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#and sabine will bond with din over mando stuff
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Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood
Chapter Five
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Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining, much angst, violence
A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)
*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.
Din watched Baast with growing concern. She'd withdrawn after Nevarro, spending the majority of her time with Grogu or in the sleeping hammock she'd strung between the walls of the Razor Crest. She refused to take his bunk, wouldn't even hear of it. When she slept - which he knew wasn't often as he could hear her prowling quietly around his ship - she did so in fits and starts and bad dreams. 
By the time they arrived at the Tribe's new home, he was genuinely worried. He didn't know enough about Zentari biology to be able to say if this was normal or not, but with how worried Grogu seemed, he was going to go with not. 
But Din couldn't focus on Baast as he navigated the high winds and icy blizzard of the Tribe's new home. The planet was damn near inhospitable, but that was why they liked it. 
This was his first visit since the massacre on Nevarro, and he was both excited to see who remained and dreading it. There had been far too many Foundling helmets in the Armourer's pile. An old outpost carved into the rock served as a place to land ships and keep them from being snowed in. Blast doors slid open, appearing to welcome him home. Mandalorians waved him forward, and he recognized the armour of Paz Vizsla.
"That kriffing bastard would live," he muttered as he maneuvered the Razor Crest around and set it down. The blast doors were already closing, not that those who worked on their ships appeared to care either way. 
Descending into the belly of his ship, he found Baast growling at her hair and tsked when he snaked the comb from her fingers. "You're making matters worse," he huffed, quickly separating the tangle. He twisted the mass into a long tail, then wrapped it into a knot at the base of her skull, where he tucked two long sticks he'd picked up in the market on Nevarro. They were made of hardened steel, sharpened to a deadly point, and would make a handy weapon if she ever needed one. She kept her eyes down and didn't look at him when he helped her into her cloak. 
While they'd been on Nevarro, he'd been careful to pick out clothing she could layer for cold weather rather than buying winter gear. He had no desire to lead the Tribe's enemies to them again and made damn sure they weren't followed. The one thing he couldn't avoid buying were boots, but Dune came through on that one. 
After Baast damn near killed her, they spent a mostly pleasant few hours with Dune while she'd cooed over Grogu and listened intently as Din told of his run-in with the Jedi. They said nothing of Baast's origins and wouldn't. What Cara didn't know couldn't get her killed. Of course, the ex-shock trooper would attempt to kick his ass if he said that out loud, so Din hadn't, remaining silent as Dune fumed for being "out of the loop."
Before he drew up Baast's hood, he lifted her chin with gloved fingers. "Baast, everything will be alright."
She gave him a wane smile, her vibrant eyes too dull for his liking. "As you say, Mando."
He gritted his teeth. That, too, had changed. She no longer called him by his name when they were alone. He was back to Mando. It was the first time in his life that he hated hearing anyone utter that word. 
"Baast, we need to talk-" He cut himself off when loud pounding came at the ramp and flipped her hood over her head. "We're not finished," he warned, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with her. 
She picked Grogu up but said nothing. There was no defiance, no strength, no beskar spine left to her. 
He clenched his fists and headed for the ramp, where he punched the release with more exuberance than was needed. It lowered to reveal Paz and another, weapons trained on the doorway. 
"Nice greeting," Din grumbled.
"You've too many bodies on your ship."
He held out his hand, and Baast joined him, her hand sliding up his arm to his elbow. "We seek the Alor."
Weapons slowly lowered, but he could tell they remained suspicious.
"This way." Paz turned and headed across the hanger. 
Din didn't bother to hurry. Paz would wait because they'd piqued his curiosity. He would remain once they reached the Alor to see just what Din was up to. Suspicion followed them like a red wave as they made their way through the rock corridors. The deeper they went, the warmer the air grew, indicating the Tribe had found lava flow or hot springs heated the base.
It was good, secure. Hopefully, they could remain here for some time.
Paz stopped at an open doorway and indicated inside. "Leave the child with the other Foundlings."
"Nu draar," Baast growled, her stance defensive as she rolled onto the balls of her feet. 
"He will be safe and happy with the others," Din encouraged. Looking inside, his heart plummeted. Where once there were thirty or more Foundlings, now fewer than fifteen remained. "Is this all?"
"Sabine has the older ones. They train." 
"This is The Way," Din murmured. 
"This is The Way," Paz agreed. "Leave the child."
Baast hissed at him, and Din stepped between them before things escalated. Already he could tell Paz wasn't impressed.
"Baast, udesii," he murmured, laying his hands over hers on Grogu. "He will be safe and far happier with the Foundlings. No one will touch him, I swear it."
She held onto him as if her very life resided in the little green menace, and leaving him behind was allowing a part of herself to be torn apart, but with gentle coaxing, he managed to remove Grogu from her hands and set him down to join the others children. Grogu cooed happily and toddled off to play while Din urged Baast onward after Paz. 
The giant warrior peered at Baast for a long moment before continuing away from the Foundling Nursery. 
Finally, after more twists and turns and stares from other Mandalorians, they arrived at the Foundry where the Alor waited in her golden helmet. She didn't bother to look up as she worked on polishing a pauldron. 
"You dare to bring an aruetyc here?"
At any other time, he might have flinched at such a reprimand coming from her, but not this time. "She is not an outsider. She is Baast'mal, last of the Zentari."
The pauldron slipped and clanged against the forge before she caught it and set it carefully aside. "The Zentari are no more."
"She knows The Way," Din insisted. "We completed the greeting."
The Alor turned then to face them as Baast pushed back her hood. The sharp intake of breath Paz took did not escape him. 
"I am Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du and Lin'talia of Zentarus." She tilted her head. "Great Alor, I greet thee. Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta." 
Din had never seen the Armourer show surprise in her body language before. "I greet thee, Zentari of the Bright Star, though it saddens me to learn you are the last. Can you be certain of this?"
"I felt the only other of my kind die three years past," Baast murmured. 
The Alor bowed her head. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” 
Din knew how she felt. It was like a gut punch without warning to know they'd lost something so damn special. 
"Be welcome, Baast'mal. Perhaps among our Tribe, you will find the one you seek." 
Baast said nothing, looking away as if in shame, and Din reached for her elbow before remembering they were no longer alone on his ship where he could take such liberties. Now, she would be courted by every able-bodied male of the Tribe to see if they proved worthy to be her riduur.
"Leave us," the Alor commanded. 
Din hesitated, but when Baast didn't look at him, he stepped back and walked away.
***
"Shut the door, Vizsla," she commanded as the big one followed Din out.
Used to Din's t-shaped visor, the Alor's eye slits were almost disconcerting, but Baast didn't allow it to show.
"You are of a great lineage, Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du. The Tribe will see this as a great omen, a reason to rejoice when we have so little."
"Not so great," Baast sighed. "I cannot be what I was born to be. I am no riduur. My fated mate will never complete the bond."
She tilted her head. "Oh?" Then motioned toward a table next to the forge. "Sit. Tell me your story, Baast'mal."
Baast, knowing her future depended on her honesty, spoke the truth. She told the Alor of her kidnapping as a child, her brutal years as an experiment, and the wretched way the Empire forced bonds with the Sand Cat and Manka. She showed off her Snake Tooth and admitted how broken she felt knowing she would never have the one thing she yearned for. 
"I was bred to grow warriors, but I will remain barren," she whispered, unashamed of the tears streaming down her cheeks.
The woman across from her tilted her head, having remained silent through her entire recitation. "They took you from Zentarus too young. There are… things missing from your education, knowledge you have yet to acquire."
"There is?" Baast was surprised and yet not completely. She had been very young when they ripped her from her family.
"There is. I can teach you, but it will take time."
"I am not sure Di- Mando will be alright with a delay. I promised I would help him find a Jedi for Grogu."
If she was surprised Baast knew Din's name, she didn't show it. "Hm, for the child you took as your own. You will find parting with him to be like death. I do not envy you the position you have placed yourself in."
"I know," Baast whispered. "But he may be my only chance at a child."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." She stood and motioned for Baast to follow her to the forge. "For now, you will sleep. Rest, Baast'mal. You are safe here, and I can see you have not been sleeping."
"Not because I felt unsafe," she snapped. "Mando is not to blame."
"Isn't he?" 
She stared, but Baast refused to look away. She would give the Alor no reason to doubt Din. 
She chuckled and turned to the forge, her hands busy out of Baast's view. "I have long considered Djarin one of our finest warriors. I am pleased to see him living up to his potential."
When she turned back, the mark of the mudhorn was in her hand, dangling from a leather thong. The Alor stepped forward and tied the cord around Baast's neck, settling the shiny bit of beskar against Baast's chest.
"There. Now, none who see you will challenge that you belong. I will have one of the others deposit you in a family suite so you may remain close to your Mandalorian with your child."
"He is not my Mandalorian."
She looked at Baast, and Baast swore she could feel the amusement rolling off the woman. "Isn't he?" she asked before going and opening the door. "Vizsla. Retrieve the child and take her to the home set aside for Djarin."
"Respectfully, no." The one called Paz crossed his arms, radiating defiance. "If she is Zentari, she should not be living with him. She should be available to all to choose."
Baast was too tired and too stressed to deal with his macho bullshit any longer and walked into the corridor with long smooth strides. She let her cloak fall behind her as she stalked the male keeping her from her child. 
"And do you think you are worthy?" she asked, soft, cold, and deadly.
"Baast," Din warned.
She could feel him now, more and more; even with the beskar, his emotions were starting to bleed through. Being with him was agony; her soul cried out for his, but being apart would likely be even worse.  
"I could be," Vizsla snickered.
Baast smiled to show off her fangs, then kicked him down the corridor. "You do not choose!" she roared. "I choose!"
When she made to stalk after him to teach the too proud Mandalorian a lesson he would not soon forget, she found herself captured against Din. 
"He means no disrespect, but he is right. You... you must find your fated mate." The words sounded like they pained him. "You can't stay with me and do that."
Baast felt herself crumble and swayed into him, distraught at causing him such grief. 
"She is clan of your clan as the child is the child of her heart. Baast'mal wears your sigil. Until she says otherwise, she will remain Clan Mudhorn. Collect the child, take her to your home, and return to me, Djarin."
The Alor's command was not one they could ignore. Din bowed his head and pulled Baast away, past Paz, who radiated wary respect. 
The traversed corridors in reverse until they came to one deserted of others, and Din spun her into the wall. "Are you alright?"
She clung to him, clung and shook as every cell and fibre and atom of her body begged for his until she could hardly bear it. "Your Alor has information for me. My knowledge is incomplete. I must stay until it is no longer this way."
"Then we stay."
The easy acceptance shocked her into searching the t-visor for his unseen eyes. "But, Grogu. The Jedi."
"It can wait."
"Mando," she sighed.
"Din," he growled low, pressing his body closer. "You will use my name with the Tribe and in private, Baast."
She closed her eyes, the pain growing. 
"Are you sick? Do you need a healer?"
His concern broke her a little more. "No. I am fine."
"You're not fine!" he snapped. "You're fading! I can see how much something is hurting you, Baast. What is going on?"
She dredged up every ounce of self-preservation she had left to stare him cooly in the visor. "That is not your concern."
He stepped away as if she'd hit him. "Fine. Use my home. I will find somewhere else to sleep."
She watched him walk away, her heart cracking with each step until he turned the corner, and it shattered. 
Baast landed hard on her knees, unable to catch her breath, gasping and dry heaving, tears spilling freely down her face. When the hands came, they were gentle, but she would not have cared if they brought pain. Nothing hurt as much as Din walking away. 
"I'm Sabine. Allow me to offer aid, Zentari."
Baast could only nod as she allowed the female to help her up and lead her away.
***
He stalked back to the forge with angry strides but a heavy heart. Baast was breaking down, and her continued refusal to let him help would drive him insane.
Paz nodded as he went by and shut the door to the forge as he left.
"So, you have brought us a Zentari. This is well done of you."
He said nothing, knowing she needed no response.
The Armourer held up the pauldron of earlier and discarded it. "But she is soul-sick."
"Soul-sick?" He'd never heard of it before.
"She believes she is damaged. Too long was she with the Empire. Too long has she battled the mind games of the demagolka. They could not break her spirit, so they poisoned her mind. This poison sickens her soul. She needs mirjahaal."
"Demagolka…" Din whispered, horror filling him. The Demagol was the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, a real-life monster and war criminal. He was known for his experiments on children and was hated by all Mandalorians for his perversions. Children were to be cherished, never tortured. "Are you sure?"
She looked at him. "What else would you call one who experiments on children?"
He felt foolish for not seeing it himself and tilted his head in apology.
She hummed and returned to the forge. "You will help her find mirjahaal."
"She doesn't want my help."
"But she needs it. You will do this. I have spoken."
He sighed but made sure the sound didn't leave his helmet and drew the ingot of beskar from his pocket. "For the Foundlings."
The Alor hummed. "This is The Way."
"This is The Way." Din turned and left, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. 
He stormed out but only made it as far as the turn to the first hall, where he stopped to sigh and closed his eyes. How could he help Baast find mirjahaal when she didn't want anything to do with him anymore?  
How could he help her find healing and peace of mind when he no longer felt it himself?
***
Nu draar - no way/ not on your life
Udesii - calm
Aruetyc - traitor/outsider
Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la - not gone, merely marching far away.
Mirjahaal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after trauma or bereavement. 
***
Next Chapter coming soon
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