thoughts, but Palpatine is a sith lord who has orchestrated a galactic war. He hopes the Force will cut him some slack.

7. Obi-Wan. His friend. What devastation the man will feel. He has lost his Grandmaster to the clutches of the dark, lost his own Master to a Sith monster from his nightmares, lost his Grandpadawan to the greedy clutches of the Senate and the war, and now he will lose his own Padawan to the darkness. He wishes he could comfort his friend the way he had done after Qui-Gon’s death. Mace hopes his death will not hurt so much, but he knows Obi-Wan takes it very personally when someone he loves dies. He… he wishes he could also meet with Obi-Wan, wishes he could bring some joy, some calm, something positive to the man who will no doubt feel the most devastating feeling of loss when he realises his family has torn itself apart, has hurt each other in such a horrid way.

8. The Jedi in the Temple. There are so few, most of the older ones scattered throughout the galaxy, but he fears for the younger ones. With Anakin, himself, Kit, Saesee, and Agen gone, most of the defences in the Temple are gone. Now only the youngest of padawans, the younglings and the oldest members of their order remain. He knows, feels it in his bones, that the Temple will be attacked. It is impossible for Palpatine not to have planned something ensuring the death of his family. He hopes that the younglings might escape, that the few Knights might keep those younger safe, that the recovering Jedi in the healing rooms escape. However, Mace has always been logical. The best he can probably hope for is a quick painless death for the members of his family, one with as little pain as possible. Knowing Palpatine, the man who gladly played two sides of a galactic war, he knows that it won’t be so. His family will suffer more than just a quick death, they will suffer and he… he finds he hates the idea of it. What he would give to save them. He would die for them. Would take all their pain to save them. His family, the warmth he has always known will disappear, this he knows.

9. His lightsaber is falling too. Ahead of him. The crystal which has been by his side always is mourning with him, feeling the and echoing his betrayal, winking brightly just like he is before Mace dies. One hand stretches out and calls the blade to him. If he was to feel one last thing in his life, his lightsaber and the warmth from it would be high there. His intact hand grasps the blade and clutches it close, looking for that warmth, that light that he has had by his side since his childhood. The crystal hums on his level, reflecting joy at being united with him, sadness at the coming doom. His faithful friend has been by his side through many dangers but now is the end. He recalls the first time he picked it up, surrounded by darkness and cold and ice the crystal had sat, glowing and colourless. The blade had been purple, much to the surprise and delight of both himself and his family. Sure, he had tweaked the hilt as he had grown, but the crystal had remained the same. He reached out for it and let its calm force envelop him one last time, letting the light peace wash over him moments before his death.

10. Time seems to blur. He sees the past melding with the present. The future seems to push back and reaches him in strange visions, flickers across his vision. There are ghost feelings of something entirely alien drifting across his mind. The future, he realises with a quiet gasp, reaching back and showing him small flickers of it. Mace accepts it quietly. He accepts the flickers of death, destruction, and terrible darkness as they fall across his vision. He sees the lone figures of light as they leap across an indifferent galaxy, attempting to fight the suffocating darkness. There is a shadow of a togruta, old and unfamiliar with blades of pure light against one red and black shadow flickering across his vision, followed by a robes figure facing off a dark machine, a strange imprint of betrayal and sadness. Another shadow of green and red blades against each other followed by a sky of flickering light, illuminated by lightning. More and more visions flicker across his vision and finally a balance. He feels relief keenly as the light stretches past the few points it was reduced to. In the end, balance will prevail, he knows, and he rests easy with that knowledge.

11. His clones, he wonders, will be sad when they find out he is dead. He has somehow gained their respect and admiration. With that, as he and his colleagues had quickly found, came a need front he clones to keep them safe. Through many battles, Ponds watched his back, offered advice, and shared his pain. In turn, he has done the same, but it always feels like it is not enough. For all that he loves his troops, he can not save them from the Republic’s scorn and the Senate’s indifference. He has tried to save them, tried to keep the other military leaders from recklessly using the clones as a battering ram against the Separatists, disregarding the lives they will lose, but still he ends up with dead men. Ponds. He wishes… something. He wishes he could have said goodbye. Told him he wished he could have done more, could have saved more men. But, the time for that has passed and he cannot save them or comfort them. He only hopes that they will be safe and healthy and happy in the wake of his death. That someone will step up to take care of them.

12. His family… the Jedi… He can feel them dying. Something is… something is killing them. Someone is killing them. He has failed. Failed to protect them. Failed to save them. Their pain rips through the Force as they are killed, betrayal, pain, and anguish suffocating the Force. No! He feels his bonds, some of which have been in place since childhood, be ripped mercilessly from him. Depa’s still glows bright, alive, but there is something painful growing around her. It feels as though the end is coming soon, both for him but also for her. Lights flicker and are put out mercilessly. From the old elder Jedi who had been a mentor in the past to the young Rodian child he had comforted two weeks ago. They burn brightly, like stars, and then disappear, cementing darkness in the universe.

13. Mace Windu, moments before his death, sees something. He’s always seen things. Breaking points in people, situations, and things. He’s grown up with them. Now, in the seconds before he hits the ground at breakneck speed, he sees something different. An impossible possibility. The culmination of a billion small things resulting in the perfect world. So out of reach, so… impossible. It flashes for just a moment, blinking for an eternity. He observes it, observes the choices, observes the outcomes, the unfolding of events. It is almost as though he experiences it, almost like he lives through it, but not quite. This ‘what if,’ this best-case scenario, is an imagination. Nothing he can do will bring it to truth, and yet still Mace wishes.

14. Fourteen seconds. Mace Windu fell from a window fourteen seconds ago. For fourteen seconds he has fallen down the side of the building. Now, he hits the ground as darkness swallows the universe. It seems almost fitting that he would die the moment the Jedi are about to die and the universe is about to be swallowed by darkness. Mace closes his eyes a fraction of a second before he hits the ground at breakneck speed, the rapid speed of descent slowing abruptly in a split second. With the end of his fall, Mace Windu's life ends too.

15. Mace wakes in the light which he has chosen. The light which he has always chosen and which he will always choose. The dark of the world is behind him. Ahead, only light, warmth, and happiness remains. Each step into the warmth, leaving the dark world he’s lived in, is like coming home. He takes each step until he isn’t Mace anymore, not really. He is the light, he is the Force. Mace sighs and finally, he releases himself into the Force, into home. A thousand troubles, hundreds of sleepless, millions of deaths, countless memories of pain fade away until Mace is unburdened. Mace breathes in slowly, meditatively, and he steps into the light. As darkness falls, Mace steps into the light. And so ends Mace Windu.

#star wars fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #mace windu #mace windu appreciation #obi wan kenobi #depa billaba #pro jedi #jedi appreciation #pro jedi fic #duna writes

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chemtrail-mix · 3 years

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My Madame OCs! (also anyone under 18 please don’t engage with this post bc theyre from an 18+ only fic that deals with sw like come on, y’all know the drill, respect creators’ boundaries) also cw for reproductive injustice, war, mentions of abuse

Here are my three lovely ladies! They’ve been working as madames at the Trove since the Clone Wars, but were promoted from courtesans to Madames just before the Galactic Civil War. They were still active as of the New Republic/Mandalorian era. They primarily work on training incoming girls who sign up to work at the Trove, but also act as liaisons on behalf of the courtesans to the higher-ups. I’m still working to develop them more but here’s a brief overview:

Andara Kisha

-bubbly, sweet, gift of gab

-born on Mirial, she became a refugee during the Clone Wars. She eventually came to work at the Trove, after being shuffled around several different planets.

-loves nothing more than a piping cup of tea and a good book just before bed

-M̶a̶y̶ ̶o̶r̶ ̶m̶a̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶f̶f̶a̶i̶r̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶ ̶c̶e̶r̶t̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶l̶a̶r̶g̶e̶,̶ ̶m̶u̶s̶c̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶e̶m̶o̶t̶i̶o̶n̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶e̶l̶l̶i̶g̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶c̶l̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶m̶a̶n̶d̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶e̶n̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶r̶a̶g̶e̶d̶y̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶e̶a̶c̶h̶ ̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶w̶e̶’̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶b̶b̶ ̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶I̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶a̶t̶t̶e̶m̶p̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶f̶i̶c̶

-training specialty: etiquette and conversation

Thalna Mis

-Quiet, mysterious, alluring

-born on Shili to a warrior clan of Togruta. Thalna never cared for such things, preferring to appreciate nature and dreaming of traveling to other planets. This earned her much mockery from the other members of her clan. She became an outcast until one day, she ran away, eventually making her way to the Trove

-The courtesans and madames are not permitted to have children. While Thalna wanted children, she knew such a dream was not possible. Employees of the Trove are not allowed to have pets either—generally. Thalna lobbied hard for her right to have a Voorpak, threatening to run out to the desert and never return. Castor Vesta, the owner of the Trove (being sent profited motivated as he was), relented. She has a precious little Voorpak named Dusty, who she treats as the child she never had.

-Thalna Mis was the favorite of Vesta’s for a long time. She was a favorite of the clients as well. This can largely be attributed to the fact that she is a little force-sensitive, making her especially attuned to her clients’ wants and needs. Still, she was grateful when she was no longer the favorite.

-training specialty: the sexual arts

Elmira Nerva

-energetic, intense, enthusiastic

-born on Ryloth. Her uncle was one of the most esteemed composers in the galaxy, and was the headmaster of the most prestigious fine arts academy on Ryloth. Elmira was quite the polymath: she was a stunning dancer, a mesmerizing singer, could play several instruments, and painted the most life-like works of art. She even wrote several plays, songs, and poems before she came of age. This came at a terrible price: her uncle was an especially cruel man who worked her to the bone. One night, after one of her dance performances, Vesta, who was in the audience, asked her if she’d be interested in working at the Trove. Elmira jumped at the opportunity.

-Elmira painted all of the murals that decorate the bedrooms of the Trove

-training speciality: the performing arts (mostly singing and dancing)

I love talking about these ladies so feel free to hit me up lololol

#this post will probably flop but it’s fine #again art repository #Star Wars #star wars ocs #Togruta #twilek #mirialan #the Mandalorian #the Mandalorian ocs #clone wars #the bad batch #andara kisha #thalna mis #Elmira nerva #my art

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kaasknot · 4 years

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Rexsoka babyyyyy

is this in reference to the "would you ever write" meme? if so, then yes... ish.

i do have an accidental pregnancy rexsoka wip, but it's buried extremely far down my prioritized wip list. it's also many years old and probs horrifically ooc.

basically the idea was rex and ahsoka made a very reasonable assumption that, given they were different species and also he shot blanks, they probably didn’t need protection. FOOLS! as soon as the pregnancy gets found out ahsoka is sent back to the temple, and... iirc she voluntarily chooses to leave the order? can't remember, tbh. here, have a snippet, since odds are bad i'll finish it this century:

Ahsoka paced, patting Dawoor’s back as he burbled against her shoulder. The moldy little hotel room was in the mid levels of Coruscant, near enough to a couple clone bars that Ahsoka suspected she knew what Anakin was trying to do. She kept herself from thinking about it, kept herself even from hoping. Familiar footsteps came down the hall, and she didn't dare hope; a tentative knock at the door, and her breath caught. But it wasn't until the door cracked open and Rex’s Force signature spilled into the room that she actually believed it was happening.

“Ahsoka..?” he breathed, his expression cracking from its hard glower. He looked tired, her Rex did, looking out of place in his borrowed civvies; he looked weary in a way that had nothing to do with the body. He felt it, too—but as he stepped in the room, that feeling disappeared, swallowed in a rush of light that felt like a sun rising.

“Rex,” she answered, breathless.

“Kriffing hells, Ahsoka—”

The door clicked shut and then his arms were around her, his smell filling her nose, the vibration of his body thrumming in her montrals, his mere existence pressing against hers in the Force—

Dawoor, caught between them, let out a disapproving squawk. Rex froze against her. Ahsoka felt herself smiling so hard she thought her face might break. She shifted Dawoor over, so he could see his father; he peered up at Rex with those beautiful brown eyes and Ahsoka couldn't speak at the look of desperate hope on Rex’s face. He glanced up at her. She nodded.

“Rex, I'd like you to meet your son, Dawoor.”

It took a moment, but when it did, Rex’s expression of wonder slid into horror. “Ahsoka, please tell me you didn't name our child ‘Stinky’.”

She half-giggled, high emotions getting the better of her, and his incredulous expression brought it to a full laugh. “It's a Togruta tradition,” she explained. “We name our babies horrible little nicknames, so that evil spirits can’t see how precious they are and steal them away.”

Rex couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from the blue-swaddled shape in her arms. “A Togruta tradition,” he echoed quietly. He looked up at her. “But a Mando’a name.”

“He’s both of us,” Ahsoka replied. She wasn't sure how to explain the agonies she had gone through, in trying to decide what to name their son. It was a conversation for another day, if they ever got one. She cleared the lump out of her throat. “When he's thirteen you can help him change it to something better.” She held Dawoor out to him.

Rex took the bundle of blankets and baby as though he were handling a bomb that could go off at any moment, one that he didn't dare drop. His hands were uncertain; she had to rearrange them to support Dawoor’s head. When he was settled, Rex fell silent, staring down at him, his eyes wide and his expression gutted in a way that left Ahsoka aching. Dawoor looked so small in his arms, but so right. Their Force signatures mingled, throwing tremulous tendrils of light into the grimy tip of a room, and it was so beautiful, so harmonious and true—and so far from what she might have hoped, that the father of her child would be forced to meet his son in the shadows like a criminal on the run—that Ahsoka found herself tearing up at the bittersweetness of it.

Rex took a breath, the sound hitched and ragged; he looked up at her, and his cheeks shone wet in the neon lights of the bar pouring through the window. “My son,” he said, with a wobbly, crooked smile. He gave a small huff of what might have been laughter. “Never thought I’d…” He trailed off, and he looked back at Dawoor, drawing him infinitesimally closer against his chest. “My son.” His smile turned down and his shoulders hunched, and Ahsoka stepped up to him, cupping one hand beneath his where it supported Dawoor and bringing the other to rest against his face.

“Don't think about that right now,” she said. “Let’s keep it waiting as long as possible.” She drew him down and went up on her toes to rest her forehead against his. “Let’s just be us.”

“Okay,” he said, beyond words.

#askbox #anon #rexsoka

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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Two Sides of the Coin (14)

Chapter 14: First Conscious Moments | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also tagging @berenilion @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms @justtinfoley @stellar-trinity @justtinfoley @peterwandaparker @justtinfoley @superwarsofthrones @queen-destenie @calgasm @cal-jestis @ayamenimthiriel @calsponchoemporium @sweeetteaa @fallenjedii

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC | Special tags for this chapter: Youngling! Jidné Sheedra, Nomara Anesh, Jedi Master! Fem OC, Togruta! Fem OC,

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 | Previous: Part 13 | Next: Part 15 | Masterlist

14 of ?

JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT

Nomara has returned to Coruscant with little Jidné along. Never has she ever been this careful, ignoring the ache of her arm as she held the swaddled child while her free hand steered her ship—with the partial assistance of Evy—until she landed on the east bay of the Jedi Temple. Nomara marched towards the main entrance of the grand temple while shielding the baby with her other wide sleeve, worried that the unusually strong wind might prick her little eyes.

Upon her entry to the temple, she was greeted by Master Yoda, the little sage being waddled with the aid of his cane. The green Jedi noticed the precious cargo in the Togruta’s arm.

“Back so soon, are you, Master Anesh,”

Nomara bowed curtly in return, “I’ve been only gone for a day and a half, Master Yoda,”

Yoda took notice of the swaddled bundle in the Togruta’s arm a second time. A weak smile managed upon his ancient face.

“Something precious with you, you seem to have brought, hmmm?”

An eager grin stretched upon the young Togruta’s face, she knelt down to his level, and then unfurled a portion of the swaddle that covered Jidné’s face. The child cooed at the sight of Master Yoda’s face—curious and delighted at the same time—the old master chuckled while being in the presence of something so small yet seemingly strong.

Yoda inquired about the child’s origin planet, Nomara indulged the old master with the goings on in Eshyn, he expressed his awareness of the planet’s state as he was also informed during council meetings.

“I swore to her mother that she’ll be taken care of,” Nomara reiterated.

“I understand. Trained and cared for, she will be. A good Jedi, she will grow into.”

Upon those final words, Nomara glanced on Jidné again; she afforded a hopeful look at the child’s face and she was greeted with an infectious, angelic smile—the young Togruta wholeheartedly agreed with the elderly master, she could almost imagine Jidné growing up as a Padawna and then a Knight.

When Yoda offered to summon the caretakers, Nomara politely refused and insisted she deliver Jidné to the children’s ward herself. Yoda caved, they ended up walking together to their destination, bowing to greet those whoever comes in their way.

Nomara was pretty sure that she had sensed it: Yoda’s cautious examination of how she behaved towards him regarding Jidné. Attachment was forbidden to the Jedi, since time immemorial that has been one of the primary lessons embedded into younglings’ minds the moment they can comprehend words. However, Nomara’s notion differed from the Council’s, stemming from the like-mindedness of her master, Loriq Caius—he was more inclined to learning the ways of the “Living Force,” an ideology that he and Master Qui Gon Jinn shared and often find one another in concurrence.

Upon their arrival of the children’s ward, a caretaker slowly approaches the Jedi with the child in hand and transfers Jidné into her arms; for a moment, the baby squirmed and cooed a worried tone to which Nomara quickly hushed softly, comforting the child before being held by someone else. Shortly after the separation, Master Caius himself enters the ward.

“Master Caius!” the Togruta exclaimed.

“I heard news that Nomara has returned quite so soon—with a youngling at that—I just wanted to check on my old apprentice,”

“I’m well, Master. And you?”

“Likewise,” Caius leisurely answered.

The banter was abruptly cut off because Jidné’s fussing had caught all of those in the ward, all heads turned to the child. Loriq got the hint. He examined the child who’s settled in that tiny pod of a bassinet while being bottle-fed. From where he stood, he can sense the Force rippling out of the child in an overwhelming magnitude that it’s unusual to see it from one so tenderly young; he rubbed his bearded chin as he joined the others’ observation of the toddler.

The caretaker approached the Jedi.

“With all due respect, Jedi, it is time for the children’s midday slumber. May I request you to exit the ward?”

The three Jedi obliged and bowed at the caretaker who returned the gesture. The room dimmed as soon as they left the room. Yoda excused himself and went the other way; Nomara was now left with her master by the door.

Ever since Loriq saw the child in the nursery and felt her Force ripple, he sensed something else—from Nomara. It’s as if the amount of Force that Jidné exuded, Nomara’s body—although unconsciously—repeats it, like soundwaves resonating with one another. Before the Togruta could walk away, the master gently tapped her shoulder.

“Nomara, do you have a moment?”

Promptly, the Togruta turned around and faced her master. Standing close to Loriq, she never realized that she was nearly as tall as him, with her montrals boosting her height just three inches more until its tips go past his head—memories of her youth reminded her of how she always had to tilt her head in order to look at him in the eye, but now that she’s grown, she didn’t need to take a pace backwards to see him eye-to-eye.

“Something on your mind, Master?”

“You sense something within the child,”

“Yes, the Force is strong with her that… just by looking at her, it’s overwhelming,”

“In addition to that, Nomara, I’m sure you’ve sensed it as well,”

The former, now-grown apprentice doesn’t follow. She pulled her eyebrows together, shooting a puzzled look at her master and wordlessly asking him to elaborate. Loriq decided to rephrase himself, he shifted and began to walk, Nomara followed by his side as they spoke

“I’d like you to recollect your feelings when you saw the child,” Loriq craned his head to Nomara, who kept her eyes ahead. “Search your feelings.”

Eventually, Nomara narrated everything that she saw in Eshyn—beginning with her meeting with Sentuk until taking Jidné with her, as well as what she felt from the little girl. She explains the feeling as a closeness of sorts, as though the pure feeling always finds its way to her, and then she’d resonate with the child—this occurred constantly ever since she and Jidné touched hands upon meeting.

“It’s only natural for two Force-sensitive to have a sort of connection, however, the difference is that connection grows over time. As for you—and Jidné, I suppose—it’s different, unusual even. The ripple is strong, perhaps the better would be ‘current’ given the magnitude of your Force energies’ convergence.”

“I’m not sure if I’m accurate, but are you implying that two Force-individuals may already forge a connection despite how briefly they just met? Do their energies bounce back one another, like a wave?”

“Perhaps. Whichever it is, it’s a rare Force-sensitive trait. I might have to meditate on it soon,”

The sage Jedi Master stopped walking in place, they ended up standing by the tall window overlooking the city and continued their conversation there with enough privacy. Loriq read Nomara’s silence as an eagerness to watch over the child, given that the first chain links of their bond have already closed. Instead of dismissing the gradual attachment between his apprentice and the youngling, he encouraged her with an open mind.

“The Force is telling you something about and through this child, Nomara. I implore you to allow your insights to serve you well, as I have taught you,”

“I’ll keep in mind, Master,”

——————————————————–

26 BBY

Over the years, Nomara has become a frequent audience member in the arena where the younglings—the prospective Initiates and Padawans—undergo their formal training and education. A single session is equally distributed between typical classroom lectures and application, the latter being the children’s favorite part. The Togruta always keeps a watchful eye on Jidné from the stands, but kept herself subtle; she’d often find herself in the company of the other masters—even the members of the Council themselves—as they observed the children from a distance.

Jidné, now seven years old, has made friends with the male Nautolan named Brese, and another human female, Leane. Each child was just one year apart from the other—but Jidné was the one in the middle—the small age gap made it much easier for them to get along. Master Tera Sinube was today’s proctor, he stood at the center of a ring of excited children who couldn’t stay still with their practice sabers in hand.

Tera Sinube tapped the floor with the end of his cane, “Youngling, younglings! Settle.”

The murmurs of the children died down, allowing Master Sinube to begin his session. He briefed them about the practical application of today’s lecture: performing basic lightsaber stances while balancing their dependence on the Force. Everyone in the chamber sensed some of the children’s gradual anxiety, it felt like too big a task for them to juggle between two abilities—one physically, and mentally for the other—including Jidné and her friends.

“Now, now,” Sinube hushed. “I understand that it may sound and look difficult, but remember: if you let the Force guide you, it will come to each and every one of you like second nature. As easy as breathing, if I may so!”

Sinube decided to encourage the class with a volunteer, when nobody stepped forward after twenty seconds have passed, the old proctor decided to find one himself. He followed the line that the children formed, some of them followed him with their heads or eyes while the others stared blankly straight into random portions of the room to avoid eye contact. While the search for a volunteer continued, the Jedi Knights Mace Windu and Shaak Ti stopped by to do some observing as well.

“Master Windu, Master Ti,” acknowledged Nomara.

Her greeting was returned by the two knights. Shaak Ti stood closer to her fellow Togruta by the stands—they were very alike physically, but their unique markings and clothes distinguished one from the other—they watched the session take place by the rails. The Jedi Master asked Nomara what’s already transpiring, the younger Togruta was happy to fill her in with the details.

Windu, on the other hand, stood by the banister though at a few inches away from the pair. His perpetually-furrowed eyebrows looked upon the gathered children surrounding the single proctor, he watched the older Jedi below circle the group of children with crossed arms and a curious scowl.

“Jidné?”

Despite Master Sinube’s gentle tone, the girl was still startled by the mention of her name. She looked to her friends and they subtly bobbed their heads, prompting her to move. She had no choice but to step forward, both hands clutched around the practice saber’s sleeve; Jidné’s nervous eyes found Tera Sinube returning to the center of the circle, patiently waiting as he leaned on his cane for support, then her gaze panned left and right, and then up and down—searching for some sort of visual signal to calm herself.

Her eyes found a pair of near-identical Togrutas standing next to each other at the stands, but her eyes focused on the one whose montrals had indigo patches snaking along the tapering, white tendrils. Somehow, she recognized that Togruta, and all of a sudden, the queasy stomach she had disappeared.

“Jidné, are you ready?” Sinube checked.

“Yes, Master Sinube,”

“Very good. Now, take your saber and put yourself in a stance, any stance,”

The little girl took a deep breath before buckling her knees and holding her saber in a defensive stance. The old Jedi commended the child. Moments later, he summoned an older child, a blond boy whose age may play along the line of twelve or thirteen—with a single glance of the thin braid hanging behind his ear, everyone knew that he was a Padawan.

“Alright, let’s do some light sparring—while keeping in mind the lessons we learned today,” Sinube placed his hand on the blond boy’s shoulder and gently shepherded him to the spot where he stands. “Paz, you may begin with Jidné here.”

“You ready, Jidné?” Paz checked before positioning himself in a stance.

The little girl nodded, following the words of the lecture and then putting it to play. At the first few seconds of the spar, Jidné anticipated the bigger kid’s attack—she got lucky by evading Paz’s lunge by deflecting his strike, holding for a few seconds, and then pull away to recompose herself for the next attack.

This was only the beginning. Janky strikes between the two children filled the room with the blinding lights of the sabers once clashed, both Jidné and Paz with a novice’s footwork before trading strikes; the other younglings who stood close in the action as the two sparred gave way and then returned when they’ve gotten farther.

As the sparring continued, Nomara brings her chin between her two fingers as she watches the action below ensue—it’s evident she was on edge just by spectating from the stands. The other Togruta dismissed the young Seeker’s mannerism as intrigue—as one would when observing something energetic. As for Master Windu, ever so direct of a man, took note of this too, but didn’t come as gently as Shaak Ti does.

“You seem to have your eye on that girl over there,” Mace Windu points out.

“It’s because I was the one who discovered her,” Nomara spoke with a degree of pride, her private smile was just one inch shy of being a grin.

Jidné eventually came to a point where she used a little bit of the Force out of impulse—outstretching her open hand at him caused him to stagger a few paces back from her. When she succeeded, she bought the opportunity to deliver a flurry of blows; it invigorated her when she pulled off a spinning deflect—a heat of the moment sort of thing, despite being a basic spin—which denied Paz a hit on her when he thought he found a window of opportunity.

The other masters continued their observation, Jidné and Paz’s sparring passively encouraged the other children. It concluded when both children had each other at swordpoint—their sabers hovering mere inches above the shoulder. Jidné and Paz quickly retracted their sabers and bowed while facing each other, a customary greeting amongst the Jedi, old and young alike. Tera Sinube hushed the excited children squirming in place and commanded them to settle down, promising them their own chance to spar.

Jidné and Paz were allowed to catch a breather while the other children prepare themselves, Tera Sinube briefly lectured the children again—reminding them of the practicalities of the assignment so as not allow the excitement cloud their senses. While waiting, the little girl surveyed the stands above them, she angled her head where she spotted the Togrutas together and searched for the one with the particular montral pattern.

There you are… Jidné thought, fixating her eyes on the younger-looking Togruta.

Nomara sensed Jidné’s gaze piercing her, she slightly craned her head to the side where the girl and boy sat and waited. Despite their distance from one another, the Togruta flashed a small smile as her eyes met with the girl’s once more.

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chubbyooo · 4 years

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The Road to Redemption - A Blurred Lines Spinoff Chapter 9: The Eternal Throne

and we're done this was super fun to right and I can't wait to do more stuff like this I hope you loved it as much as i loved writing

everything comes to a head as Kavaraa and Kyradia fight for the throne

Kavaraa raced to land her ship on the burning Zakuul, the fleet had turned on the planets when Vaylin had been disposed of and Nox apparently had to sit on the throne or else it wouldn’t stop. She didn’t know quite what was going on but what she did know is that the Emperor’s Wrath was on her way to help exact his plan and she didn’t have much time, Nox and a few members of the alliance were already at the throne as Kavaraa dashed out of the ship towards the lift up to the throne. The last few hours had been a blur after the battle of Odessen ended Lana had quickly explained what was going on and Kavaraa had told her about the Wrath who she could only guess was nearby.

Kavaraa arrived in front of the lift and spinned around opening her comm “ok Theron I’m in position how are we doing up there” she drew her saber ready to fight off whatever came

Theron responded his voice shaky “It’s bad Kavaraa the throne was a trap we can’t get through to Kyradia, Senya and Arcann think Valkorion is trying to take control of her and are trying to stop it but we have no idea what to do” Kavaraa’s eyes widened she’d known Valkorion had an influence over Nox but not this sort of influence.

She stammered “um ok well is she at least safe? I can defend from down here” she could hear the sounds of conflict as she took a deep breath, she had to put her trust in her old rival but Nox hadn’t killed Arcann or Senya so maybe she just needed a push in the right direction.

Theron responded through the blaster fire “me and Lana are defending against the knights for now but we don’t know how long we can hold out, we just have to believe in Kyradia i know that’s tough” Kavaraa shuddered she had to give Nox a chance if they wanted to save the galaxy

Kavaraa nodded “ok I can help from here I’ll keep the wrath out of your hair” she didn’t know if she could do that but she’d try “and be careful Theron I don’t want to lose you” as she said that she felt a chill as the red robes of the Rattataki Zoyin the Emperor’s Wrath came into view a quiet anger coming from her

She barely heard Theron’s response “you two Kavaraa just be careful” the comm shut off leaving the two of them in the space Zoyin frowned at her

She clenched her fists “If you would be so kind as to get out of my way I have far more important business than ripping you in half” her red saber ignited as she stalked Kavaraa, she had never fought the Wrath before only heard the stories of the Emperor’s savage soldier who hardly ever lost a bout.

Kavaraa tried to keep her cool “I’m not letting you past, Valkorion will be defeated you can’t stop us” Zoyin shook her head almost laughing as she beared down on Kavaraa

She growled “but Jedi this is all going according to plan it’s too late to stop us but I’m just here as insurance” she held her saber behind her ready to strike, Kavaraa was prepared to hold her back just hoping her new saber would be up to the task “now let me past before I have to eviscerate a Togruta” Kavaraa shook her head doing her best to not be intimidated

She took a deep breath “NO I’m going to stop you and Nox is going to beat your precious Emperor” she hoped she was right putting faith in Nox as Zoyin’s rage began to bubble over and she went to strike Kavaraa

https://open.spotify.com/track/0s1YzSh33RrLY2esVxDVq2?si=NRy_hc0lSJWsxL74nm3Fhg

Zoyin let of a harsh series of strikes into Kavaraa which she just managed to block stumbling back, Kavaraa had never been a duelist though she concentrated on the area around her and began to throw debris at Zoyin from behind

But to her surprise she took the brunt force of the rubble the only sign of pain was her eyes going bloodshot she growled at Kavaraa “I'm afraid I’ve taken certain precautions you’re going to have to hit me a little harder than that” Kavaraa felt herself wrenched off the ground and felt the crushing impact as she was thrown against the wall

Zoyin threw her across it laughing as she walked to the lift Kavaraa had to stop her “hey! Don’t think I’ll go down so easy” she focussed on the platform beneath her lifting the metal outwards bending it back and throwing her back down the stairs.

Kavaraa stumbled to her feet and made her way over to the lift but Zoyin jumped back up effortlessly not even looking hurt, what had she done to herself to be able to take these hits, Zoyin walked forward slowly before letting off another barrage of strong strikes. This time Kavaraa used the platform to block the attacks bending parts of the metal but she seemed to push through each one.

Kavaraa didn’t know what to do as Zoyin beared down on her she went to try and slice at her abdomen, all but one of the strikes were blocked but she seemed to take the last hit and keep going only letting out a small grimace of pain.

Before Kavaraa could react Zoyin grabbed her by the neck and strode into the lift hitting the controls to lift it up, Kavaraa struggled in the grip feeling the air exit her lungs. She also had to stop this lift so tried to ignore the intense pain and pull the controls out the wall, she felt Zoyin let her go as the controls were ripped out the wall shocking her hand and stopping the lift in its tracks.

Kavaraa scurried to the other end of the lift as Zoyin growled at her “ha now the lift has stopped you can’t get up there” Zoyin sneered at her clenching her fists, she closed her eyes as she raised her arms and the lift began to violently rise again shaking.

Kavaraa’s eyes widened as they began to rise faster and faster she had to stop her, Kavaraa lunged up trying to stab at her but reflexively her saber levitated in front of her blocking the strikes.

Soon the lift slammed into the top at the seat of the empire and the doors opened to reveal the eternal throne, dead Skytroopers and Knights of Zakuul littered the walkway and at the end she could see Nox struggling in the throne seemingly unconscious with Arcann and Senya concentrating next to her.

Theron was the first to notice them “Kavaraa?” Lana looked over and saw her as Zoyin threw Kavaraa across the room landing next to them in a crash

She coughed a little blood coming out “she’s so strong I can barely hurt her” Theron cradled her head helping her back up

Lana flourished her saber “not if we take her together come on we only need to hold her back” she lunged forward her saber clashing with Zoyin “I always hated you you know that” Zoyin and her began to exchange blows no clear headway being gained by either

Zoyin snarled “the feeling was mutual Lana you associated with that weakling Nox” Kavaraa stumbled upwards turning to Theron

She smiled “thanks but I have to go and help them” Theron nodded holding her tight his worry all over his face

He squeezed her arm “I’ll be right behind you I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you” Kavaraa nodded before she lunged forward throwing skytrooper parts at the Wrath

Lana scowled “she has more strength and power than you could ever hope for” she went to stab at Zoyin but the strikes made very little impact pushing Lana back

Kavaraa arrived striking at her from behind but Zoyin was managing to defend against both of them despite their numbers advantage “you still don’t understand do you, she’s exactly where we wanted her to be, her whole life has led to this moment this is her destiny and I am it’s architect” two blaster bolts hit her in the side causing her to grimace but not stumble

She pushed them both back with the force and began to stride towards the throne as Lana shouted “destiny doesn’t mean shit Zoyin if destiny affected me I’d have been dead a long time ago” Kavaraa watched as she threw a small grenade down to Zoyin’s feet blasting her back dropping both of them.

Kavaraa stumbled up as she noticed a spark of power emanate of the throne please please Nox you can do this, she turned around to face Zoyin whose face was angrier than ever before “you can’t stop us I waited 5 years in prison just to be here when he wanted me to be, this is my whole life and some girl will not take it from me” she let off a barrage of strikes pushing Kavaraa back as her defence was breaking

Kavaraa breathed heavily “I am not some girl I am the Jedi Basen’thor and I am stronger than you” Lana stumbled to her feet but was pushed back by Zoyin as the onslaught continued Kavaraa’s form getting less and less steady “and Nox is fighting for something and so am I and you’re too late” she meekly tried to block the strikes but Zoyin saw it coming and parried the blade out of her hand before she felt a sharp pain jolt through her stomach. Kavaraa looked down seeing the saber stick through her, she slumped to the ground please Nox please let this be enough…

Kyradia’s blade clashed with Vaylin’s inside her mind as Valkorion laughed “Vaylin stop this you know he’s controlling you, I don’t want to do this again” she knew Valkorion had a trick up his sleeve but he’d left a holocron on Nathema with enough power to wrench her form back from him.

Vaylin snarled at Kyradia “NO you killed me you just wanted my throne you can’t change my mind” Kyradia knew she had to hurry Lana and Theron were fighting for her life but what could she do, she gave in kicking Vaylin in the stomach and letting out a volley of electricity knocking her to the floor.

Valkorion smiled from the top of the stairs “you’re running out of time Kyradia my Wrath has arrived and she’s already cut through one of your friends” Kyradia’s eyes widened with rage no she wouldn’t let Zoyin of all people help him win “rise my child” Vaylin rose once again Kyradia sighed she really needed to get through to her, Kyradia looked down at the holocron she had, she guessed she had to use it even if it was dangerous.

Vaylin stood up “I am yours to command father” Kyradia snarled at the words he would never control anyone again, she pushed the holocron forwards

She took a deep breath “I told you as you died you were free of the voices and you will be I promise” she focussed on it as a light engulfed Vaylin a part of her essence seeming to go into it and soon an evil smile crossed her face

She smiled “that felt lovely” Kyradia could sense the change as Valkorion scowled at the both of them

He shouted “enough vanquish the Outlander” Vaylin shook her head walking up next to Kyradia

Vaylin smiled “I have a better idea the Outlanders toy set me free” her saber ignited as she nodded at Kyradia “thank you I don’t forgive you for stabbing me but we can still do what you said” Kyradia nodded that was fair

Suddenly a light next to Vaylin appeared next to Vayiln and Arcann appeared “I won't let you face him alone Kyradia I will fix my mistakes and live with them as Master Bakarn taught me” Kyradia didn’t mind an extra ally so nodded

Valkorion shook his head “touching” he turned to Vaylin “Vaylin strike down the brother who betrayed you and the Outlander who stole your life away” Vaylin looked conflicted about Arcann

Arcann turned to her “ Vaylin remember when we were children, playing with Thexan, sparring in the shadow of the eternal fleet, running away and living in the swamps for a month” he smiled “all that freedom stolen away when father locked you away on Nathema, he will cage you again unless you join us” he put an arm on her shoulder “we many not be able to forgive our mistakes but we can at least repent and learn to live with them” Kyradia had to admit that sounded like a good idea

Vaylin turned back to face Valkorion “I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm father” Valkorion snarled at them truly losing control for the first time

Valkorion scowled “you have won over my children now you will all be consumed by eternity” they stood ready as Valkorion began to glow

Kyradia lunged forward first slicing and slashing at him as he blocked with his hands, Arcann and Vaylin ran in to begin to do the same as Vaylin threw every piece of rubble she could find at him but nothing seemed to take effect.

Kyradia knew what would though she rolled back and held out the holocron blasting him with it, instantly the strikes that weren’t making impact before hit him and he stumbled back his form beginning to shift and change. He disappeared appearing again at the top of the stairs by Kyradia’s real form they dashed forwards and Kyradia quickly strode up impacting with his form as it shifted with each hit.

Valkorion snarled his voice garbled and sinister “you can’t stop me Kyradia I made sure you were my perfect vessel and everything is in place, you can’t handle your power a creature of your potential can only be consumed by it ,the Magick is fickle to say the least” Kyradia didn’t listen to a word he said as she let out a burst of lightning energy which he blocked with his own

They were pushed apart as Arcann and Vaylin tried to make impact but he blocked with his arms, Kyradia knew this wasn’t going to be easy but Zoyin was out there and she’d hurt one of Kyradia’s friends. She focussed letting her primal rage take over the green mist returning but this time feeling different, she disappeared appearing behind Valkorion and stabbing into him with a flurry of stabs leaving his stomach barely corporeal

She snarled like a nexu at him “I can handle whatever potential I have Valkorion you forget that this link goes both way” she put her hands on the sides of his head and concentrated watching green mist emirate off her and into Valkorion

Valkorion’s eyes widened as he began to cry out “aghhhh conjure whatever dark magick the sisters imbued in you nothing can stop me” she felt herself pushed back with the Tiralls as the mist stopped but she looked up with a smirk he was weak and now was the time

Kyradia chuckled “you’re wrong Valkorion Kneel before the dragon of Zakuul” he stumbled back his eyes going wide as the green mist resumed surrounding him unable to stop it.

Valkorion looked scared for the first time during the encounter “no no that only works on Vaylin” Kyradia chuckled he had made a few fatal mistakes but most of all underestimating her

Kyradia smiled “and she is now part of you looks like someone didn’t think this through” she forced him down to the ground as the mist neutralised him

Vaylin cackled “kneel father kneel before the dragon of Zakuul become a caged animal like I was!” her glee was clear and Kyradia loved it

Arcann was far calmer “it’s over let go” he was zen as Valkorion stumbled between the three of them turning around as Kyradia watched Senya appear behind him

Valkorion scowled “Senya” his anger was clear she’d beaten him

Senya scowled back “you’ve turned your back on this family for the last time” she sliced through him with her saber and he fell to the ground Kyradia smiled finally she’d gotten to him

Valkorion stumbled “I am the immortal emperor you cannot defeat me!” Kyradia smiled it was too late for him she was gonna gloat

Kyradia sneered at him “nothing lasts forever I was always going to catch up with you” she stalked her prey

Senya spoke “husband” they circled him

Arcann nodded “father” Kyradia drew her blade

Vaylin snarled “monster” Kyradia was so ready to do this

Kyradia sneered “everyone in your family has abandoned you hurts doesn’t it” at least she wasn’t the only one

Valkorion shook his head “a god has no family, before I graced you with my presence you were nothing but motes of filth drowning in the chaos of the void” he turned to Kyradia “and you my vessel you were never anything more how did you become so strong” Kyradia wasn’t going to grace him with an answer

He went for one more feeble attempt at an attack as Kyradia stabbed him through the stomach and he fell to the ground his form began to flicked and shift a purple energy emanating out she pulled the saber up as he screamed “agghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” the vision dissipated and Kyradia woke

As she opened her eyes she saw the scene Kavaraa lay on the ground Theron cradling her as Zoyin the former Wrath looked up at her trembling “no no NO you you couldn’t have not again” Kyradia smiled this was the ultimate revenge

Kyradia stood up “never underestimate me bitch” her eyes widened and she ran out of the chamber before Kyradia or anyone else could stop her, Kyradia would’ve chased her but noticed Kavaraa on the ground in pain

Theron was cradling her “I’m so sorry I’m so sorry Kavaraa I should’ve told you so long ago but i was scared, the reason I saved you from prison the reason I did it all it’s because I love you Kavaraa and now it’s too late” Kavaraa held his hand man they were so sappy Kyradia shook her head of course they liked each other

Kavaraa smiled “I know Theron I was scared too but don’t worry I knew” she squeezed his hand “it’s ok it’s ok” Arcann rushed to her side “hey buddy you did it” she said meekly

Arcann nodded “yes yes I did but that’s not important we need to get you to Voss” they both looked up to Kyradia “please Kyradia I know abou-” Kyradia interrupted him

She shook her head “of course you can have a ship I’m not going to watch her bleed out after she saved me from my arch rival I’m not a monster, for now we’re square or whatever get her healed” she sighed was her image really that bad she shooed them away as she sat back down on the throne Senya walked up to her

She smiled “well done Kyradia I may have misjudged you” Kyradia tried to hide her smarmy ‘I told you so’ but damn that felt good to be right

Kyradia smiled “well you’re not too bad yourself, I’m sorry about Vaylin but maybe we can think of something” she twirled the holocron in her hands she needed to find out where was a good place to hide this…

Kavaraa woke up on Voss a few days later to see Theron holding her hand, he kept her steady “woah woah woah don’t move you’re still pretty injured” she ignored him pulling him into a tight embrace and a long kiss.

After a few seconds she pulled away “I remember what you said Theron and I’m not wasting any more time ok” Theron nodded blushing intensely clearly surprised by it

Theron stammered “wow well yeah that’s fair I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you sooner” Kavaraa smiled looking around the room

Kavaraa chuckled “well let’s just make up for lost time ok, so how is everyone did we win?” Theron nodded sitting down on the bed

He held her hands “yeah we did sweetie you held out just long enough for Kyradia and Arcann to beat Valkorion the galaxy is free” Kavaraa smiled she knew that meant Nox was in charge but still “speaking of which he’s been itching to see you” Arcann rushed into the room as Theron called him in

He smiled “i’m so glad you’re ok Master Kavaraa” Kavaraa smiled back he was really a new man “I just want to thank you for saving me without you I doubt Kyradia would’ve been able to fight off Valkorion and I am eternally grateful for that” he pulled her into a hug which she reciprocated warmly

Kavaraa smiled “I’m so proud of you Arcann and I hope you can start to feel better about yourself now” he nodded clearly thankful for what Kavaraa had done

Arcann sighed “It’s a work in progress but I’ll get there eventually, but for now me and Senya are taking a backseat to leave you two in charge” Kavaraa frowned not sure what that meant as Arcann took a step back

Kavaraa turned to see Nox standing in the room arms crossed “well what he means is I’m what we may call a little impulsive and if I hadn’t had your constant meddling in my business I may not have been able to beat Valkorion” Kavaraa was half scared half proud

Kavaraa sat up “well I uh thanks Nox are you offering me something” Kyradia looked away seeming to have to build up the courage it took a lot longer than expected

Eventually she mumbled “could you come on as an advisor to help the alliance” Kavaraa smiled it took Nox a lot to ask her that, she looked away clearly embaressed

Nox made her way up to her “of course I will Nox I’d love to help you out” she beamed as Nox stared awkwardly unsure how to take it

She shook her head “just call me Kyradia ok Nox isn’t really me anymore” Kavaraa nodded as she attempted to hug her before a saber was turned on between them

Kyradia frowned “hug me and die” Kavaraa nodded smiling to herself she’d get that hug eventually, she lay back it had been a long road but the galaxy was saved and maybe things could get calmer now with her and Kyradia at the helm everything should be cut and dry from now on right?...

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firefeufuego · 4 years

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when we were young - a Secret Santa gift for @captainandors

Dear @captainandors, I’ve had the great pleasure to be your Secret Santa this year! Here is chapter 1 of your gift and I promise that chapter 2 will follow shortly :)

Chapter 1: 15 BBY - Jyn

Jyn doesn’t sleep on the ship taking her away from her home. Instead, she sits silently in the co-pilot’s seat next to Saw. Earlier in the flight he had tried to come up with comforting words that could stand up against the horror of what had just happened to her but he had quickly given up and left Jyn to watch the streaks of stars and planets rushing past. She has no idea how long it takes them to get to whichever planet Saw’s taking them, no idea what she’ll do once they get there. All she knows is that Mama trusted Saw like a brother and that he is the only thing she has left.

They land on a beach with stark white sand and crystal clear water, a world away from Lah’mu. Saw leads her into a squat, metal building that looks at least as old as she is and from the numerous scorch marks covering the outside, has witnessed pain and death of its own.

Sentients of all different species nod respectfully to Saw as they pass and she notices that his face has become hard and fierce, his shoulders more rigid. This is not her Uncle Saw who sometimes came to play with her, here he is someone respected and feared. Jyn thinks the man in white wouldn’t have dared to show his ugly little smile if he’d been standing in front of this Saw.

They arrive in front of a door and she can tell Saw wants to have another try at comforting her. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again and sighing. Instead, he just places a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head. Then he turns back into a solider, his voice brisk. ‘This is where you’ll sleep, Jyn. You’ll be sharing with a few other kids - hope that’s alright.’

Jyn nods, just as she’s nodded to everything Saw has said since she climbed out of the bunker.

In fact, she has no idea whether or not it will be alright because she can’t remember ever meeting another child before. The only person she saw on Lah’mu other than her parents was the old man who ran the next farm over.

Saw opens the door to reveal a large room with six bunks lining the walls. He clears his throat and the five young sentients in the room stop talking and snap to attention. ‘Everybody, this is Jyn. She’s one of us now.’ He opens his mouth to continue then pauses, looking down at Jyn with the same sad expression he had on the ship. ‘Be careful with her.’ He squeezes her shoulder again, nods and then leaves the room.

Jyn wants to run after him, tell him that she just wants to stay with him but he disappears around the corner before she can. He must have somewhere important to be. Everyone in her life seems to have important places to be these days and none of them are ever with her.

She takes in the group in front of her. All of them seem older than her and she tries to straighten up so she won’t seem like such a baby in comparison.

One of them, a Togruta girl, says, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard Saw Gerrera say ‘be careful’ before. Who are you to him?’

Jyn swallows and tries not to sound nervous. ‘My ma- my mother was Saw’s friend.’ She focuses hard on a crack in the opposite wall to stop herself picturing mama’s body falling to the ground.

The other girl nods and looks at the others with a raised eyebrow. ‘That explains that.’ She sprawls back across the bed. ‘You’re an orphan too then, I guess. Welcome to the club.’

Jyn’s lip wobbles and she has to grit her teeth hard to stop from crying.

She must not manage it because another girl speaks up, ‘Cera, stop being such a dick.’ She gestures to the spare bunk in the corner. ‘Here, Jyn. That one’s yours. I’m Maia, this is Tula, Codo, and Cassian.’

The others nod as they’re introduced and Jyn mutters hello to each. Tula, who looks so identical to Cera that they must be sisters, murmurs, ‘Welcome’, and Codo makes a joking complaint about being even more outnumbered by girls. The last one, Cassian, stays silent. He looks the nearest to Jyn’s age but he seems much older. His eyes are full of a sad understanding that makes Jyn want to cry again.

Instead, she goes over to her new bed and sits on it with her back facing the others. She wishes desperately that she were alone and even more desperately that she would just wake up to find herself back in her own bed with her parents laughing and talking in the next room. To distract herself, she opens her backpack and starts to unpack her things onto the shelf built into the wall next to her bed.

After her clothes, shoes and datapad, her fingers brush the soft, familiar fabric of her toys. Eager to have a piece of home in this strange place, she rushes to unpack Koodie and Starrie and Sniksnak, lining them up next to each other. She didn’t have time to pack all her toys and as she looks into her now empty bag, she realises that she must have lost Stormie when she was running. Maybe that’s for the best though, because Stormie looked too much like the tall men in black who spoke like machines and shot her mama.

She strokes the different coloured stitches on Koodie’s back from when she had a hole in her and Papa had to fix it. Jyn had watched the ‘surgery’ very closely to make sure her tooka-cat was alright and Papa had kissed the top of her head and told her she was a good friend and that he was proud of her.

Someone snickers and she turns to find Cera and Codo watching her. As she looks around the room, she sees that none of the others have any toys on their shelves - Cera even has a blaster on hers.

Of course they don’t have toys, because they’re not babies.

She looks back at her toys, her friends, with an aching heart. As she starts to put Koodie back in her bag, a voice comes from just behind her. ‘What’s its name?’ It’s the only voice she hasn’t heard yet, which means it must belong to the last boy, Cassian.

She mumbles, ‘Koodie’, and hunches her shoulders, ready for him to tease her about the name she chose when she was four. ‘I know it’s silly.’

‘No, that’s a good name. I used to have one that was just called “Cat”.’

She gives him a tremulous smile as she turns to face him. ‘That is a pretty dumb name.’

He returns her smile and he suddenly looks just as much like a child as her. ‘I know.’

‘Did you lose your one?’

His smile fades and he nods. As he meets her eyes, she sees her sorrow and pain reflected back.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Me too.’

They sit in silence for a moment before Jyn takes her second stuffed tooka-cat off the shelf and offers it to him. ‘You can have Starrie if you want. You can even rename him.’

Cassian solemnly accepts the doll, handling it like it’s precious. ‘Thank you.’ He takes it over to his bunk by the door and pointedly places it so it has pride of place on his shelf.

Cera rolls her eyes again but she does mutter an apology to Jyn.

Clutching Koodie to her chest, Jyn lies down and imagines herself back into the world she lived in 48 hours ago.

She wakes up to the silent dark, heart racing and mind full of nightmarish memories of a red flash, the smell of burning and the awful thud of her mother’s lifeless body. Suddenly she’s back in the cave again, unsure whether Saw really came for her or if she only dreamed he did. Are the men in black still looking for her? She reaches around her lantern but it’s not where she remembers leaving it. Instead she finds Koodie and reality slowly settles back in. She remembers to breathe like Mama taught her, focusing on the physical action of it until she can think again.

Her parents are still gone and she feels a growing certainty that her time to be a child has gone with them. But for now, she tells herself, she is safe.

Still, the impenetrable shadows of the room invite every manner of monsters into her head and though she tries as hard as she can, she can neither fall back asleep nor stop the flood of panic she feels at every small sound.

As quietly as she can, she feels her way out of the room, wincing at the swoosh of the door opening that seems decibels louder amid the silence of the night. She gratefully drinks in the light in the corridor outside, its floor to ceiling metal and stark man-made lines so reassuringly different from the jagged stone of the cave.

Sitting down on the cool floor, she tries to close her eyes and rest, taking comfort in how the light filters through her eyelids in a burst of orange. She’s only slept outside of a bed once before, on one of the ships on the journey from Coruscant to Lah’mu, and then she was lying on Papa’s coat and resting her head in Mama’s lap. She frowns, stretching her now sore neck, and wonders whether everything will remind her of her parents for the rest of her life and whether it will always ache as much as it does now.

The door next to her swooshes open again and Jyn flinches. She relaxes a bit though when Cassian comes through.

He takes her in on the floor and then gestures with his head for her to follow him down the corridor. ‘Do you like hot chocolate?’

She nods and follows and thinks that she probably would have followed him even if he’d been offering her nutrient paste.

They arrive at a small kitchen area and Cassian immediately gathers his ingredients and puts them in a pot, looking like he’s well used to cooking for himself. It’s only when he has to grab a stool to stand on so that he can stir that she realizes how young he must really be.

Jyn finds a big, padded seat and watches him as he finds cups and carefully fills them. The hum of the refrigerator keeps silence at bay and the little room feels like an island in a deep and dangerous ocean.

The hot chocolate is not as sweet as her Papa used to make, but it’s still good and it warms her heart a little more with each sip. As she sinks further into the padding of her chair, she wishes that they could spend the whole night here and never have to go back to the awful dark. She watches Cassian for signs that he wants to leave but he never gives any. He just sits with her in a kind and gentle quiet, even after he’s finished his drink. Jyn is halfway to crying with gratitude at not being forced to find words she doesn’t have.

She doesn’t realise she was drifting off before she’s woken up by someone banging the refrigerator door shut.

‘Liora!’ Cassian whispers, putting his finger to his lips.

The woman jumps and curses before coming over to ruffle Cassian’s hair. ‘Sorry, bud.’ The resemblance between the two of them is striking and Jyn wonders whether they’re related somehow. Liora tilts her head at Jyn. ‘Who’s this?’

‘This is Jyn. She just arrived today and she’s having trouble sleeping in the dark.’

Jyn startles a little because she never told him that.

Cassian must catch her reaction. ‘I just figured the only reason you’d be trying to sleep in a corridor instead of your bed was the light.’

Liora rests an approving hand on his shoulder. ‘He’s very observant, this one.’ She and Cassian share an impenetrable look. ‘Well, she shouldn’t sleep here. Some people would like their kitchens to stay kitchens so they can slam the fridge door when they like.’ Her gaze falls back to Jyn. ‘I’m on night shifts for the rest of the week so if you make sure you’re out of my bunk before 0830 then you can use my room until then.’

Relief floods through Jyn and she smiles and whispers, ‘Thank you.’

Liora nods and goes back to making herself a cup of caf. ‘Just for this week, mind. At some point you’ve gotta toughen up if you’re ever going to make it here.’

Thinking of the hot rage that’s been simmering all this time beneath the heavy cloud of her grief, Jyn says, ‘I will. I want to learn to fight them.’

‘Good girl. Hold on to that anger, Jyn. Sometimes it’ll be the only thing that keeps you warm.’ With that she heads for the door. ‘Cassian, you remember the code for my door, yeah?’

‘If I didn’t, I’d just break in.’

Liora’s smile is deeply fond. ‘Atta boy. Good night, you two. Hope you can get some sleep, Jyn.’

Once she’s left, Cassian collects and washes their cups. ‘Do you want to go now?’

Jyn lets a huge, involuntary yawn answer for her.

As they walk, Jyn thinks about Liora and Cassian’s similar faces. She asks, ‘Was that your mother?’

He gravely shakes his head and Jyn knows for certain that his mama is just as lost as hers. ‘No, but when we’re on missions we always pretend she is because we look alike. We both came from the Festian Resistance together.’

She wonders what he means by ‘missions’ and the ‘resistance’. Is he already a soldier, even when he’s still a kid like her? She asks, ‘When did you start fighting?’, and thinks her heart might break (even more than it’s already broken) when she hears the answer.

‘I was six.’ His voice is low and sad.

Jyn can’t help but picture him, even smaller than she is now, his toy tooka named ‘Cat’ replaced with a weapon. ‘I’m sorry’, she says but it doesn’t feel like enough. She lets her hand brush up against his.

He takes the invitation and her hand and they stay like that until he has to enter the code for the door to Liora’s room.

Jyn steps in first, heading straight for the bunk that takes up a majority of the space. Cassian fiddles with the light settings until they’re dim enough for sleep but she can still see the outlines of everything in the room.

He hangs back near the door, watching her. ‘Will you be okay here?’

She should say yes and let him go back to his own bed and the sleep that she rudely interrupted. But he’s the closest thing Jyn has in the galaxy to a friend and the past few days have made her sick and tired of watching people leave. She meets his eyes. ‘Could you stay?’

He doesn’t hesitate, just climbs onto the opposite end of the bunk and stretches out.

Jyn lies down, making sure not to curl her legs up like she normally does so that Cassian has enough room. After everything, the mattress feels like the most comfortable thing in the world and Cassian’s quiet breathing makes her feel safe enough to close her eyes.

The last thing she hears is Cassian whispering, ‘It’ll get easier, Jyn. I promise.’

Years later, as she tries to parse her newly realized feelings for Cassian and figure out just how long it’s been since she fell in love with him, she’ll always come back to the glowing in her chest as she fell asleep that night. It was a mere flicker of light amidst the black of her sorrow and anger but it would keep burning until eventually she’d find her whole heart aflame.

#my fic #captainandors #rebelcaptainsecretsanta #therebelcaptainnetwork

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rhythmichigh · 7 years

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And now the 14-year-old Togruta is accidentally teaching the Brand Spankin’ New clones about the intricacies of Jedi relationships and what constitutes as attachment and that yes Jedi can love but they can’t be attached and REX YOU ARE NOT HELPING.

But seeing as the BSN clones are now in the 501st it’s really only a matter of time until they fall prey to Anakin’s Terrible Influence anyway.

#star wars #the clone wars #no prisoners #AHSOKA WHAT ARE YOU DOING #my precious togruta child #but rex #rex is also the clone equivalent of a soccer hooligan #he cut and dyed his hair in support of a bolo-ball team #and i am living for it #i have a clone problem #rex is that problem currently

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anathtsurugi · 5 years

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The Colder the Winter, the Warmer the Spring - A Kalluzeb Fic

Word Count: 95,449 (know what the funny part is? I think we’re only at about the halfway point with this)

Chapters: 9/?

Rating: M

Pairing(s): Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb Orrelios (Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Rex/Ahsoka Tano)

Summary:

With that, the image widened and Zeb could see that Kallus was holding something in his arms, and as the Lasat inspected the image, he gradually began to realize that it was a baby – a Lasat kit.

"Zeb...help me."

"Oh, karabast."

Excerpt:

A regular watch was maintained around Chopper Base. Those brave individuals who fought for freedom against the tyranny of the Empire wouldn't be worth much to anyone if they couldn't even manage to protect their own base. So watch was kept at all hours of the cycle, and it was kept well, but in defense of the stalwart members of Phoenix Cell, they were looking for something to come toward the base. Not for something to move away from it.

So the watch could hardly be expected to notice when a tiny figure crawled away from the rebel base in the middle of the night.

It would be difficult to say what was going through little Arkalia's mind as she crawled away from the safety of the base and out into the wastelands of Atollon, as her mind did not function in the same way as an adult being's did. Perhaps there was nothing in her mind? Or perhaps she was the only one who truly understood. It could not be said, one way or the other. So she crawled out into the darkness, unseen by the watch and ignored by the roving bands of krykna who moved through the planet's shifting stone and sand. She crawled, unafraid, guided on by something unknown...until a shape amongst Atollon's strange formations, nearly appearing to be just another mass of stone in and of itself, began to move. The massive figure shifted until a pair of distant, moonglow eyes were looking down on the baby Lasat. When the Bendu finally spoke, the surrounding stone rumbled with the force of its voice.

"So this is the child that has caused such a stir," it said as it looked her over, laughing quietly while tilting its head in curiosity. "Such a lot of trouble over such a little thing."

"A child always is," a gentle voice trickled from the shadows that surrounded the ancient Force-user – until out into the moonlight stepped Ahsoka Tano.

"Well, I suppose you would know, little mother," the giant being said, inclining its head down toward the infant strapped to the former Jedi's back.

"Yes," Ahsoka agreed, smiling tenderly down at the kit as she lifted her own little girl from her carrying sling. "I wasn't exactly expecting company, but I'm sure Mira will be glad of it," she said, lowering herself into a cross-legged position with the baby in her arms.

Though little Mira was distinctly Togruta in appearance, she still had a markedly different look than others of her mother's people. Her skin was much lighter than Ahsoka's, closer to that of her father, and where other Togruta younglings would have had patterning of some kind, the little nubs that would one day become her montrals consisted of smooth white skin. There was no other like her in all the galaxy – Ahsoka's precious daughter.

Mirjahaal Tano.

Rex's daughter.

Upon catching sight of Mira, the uncertainty that had lingered like a gathering storm cloud around little Arkalia's head dissipated instantly. Crawling forward with a curious coo, she came right up to them, reaching out with a single four-fingered paw to bat at Mira's tiny arm.

Mira was younger than Arkalia by several months, but the little half-Togruta was no less excited to meet someone closer to her own age. She smiled a wide, gummy smile at the little Lasat before letting out a happy squeal, reaching out with her own hand.

Ahsoka smiled warmly as she watched the two little girls play, speaking in their own language only they could understand. She couldn't say what it was that had called Arkalia to them. She was not Force sensitive so far as the former padawan could see. Perhaps it was just Ahsoka's presence here? A piece of space-time that didn't quite belong.

"It is of interest to me that you would risk coming here now, Ahsoka Tano," the Bendu said in its ever-contemplative tone. "After all, it would take little more than the wrong brush of a stone for the entirety of our reality to unravel around you."

"I know that," she returned with a small shrug. "And while I find that to be an over-dramatization of our actual state...some things are worth the risk."

"Love, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. I've already let too many I care about die. I can't let it happen again. Not when I have power to stop it," she responded fiercely, her hold on Mira briefly tightening.

"But do you have power?" the Bendu asked her. "You cannot, after all, affect events as they are. Not without risk of harm to this tenuous balance."

"I have more power than you can understand, even if it isn't much. I'll do what I can while I can still do it."

"Having experienced a death or two of your own, what death is it you now wish to prevent?"

Ahsoka shuddered at the press of the ancient being's intent. It knew already, she had little doubt, but wanted her to give voice to it for whatever reason.

"I have- seen things...in my meditations. While I understand that the galaxy does not turn on one small life...I feel he deserves better. He deserves to have his faith rewarded," she said, drawing Mira up to rub her cheek reassuringly against hers. At the loss of her new playmate, Arkalia looked sadly up at them, pawing at Ahsoka's knee while Mira tried to reach down to her.

"This is what you feel? Even though you know it was through the effort to avert such a loss that your own master was lost?"

"Even so. It's not the Jedi way...to choose attachment...but..."

"But...as you are so fond of pointing out, you are no Jedi," the ancient being said with a faintly sardonic smile.

"Exactly."

Jedi or no, she understood the risk she was taking. The girl she had been when she'd first known Rex would have charged in lightsabers blazing in order to save her friend; consequences to the fabric of reality be damned. The woman she was now understood that such a direct interference would ultimately harm the man she wanted to save more than it would help him. She was limited in what she could do from the outside of their paralleled timelines, but what power remained to her, she intended to use. She was not going to let Rex waste his life needlessly.

"At a time like this, they would say that you must learn to let go of what it is you fear to lose."

"And the Sith?" Ahsoka found herself asking, though she couldn't quite help giggling when Arkalia started to climb her body to get up to Mira. "What would they say?"

"The exact opposite, of course. It is not in a Sith's nature to let go of that which they perceive as belonging to them. The more they can possess, the stronger they believe themselves to be. What you will not let go, no one will take from you," it said, gazing pointedly down at her.

"What about you?" Ahsoka pressed, returning the intent stare without a shred of fear. "What do you say? What's the way in the middle?"

"I?" The Bendu raised an eyebrow, considering her for several long moments before continuing. "I say that to define love as a mere attachment...is to misunderstand what love is. What attachment is. If you believe that love is something that can be possessed or released upon a whim, then you do not know love."

The young mother nodded. The more she came to understand what was between her and Rex, the more she was inclined to accept that sort of definition. The Jedi Order had somehow come to conflate love and attachment as the same thing in its twilight years, when they really weren't the same thing at all. The code forbid attachment. It did not forbid love.

"Well," she started as she disentangled the two children from each other, carefully tucking Mira back in her sling before lifting Arkalia into her arms and climbing to her feet, "I hope that way is good enough for the Force, because that's the way I'm taking."

"Then much good may it do you, young not-Jedi," the Bendu said to her as she turned and walked out into the desert. "I shall look forward to our next meeting."

"As will I," she called over her shoulder without looking back.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700105

#Kalluzeb #Star Wars Rebels #SWR #Fan fiction #Accidental Baby Acquisition #New chapter #When exactly did this thing turn into an epic?

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