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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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The Worthy One

Chapter 4: The Worthy

“I can’t bring someone into your clan right now.” Paz takes another step closer. Now the blue helmet is right in front of his own. “But if you want, it would be my honor to have your clan join my House.”

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Paz/Din

Words: 4,277

About three weeks after the duel, Din can finally put on his full armor again. The wounds on his shoulder and back have healed nicely, leaving him two pink new scars.

Paz helped him to take off his bandage for the last time this morning. He stopped needing help a while ago, but decided not to disrupt their routine if Paz didn’t mention it first. Maybe the other mandalorian still felt guilty, and he enjoyed the kindness too much to put a stop to it.

It has never been this nice between them. They can have conversations without turning them into arguments or fights. Occasionally they can even make some jokes without irritating each other. He doesn’t know if he can call Paz a friend yet, but they are getting there.

Din takes one last look in the small mirror. He can only see from his chest above, but still, watching his body covered in the familiar silver beskar brings a deep sense of tranquility. It’s like growing back a layer of his own skin.

Din opens the door and steps out, already hearing Paz training with the armorer. The sound of beskar clicking with the Darksaber isn’t like anything he’s ever heard. It’s both harsh and harmonious, like the battle cry from two lovers.

“You have improved considerably, but you are still holding back.”

Paz remains silent, which is an acknowledgement in itself.

“Many emotions can weaken you against the blade,” the armorer approaches the larger mandalorian. Her smaller frame doesn’t diminish her commanding presence. “As I’ve told you, fear is the worst of them all.”

“Then perhaps I can help.” Din steps on the narrow metal bridge. He doesn’t know what Paz fears, but if there’s one thing that Paz isn’t afraid of, it’s him.

The armorer turns to him. “Are you fully healed?”

“I am.”

“Good, then you can resume your training.”

“I would like to train with Paz Vizsla,” He looks at the Darksaber in Paz’s hand, and then nods to the armorer, “with your permission.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Paz interrupts, “you just recovered, and you have no weapon to counter this blade.”

“Beskar armor is the best defense against it.”

Paz takes a small step back and slowly studies him from head to toe, like he’s trying to make sure if there’s someone else under the armor.

“Alor, please tell Din Djarin he has lost his mind.”

“It’s a bold suggestion,” the armorer gives him a long, thoughtful glance, “but not without reason.”

Paz looks between them incredulously. “You can’t be serious. This blade almost killed you last time!”

“And you didn’t let it.” Din steps forward. “If you could stop it then, you can stop it now.”

“This is a fair point, but you do need a weapon other than your armor.” The armorer puts an end to their disagreement, and signals him to follow her to the forge.

Din has seen all her tools, but hasn’t touched any of them except the hammer, which was used as a symbol of order during their covert meetings. Only the armorer has the right to forge tools, and for any other mandalorian, holding them even for a brief amount of time is a great honor.

He watches her open the cabinet and takes out a long stick. Maybe it has another name, but the only thing he knows is that the stick is used to push large pieces of beskar into the forge.

She offers it to him in silence. He bows, and then accepts it with both hands.

When Din walks back to the bridge, Paz is standing rigidly on the other end with the Darksaber in his hand, but it’s not activated.

“I still think this is a bad idea.”

“I know.” He says, getting into the right stance. “But alor was right. If you know what’s distracting you, you need to resolve it.”

Paz remains still for quite a while, and Din wonders if this is his way of saying no. But eventually Paz adjusts the Darksaber in his palm, and ignites it.

They walk towards each other, slow and steady. Din feels his strong heartbeats, slightly elevated, pumping hot blood throughout his entire body, from chest to fingertips. There’s not a single strand of fear, only excitement.

The Darksaber clashes with his beskar stick, right above his helmet. He grunts and tightens his grasp, right leg stepping back to offer more support. The blow felt stronger than his own, and certainly way more powerful than Gideon’s.

Paz pulls back, and then immediately comes for his left side. He rotates the stick, just in time to meet the blade again. Thankfully it’s long enough.

He pushes down on the other end of the stick, trying to move Paz’s blade with leverage, but the other mandalorian doesn’t move, not even an inch. Din feels his eyes widen. Paz is stronger than him, but definitely not this strong.

This has to be the Darksaber.

Their visors meet, and the gaze holds a little bit longer than necessary. Din takes advantage of the brief distraction and does a full spin, using the momentum of his entire body’s movement to throw Paz off balance.

Then he takes two quick steps forward, holding the stick out directly at Paz’s neck. A part of him wishes it was a spear to make his attack more threatening, but it’s also a good thing that the stick is unlikely to cause serious injury.

Only gaining half of his balance back, Paz barely manages to knock the stick away, which leaves his broad chest and abdomen open. Din smiles, charging forward with a series of quick strikes. He knows from experience that Paz won’t be able to block them all.

That is what happens first, the other mandalorian struggling to counter each strike, the Darksaber looking heavier with each movement. He can taste the sweetness of victory on the tip of his tongue.

But then something changes. He can’t tell what exactly, but he can sense it, just like how he sensed it last time, like the very definition of danger creeping around him, making the hair on his back stand up.

The edge of the Darksaber glows brighter for an instant, like a blink, but it’s over so fast that Din thinks he might have imagined it.

The next thing he knows, the Darksaber spins 180 degrees in the blink of an eye, clashing with his stick so hard that it knocks him back several steps.

He takes a hold of the stick with both hands, using it to balance himself so he doesn’t lose his footing. Then the Darksaber starts attacking him, faster than Paz has ever been yet equally strong, if not more.

He feels his palms sweat inside the gloves, fingers start getting numb after each impact. A strand of nervousness rises in his chest. He doesn’t know how well Paz can control the Darksaber now. Even if he won’t be killed, he can’t be completely certain that this won’t turn into another accident, and he really doesn’t want to get stabbed by that thing again.

Din blocks another attack right above his chest. He sees the blade moving down, so he shifts the stick to his abdomen, preparing for the next move. But then the Darksaber stops midair, and before he can understand what’s happening, it moves back up to his chest, clashing with the beskar armor.

Din hears a pained groan escaping his throat as the air gets knocked out of his lungs. It feels like a rock just hit him square in the chest, hard enough for him to see stars for a second.

He falls back on the metal ground, the stick almost slips from his fingers, but he manages to clutch it, holding it tightly above himself to prepare for another blow.

He sees Paz’s large frame looming over him. The Darksaber raises.

He holds the stick out.

The Darksaber deactivates. Paz holds out his left hand.

Din blinks at the sight, confused by this turn of events. The fight isn’t over yet. No one has yielded. As far as he can tell, neither of them are even injured. But Paz seems to think otherwise, so there’s no point in keeping his defensive stance on the ground. He takes Paz’s hand and gets up.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m good.” He briefly checks if there’s any damage on the beskar stick, although he knows that’s impossible. “That was impressive.”

“It was, indeed.” The armorer speaks, startling both of them. She gives Paz an acknowledging nod. “That was your best fight with the blade yet.”

“Really?” Din feels a rush of joy. It’s great when he wins, but to help someone else reach their potential brings another kind of pride. He gives Paz a firm squeeze on the upper arm without thinking. “I told you it was a good idea.”

The large muscle immediately tenses up under his touch. Thankfully the armorer speaks again, just in time to break the awkwardness.

“Take a break for now. Wielding the force can be draining. You might feel it later. And you,” she then turns to him, “you just recovered today. That was enough training for you.”

He didn’t miss her slightly stern tone, and frankly he deserves the warning based on his track record.

“As you wish, alor.” He offers the beskar stick back to her with both hands.

She takes it and walks off the bridge, returning to her forge.

“You improved fast. It’s only been three weeks.” Din leans back on a pillar at the side of the bridge. He doesn’t know if Paz would answer his question, but he’s too curious not to ask. “How did you make it…listen to you?”

Paz tucks the saber back to his belt. “It’s easier than you think. We were just going about it the wrong way.”

“How come?”

“I tried to focus on what I wanted, but it distracted me with what I didn’t want.”

Din nods, knowing exactly what Paz meant.

“But once I focused on what I didn’t want, it worked with me to prevent those things from happening.”

He frowns, “but isn’t that fear? I thought seeking power from fear would lead you down the dark path.”

“Maybe, but there’s a difference between fear and caution, but it’s a fine line.” Paz glances at the forge, and Din just knows it must have been the armorer who told him that.

“What is your caution then?”

Paz visibly stills at that, and Din bites his lip. He probably shouldn’t have asked such an intrusive question.

He was about to apologize when Paz answered.

“If I can’t control the blade, it will hurt the people I don’t want to hurt again.”

Din hears himself inhale, almost like a gasp. He presses his back tighter against the pillar behind him, suddenly feeling cornered.

“I didn’t…” He stutters, “I mean, that’s a noble cause. I can see why it works.”

Paz tilts his head slightly but doesn’t say anything, which makes him want to say more just to fill the silence but there are no words in his brain.

“I need to go,” he hurries to make an excuse, the first thing he can think of, “I need to do some maintenance on my weapons, haven’t touched them in a while.”

That’s not a lie. It’s just not as urgent as he makes it to be.

He turns to walk off the bridge before Paz can respond.

Din hears a knock on the door when he’s finishing up reassembling his blaster for the eighth time.

He can’t pretend he isn’t here. There’s nowhere else to hide.

“Come in.”

Paz closes the door behind him a lot more softly than usual, and stops a few steps from him, standing straight. “I have a proposition.”

“Ok?” Din unconsciously tightens his grip on the blaster, but then decides to put it down, not wanting to send the wrong message.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said that day about your clan, and how it wouldn’t be a clan with only one person left.”

“We’ve talked about that, haven’t we? A clan remains even when its members are scattered.” Din smiles while quoting Paz’s words. “You were right.”

“That is true, but I am suggesting something else.” Paz takes a step forward and takes a deep breath, loud enough for his helmet’s audio sensor to pick up. “If you want something more, someone who is here.”

What exactly is Paz asking? There are only three ways to grow a clan, by having children, taking in foundlings, or…wait. No, no way.

“Paz, no. Wait!” He speaks before he can stop himself. “Are you asking me to…” He can’t even say the next words out loud. Are you asking me to marry you?!

“To what?” Paz sounds equally confused, but then suddenly makes a half gasping sound, and lets out a sharp, awkward laugh. “No! I’m not asking you to take the riduurok, Din!”

“Oh, ok.” Din exhales heavily, his heartbeat gradually slowing down. There’s also sourness in his chest, but it’s barely noticeable, so he brushes it off. “What is it then?”

“Right, I can’t bring someone into your clan right now.” Paz takes another step closer. Now the blue helmet is right in front of his own. “But if you want, it would be my honor to have your clan join my House.”

Din feels his heart taking a strong beat, rushing all the blood to his head, making him dizzy, his cheeks flushed. “You are inviting me to join House Vizsla?”

“As I said, I don’t know where other Vizslas are, but we are a big House, and they are somewhere in the galaxy.” Paz takes a firm hold of the Darksaber on his belt. “One day, we can bring them all back together, and I would like you to be a part of that.”

Din licks his dry lips. His voice comes out hoarse. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I know things have been better between us lately, and I’m happy about that.” Din tries to find the best words. He doesn’t want to lose their newly found friendship. “But inviting someone to pledge their clan to your House? That is the highest form of respect and recognition.”

“And you don’t think I have that for you?”

He remembers the time when Paz called him a coward and tried to take off his helmet, the debilitating pain when the Darksaber buried into his shoulder.

But then he thinks about the large hand pulling him up earlier, the concern in Paz’s deep voice asking if he was ok.

He’s been wanting to ask this for a very long time. “Do you?”

“I do.” Paz answers without hesitation. “You are one of the strongest warriors I have ever seen. You have been providing for our covert as the beroya for over a decade. You risked your life saving a foundling, and you have always followed the creed from the day you put on your helmet.”

Paz takes his hand earnestly.

Din’s heart drops.

“Din Djarin, it would be my honor if your clan would join House Vizsla.”

“I can’t.” It’s suddenly hard to breathe inside the helmet and he wants to choke. “I’m sorry, I…I can’t, Paz.”

The large hand stills around his, and then slowly drops. “I see.”

“No, Paz. It’s not…”

“Din, it’s ok. It’s your right to refuse.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Din, it’s ok, really.” Paz takes a step back, shaking his head. “You don’t need a reason.”

“I took off my helmet.”

He can hear himself breathing, ragged and elevated, in and out, in and out, but there’s not enough air. His chest tightens, heart beating violently trying to pump enough blood to sustain his failing body. He stumbles back and falls onto the bed.

“Twice, actually. I’ve been keeping it a secret.” It sounds like a whisper, almost a sob, but his face is numb and doesn’t know if there’s any tears. “But by creed, you’re now the Mand’alor, and I can’t bring this shame to your House. I’m sorry.”

For a while, their surroundings disappeared from his senses. The only thing left is his breathing, in and out, in and out, getting increasingly irregular.

“Why?”

He’s never heard Paz like that, confused and hurt. Betrayed.

“The first time was to save Grogu. I had to scan my face to get the coordinates of Gideon’s cruiser.”

He should look at Paz, face the disappointment and rage from a true mandalorians. He should bear the consequences of his own wrongdoing. But he can’t, his head is all of a sudden too heavy for his weak neck.

“And the second?”

“Before he left with the Jedi, he…wanted to see me.” Din shuts his eyes. Even now he can still feel Grogu’s tiny hand on his cheek. “I had to say goodbye.”

“So both times, you did it on your own free will.”

Din sees a drop of water falling on his gloved hand. So he has been crying. Another sign of weakness.

“I’ll leave by the end of the day, and you can…”

The thought alone brings a wave of gut-wrenching pain through this body. But he has to. This is The Way. He tightens his hands into fists, and forces himself to look up through blurred vision.

“You should take my armor.”

Paz takes a small step back as if he was physically struck by that statement. In the midst of overbearing agony, Din feels a sense of confusion. That’s what should happen to mandalorians who broke the creed. Paz out of everyone should know that.

“Not now, I need some time to think.”

“…I don’t understand.” He broke the creed. What’s there to think about?

“Just shut up and give me some time!” Paz snaps, but then takes a quick glance at the door and lowers his voice, “you never told me anything, for now, understood?”

No, he doesn’t understand at all. Why does Paz want to keep it a secret? Why isn’t Paz telling him to leave now?

Paz doesn’t seem satisfied with his silence. “Understood?”

He nods, although he still doesn’t.

Paz walks out, eerily calm on the surface, doesn’t even slam the door.

Din should have asked how much time Paz needed. It’s been over six standard hours, and he hasn’t left his room, barely even gotten up from bed.

Earlier he went to the fresher for a while to take off his helmet and stare into the mirror, trying to get used to the sight of his own face. He was going to live like that moving forward after all. But he didn’t last nearly as long as he wanted. His face seemed wrong, naked, strange. If he didn’t even want to see it himself, how could he expose it to everyone, all the time?

It’s already past dinner time and he’s not hungry. He can’t eat, can’t sleep. If Paz doesn’t come back by tomorrow morning, he’s going to confess to the armorer. Maybe he should just do it now. What news can Paz possibly bring him? The result won’t change. Waiting only prolongs his suffering.

Or maybe that’s what Paz is doing, although he really doesn’t want to believe it now, not anymore.

He wants to scream, or punch something.

Then the door opens.

He stands up from the bed so quickly that his vision goes black for a second.

Paz shuts the door behind them carefully and walks towards him. The bed is right behind him. He can’t back away.

“I’m not going to tell alor.”

“…What?”

“I thought about it. What you did isn’t forgivable by the creed, but here’s the thing.” Paz carefully places a hand on his pauldron. “I thought it would make me see you differently, but I don’t.”

“Why?” He feels like he’s been asking the same questions, but he can’t think of anything else to say.

“There have been a few others from our covert. Apostates.”

The word makes him shake a little. He tenses his muscles to force it down, as Paz continues.

“Some of them got their helmets removed in battle, because they were not stronger warriors than their enemies. Some of them couldn’t resist the temptation of lust or something else. But what you did…”

The large hand shifts from his pauldron to the upper arm where it’s unprotected by armor. The hold is firm and soothing.

“I tried to justify how it makes you a lesser person, but it doesn’t.”

Din feels dizziness spread from his head to the entire body, like he’s floating in the air. It’s a surreal experience, hearing something so wonderful about himself from Paz, the one person he used to not like, or even respect in the covert.

But he doesn’t miss the choice of words. It doesn’t make him a lesser person.

“But it does make me not a mandalorian anymore.”

He smiles bitterly. It only makes it worse, knowing another beautiful thing right before he’s about to lose it forever.

“It does.” Paz agrees, but doesn’t move away. “But I might have a solution.”

“For me to atone? The only way to atone is by bathing in the living waters under the mines on Mandalore.”

“That is true, but the mines have been destroyed. Look, this is not an atonement exactly, more like a workaround.”

Paz slides the hand down his arm, until their hands meet. Din hesitates before taking it. There aren’t supposed to be any workarounds for the creed.

From what he can tell, Paz also looks very nervous, and a little unsure, which is completely out of character for him.

Din mentally braces himself to hear whatever comes next, for better or worse.

“Do you remember what you thought I was asking earlier?”

Din has to take a little while just to understand the question.

“The…the riduurok you mean?”

“Yes, hear me out.” Paz grabs his hand tighter when he tries to pull away. “Think about it this way, if you are exiled, and then we take the riduurok, you will get a chance to swear into the creed again. But we can just…keep the messy middle part to ourselves.”

Din can practically feel his jaw on the ground. No way Paz is offering this. The riduurok is sacred. It’s an unbreakable bond formed with mutual love and commitment. It cannot be offered as some logistical tool.

“Are you hearing yourself?”

“Yes? I practiced it several times before coming here.”

“Paz! This is insane!” He yanks his hand free and takes a few steps away. “Look, I am incredibly touched by all this, but you can’t…we can’t take the riduurok for that reason.”

“Then how about other reasons?” Paz urges him calmly. Dank Farrik, he must have really hit the bottom if Paz is the calmer one between them. “How about the same reasons I gave you when I asked you to join my House? You didn’t even have to tell me the truth earlier. You did it to protect my honor.”

“As I should.”

“But not everyone would.”

“That’s not...” He sighs heavily and stops pacing around. Was he pacing around earlier? “Paz, think about this. A riduurok is unbreakable. We will be married until death. Us, together until we die! Is that really what you want?”

Paz has the audacity to shrug. “I wouldn’t say it’s on the top of my list, but I don’t mind it nearly as much as you think.”

Without thinking, Din almost said “but I mind it very much”.

He stops himself, because…does he mind? He doesn’t actively want it, and certainly wasn’t thinking about it at all until this very moment. But he doesn’t hate the idea. He would have three weeks ago. He doesn’t now.

“Let me make this simple for you. Which one do you prefer? Take the riduurok with me, or go to Mandalore and die trying to find the living water?”

“That is the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”

“How many have you heard?”

Fine, that’s a fair point.

“If we do this, it’s real.” He can’t believe he’s actually considering it now. “It becomes real once we tell the armorer and say the vows, no matter why we chose to do it.”

“I know.”

“You’ve really thought this through.”

“I have.”

He has no other reasons to object.

“Ok then.”

Now Paz is the one who’s taken aback. “Is that…a yes?”

Din stands in front of the large mandalorian, and looks up at his visor. “Yes.”

He hears a soft gasp, and he chuckles behind the helmet. It feels ridiculous, yet more serious than almost anything else. Marriage is one of the most sacred commitments in mandalorian culture.

Paz tentatively takes a hold of his arm, arms, both sides this time. Din holds his breath, leaning in slightly. He feels like he should do something with his hands too, but not sure what. They’ve never touched like this before.

He never touched anyone like this before.

He relaxes his body and closes his eyes.

The sound is almost inaudible as their helmets gently touch. He can hear Paz’s breathing mixed with his own, feel the rise and fall of Paz’s chest behind the armor. His hands find their way to the sides of Paz’s broad waist, the parts where armors don’t cover, sensing the heat over layers of clothing.

The strangest thing is that it doesn’t feel strange at all, to be wanted like this, to find peace in someone else’s arms.

He feels safe and accepted.

He feels worthy.

P.S. This is the end of their story, but if there’s a high interest, I can consider writing a bonus chapter for the wedding night. Let me know if you want it❤️

@mandaloria314 @theydjarin @vanishedangels @cheesybadgers @bellinitini @anunhealthydoseofangst @lithdraug @ragnarvizsla (Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list)

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din darjin #din djarin fic #Star Wars #star wars fic #paz vizsla #pazdin #paz/din

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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The Worthy One

Chapter 3: The Weak

Din watches Paz train with the Darksaber for the first time, and reminisces about his own journey with the legendary weapon.

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Paz/Din

Words: 3,167

For the first time in almost two decades, Din and Paz settle into a routine of peaceful coexistence.

He wakes up late in the morning, puts on his helmet and opens the door. Shortly after, Paz would come in to help him change his bandage. They don’t talk much, both focusing on the task at hand, so Paz can leave him alone to get dressed as soon as possible. He can’t put on any upper body armor yet, but he can wear his flight suit, thigh armor, boots, gloves and helmet. He likes to throw on the cloak too, just to feel more covered.

He spends most of the day sitting by the forge, helping the armorer with whatever she asks him to do. She never lets him lift anything too heavy, insisting that it’s important for him to fully recover first. It feels vaguely patronizing, especially when he watches Paz move these heavy equipment around with ease.

However, he can’t blame them for their caution. His wounds have been healing, but for some reason he still feels exhausted everyday. Maybe there’s some internal damage he doesn’t know of, or maybe everything else he put his body through has finally caught up. He often gets sleepy soon after dinner, and Paz would silently help him with his bandage again before he goes to bed. He falls asleep fast, and wakes up late again the next morning.

Din understands resting is necessary in the recovery process, but he can’t help the sense of uselessness gradually building up, growing heavier each day in his chest, spreading to all muscles with every heartbeat.

Slowly, frustration grows into restlessness, and then a dangerous impulsiveness. That’s when he knows he has to do something other than sitting purposelessly by the forge. But what? He can’t resume his regular training yet, not when his right arm hasn’t even gained back half of its mobility and strength. Even if he tries, he’s pretty sure Paz will physically drag him back to his room.

“You still haven’t trained with the Darksaber.” The armorer’s voice snaps him back to reality. He looks up confused, and realizes she’s talking to Paz who’s walking out from the training space.

Paz stops a few steps from the forge. There’s an uncommon tension in his deep voice. “No, I haven’t.”

“What? Why?”

Din bites his lower lip. Interrupting a conversation between the armorer and someone else is rude, but he was too surprised to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. Based on Paz’s enthusiasm during their duel, Din assumed that he must have been playing with the sword everyday since he won it. But Paz hasn’t tried to wield it? Not even once?

The armorer gives him a brief look, silent and calm, but it’s more than enough to make him stop whatever else he might say. Then she turns off the forge, takes her hammer and tongs, and gives Paz a little nod. “Come. It’s time to start.”

For the first time, Din is neither defending himself against the Darksaber nor trying to wield it. It’s simply fascinating to watch the legendary sword in action from a bystander’s perspective.

Paz activates the Darksaber. Like most swords, it looks disproportionately small in Paz’s hands, but size doesn’t diminish its commanding presence. Its glowing edge ignites the air around it, creating a deceptively soft halo around the deadly weapon.

“Solus.”

The armorer gives her command. Paz lifts the saber with both hands and strikes. The blade comes straight at the armorer’s helmet, powerful but too slow. She blocks it easily with her hammer.

Sparks fly into the air, each one can easily cause a nasty burn on naked skin. The sheer impact sends waves down the metal floor. He can feel vibration under his feet even from where he’s standing.

He feels his heart racing, matching the throbbing rhythm on the floor. His breath gets hotter, as if some of those fire sparks flew under his helmet.

He wonders if this was what Paz felt that day, watching him train with the armorer, wielding the most formidable weapon known to mandalorian history.

He wonders if that was what made Paz decide to challenge him at that moment.

“T’ad.” “Solus.” “Ehn.” “Cuir.”

Din listens to the armorer giving out familiar commands to Paz, and watches Paz increasingly struggle with each strike just like he did.

If he were to be honest, there is a hint of amusement in his heart. It’s nothing new. Over the years, he's always had a small desire to gloat whenever Paz was in trouble, although he rarely acted on it.

But right now, that tiny sense of mischievous joy is drowned by sadness.

It’s hard enough to know you are not enough, and it’s cruel to hold the proof of that in your own hands.

Din watches in awe as the armorer counters another attack with her tongs, and strikes Paz hard on the chest with her hammer, knocking him off balance.

“You are a lot stronger than this.” She stands over the larger mandalorian on his knees. “You are distracted.”

Paz looks up from the ground, but not at the armorer who’s speaking to him. He glances past her, meeting Din’s visor across the long metal bridge.

Din feels his eyes widen. He can’t meet Paz in the eye behind their helmets, yet somehow he feels connected, seen, exposed in a way that he isn’t prepared for.

After a moment of peculiar silence, the armorer also turns to look at him. She doesn’t say a word, but there’s something extremely perceptive with the way she tilts her helmet.

Suddenly he wants to hide.

Din gives her a respectful nod and turns around. Behind him, the training soon resumes, somehow getting louder with each step he takes to walk away.

The best word to describe the structure of Glavis Ringworld would be polarizing. On one hand, if you’re on the top surface, you get perpetual sunlight from the small star in the middle. On the other hand, the substrata area faces the vast empty space, hidden within the boundless darkness of the universe.

Din hears heavy footsteps approaching from behind. He sighs and shifts his attention away from the stars.

Paz sits down next to him, close enough to have a private conversation, but far enough that they won’t accidentally brush shoulders.

“She wasn’t asking you to leave, you know.”

“I know. I didn’t want to distract you.”

“That’s not on you. It’s our own responsibility to ignore distractions in combat.”

“That’s fair.” He tries to make the conversation flow, but isn’t sure where this is going. “So? How did it go?”

“You saw how it went.” Paz gives him a little shrug. “Alor said I needed to learn to control it with my mind, not my strength.”

“She told me the same thing. It’s easier said than done, isn’t it?” Din huffs, feeling truly amused. Now that the pressure isn’t on him, he can finally laugh about it. “But who knows? Maybe you’ll have an easier time. The sword was forged by your ancestors after all.”

Din thought Paz would take the chance to talk more about Tarre Vizsla, but surprisingly, the often prideful mandalorian doesn’t seem interested to talk about his glorious family history today.

“She said something else too, after you left.” Paz’s deep voice sounds even heavier than usual, almost like a sigh. “If you know what’s distracting you, you need to resolve it.”

Din feels the collar of his cloak getting tighter. He pulls on it and takes a deep breath. “Look, you won it from me in fair combat, and I have no interest in challenging you again.”

He turns to look at Paz, trying to show how much he means it when he speaks his next words. If he isn’t worthy, someone else must be.

“The Darksaber is yours. I support your claim.”

“I appreciate that.” There’s a long pause. He can see Paz’s broad shoulders tense up under thick beskar armor. “But that’s not what’s distracting me.”

“It’s not?” Now he’s really confused. What else could it be?

“When I fought you for it…” Paz stops mid sentence like he doesn’t know what to say, which has never happened before. If anything, Paz usually has the opposite problem.

“What about it?”

“You still remember what I said.”

“Oh, that.” Din slowly inhales. The wound on his shoulder aches as his chest expands. “Are you trying to say you didn’t mean it?”

There’s a long silence, then a heavy sigh. “I did, at the time.”

The dull ache turns into excruciating pain, like someone tore his wound open and stabbed him again at the same spot. He feels the air leaving his lungs, his blood turning cold, cold as the words he just heard.

“What do you need from me then?” Din hates his own voice in his ears, hurt and ugly, distorted by the helmet. “To tell you it’s alright, so you can have your peace of mind?”

“Din, that’s not what I meant. Let me finish.”

“No, you don’t need to finish.” He interrupts Paz. It’s been almost two decades. Today is the day he’s finally had enough. “Just tell me, what do you really want me to do? To disappear for good, so I can stop giving you problems? Stop distracting you?”

“No! What the kark are you talking about?!”

“You tried to kill me.” There’s a strange numbness on his tongue, his face, his fingertips. “There’s not much else to talk about.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I saved you from the Darksaber!”

Din feels his throat tighten on its own, swallowing back all the vicious words he’s about to say. His mouth hangs open but there’s no sound coming out. He would certainly look ridiculous now without the helmet.

From a short distance, the forge is burning with a low humming sound. There is no chance that the armorer didn’t just hear them yelling, but she doesn’t acknowledge it, and he really appreciates that.

He clears his throat and turns back to Paz, “what do you mean?”

Paz scoffs, “now you are letting me finish.”

“Don’t push it.”

For a moment, when silence falls upon them again, Din thinks this might be the end of their conversation. No answer, no closure, just another dead end added to their unresolved tension.

But then Paz begins to speak.

“There isn’t much left of my house. I know some survived the purge, but I don’t know where they are. I knew the Darksaber was taken by the Empire, but didn’t know who had it, or where it went.”

For some reason, that reminds him of his first time meeting Bo-Katan. “I’m the last of my line,” she said.

Every mandalorian understands loss, whether they come from a big house like Vizsla or Kryze, or from nowhere like him. But when loss is certain, at least it comes with closure, just like how he knows his parents died protecting him from the Empire, and his buir also died years later for the same purpose. He will always carry their lives with him, for as long as he lives.

What’s worse is an uncertain hope, like back in Nevarro when the armorer told him maybe some of his vods survived, while he was staring down at a pile of empty helmets.

“So when I saw the sword in your hands that day, and you couldn’t even honor it properly…” Paz keeps talking, pulling him back from his own thoughts. “My mind slipped into a dark place when I looked at you. But it was a brief impulse, nothing more.”

Din doesn’t know how to respond. To be fair, he is a little touched by this rare honesty between them. But what can he possibly say to a heartfelt explanation of why Paz had an impulse to kill him?

“Come on, Din. Don’t tell me you’ve never felt that way.”

“Like I want to kill you?” He snorts, “sure, I got pretty close to it just now.”

Paz lets out a frustrated grunt. “Fine, so you know what I meant.”

“Or that time in Nevarro when you tried to take off my helmet.” Paz probably doesn’t need another example, but he just has to mention it. “But no, it’s not the same. I never acted on it.”

Even with their hostile relationship, Din still sees Paz as a brother. Before Grogu, their covert had been his only family. He can’t ever imagine killing one of his own.

“Me neither, never wanted to.” Paz reaches for the Darksaber on his belt, closing his fingers around it. “Until I picked it up.”

Din watches Paz clench and unclench his grip around the saber several times before finally taking a solid hold.

“When I turned it on for the first time, it felt…alive. It was connected to me, knew what I wanted, how I felt, like it was…”

“Like it was consuming you.” He whispers to himself, before Paz could finish the sentence.

“Yeah, like that.” Paz ignites the Darksaber, but then quickly turns it back off. “All I could feel was this intense rage, and hatred, like nothing else existed. Then the sword started moving on its own, coming for your neck.”

Paz is drowned in the dark, stressful memory, but Din can’t help but feel a warmness spreading in his chest. It all makes sense now.

“You tried to stop it.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t. It still hurt you.” He’s never heard such heavy guilt in Paz’s voice. “I let it hurt you.”

“No, you stopped it from doing something worse.” Din moves in closer, and now their shoulders can almost brush. “You said it yourself. It was coming for my neck. You moved it away.”

“Not completely.”

“Fine, you stopped it partially. At least you didn’t hurt yourself with it like I did. Your family sword probably hated me before you even touched it.”

From the way Paz gives him a blank stare, he knows the other man didn’t find the joke funny. That’s fine, humor has never been the strong suit for either of them.

“Look, what I mean is…I understand.” Din reaches into his pocket and takes out the little red and white package. “I’ve missed him since he left with the Jedi, but when I held the Darksaber, it became unbearable.”

“Grogu, is it? Your foundling’s name.” Paz says gently, and Din loves how the name sounds in the larger mandalorian’s deep voice.

“Yeah, Grogu. I tried not to use the blade after a while. It was…too much.”

The Darksaber flooded his mind with beautiful memories, drowning him in longingness and sorrow. At some point, he caught himself starting to feel hatred towards the Jedi, towards himself. Then he stopped practicing with the blade altogether, and only used it in battles a few times when he had no other options.

“You can still spend time with him. He will always be a mandalorian foundling.”

“He’s with his own kind now, where he belongs.” The shape of the small bag reminds him of Grogu’s large ears. Din brushes them softly with gloved fingertips. “And apparently, Jedis don’t allow attachments.”

“I used to think that was nonsense, but maybe they have a good reason.” Paz turns the Darksaber in his large palms. “That was how the Empire started, right? Some Jedis couldn’t handle their emotions and went mad.”

“What do you mean?”

“…You don’t know?” Paz manages to give him an incredulous look, even with the helmet on. “When a force sensitive gives into their attachments, they start to seek power from their emotions: fear, anger, hatred, until they lose themselves to the dark side.”

“So if we can feel…these emotions when we touch the Darksaber, are we force sensitive? Like the Jedi?”

“I don’t know.” Paz’s visor meets his, a resigned agreement. “But maybe we are both too weak to wield it.”

“Well, if that’s true, now it’s your responsibility to hold onto it until someone else wins it from you.” Din shrugs, “it’ll probably be Bo-Katan.”

“Oh, kark no!”

“What’s your problem with her?” He laughs out, “she is a very strong warrior from what I can tell.”

“Their House has fallen from the Way.” Paz tucks the Darksaber back to his belt. “She’s not a mandalorian anymore, according to our creed.”

The smile fades from his face.

Bo-Katan doesn’t hide her face, so she’s not a true mandalorian in their eyes.

And neither is he, not anymore.

“Is she your friend?”

“Maybe not.” Din answers honestly. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t like him very much, especially not after he took the Darksaber. “But she saved me and my foundling once on Trask, and also joined me to rescue him from Moff Gideon.”

“Anything for the foundlings.” Paz sits straight. “Maybe she is a better mandalorian than I thought.”

“This is the Way.”

Usually this would mark the end of a conversation between mandalorians, but it doesn’t feel the same today. There’s no conclusion or consolation.

“When I got my signet, alor said we are a clan of two.” He’s not wearing the pauldrons now, but he can vividly picture the mudhorn shape when he closes his eyes. “How is it still a clan if only one person is left?”

“Your foundling isn’t dead, Din.” A large hand claps his shoulder. “A clan remains, even when its members are scattered. You should know this.”

“Like the creed?”

“Like the creed.”

Din leans into the hand, just a little, just enough to feel the warmth over layers of clothing.

He’s not ready to lose this too. The creed is all he has.

“You’re right.” He says, pretending that he still has a right to the creed, like he still belongs. “Thank you.”

To his surprise, the hand on this shoulder doesn’t immediately move away. Rather, it slowly moves along his back, until it gently stops at his injured right shoulder.

Din holds his breath, doesn’t dare to move. He can feel Paz’s arm touching his back, like it’s holding him from the side. They’ve never been this close before in a non-confrontational manner.

“Is it time to change your bandage again?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He responds quickly, hoping that will make Paz move his arm away.

“Come on then.”

Paz stands up first, the arm slipping from his shoulder. He exhales. Then a gloved hand appears again, this time in front of him, ready to be taken.

He looks up at Paz, thinking back to the few times he received this nice gesture, when they were sparring in front of the foundlings as a demonstration, so they had to keep some basic decency.

No one’s watching now. Maybe the armorer is, but she is no stranger. There’s no reason to pretend.

Din smiles and takes Paz’s hand, letting himself be pulled up.

At least he still has this, for now.

@mandaloria314 @theydjarin @vanishedangels @cheesybadgers @bellinitini @anunhealthydoseofangst @lithdraug @ragnarvizsla (Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list)

#the mandalorian #din darjin #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic #paz vizsla #pazdin #paz/din #Star wars #star wars fic

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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#why isn’t this multiple choice😭#I can ship Din with anyone #din djarin #the mandalorian #but right now I’m writing PazDin #So I’ll pick the big boy

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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So... Hello there.

They are a family in my mind, okay? :>

(I spent so long on this oh my god.)

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanart #din djarin #grogu #paz vizsla #ragnar vizsla

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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IDIOTS. JUST MOVE SOMEWHERE ELSE.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 3 #the mandalorian spoilers #that’s what I’m saying!!#How did they pick this planet #There are so many nice planets #even the deserted ones #Look at Luke’s school!

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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The Worthy One

Chapter 2: The Liar

Din reluctantly accepts Paz’s help again when he needs to redress his wounds.

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Paz/Din

Words: 1,967

The pain doesn’t get much better when Din wakes up again, and to make it worse, now he’s also starving. He pushes himself up with his left hand, and takes the arm sling off his neck, carefully putting down his right arm.

Several red dots scatter on the neatly wrapped bandage on his shoulder. They look dark and dry, but he feels sticky underneath, which means it’s time to redress the wound.

With an easy pull on the side of his waist, layers of white gauze fall apart, simple and efficient, like they’ve all been taught since they were children.

Din grabs a piece of clean cotton from the nightstand and gently wipes off leaked blood and old medicine. The stitch underneath is perfectly done. Manual stitches pretty much disappeared decades ago. Every standard med pack has automatic sutures for all kinds of injuries. He’s not sure if those count as mini droids. He tries not to think about it.

He tends the cut next to his arm with ease. There’s nothing new, nothing different from what he’s done by himself countless times. But the exit wound on his back is giving him a hard time. It’s an awkward angle to reach with his left hand, and when he finally touches it, he inevitably pulls the muscles around the wound in the front.

It’s been forever since he got stabbed all the way through.

Din drops the dirty cotton on the floor with a heavy sigh. He thinks both wounds are cleaned more or less, but dressing them will only be an even more annoying task. Besides, he’s on the verge of passing out again if he doesn’t get something in his stomach right now.

Putting on a shirt and both boots with only his left hand is frustrating, but at least his pants are intact. Of course they are. He doubts Paz will take off his pants to save him even if he has a life-threatening injury on his thigh.

Tying up his shoes, Din stands up and walks to the door.

He opens the door, and immediately comes face to face with a familiar blue helmet.

Din almost jumps back out of instinct. Even Paz seems startled from the way his shoulders tense up.

They stare at each other in silence, only a few steps between them.

He clears his throat, “what are you doing here?”

“To check if you’re still alive. It’s been another day.”

“…What?”

Paz tilts his helmet slightly. “I warned you about the pills.”

Dank Farrik! What are these green pills?! And why did Paz give him two?

“Well, I’m clearly alive.” Din tries to push past him, but Paz moves in closer, completely blocking his way out.

“You shouldn’t be up.” Paz puts a hand on his good shoulder. “You look like shit.”

Din forces himself to take a deep breath, and then slowly exhale. He’s in no condition to fight.

“Look, I’m just going to get something to eat, alright? Get out of the way.”

“Go back to bed. I’ll get it for you.” The grip on his shoulder is unwavering, leading him back inside the room. “If you pass out somewhere else, I’m not carrying you back again.”

That actually makes Din think twice before protesting more. He still doesn’t want to acknowledge what happened when he was unconscious. Paz carrying him, undressing him, stitching him up…all of these feel out of place. They give him a weird feeling, like the tingling sensation on his fingertips before entering a difficult fight, an automatic bodily reaction to uncertainty.

“I’ll be right back.” Paz walks out into the hallway after seeing him sit down on the bed. This couldn’t be more embarrassing. He feels like a small kid being parented.

At least Paz didn’t ask him what he wanted to eat. He isn’t sure if he could handle the awkwardness of that. It’s unlikely that they have anything other than rations anyway.

That’s why he’s quite surprised when Paz comes back later with a sandwich.

It looks freshly made, or as fresh as they can manage. The meat smells nice, the bread feels warm, and even the vegetables look irresistible although they likely came out of a can.

Din can feel his mouth water. Every part of his body screams with craving, and all he wants is to bite into it right now. But he can’t do that with Paz still standing here.

“Thank you. Now can you leave me alone?” That came out ruder than he intended, but he’s not ungrateful. He’s just really hungry.

“You took off your bandage.”

“Yeah? I needed to change it.”

Paz glances at his right arm. “Looks like you didn’t finish.”

“I’ll finish later!” Din doesn’t remember the last time he felt so exasperated. He really doesn’t know if Paz is genuinely concerned about his injury or intentionally doing this to torture him. “Now can you please leave, so I can take off my helmet to eat?”

“You can’t leave it open for too long. You can wait for a few more minutes.” Paz takes the plate from his hand, puts it on the nightstand and starts gathering medical supplies.

Din watches the larger mandalorian from behind. Maybe he should feel something nice and warm inside, being taken care of by someone, but he doesn’t. It literally takes all his willpower to not punch the man right in the helmet.

Over the years, decades at this point, there were times when Din wondered if they could be friendlier with each other. He had tried to make efforts, but whatever he did, it always ended up backfiring. He used to believe it was all Paz’s fault, but what if it wasn’t?

Maybe they just naturally don’t know how to be nice to each other. Maybe some people are destined to never get along.

“What are you waiting for?” Paz sits down next to him on the bed and nods at his shirt. “I thought you wanted to be done with it quickly.”

Knowing there’s no way to get out of it, Din sighs and starts to unbutton his shirt with his left hand. As each clip opens, he feels a wave of heat gradually spread across his body, from chest to stomach, extending to his neck and face, safely hidden under the helmet.

They are warriors. Exposing their bodies when tending to each other’s injuries isn’t forbidden by the creed, but it’s still a rare occasion for him. Besides, there is something extremely inappropriate and humiliating about revealing his vulnerable flesh to Paz, who was responsible for his injury in the first place.

There’s nothing more to it. He tells himself. Maybe Paz really is trying to help him. He can get his wounds taken care of quickly, and then he can finally eat that sandwich.

Paz applies a layer of light yellow ointment on both cuts. Din grits his teeth to stop himself from flinching.

“It would have hurt less if you didn’t almost pull your stitches open.”

“Well, it wasn’t easy to reach the one on my back without pulling the one at the front.”

Paz stops what he’s doing briefly, but then silently continues. Din watches large gloved hands working skillfully on his wounds, surprisingly gentle.

“Look, about yesterday, I shouldn’t have said…what I said.” It’s less of an apology than an explanation, but he tries. “You asked for a duel, I agreed to it. Injury and death were part of the risk. By creed you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Paz throws away pieces of used cotton. “Never said I did.”

“Right, so you know there’s nothing to…” He watches Paz take out a syringe, and considers if he should ask about that first, but decides to tackle one issue at a time. “There’s nothing for you to feel bad about, if that’s what this is.”

“It’s not.” Paz sticks the needle into a small bottle of bacta infusion. “It’s our duty to help an injured vod. That’s also in the creed.”

The needle goes in his shoulder, right next to the stitches. He tightens his fist.

“That’s right.” Why did he think there was anything else?

Paz wraps a thin layer of gauze around his torso and ties it at the side of his waist. “All done. I’ll leave now. You can eat.”

He watches in slight bewilderment as Paz gets up and starts walking, wasting no time as if a thank you was never expected.

“Wait, thank you.” Din looks up, meeting Paz’s visor as he turns around. “That was very kind of you.”

Paz just nods and walks out of the door.

Din sits alone in the room, somehow doesn’t feel unbearably starving anymore. Eventually he takes off his helmet after a little while, and bites into the still warm sandwich. It’s nothing fancy, yet it’s noticeably more flavorful than any ration bars he’s had in the past several years. He could have made more simple meals like that for himself. Sometimes he would consider it, but then always ended up grabbing more ration bars.

It feels wrong to be out of his helmet now, even though he is alone. Ever since he revealed his face, he has been trying to keep the helmet on as much as he could, only taking it off very briefly to eat and clean, as if that could undo his transgressions.

At the same time, it also feels wrong to wear it. He has lost that right. He should have stopped wearing it the minute he broke the creed. He should have come back with his bare face and confessed to the armorer.

What’s done is done. What difference does it make if he’s just lying to himself and everyone else?

Only a weak man is unable to bear the consequences of his actions, he knows. But he can’t, not now.

Ever since he became the beroya, his whole life has been dedicated to service. But now the kid, Grogu, is not under his care anymore. He can’t lose what’s left of his covert too. What’s the point of hunting or fighting if he’s only doing it for himself?

Din puts down the empty plate. His eyes land on the little package again. The bloodstain has turned dark brown, disrupting the red and white pattern. He gently takes it into his palm, feeling the stain’s rough texture on his fingertips.

He knows he probably shouldn’t use the sonic now, at least not on his upper body, but he goes into the small fresher anyway.

Waves of ultrasonic vibration run through his body. Many people say it’s not as relaxing as a nice hot shower, but Din actually quite likes it. Something about its simplistic nature is comforting to him.

He feels his skin and hair get smoother as dried sweat gets cleaned off. Then he carefully holds the package close to the cleanser, watching the blood stain gradually disappear from the fabric.

Din waits until he gets out of the fresher to open the package. He prepares a wet cloth and starts wiping away a few small blood stains on the chain mail jacket. He wholeheartedly trusts everything forged by the armorer, but still, unreasonably, he’s worried the ultrasonic waves can somehow damage its exquisite structure.

Din wonders what Grogu is doing right now, if he’s giving the Jedi just as much trouble, if his training is going well.

Most of all, he wonders if Grogu still thinks of him sometimes.

Soon, he’ll go pay him a visit, making sure he’s safe and happy with the Jedi.

Then he will come back here to help rebuild their covert, to try fixing the damage he’s caused, and hopefully with time, he can atone for all the wrong things he’s done.

Soon, he hopes.

@mandaloria314 @theydjarin @vanishedangels @cheesybadgers @hausofmamadas @bellinitini @anunhealthydoseofangst @lithdraug (Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list)

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djaren #din djarin fic #paz viszla #PazDin #paz/din

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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GROGU ALL GROWN UP!!!

I hope the top picture comes to pass, I saw the new episode where GROGU got his roundal chest piece and I hope GROGU gets more armor.....and a growth spurt XD

#the mandalorian #Grogu #grogu fanart #the mandalorian fanart #star wars fanart #omg this is unbelievably good!!’

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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HE’S MAKING A VIDEO 👹👹

#grogu #the mandalorian #din darjin #the mandalorian fanart #omg so cute!!!!#I totally see this happening though lol

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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How old were you at the lowest point in your life? Reblog this and put it in the tags, plus your current age maybe. I'm trying to see something.

#I’ve been lucky to not have anything too difficult or tragic happening to me so far #But I dealt with panic attacks and anxiety for a year when I was 20 #While studying abroad alone #I know some people struggle with that their entire lives #I’m grateful it only lasted a year for me

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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Some say he's still going through puberty.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanart #din darjin #paz vizsla #Grogu

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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Reblogging for the last time, 24 hours remain! Right now we almost have a tie!

#the mandalorian #din darjin #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian s3 #bo katan kryze

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purplesong1028 · 1 year

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The Worthy One

Chapter 1: The Pretender

The duel for the Darksaber between Paz and Din takes an unexpected turn.

Rating: Mature (Canon Typical Violence)

Paring: Paz/Din

Words: 1,832

Din feels heat radiating from the Darksaber as it crashes into the metal pillar behind him, barely missing his shoulder. He pulls out his vibroblade and carefully circles the pillar, using it as cover. His muscles cramp when he moves, still hurting from Paz throwing him like a ragdoll earlier.

Another powerful blow comes right at his head. Din quickly ducks, the Darksaber brushing his helmet, sending fire sparks flying. He grunts, taking the chance to quickly go behind Paz and slash the back of his leg, throwing Paz off balance for a brief moment.

Din can’t compete with the heavy infantryman’s strength, but he’s faster and more precise. That has always been his advantage.

Lucky for him, the Darksaber is giving Paz a hard time too. Every time Paz wields it, the larger mandalorian seems to struggle with it just the same. This tiny delay in action might be unperceivable to untrained eyes, but it gives Din just enough time to anticipate the sword’s exact trajectory.

Paz lifts the saber again, aiming for Din’s left side, which leaves his own right side open. Din holds his breath. He can dodge it and get behind Paz again, and this time, if he’s as fast as he thinks, he can hold the vibroblade to Paz’s neck.

Tightening his grip on the small knife, Din makes his move. Then he notices something’s wrong almost immediately. The Darksaber shakes. Not caused by the faltering of the hand wielding it, but more like the sword is suddenly moving on its own, twisting itself into a different direction to chase him.

Din stops mid-motion, awkwardly trying to adjust his steps to dodge the relentless blade.

You can’t fight against the blade. It will win.

The armorer is always right. He should have known.

The Darksaber goes through the delicate spot on his right shoulder, between the pauldron and chest plate, nailing him to the pillar behind. Din has been stabbed before, but this…this is different.

It’s not like the sharp pain from a regular knife, but an excruciating burning sensation. It paralyzes him, seizing his body from inside, all his muscles incapacitated in an instant by some mysterious force.

He can’t move, can’t think, consumed in a state of utter helplessness.

The vibroblade slips from his numb fingers, making a brisk sound as it drops on the metal ground.

Across from him, Paz also seems stunned, holding the Darksaber in place at a weird angle, like he’s also unable to move.

Din suddenly feels suffocated and opens his mouth to breath. A pained choking sound escapes his throat, and for some reason, that snaps Paz out of whatever shocked state he’s in.

The Darksaber deactivates. His legs give out.

The world becomes hazy. There’s a growing warm wetness spreading under his cuirass, some dripping down his arm. He doesn’t feel the burn anymore, just a dull pressure from gloved hands.

He sees Paz’s blue helmet right in front of his visor, and then the armorer’s golden one joins in. He hears them talking, but their words are slowly losing meaning.

“Grogu…” He grabs the hand on his shoulder. His voice sounds strained in his own ears, almost like a sob. “The gift, make sure he gets it…”

“Stop talking, you’re fine! Give it to him yourself.”

He wants to sit up and scream at Paz to kriffing listen to him just this once, but his grip is getting weaker, his vision is fading, and his words come out as a whipster.

“Make sure he’s…safe…please…”

The pressure on his shoulder is gone, replaced by a coolness. Is Paz yelling something?

He feels his hand slide down to the ground as he succumbs to darkness.

The first sense that comes back to Din is an unusual softness against his back. It’s not his undershirt. He knows that because he rarely takes off the undershirt, so he remembers what exactly the fabric feels like. That means he’s not wearing it now.

He snaps his eyes open. Before he can even look around, the pain comes back. Waves of throbbing agony spread from his right shoulder, rushing through his entire body. He groans miserably, struggling to move, which only makes it worse.

“Hey, easy.” A hand gently presses on his chest. Din turns to the sound, facing Paz’s blue helmet. Has Paz been watching him while he was unconscious? How long was he out?

“You were lucky. The Darksaber cauterized the wound, so you didn’t lose a lot of blood.” Paz slides a hand behind his back to help him sit up, and then hands him a cup of water with a straw in it.

Din glances at the straw, not sure what it’s for. If this is about not taking off his helmet, he can lift it halfway to drink straight from the cup. He’s thirsty as hell.

His right arm is hanging off his neck, wrapped in an arm sling, so he reaches for the cup with his left hand, which he only notices now, is hooked up to an IV.

Hand still a little shaky, it takes him a few tries to stick the small straw into the bottom of his helmet and align it with his mouth. Paz has the decency not to mock him.

The cool liquid slides down his throat smoothly, alleviating the dry, burning sensation. Din clears his throat, finally feeling like he can talk.

“How long was I out for?”

“Not that long, about a day.”

Din tries to put the empty cup on the small nightstand next to the bed, grunting as another wave of sharp pain shoots across his body.

“Is the pain bad?”

“What do you think?”

Paz fixes his gaze on him for a few seconds, and then silently takes the cup and walks across the room, opening a storage cabin on the wall.

“You should go easy on those.” Paz opens a bottle and takes out two eerily green pills he’s never seen before. “Once I took three, got knocked for almost a day.”

Paz walks back to the bedside and hands him the pills. He swallows them dry before Paz could pour him another cup of water.

Paz holds the cup awkwardly for a little while, and then sets it down on the nightstand within his reach.

“Did you…do this?” Carry me back? Patch me up? Stay here while I slept?

There are so many specific things he wants to ask about, and none of them makes sense.

“Who else could it be?” Paz leans against the wall. “There are only three of us here.”

Technically it could also be the armorer, but Din would much rather have Paz take off his armor and dress his wound. The thought of their alor doing these things, seeing him vulnerable, a failure, a pretender… He doesn’t know if he can handle that.

Suddenly Paz’s presence also feels stifling.

“Thank you. I’m good now.” Din says, a lie he’s gotten incredibly good at telling over the years. “You can leave if you want. You didn’t have to stay here this whole time.”

“You’re good? Is that so?” Paz takes a few steps towards him, finally starting to look irritated. “Do you remember what you said? You were spilling out your last words, Djarin.”

Din snaps to look at the nightstand where all his belongings are layed out. Thankfully, the neatly wrapped present is still here, now tainted with blood stains.

“So? What is it to you, Vizsla?” The fresh red color hurts his eyes. He looks up, aiming his gaze directly at Paz’s visor. “I remember what you said too, you know.”

The way Paz instantly stills sends a thrill down his spine, like the adrenaline rush whenever he draws the first blood in battle.

“Fate has brought this blade back to my clan, and now, fate will end yours.” Din repeats from memory, biting out every word. The viciousness in his voice surprises himself. He knows he shouldn’t be this flappable, usually he isn’t. But between the pain, the bloodstain and the Darksaber on Paz’s belt, he feels a dam in his chest break loose, everything pouring out like a long overdue catharsis. He can’t hold it back, not this time.

“What, you think I didn’t hear it?” Why should he hold back anyway? It’s not like Paz has anything to say about controlling his temper.

“You had no problem killing me to get that karking sword. Stop pretending otherwise.”

Paz tightens his hands into fists, the large body looming over him, casting a shadow on the bed. For a brief moment, he’s certain that Paz will hit him, and he’s okay with that. It would only prove him right.

Din can hear increasingly ragged breathing coming out of the blue helmet. He stills himself, facing it head on.

The next second, Paz turns on his heels abruptly and storms out of the room, slamming the door so hard that the entire room shakes.

Din suddenly has a strong urge to break something, maybe smash the cup and let the water spill all over the floor. But he won’t. That’s meaningless and childish. He’s still better than that.

He falls back into the mattress, biting his lower lip as the pain worsens under soft pressure.

Losing the Darksaber didn’t hurt him. He was willing to yield it to Bo-Katan on Gideon’s light cruiser. She had a will to lead their people to take back Mandalore. That was her life goal, her only priority, not his.

But he hasn’t lost to Paz for how many years now? He can’t remember, but the last time had to be when they were children. Ever since he became the beroya, he hadn’t lost to Paz again until now. Why now?

A part of him knows the answer. It’s easy, blatant, right in front of his face and he refuses to see it.

You cannot control it with your strength.

The Darksaber is not any weapon. It chooses the worthy leader. Of course it wouldn’t be him. He’s not even a mandalorian anymore, how can he be the Mand’alor?

He doesn’t know how much Paz deserves it either, but at least Paz has never broken the creed, so Paz does deserve it more than him.

He’s not worthy, and the Darksaber knows.

It’s fair. He shouldn’t have expected anything else.

A beeping sound suddenly interrupts his thoughts. Din turns to the nightstand and sees a small timer blinking. It takes him a few seconds to realize it’s alerting him about the IV, now almost finished.

He sighs and removes the needle, pressing a finger on the small wound. It’s not worth it to look for a real bandage. By the time he struggles out of bed, the bleeding would have stopped already.

He lies still and keeps the pressure. Soon enough, he feels his eyelid getting heavy and his mind starts to become fuzzy.

Din closes his eyes, letting a strange numbness take over.

@mandaloria314 @theydjarin @vanishedangels @cheesybadgers @hausofmamadas @bellinitini @anunhealthydoseofangst (Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list)

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin #din djarin fic #paz vizsla #pazdin #paz/din #Star Wars #star wars fic

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