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axewchao · 1 year

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A Difficult Topic To Broach

Broach (v): To raise a sensitive or difficult subject for discussion.

In which the Rito and the Hylian have a long overdue talk.

Story's under the readmore! And it's a long one, longest I've probably ever written! Enjoy the wall of text, y'all :'D

~~~

Revali could count on one wing all the times he'd been this nervous.

His first archery competition. His first flight race. The first time another Rito showed romantic interest in him. That time he challenged his endurance by flying nonstop for several hours, followed by him crash-landing on Satori Mountain and meeting the mountain's Lord face-to-face, ending with him shrieking in pure terror as he ran away.

But this… this was something else entirely. It wasn't his pride nor his life on the line, merely his heart.

It had been several weeks since he retrieved that accursed mask from the aforementioned mountain. Several weeks of replaying everything in his head, searching for any signs of deceit or truth, and giving himself a headache from his indecisiveness. Several weeks of lying awake at night with the mask in his arms, refusing to admit that he wished the mask's owner was there with him, to have those long-winded talks he'd grown so fond of.

Several weeks of avoiding the Hylian that caused all this, either hiding out of reach on Medoh or staying out of sight as much as possible when grounded by the other Champions as a group. Daruk and Mipha ended up having Revali as both backup and a sparring partner more often, not that either of them showed any complaints. If anything, Daruk in particular was overjoyed, assuming that their normally standoffish Rito ally was finally coming out of his shell. Rather than deny it, Revali for once held his tongue, letting the loud Goron think whatever he pleased.

The proud back "pats" he could do without, though.

And Urbosa? Revali never liked it when she tried lecturing him, or gave him that look that said 'I can read you like a book.' But it seemed as though this time she was just as in dark as everyone else, only commenting on Revali's shift in behavior a few times before moving on to more important matters, like the Princess' wellbeing, along with her knight's.

Speaking of that little knight…

Revali's rage over "the incident" had mostly died down, enough for him to stomach seeing the Hylian or hearing the other man's name without sneering. The knight in question didn't seem to make any effort to seek Revali out as far as he could tell, though whether it was because of guilt or indifference remained unclear. Revali's first instinct was to assume the latter; that the other boy was back to being his unemotive, uncaring, placid-faced self after his little stunt.

But those dark circles under his eyes, the signs of neglect in his hair, his ears somehow drooping even more than they already do, the overall faded complexion he'd displayed since that fateful night…

No one would take an act that far… would they?

If he truly wished to “toy” with you as you say, would he have bothered to reveal his true self at all?

That was the question Medoh probed Revali with, one he couldn't answer. Because truthfully, he was afraid.

Afraid that everything he assumed was right. That the perfect Rito, the perfect person he was able to form a meaningful connection with, was nothing more than a wicked, heartless lie.

Just this once, he wanted to be wrong.

~~~

Asking the Hylian to meet him alone was not easy.

Something always got in the way. A new monster to fight, a Yiga ambush, the knight just not being left alone for even one damn minute. For all of Zelda's efforts to get away from her appointed knight, he always found a way to keep her in his line of sight. And when she wasn't around, someone else was. From Mipha healing his wounds, to Urbosa dragging him off for sparring or lectures or Medli knows what else, to Daruk challenging his "brother" to random tests of strength. All in an effort to "get the little guy out of his funk!" in the big lug's own words.

Regardless of his "funk" being real or not, Revali had to give the Hylian credit where it was due; enduring such a complete lack of personal space for weeks on end wasn't something just anyone could do. Not without snapping, anyway. Revali would've undoubtedly started pecking at someone or plucking his own feathers by now if he were in the Hylian's talons. Er, shoes.

Was this the reason why he only appeared as a Rito at night, then? Because that was the only free time he actually had? And he chose to spend it with—

Revali forced the faint traces of hope in his heart back down. It was too soon for things like that. That was another thing Medoh told him: to not take his first guess and run with it. The ancient bird really was trying to act like a mentor of sorts, turning this into one giant "lesson" for Revali to learn.

The timing could've been better on her end. Maybe when Revali's ability to trust others wasn't in danger, perhaps? Just throwing it out there.

Now, with all these obstacles in place, simply waiting until nightfall was obviously the correct option, right? Oh, how he wished.

Even on the nights where he wasn't too tired to think clearly, all it would take is one glance at the Hylian and Revali's nerves would fly right out the window. He gave himself excuse after excuse; it's too soon, I don't know what to say, the others will hear us, he'll humiliate me. But the topic needed to be broached, whether Revali liked it or not.

It was either that or suffer in silence forever.

So with a heavy wing and pounding heart, he reached out and grabbed the Hylian's shoulder, stopping both of them from following everyone to the Highland Stable. He ignored the way the other man nearly flinched as he leaned in from behind, his beak barely brushing against a silver-pierced ear.

"We need to talk." He whispered urgently, "Meet me in Faron Woods. Tonight."

The burgundy-haired boy hesitated before nodding, not even turning to meet Revali's eyes. In a way, Revali was grateful; he felt like he would've cracked under the stress if he had to look at those darkened purple irises again. He pulled his wing away as though he'd been burned and continued onward, leaving the knight behind.

He kept walking, even passing the princess and other Champions, eyes firmly locked on his own talons.

He didn't look back, not even when several voices called his name in concern.

~~~

Night had come much sooner than Revali would've wanted.

The sky was clear, both the stars and rising moon were in perfect view, so Revali had no need to worry about getting lost in the dark due to his damned lack of night vision. Under any other circumstance, the moonlight streaking through the trees would've been a lovely sight, but it currently failed to ease his racing mind.

As he walked (he didn't run, shut up) across Fural Plain towards the woods, Revali made the choice to wait by the entrance instead of going inside. This way, he could keep an eye out for when the man in question showed up. The last thing he wanted was to be left sitting in the woods alone like some fool.

He already made a fool of me once, no reason to let him dig the knife in.

Enough of that, Revali.

Revali nearly set off his gale in a panic. Medoh?! Gods, I told you to stop scaring me like that!!

My apologies. But my point still stands, you must stop that nonsense.

What are you talking about?

Clinging to your assumptions. You are doing it again. Medoh paused, as if sighing. And you were doing so well earlier…

Revali scoffed. I don't recall asking for your approval.

Perhaps you did not, but I will express it anyway. Medoh wasn't capable of chuckling, but Revali could practically hear it regardless. You were indeed doing well before. And it is clear that you are trying to do well now. I am glad to see that you took my words to heart.

Revali growled under his breath as he smoothed down his feathers. …Thanks.

Hm? I detect a note of… what was it again… sarcasm? Are you being sarcastic with me?

Don't give me that, you know what sarcasm is, Medoh.

Yes, yes, I am well aware. I was simply trying to calm you down with our usual banter. Medoh's tone suddenly turned to faint concern. Your mind is filled with troubled thoughts…

Revali didn't reply, his crest drooping as he looked down. He leaned against a tree and hugged himself, despite there being no chill in the air.

Are you alright?

Alright? Revali's eyes burned, How could I possibly be alright? My heart could be shattered to pieces by sunrise. How do you expect me to feel?

So you decided to confront him after all?

Aren't you literally in my head all the time?

Medoh paused again before answering, her tone switching back to that of a consultant. Revali… I understand that you are fearing the worst. But I believe that you are… how to put it… overprepared.

Revali raised a brow. What?

You have made yourself aware of the worst possible outcome. Which is, again, understandable. But in the process, you are convincing yourself that the worst result is the only one you will get. Have you forgotten what I said before?

Revali sighed. No… I haven't. But what if…

…Yes?

What if… Revali gulped, his heart picking up speed once more. What if he really is sorry? What then?

Medoh made a confused trill. I do not understand your question.

If he really was just using me, at least then I know what I'll do; hate him for all eternity, never forgive him, and never give him the time of day again. But… If he wasn't, then… Revali trailed off, reluctant to finish the thought.

I do not have the answer to that. What happens next between the two of you is for you both to decide.

Yeah… Revali sighed, I figured you wouldn't. He looked up, gazing toward the distant stable. I know he agreed to come, but…

I am not nearby, so I cannot see him. Nor can I currently see him through your eyes. But the night is young, and you left rather early.

That much was true. Revali had opted to leave for the forest as soon as he'd finished eating that evening. Everyone (minus Mipha and Daruk, who ate their own fill of fish and rocks respectively) had carrot soup this time, but sadly they weren't the godly Kakariko carrots, so he couldn't distract himself with a delicious meal. All he could do was eat quietly while the others talked, and steal glances at the Hylian when no one else was watching.

He has a name, you know.

Oh, shut it.

Yet another preparation, perhaps? Teaching yourself to stop addressing him by name in case the worst comes to pass?

Revali felt himself flush under his feathers, mostly out of anger than embarrassment over the beast's correct guess. Shut up!

You are better off waiting until after your suspicions are confirmed or denied before you try something like this. You have been refusing to call him by name for weeks now.

If he really is as cruel as any other Hylian, then I don't even want to think about his name, let alone utter it. Is that a crime now?

It is if you are doing it before you talk to him. Must you be so dramatic?

It's not dramatic! If he saw no reason to treat me with respect then I don't—

Honestly, Revali… Medoh cut him off, It would not kill you to hold off on your judgement a moment longer. Now be still and hold your tongue. Revali's vision suddenly gained a faint blue hue. The Divine Beast was using his eyes.

The stable. Look again.

Revali did as he was told, but wasn't sure what he was looking for. The blue of Medoh's presence made everything blend together. …What? What is it?

…He is coming. It would seem that much like you, he has no intentions of wasting time.

Wait, what-?! Revali's feathers puffed in alarm. He shook his head and blinked several times, willing Medoh's vision away. Sure enough, there he was, walking down the path towards the now-panicking Rito. His head was down, so Revali couldn't see his face, just locks of burgundy that were much duller than they should've been, even under moonlight.

His time was running out.

No no no no no, not now! Revali hid behind a tree, hoping his feathers would blend in with the foliage. How long has he-? I don't even know what I'll-! He grabbed at his frazzled crest, Medoh, help me out here!! What do I do-?!

As I said before, what happens next depends on you. Both of you, and no one else. I refuse to interfere.

You couldn't give me a better warning, at least-?! Revali mentally yelled as he frantically smoothed down his feathers.

Calm yourself. Be patient and listen to his defense. Once all has been said, then you may pass your judgement. And not a moment sooner. Do you understand?

I… I…

Do you understand, Revali?

Revali's eyes started to burn, and he shut them tight. After a moment's hesitation, he finally relented. …Yes. I understand.

Good. I will leave you to settle this mess. Do not do anything rash, and do not act as though woe is all that betides you.

Was Medoh really about to just leave him to fend for himself here?? Sure, he never asked for Medoh's assistance in this matter, or any matter at all before, but him not asking never stopped her from meddling anyway!

I wish you the best of luck, my Champion. And with that, Medoh's presence was gone.

Of all the times to leave him alone… why now? It felt like Medoh had just thrown him to the wolves. Damned beast!!

All Revali could do was curl his hands into fists as he tried to force himself to calm down. Keep a straight face. Don't let the Hylian know that his will was unsteady. He had to be firm and direct, like always. He could do this. He had to do this. He—

…was cut off by the sound of someone gasping under their breath.

Oh dear Zephos and Cyclos, he couldn't do this.

Revali looked over his shoulder, and there he was, just a couple feet away.

He felt a brief chill as he stared into those pupilless purple eyes. Eyes that once shone with a light pink glow, eyes that once made him feel a number of different things. They were still rimmed with dark circles, implying that the Hylian either became a night owl from doing gods know what after dark, or he simply wasn't sleeping well.

Revali was afraid to find out the answer. But he already knew that through the conversation they were about to have, he'd get that answer anyway.

At Revali's lack of a reply, the Hylian ducked his head again, looking down at the ground. He raised it back up when Revali cleared his throat.

"Well, it's… good to know that you're punctual." Gods, even that was hard to say. He turned his back, waving the other over with a wing. "Follow me."

He heard footsteps following behind him, and that was enough for now.

~~~

Faron Woods was bigger than it looked on a map.

And in a way, that was a good thing. It meant that when Revali found a decent spot to sit, the view was lovely without looking too cramped or foreboding. The trees overhead provided cover, but still let streaks of blue light through, making even the leaves resemble sapphires. It was a scene worth painting, or taking a picture with the Sheikah Slate.

If things went well, Revali could look back on this clearing fondly. But if they didn't…

His feathers ruffled at the idea. Ignoring the urge to smooth them back down again, he glanced over at the Hy-

You are better off waiting until after your suspicions are confirmed or denied before you try something like this.

…at Dalex, who quickly turned away from him. Even under the shade of the trees, Revali could still see how disheveled he was. He was almost tempted to call this little meeting off and send Dalex back to the stable to rest. But it was too late to turn back; they were already here, and if Revali forced himself to delay this once more, he doubted he'd ever be able to fully shake off the shame.

Revali is many things, but a coward is not, nor shall it ever be, one of them.

He crossed his arms and braced himself. "You… you know exactly why I asked you to come here. Don't you." It was a statement, not a question.

Dalex's ears twitched as he nodded. His silence didn't sit well with Revali.

"You can't nod your way out of this. You and I both know that you can talk." If he looked away as soon as Dalex flinched, then it didn't happen, right?

Be patient. Do not do anything rash.

Revali sighed, "For the last few weeks, I've… been thinking about what I'd say to you. About… that." He couldn't hide the anger in his voice, only lower it. "I thought I'd have everything worked out, like I always do. But… I don't."

Dalex said nothing, the only indication that he was still listening being the twitching of his ears.

"You…" He crossed his arms, "We both know what you did. I don't see any need to waste time pointing it all out." And if he did so, he'd either crack or succumb to rage, and he wasn't about to do either.

Yet again, Dalex said nothing, but his ears drooped impossibly lower.

"There… ever since you… 'revealed' yourself to me, there've been nothing but questions running through my head. So many questions. And every time I thought about asking you, I just…" He squeezed his arms, willing his feathers not to ruffle. Now was not the time for that.

At the third lack of a reply, Revali felt his patience wane. They'll be sitting here til dawn at this rate.

"I'd like you to look me in the eye when I'm speaking to you, Sta-… Dalex." His crest lowered at the near slip-up.

He felt a wave of regret when Dalex finally did look at him. A light breeze had tousled the bangs that normally covered half of Dalex's face, revealing the right side that was hidden from everyone despite looking just as normal as the left.

He looks so exhausted…

If Revali was wrong in the end, that sight wouldn't be leaving his memories any time soon.

"I suppose I will just say it, then…" His beak hung open, piles of questions forming in his throat as though they were at war over which one could come out first. In the end, he settled on the one that was there the longest:

"Why did you pretend to be the Sta-… him?"

Dalex blinked, clearly expecting something else. For Revali to yell again, perhaps? Like he did that night? Part of him wanted to. But just asking that one question took all the anger out of him, leaving nothing but hollow longing.

You were at your happiest when you were with him. If the way he acted as the Starling had any hint of truth, then I want you to be able to see that.

Revali didn't need night vision to see the hints of reluctance in Dalex's eyes. "I won't yell, or scream, or cut you off, none of that. I want to hear what you have to say."

Listen to his defense. Once all has been said, then you may pass your judgement. And not a moment sooner.

He saw Dalex's mouth twitch, and he bowed his head. "…Please."

He heard Dalex take a deep breath, and then…

"I… I just wanted a break."

Revali raised his head, confused. A… break? "From what?"

"Everything." Dalex's shoulders fell, and his breath hitched. "I've been training to be the Legendary Hero for so long… I couldn't do anything but train, no one would allow me to do anything else. Not when Ganon could show up at any time and destroy everything. I had to follow Her Highness everywhere she went, even if she hated my guts and wanted nothing to do with me. I have to listen to other knights acting like jealous little pricks because I got the Master Sword and they didn't."

Revali winced at that last statement, but thankfully Dalex had already covered his face with his hand.

"Everyone looks at me like I'm either a god amongst men that will save them all or the bane of their existence, and I just-" He stopped, his whole body shuddering. "…Do you remember what I said at Warbler's Nest?"

He most certainly did. How could he forget?

"My life had barely gotten started and I already had to give it up. I couldn't say no; my-… what I had to do, what I still have to do is too important. Is… is it wrong if I'm upset about it…?"

Revali told him otherwise that night… He held the Sta- Dalex's wing in his own and told him that it wasn't fair.

"If I were in your wings, I’d be completely furious.”

"All this time, I never got the chance to do anything unless I had a reason, a damn good one at that. If it wasn't necessary for my role as the Hero, then I couldn't do it. I wasn't… I'm not supposed to be anything but the Hero."

Were… were Revali's ears tricking him or did he just hear a sniffle?

"I… have to be the Hero. I can't be anything else. Not until Ganon's gone. But I…" He pushed his bangs away, eyes now shining with unshed tears. "I was just so tired."

You look like you're still tired. Revali thought to himself. "That's why you used the mask?"

Dalex rubbed his eyes, nodding. "I didn't- I wasn't trying to… to quit, or anything, I'd never do that. I just, I just wanted to get away from it, for a little while."

"But… surely you've heard about those things before. Many have claimed that they'll curse those foolish enough to wear them." Revali personally didn't believe in such things, but he heard it through the grapevine plenty of times, especially near the end of autumn.

"Yeah… I know. That's what I said to the guy that gave me the mask in the first place." A tear fell before he could stop it, and Revali felt a chill run down his spine at the hero's admission. "But… but that first night, I just kept thinking about everything. About my duty, about Her Highness, about Ganon, about y-…"

About… me? Revali's heart fluttered, and he couldn't fathom why.

"I couldn't… I couldn't handle it anymore. I put it on, turned into- into him, and…"

"…Bumped into me." Revali finished. He remembered that night clearly as well. He never thought a Rito could be so clumsy, crashing into him just as he reached his favorite landing. That could've been the only time they ever interacted, but… "…Why spend your 'break' with me, then?"

Dalex made a choked noise, like he was holding back a sob.

"We both know that I've made my… opinions on your status as the Hero very clear. By all means, you should've wanted to avoid me as much as the princess avoids you. Yet you sought out my company above anyone else's."

"I-I wasn't- I mean, I didn't-" Dalex stammered, rubbing his eyes. "I just thought… I thought that things would be different. If I didn't have that damn sword."

Revali tilted his head. "Different?"

Dalex suddenly glared, the tear streaks somehow making his expression even more intense. "Everything I said to you as… as him. Think about what those things were."

Revali was struck silent as memories rushed to the front of his mind, one after another.

"Revali, that was incredible! How're you able to hit so many bullseyes from so far away?!"

"I never thought your bow would have so much weight to it… you're stronger than you look!"

"You're really lucky you get to see your mom all the time… I can't wait to see mine again."

"You know, I was wondering… You've picked up a lot of blacksmithing know-how from your mom. More than I've ever heard, at least. What made you turn to archery, anyway?"

"Ugh, how can you stand carrots? They're awful! Wha- EWWW! Keep them away from me, you- you featherbrain!"

"I never thought there'd be so many uses for your feathers… You guys are like, masters at repurposing."

"Fly across the Gerudo Desert, huh… I never thought about what lay beyond all that sand… but if your dad came from somewhere out there, then yeah, there's gotta be something! It's not like Hyrule is the only place with life in it, after all!"

"Maybe the other Champions were blessed. That's all well and good, but… I have to agree with you, nothing can beat hard work to get where you need to be. And your Gale is… It's more than just a skill. It's literally the start of a whole new legacy for all the Rito."

And one memory in particular stood out amongst all the others:

"To be honest, Revali… I can't remember the last time I talked to someone about anything other than my-… my journey. How important it is, how 'honorable' and 'noble' it is… I'm sick of hearing that. I just want to talk about literally anything else, and… I can, with you. It… It's nice, is what I'm saying."

Dalex, the Legendary Hero, the Hylian Champion, the mightiest knight in all of Hyrule… had said those words right to Revali's face.

"Would you have believed me if I said them the way I am now?" At Revali's silence, Dalex chuckled. "Thought so… You know, hearing you actually have a problem with me being the Hero… it was refreshing, in a way."

"Wh-Refreshing?" Revali was taken aback, "I fail to see how-"

"You didn't like that I had the sword, yeah. But… you weren't a complete ass about it. You at least offered to let me prove myself to you a few times instead of moaning and groaning nonstop." Like that time he suggested they battle on Medoh's back, followed by him bailing from Dalex's lack of a response. Not one of Revali's better moments…

"And… I've seen the way you act when, uh, 'off duty,' I guess. 'Specially around kids. It's sweet."

Revali's feathers ruffled at the compliment. It was true, he'd been known to dote on the children back in Rito Village; offering archery lessons, cooking large meals to feed them in groups, telling stories of his battles against the more powerful monsters, and so on. He'd caught Dalex listening in only once, but that was apparently enough.

"But… whenever you spoke to me, it always came back to my title. That stupid sword. And I just…" Dalex sighed, rubbing his arm. "I thought that… maybe if I didn't have it, then I'd actually get to talk to you. I'd been wanting to, anyway…"

"Have you now…?" Something about that statement made Revali's heart beat just a little faster.

"And I did. And it was… probably some of, if not the best nights I've ever had in my life. I could finally be… me. I actually remembered how to do that, even after a decade of being the Hero." Dalex's smile fell as soon as it came. "But as time went by, and I got to know you more, I…"

"…You what?"

"I started to realize it- it still wasn't-" Dalex pinched his brow, struggling to find his words. "It still wasn't me. Not in your eyes. Could I really count as your friend when you didn't even know who I really was?" He stopped to sniffle before continuing, "That's… that's why I…"

"…You took off the mask in front of me." Revali finished for him.

Dalex nodded, crossing his arms. "You… you deserve a real friend. Someone that can actually speak to you without needing to hide behind a mask the whole time. When I realized what I was doing, I… I had to stop it. I was being selfish and I was hurting you and…" He stopped to take a breath, then raised his eyes to meet Revali's. "And I'm so sorry."

Had… Had Dalex ever apologized for this before? Revali couldn't remember; most of that night became a blur due to his heartbreak and rage. He wouldn't be surprised if his outburst prevented Dalex from doing just that.

Hearing it now, though… it felt real. Revali wanted it to be real, so badly.

"You… you don't have to worry about me using it anymore. The mask, I mean. I threw it away." Dalex briefly looked away to growl under his breath, "Whoever finds it can have it, for all I care…"

Now the former, Revali remembered hearing Dalex say, before Revali silenced him with a gale as he fled. And thanks to a little (er, big) birdy, Revali had undeniable proof that Dalex had completely abandoned the mask. It took a fair bit of strength to not admit that he knew already, and that said mask was now hidden away in his own home.

As for what Revali could say… was there anything? Dalex had said his piece, so…

Listen to his defense. Once all has been said, then you may pass your judgement.

"…I would say that I knew what to think about all of this… but frankly, I don't." He ran a wing through his crest, "If I hadn't blown up at you when I did, then maybe you would've said all this already. Maybe we'd already know where to go from here. Or have an idea, at least…"

Dalex fell silent once more, ears twitching at his words.

I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but… Medoh was right. I was too prepared. Now I don't know what to do.

"I… don't know if I forgive you yet. Or even at all." He didn't see Dalex wince. He didn't. "But… It doesn't seem like you're lying, at least."

He did see the stunned look cross Dalex's face. Once again, it looked as though he was expecting Revali to say something else. An accusation, perhaps? A blatant disregard of his reasons behind everything that's happened between them?

When Revali thought about it, Dalex hadn't so much as tried to beg or fish for forgiveness in the entire conversation… Was he preparing for the worst too? If he was, then that would mean he…

The possibility is there. You know this. That he truly felt remorse for hurting you so.

Revali rubbed his temples as he felt a headache come on. The constant mental back-and-forths haven't been doing him any favors these past few weeks. He was so tired…

"Are… are you alright?" Revali heard the concern in Dalex's voice, and waved it off with a wing.

"I'm fine." Without giving Dalex a chance to reply, he started to stand. "…We should head back."

It was an abrupt end, Revali knew this. And he was pretty sure that they'd have to talk about this a bit more before Revali could make a decision. But again, he was tired. This whole conversation was probably the most exhausting thing he'd experienced in weeks, and all he'd mostly done was sit and listen. At this point, he just wanted to curl up in a cheap stable bed and sleep.

He was so tired, in fact, that he didn't even think twice about offering his wing to Dalex, who took it without uttering another word. Nothing was said when he gave that smaller hand a mild squeeze, and nothing was said when he held onto it, only letting go once they exited Faron Woods.

It wasn't the wing Revali held at Warbler's Nest all those nights ago. Not even close.

But… it still felt the same.

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beskarandblasters · 10 months

Text

Wherever You Stray, I Follow

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Inspired by Willow by Taylor Swift

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: You’re the daughter of a senator on Coruscant and you’ve been set up in an arranged marriage to another senator’s son for both your father and his father’s political gain. Your father hires Din Djarin to transport you to Naboo where you’re supposed to meet your fiancé’s family and prepare for the wedding. On the trip to Naboo you form a relationship together in secret but after you arrive on Naboo he’s hired to be your bodyguard up until the wedding. But will you actually go though with the wedding? That’s for you and Din to decide.

Word count: 10k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no Grogu, Din still has the Razor Crest, arranged marriage, your family sucks, your fiancé is a dick, infidelity, fingering, vaginal sex, cockwarming, creampie, semi public sex? (idk they do it on a balcony), canon typical violence, helmetless Din, use of Mando'a words/phrases (translations included immediately after), also a "made up" Mando'a phrase (alor'ika = princess, I took alor which is ruler and added the suffix, ika), pretty sure the travel times used are not accurate but fuck it we ball LMAO, no use of y/n

“I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

And if it was an open-shut case

I never would've known from that look on your face

Lost in your current like a priceless wine”

You gaze down at the sea of speeders beneath you as you stand on your balcony on Coruscant. The industrialized planet is a far cry from your home, Savareen. You never thought in your wildest dreams you would miss the deserts and the oceans of your home planet but now that you moved to Coruscant you’re missing it now more than ever. Your father decided he wanted a career in politics so he moved your family to Coruscant. You definitely could live on your own back home but your father wanted everyone together for his “political image” or whatever.

You hear your father calling your name behind you so you look over your shoulder to find him and an unknown man standing across the room.

“I want to introduce you to Senator Lokato,” he says.

You turn to walk over to them, and notice that Senator Lokato is wearing the typical senator “uniform”; dark colored robes that go all the way down to the floor. Senator Lokato’s are a dark gray and your father’s are navy blue. It’s weird seeing your father trying to fit in with these types of people.

“Hello. Nice to meet you,” you say awkwardly, not really understanding what your business was with him.

“I know you’ve been struggling to make friends and meet others your age here so we thought you’d like to meet his son.”

“...Okay,” you say hesitantly, following them down the hallway and into your parent’s living room.

There’s a man sitting on the couch who you can only assume is Senator Lokato’s son. He’s about your age, maybe a few years older. He rises when he sees you and walks to meet you in the middle of the room.

“I’m Valsi. Pleased to meet a lovely lady like yourself,” he says, giving you a suggestive smirk.

Maybe you would be flattered by his forward nature if he weren’t so… plain looking. He’s a little taller than you, a tad muscular and just so… plain. He’s got the kind of eyes that are just soulless and he bares a striking resemblance to his father.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you offer politely.

“Well, we’ll let you two get to know each other,” Senator Lokato says, clapping his hands together.

“Yes, have fun you two!” your father says a bit too cheerily before leaving with Lokato.

“Please, sit,” Valsi says… in your own home.

You sit on the couch, keeping your body language tight and uninviting. The more you see of this guy the more you realize you’re not gonna want anything to do with him.

“I’m not sure what your father has told you but I have family on Naboo. We could raise the children there, of course. We can bring them to visit Savareen, too. But… a more civilized place like Naboo is better. And Coruscant is too busy for small children. Maybe we could relocate here when they’re older? But-”

“Excuse me?” you ask. You were zoning out at the sound of his monotone voice until he started mentioning children.

“Well of course we’re going to have children?” he says, in a tone that makes it sound like you’re the stupid one.

“Of course we’re going to have children? We don’t know each other. I literally just met you today,” you snap back.

“Oh, I see. Your father didn’t tell you. We’re getting married.”

“You’re funny if you think I’m getting married to you,” you laugh.

“You can laugh all you want but our fathers already made a deal. We get married in a month,” he says, folding his arms.

The realization is settling in. Your father was trying to get you to “make friends” alright. He’s trying to sell you off to some man for his own political game. You should’ve seen this coming. Ever since your father has become a member of the Senate he’s been obsessed with perfecting his image and gaining more public approval.

“You might be okay being a puppet for your father but I’m certainly not,” you snap, getting up and storming over to the door.

As you enter the hallway you see your father and Lokato who were clearly listening in on your interaction. You scoff at them both and stomp off your bedroom.

“She’ll come around,” you hear your father say softly before closing the sliding door behind you.

You fall into your bed and start crying; the weight of everything hitting you all at once. Between being forced to leave your home planet, moving to a strange new place and now all of a sudden being shoved into an arranged marriage you’re feeling completely hopeless.

Eventually you drift off to sleep, your own tears aiding you in the process. Your dreams are filled with your home planet and of travels all on your own, with no one forcing you to go anywhere or do anything. It almost feels too real because when you wake up you forget the horrors of reality for a moment.

You get changed into a silky pale blue dress before returning to the living room. That was another thing about your father’s new found political life; your wardrobe was completely different. Gone were the days of flowy pants, boots and earth tones. Now your wardrobe consists of extravagant gowns, robes and jewelry. It’s all very beautiful and maybe just maybe you could enjoy your new look if it wasn’t being forced upon you.

You find your father sitting on the couch, reading something on his holo-pad. When he notices your presence he looks up and shoots you a faux sympathetic glance. You sit on the opposite end of the couch silently, not even knowing what to say to the man who’s trying to strip you of your bodily autonomy.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I just think this is what’s best for us. The Lokatos are very well off. You’ll be set for life,” he says, setting the holo-pad down on the table in front of him.

“You’re forcing me to marry someone I don’t know… let alone even love! I really don’t care how rich they are,” you say, folding your arms.

“It’s for the best. Especially if you want to maintain this new lifestyle that you’ve become accustomed to.”

“You mean the one that you forced upon us? If I were up to me I would be home right now,” you fight back.

He sighs, not looking to listen to any more of your protests.

“Look, Valsi left today to go visit his family on Naboo. After he gets some business sorted there you’re going to meet him. You’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ve hired someone to take you there, some Mandalorian. You leave tomorrow.”

You scoff and get up, retreating to your room where you go to bed again, wallowing in your own sadness until you decide to pack for the next day. Your parents call you for dinner but you decline, not wanting to see them but also too upset to eat. You go to bed that night and have a dream that this Mandalorian takes you anywhere else but Naboo. It’s a shame really. You’ve heard how beautiful Naboo is and under any other circumstances you’d be jumping at the chance to go. But when you’re going under the pretense of meeting your arranged husband and his family, you can think of a million other places you’d rather be.

You wake up the next morning and get ready for your journey, the nerves brewing in your stomach. You meet your father in the living room again without saying a word to him. He sends for a servant to collect your bag before leading you to the docking bay. You don’t say a word to him the whole way there. He makes attempts at small talk, telling you how much you’re going to love Naboo and how you’re going to have such a good time. But you can’t be bothered to entertain him.

You reach the docking bay and in front of you is a large ship; a Razor Crest your father tells you. The exit ramp opens and that’s when you see him walking towards you; a Mandalorian in full beskar, silver and shiny. He has a sort of confidence about him when he walks that commands the attention of anyone nearby.

“Mando!” your father says happily as he stops in front of the both of you, “Thanks for agreeing to do this.”

“Half the credits, the other half after the job is done, right?” he says, making no time for pleasantries. His modulated voice scratches an itch in your brain you didn’t know was there.

“O-of course,” your father stutters, pulling out a small bag from his robes.

The Mandalorian takes it and nods with a slight tip of his helmet.

“Let’s go,” he says curtly, turning and walking back towards the Razor Crest.

He seems… unpleasant. And you’re going to have to spend several days with him alone holed up in this ship. Great.

Your father goes for a hug but you rebuff him, walking to the ship without looking back. The servant follows with your bags and drops them off before leaving. The Mandalorian closes the exit ramp and retreats to the cockpit without saying a word. You follow him and sit in the passenger seat. You watch him prepare the ship for takeoff while he doesn’t say a single word to you. So offer some conversation.

“So… Do you always do stuff like this?” you ask.

“Stuff like what?” he replies, not looking at you.

“Transporting people around.”

“No. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Really? How’d you get roped into this?”

“Credits,” he says plainly.

“Hope that it was worth it…” you grumble under your breath.

He turns his seat around and the T-shaped visor practically burns a hole into you. You can’t see his face but you can feel his stone cold gaze and it sends shivers through you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re taken aback. Is he actually offended by your snide little comment?

“You’re bringing me to Naboo to meet my soon-to-be husband. The whole thing is a forced, arranged marriage. Did you know that?” you say defensively, folding your arms across your chest.

“No, I don’t ask questions like that. All I need to know is that I’m bringing a princess to Naboo and how much I’ll be paid.”

“I’m not a princess,” you scoff.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he says, turning to face the control panel again.

You let out an exasperated sigh and he finishes preparing the ship for takeoff. He straps himself in and asks if you’re strapped in, too.

“You buckled up, princess?”

“Yup.”

He takes off and you look at Coruscant below as you leave, pretending you’re going anywhere you want and not with some grumpy Mandalorian.

Once you’ve left the atmosphere you ask, “So how long is it going to be until we get to Naboo?”

“About seven standard days,” he says nonchalantly.

Great. Seven days of being holed up in this cramped ship with him.

He makes the jump to lightspeed and you’re enveloped in a cool blue glow.

“You can unbuckle now. I’ve set an auto pilot course for Naboo. We shouldn’t need to stop for fuel if all goes well.”

Pretty much as soon as he said the word “unbuckle” you were leaving the cockpit to go stretch your legs. You only half listened to the rest of what he’s saying. To be honest, you don’t really care for him.

You pace up and down the storage area of the Crest for what feels like forever, wondering what kinds of weapons and gadgets he has stowed away in there. You sit on some crates and mess around on your holo-pad for a while. It’s really fucking boring and Mando isn’t one for small talk.

He keeps to himself mostly, periodically checking in on you as you keep yourself entertained. He doesn’t really have an opinion on you just yet. He assumes you think he doesn’t like you but that’s just how he is with everyone; a little standoffish. He watches you as you pace the storage area and tries to ignore the way your hips sway when you walk; or the way your brows furrow when you read something on your holo-pad. You’re just so… cute to him, in your pretty dress that hugs your figure perfectly. In all honesty, he feels bad for you, too. Once he learned you were set to be in an arranged marriage his apathy towards you started shifting into something else.

Eventually it’s the end of the first day cycle and he realizes you should probably get to bed soon. He sits beside you on a crate you’re reading your holo-pad on and says gently, “You need to sleep.”

He half expected a snarky response or some form of protest from you but you just yawn and let out a soft, “Okay.”

He leads you to the cot across the room in a little cubby.

“It’s a little small but it should be alright for you,” he says.

“What about you? Where are you going to sleep?” you ask.

His chest gets tight over your concern for him.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But where are you going to sleep?” you ask, not letting it go.

“...The floor? Or maybe in one of the seats in the cockpit,” he says reluctantly.

“That’s ridiculous. Just sleep in here with me.”

His mind is spinning at the thought of sleeping on the cot with you. But he also wants to respect your personal space. You’re engaged to someone else whether it’s arranged or not.

As if you could read his mind you say, “We’re both adults here. I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t comfortable with it.”

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath.

You excuse yourself to the refresher to change into your pajamas; a soft oversized shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. He removes his armor and weapons in the meantime, leaving only his flight suit and his helmet on. You crawl into the cot with him and it’s a tight squeeze. You figure out the most comfortable position is him spooning you, his large arm draped over your side. You get a glimpse of his gloveless hand and make a mental note of his skin tone; the only indication you have of what he looks like underneath all the beskar. It’s large and calloused, most likely from years of working with his hands.

“So… Do you ever take the helmet off?” you ask.

“Only when I’m alone.”

“So if I wasn’t here right now, you could take it off,” you say, feeling guilty.

He doesn’t say anything. If he answers with a yes you’re just going to feel bad. And it isn’t your fault. He chose to follow the creed.

“I should sleep somewhere else. Just so you can take that thing off and have a chance to really breathe,” you say, starting to get up.

His arm around you tightens. He doesn’t want you to leave. It’s nice having someone else to lay with; to sleep with, regardless of the fact you’re engaged to someone else.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says softly, “I’m used to it.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes, mesh’la. Go to sleep.”

Mesh’la? What does that mean? You feel sleep overtaking you so you decide to ask in the morning. You drift off to sleep with the sounds of his modulated breathing soothing you.

He wakes up before you and admires how peaceful you look, eyes closed and lashes fanned out against your face. He could stay there for a while, taking in all of your beauty but he needs to get up and check on the autopilot. He gets out of the cot; careful to not disturb you. He replaces his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. He checks to make sure the Crest is still on course and tries to ignore the excitement brewing in his stomach.

You wake up in the morning and he’s gone. You’re shocked for a moment but then you remember he’s probably just in the cockpit. You get up and stretch before going to meet him in the cockpit. The blue light whizzing by around you makes it feel like it’s not morning; like no time has passed. You sit in one of the passenger seats, not saying a word to him.

“How did you sleep?” he asks softly.

“Good… How did you sleep?”

“Good,” he says awkwardly.

“Okay well… I think I’m gonna use the refresher?” you say, more so in an asking tone.

“Go right ahead,” he says, turning his seat to face you.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in his helmet and notice your bedhead. Feeling embarrassed you retreat to the refresher and spend a while in there, letting the warm water soothe you. You change into a new dress when you’re done, this one lower cut than the one from yesterday. You step out of the refresher and back into the storage area, almost bumping right into him.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize.

But he doesn’t say a word, admiring your beauty once again; fresh faced with wet hair… and of course the hint of cleavage peeking out from your dress.

Why isn’t he saying anything? you wonder, Did I do something to upset him?

“Y-you should eat,” he says, tripping on his words ever so slightly.

“Okay…You should, too.”

“Okay,” he says, turning to grab some rations for both of you.

“We just have to eat separately,” he says.

“Of course! Where do you want me?”

Against me, under me, he thinks to himself.

“You stay out here. I’ll go on the cot and shut the door,” he says.

You nod and he hands you your ration before going into the cubby and closing the door. You sit on the floor and lean back against it, wanting to feel close to him for some strange reason… And then you realize your own apathy towards him is melting away and changing into something else, too. But you can’t put your finger on what.

He sits on his cot and removes his helmet. You can hear the hiss of the modulator through the door and your mind races with ideas of what he looks like.

“I’m against the door… I just wanted it to feel like we were eating together.”

His heart flutters. “That’s okay, mesh’la,” he says, using the nickname subconsciously.

“No more princess, huh?” you tease, but also listen carefully to his helmetless, unmodulated voice.

He almost chokes on his food at your boldness. “Well uh, you said you weren’t a princess…”

“That’s right. I’m not. But what does mesh’la mean?”

He has two options. He could tell you the truth… or he could lie. What are the chances of you meeting another Mandalorian anyway? But he doesn’t want to lie to you of all people. You deserve someone who’s honest and good to you.

“It’s… Mando’a for beautiful,” he says, wincing at your response. At least, you can’t see how flustered he’s getting.

“Oh… thank you, Mando,” you respond. That’s the first time you’ve used any sort of nickname to address him. And he takes note of that.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

“No! Not at all. You’re very sweet.”

He relaxes a bit and you two talk while you eat, getting to know each other a bit more. You could sit and listen to his unmodulated voice tell you stories for hours. But eventually you’re both done eating and you hear him get up. You stand up, too and hear the hiss of the modulator once again. He opens the door and you both stare at each other for a moment, both surprised at your connection and concern for one another. He goes back up to the cockpit and sits in the pilot seat. You grab your holo-pad and follow him, sitting in one of the passenger seats in silence. Except this time, it’s a comfortable silence. And that was the start of Mando’s mysterious, protective nature breaking down the walls you put up around you.

You fall into a routine during the rest of your traveling days. You sit in the cockpit together in comfortable silence. You sleep pressed up against each other. Your touch and gaze begin to linger. You grow more and more comfortable with each other; so comfortable that you almost forget you’re on your way to meet your fiancé and his family.

But at night when you’re sleeping in Mando’s arms you don’t have a care in the world. You’ve grown so accustomed to sleeping with him that you know you’ll miss this when it’s over. It’s the same position every night, your back flush against his chest and his arm around your waist. And also… his hard length pressed against your butt and lower back. He wasn’t hard the first night most likely because he was so nervous. But as you both grew more comfortable you noticed the hardness more and more. You’ve never said anything about it. You didn’t want to embarrass him.

But now it's your last night together. You’ll arrive on Naboo in the morning and your time together will be over. And you’ve come to the conclusion that you want Mando. Even if you won’t have him again after tonight. So when his cock goes hard against your back you push your butt into him, taking him by surprise.

“...What are you doing, mesh’la?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” you ask suggestively.

“But you’re engaged, mesh’la,” he says quietly, defeated even.

“But I don’t want him, Mando. I don’t even know him. I was forced into this blindly. And if I have to go be with him tomorrow… I want one last good time; one last good night with you.”

“Okay, mesh’la. Anything for you.”

And with his approval you’re pushing your butt back into him as his bare hand grabs your hip. He pulls into you, cock pressing hard against you as you ache for more touch. You rest your back on the cot and he takes the opportunity to hover over you. His hand trails up your thigh and hooks onto the waistband on your shorts. He pulls them off in one swift motion before spreading your thighs apart. His large fingers tease your entrance which was getting wetter by the second. He swept his fingers up your core, marveling how ready you were for him. He brings his thumb to your clit before moving the helmet against your face so could whisper in your ear.

“I bet you wanted this every night, didn’t you mesh’la?”

You whimper in response, the featherlight touch of his fingers driving you insane.

“Please. I need more.”

“What’s that?” he teases, “Are you begging for me, cyar’ika?”

You’re too horny and frustrated to retain any sort of pride now so you nod, begging even more.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, Mando, I need more.”

He plunges his index finger into you without warning, working your walls as your moans fill the small space.

“Look at you, cyar’ika. Already a mess just from one finger,” he purrs.

“What does that one mean? you ask.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear just as he slips in another finger eliciting a loud moan from you.

He curls them upwards and brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it as waves of pleasure shoot through your body. You feel your muscles tense up in anticipation of relief and you know you’re close to finishing.

“I’m close, Mando,” you whine.

“Din,” he says.

“Hmm?” you ask, too far gone to form a complete question.

“My name is Din, Din Djarin. Call me by my name when you cum, cyar’ika.”

All you can do is whimper in response. But that isn’t good enough for him. He stops swirling his thumb around your clit and slows his fingers inside of you.

“What was that, cyar’ika?” he teases, moving his fingers painstakingly slow.

“Y-yes, Din,” you say in between labored breaths.

“Good girl,” he praises before picking up the pace again.

Your hands grip the edges of the cot for purchase as you roll your hips against him, desperate for his complete touch. He rests on the back of his heels and brings his hand to your abdomen, right above where his fingers are inside you and where your g-spot is. He pushes his fingers against it inside you and presses down on your abdomen ever so gently, pleasuring your g-spot internally and externally. Between the three different spots of stimulation you’re at the brink of orgasm again. And this time he lets you have it, making a mess beneath you on the cot and soaking his hand down to his wrist.

“Din, I’m coming,” you moan, arching your back up against him.

“That’s right, cyar’ika. Cum on my fingers. Just like that,” he says, bringing his helmet by your ear once more.

Your cunt convulses around his fingers in rhythmic waves before eventually stopping. He watches you writhe in pleasure and feels a sense of pride knowing he got you to cum hard like that. He waits until you’re finished before pulling them out of you; you whine at the sudden absence.

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. I’m gonna take care of you,” he says before leaning back and pulling his cock out of his flight suit.

He slicks his cock with your release and you spread your legs wider to accommodate how broad he is. He grabs your hand as he pushes into you. You gasp at his length, filling you completely. He buries his cock into you down to the hilt and showers you with praise.

“You take my cock so good, cyar’ika,” he says as he stretches your walls.

His other hand moves to your tit, thumbing around your nipple and worrying into a stiff peak. It pulls a deep moan from prompting him to explore your body and learn just what makes you melt. His eyes are locked with yours, even though you can’t see his. He tears away his gaze for a moment to look down at your cunt and the way it grips his cock moving in and out of you. He curses at the sight, mesmerized by it before fucking you relentlessly. You feel your core tense up again before washing you over with the biggest wave of relief. You know he’s at the edge, too. He goes to pull out but you don’t want him to, not ready for the fullness you’re feeling to go away.

“I have an implant,” you say quickly.

And with that he drives his hips into you one last time before releasing his load into you, coating your insides. He cums with a loud groan, spilling out of the helmet. He lays down, keeping you inside him and pulls you against his chest.

“You’re amazing, cyar’ika,” he purrs, hand trailing up and down your figure.

You sigh happily in response. He goes to pull out but you stop him, telling him you want to fall asleep like this. He relaxes and settles against you, wrapping your arm around your waist.

“Thank you for that, Din,” you whisper.

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.” he whispers back as sleep overtakes you both.

You wake up to the sensation of his cock hardening inside you. You let out an involuntary moan and move your ass against him. He grinds back into you before waking up fully, hand gripping your waist tightly. You move back and forth with each other in a perfect rhythm, your ass colliding with his groin, plunging his cock into you as deep as it can go. He reaches forward and parts your legs slightly so he can rub your clit. You moan and lean back against his strong chest while he fucks you; the dual sensation taking you to the edge quickly. You cum simultaneously, pulling every last drop out of him as your cunt flutters around his cock. You’re feeling fuller than ever, between his length and having taken two of his loads. You’re going to miss this feeling so much. You’ve only had sex twice now and you’re already missing the feeling of him inside you.

“You’re so dirty, cyar’ika,” he muses, hands roaming your body again, “Going to another man, full of my cum.”

“And wishing it was you,” you whine.

“I know,” he whispers, “At least I got to experience this with you.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, the realization of today settling in.

“I guess I should go get ready,” you sigh.

He doesn’t say anything but you can feel him exhale behind you. You lift yourself up out of the cot and strip your pajamas. He sits up on the cot and admires your naked form in front of him, fearing it’s the last time he’ll ever see it. He wishes he could just rip off the helmet and take an unobstructed mental image but he knows he can’t. You go get dressed for the day, feeling so angry and defeated about your situation that you don’t bother to shower and wash him off of you. If you’re going to walk into an arranged marriage you’re going to do it encapsulated in the scent of your lover and filled with his cum.

Din reattaches his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. You gather your things and meet him there, sitting in the passenger seat silently. The gloom of the situation permeated the space and both of you were feeling it. This time the silence is sad and lonely instead of comfortable like it had been for the past several days.

Naboo comes into view and you gasp at the lush planet. Why does this beautiful place have to hold such terrible implications? Din watches the way your face lights up as you admire the scenery. He received coordinates where to land prior to leaving and heads there. One the Crest is stationary and he gets up to help you with his bags, pulling you into one final hug before lowering the exit ramp.

“Take care, ner alor’ika.”

“Hmm, what does that one mean?” you ask against his chest plate.

“My princess,” he says softly, moving his hand to the small of your back.

He pulls away and lowers the exit ramp. You see the unfortunately familiar face of Valsi and an older lady who can only assume is his mother. You walk down the exit ramp with Din as he carries your bags.

Valsi’s mom greets you with a cheery hello. She starts rambling on about how excited is to show you around. Din sets your bags down on the ground and Valsi calls for a servant to collect them before taking your arm. They lead you away and you look over your shoulder to get one final glimpse at him before he turns and walks to the crest, the exit ramp closing behind him. A pit forms in your stomach as you hear his engines power up.

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in

As if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or a champion ring

And there was one prize I'd cheat to win

Valsi’s grip on your arm is tight and constricting as his mother shows you around. It really is a beautiful place; high vaulted ceilings decorated with elaborate paintings supported by strong columns. But you can’t admire the place without Valsi making a snide comment.

“You won’t find places like this on Savareen,” he says, a dark smirk painting his face.

“Valsi! Don’t be rude!” his mother scolds. At least she’s more polite than him.

“Well, it’s true…” he says under his breath.

His mother shakes her head and rolls her eyes before leading you outside. The garden is vibrant, green and full of life. Species of flowers you’ve never seen before lined up in neat rows with various sculptures arranged amongst them. Across the way there’s a shining, bright blue lake and in the distance mountains loom above casting their mystified reflection on the water’s surface. Minus the mountains, the lake reminds you of the oceans on Savareen and your heart aches.

His mother goes to say something but she’s cut off by a blinding silver reflection walking across the garden. Your stomach lurches at the sight; Din Djarin walking towards you in a field of flowers. A giddy smile breaks out onto your face and you don’t care about Valsi or his mother’s reaction.

“You came back,” you say as he reaches you, trying to mask your excitement.

“I’ve been hired by your father to look after you whenever Valsi is busy… up until the wedding,” he says.

“That’s ridiculous. We have plenty of guards here that can look after her,” Valsi retorts, narrowing his eyes.

“Her father’s orders,” Din shrugs.

“Ugh, whatever.”

A servant comes out to the garden and motions for Valsi to come over to him.

“I have meetings I need to attend. See you for dinner tonight,” he says, squeezing your hand.

You pull back in disgust and he leaves to follow the servant inside.

“Feel free to explore on your own,” his mother says, “When you’re ready to be shown to your room, ask a servant and one of them will show you.”

“Thank you,” you smile. His mother really does seem like a nice woman. It’s a shame her son turned out the way he did.

It’s just you and Din alone in the garden, standing in front of each other. You start walking towards the water and he follows you, admiring how the sun hits your face and how your hair catches the wind. You’re relieved to be with him again even if it’s only for a short time. You stop at the railing and rest your hands on it, leaning forward and looking at the rolling waves of the lake. The breeze blows your hair back and fills you senses with the scent of the flora around you. You look over at Din and wonder what it’s like for him under there. Does he ever miss the feeling of the sun on his face or the wind in his hair? Does he even have hair? You have no idea what he looks like. Can he smell things underneath the helmet?

“What are you thinking about, mesh’la?”

“What you look like… and if you can smell things through the helmet.”

His gloved hand on the railing slides towards yours, resting it on top. “Of course, I can smell, cyar’ika. I would fall asleep with you pressed up against me, smelling your sweet scent every night.”

Maker, you want him so bad right now. You inch closer towards him, barely keeping any space between you two.

“Cyar’ika…” he says nervously, “What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, resting your head against his chest plate, facing the water. You could stay like this forever, in his arms and surrounded by nature.

But eventually you start to think that people might worry if you’re gone for a long time with him so you retreat back inside. You ask a servant to show you to your room. He leads you down a long hallway and stops at one of the doors. The room is beautiful, just like the rest of the mansion. You have a balcony that looks right out to the lake. Your bags are beside your bed and you turn to ask the servant about Din.

“What about him?”

“Uh, Master Valsi never told me of any arrangements for him.”

“Well he is my bodyguard. I would like him to have a room not too far from me.”

“Very well, miss. I’ll get started on that. Dinner is in about an hour.”

“Thank you,” you smile. He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Din alone. He closes the gap between you and snakes his arm around to the small of your back.

“Do you know how badly I want to take you right here, cyar’ika?” he whispers.

“I mean… we have an hour,” you say suggestively.

That’s all the clearance he needs. He pushes you down on the bed gently and pulls up the skirt of your dress to reveal no underwear.

“No underwear, cyar’ika? Iba’ etyc alor’ika.” What a dirty little princess.

You moan at his words and spread your legs open for him, aching for his touch. He wastes no time bringing his fingers to your entrance and stroking it lightly, in awe of how wet you are already.

“How bad do you want it, cyar’ika?”

“So bad, Din. Please I can’t wait any longer,” you whine.

He chuckles at your neediness and slides a finger in, curling it upwards against your walls. Barely giving you time to adjust, he pushes another in, anxious to get you cumming around his fingers. He brings his thumb to your clit and in no time he pulls an orgasm from you. You arch your hips up against him as your cunt convulses around him. He pulls his fingers from you after you’ve ridden out your high and releases his cock that was pitching a tent in his flight suit. He slicks his length with your juices and pushes into your cunt immediately, desperate for the warm, familiar feeling again. This is the first time you’ve had him during the day. And the light from the window and balcony across the room bathes him in the warm sunny glow. You’re mesmerized by the sight of him above you, inside you and in his full armor. It’s new for him, too. Not only are you also bathed in the afternoon light but you’re also in a bigger bed this time. And it allows you to sprawl out so beautifully underneath him. He leans down, effectively folding you in half and drives his hips into you harder. With this new angle you’re at the brink of orgasm and after one last forceful thrust you’re coming undone around him. Your muscles contract and release in a symphony, cunt fluttering around his cock pulling his own orgasm from him. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he slows his pace before pulling out of you carefully. He lays down on the bed and pulls you into him, the cold beskar a nice contrast to your warm, sweaty face. After a while of catching your breath he says, “You should probably go get ready for dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I know,” you sigh.

He rises and puts his cock away, grabbing your hand and helping you up from the plush bed. You undress and get ready to step in the refresher, making it even harder for you to leave him.

“I’m going to go retrieve some stuff from the Crest, cyar’ika,” he sighs.

“Okay,” you say softly, “See you after dinner.”

He leaves and closes the door behind him. You get in the refresher and clean yourself up, already missing him. You change into one of the dresses you packed, off the shoulder and a silky blue color before a servant comes to pick you up for dinner. He leads you to a large dining room, again with large vaulted ceilings. The table is so big and you’re sitting so far apart it’s barely like eating together. You’re sitting across from Valsi and his mother is at one end of the table.

“You’ll have to forgive Valsi’s father. He got caught up with some business on Coruscant but he’ll be here soon,” she says.

You nod and eat together in silence before asking, “What about-”

But Valsi cuts you off, “The Mandalorian? The servants will bring him his own food to his room.”

You think about Din eating alone in his room and feel sad for him, wanting nothing more than to sit against the door and talk with him while you share a meal together. Valsi raises his eyebrow at your concern for him but drops it, going back to eating his food in silence. Eventually the three of you are finished and you excuse yourself to your room.

“Thank you so much for the tour and thank you for having me in your home,” you say to his mom, looking past Valsi.

“Of course, dear. Have a good night.”

And with that you rise from your chair and walk back to your room, anxious to see Din again. You spot a servant in the entryway of the house and ask, “Where is the Mandalorian’s room?” careful not to use his name.

“The same hallway as you, miss. But all the way at the end.”

You tell him thanks and start walking a little faster, climbing up the staircase and heading towards the hallway. You reach the end and knock on his door, but you get no response. You wait a little before knocking again… but nothing. Maybe he’s already asleep? Maybe he’s still in the Crest? You wait for a sign of his presence before retreating to your room, feeling a little defeated. You get ready for bed and change into your pajamas, slipping into the soft bed and wishing Din was here with you.

You drift off to sleep but don’t stay asleep for long because you feel someone on the other side of the room. You hear the clink of metal and the sheets rustle as the person sneaks into bed with you. You turn over to see Din getting into bed with you silently.

“Din! What if someone comes in?”

“I won’t stay the whole night… I just couldn’t sleep without you.”

You feel a sense of relief, for you too have grown used to the feeling of him against you every night.

“Okay,” you say softly, settling yourself in the crook of his neck, “Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

“The more that you say

The less I know

Wherever you stray

I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man”

You wake up early in the morning with Din still at your side. He’s still sleeping so you pull yourself away (even though it’s hard) to watch the sunrise over the mountains and the lake. The sun peeks over the mountaintops cloaking everything in a warm, amber glow. You lean over the railing of the balcony, resting your elbows on it and placing your head in your hands, admiring the stillness of it all. No one telling you where to go, no Valsi dragging you by the arm, no father that doesn’t listen to you. Just you and your lover on a peaceful morning after just spending the night together. You hear Din get up and walk behind you, hooking his hands on your hips. It’s early enough that you don’t care about anyone seeing you together. You’re probably the only ones awake. He slides your sleep shorts down and you stand on your tiptoes for him. You feel the leather of his gloves trail up and your entrance before he pulls away to take them off. You hear the them hit the floor and he replaces his hand, bare this time. His fingers tease your core, playing with you until you whine for him, getting sick of the teasing. You stand on your tiptoes even higher, arching your ass against his groin.

“Right here, cyar’ika? What if someone sees?”

“No one will… and if someone does, oh well,” you sigh.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles before plunging a finger into you.

You moan at the sensation and arch your back more, desperate for more of his touch. He slips another finger in and works your walls, preparing you for his cock. Before you could cum he pulls them out of you, whining at the empty feeling. But before you could complain anymore you feel his cock push into you slowly. You sigh at the feeling of being full once again. He grips your hips and pulls you into him, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your soft and hushed moans surround you as you do your best to keep quiet. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming around him, gripping his cock like a vice. He erupts his load into you, filling you with the familiar feeling of his cum soaking your cunt once again. He pulls out of you and brings you up into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The cold feeling of his chest plate presses against your back, slick with sweat from this morning’s activities. You stay there for a moment, holding each other and watching the rest of the sunrise.

“Ni ka'tayli gar darasuum,” he says softly.

“Hmm?” you ask, still feeling blissed out.

“I love you, alor’ika. And I know that’s unfair to you because you’re engaged to someone else but… I can’t help how I feel.”

You turn and face him, gazing up into his visor and shocked that you just got a confession of love from him. But deep down… you feel the same way. And it hurts so bad because you know in a month you’ll be married to someone else.

“I love you, too, Din,” you say.

He pulls you into him and strokes your back gently. You close your eyes and relax but you’re interrupted when you hear a knock on the door.

“Breakfast is in thirty minutes, miss,” you hear a servant say.

“Kriff, they’re probably going to your room next,” you say, pulling away and looking up at Din.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I can just say I was sleeping before when they bring my food.”

You sigh and nod before going to get ready, changing into another dress. Din hugs you from behind one last time before returning to his room. You leave and walk to the dining room for breakfast to find Valsi and his mom sitting, talking about wedding preparations.

“Well, Valsi,” his mom sighs, “You’re already giving barely enough time to plan this wedding and now you want to move it up?”

“Mhm. As soon as possible. Next week.”

She sighs again, “Fine, let me go alert the help of my son’s rash behavior.”

She gets up and leaves. You look at Valsi with a confused expression on your face.

“We’re moving up the wedding?”

“Mhm,” he says, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He looks down at you with a truly sinister look in his eye.

“One of the servants alerted me of your little activity with the Mandalorian this morning. Can’t say I’m surprised. You two can’t keep your hands off each other.”

Your mouth falls open and a pit forms in your stomach.

He continues speaking and grabs your chin, “So you can mess around with your little Mandalorian play thing for now. But once we’re married, you’re mine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Don’t really want this getting out to the public, do you? Think of your father’s reputation once everyone finds out you’re cheating on another senator’s son with a Mandalorian of all people.”

He releases his grip on your chin. “Alright, go run to him and tell him the news. But later today you’re looking for a wedding dress,” he sighs, returning to his chair.

You push out your chair and leave the dining room at once, tears forming in your eyes. You don’t stop until you reach Din’s room, knocking on the door and calling for him. You hear the hiss of the modulator through the door; he must’ve been eating. He opens the door and you collapse into him, letting the tears flow.

“What happened, cyar’ika?” he says, rubbing your back.

“Someone found out about us and told Valsi… he moved up the wedding to next week,” you sob.

You feel him tense up against you. “I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Take me away from here,” you say softly.

“I… can’t. I’m sorry, cyar’ika. They’re members of the Senate. They’ll have everyone in the galaxy after us.”

You sob even harder, feeling completely hopeless. Not even Din can save you from this. You pull away, just wanting to wallow in your sadness alone.

“I think… I need to be alone.”

“Cyar’ika-”

But you don’t listen. You turn on your heel and walk back to your room, collapsing into bed and letting your tears overtake you. You drift off to sleep but your nap is interrupted by a servant waking you up, telling you it’s time to go pick out your dress.

You leave with the servant and Din, who says nothing to you. They take you into the city and drop you off at a dress shop with enough credits. They wait for you out front while you make your selections. You couldn’t care less about your wedding dress and what it looks like since the marriage is a sham anyway. You pick the first one you see, pay and leave. You meet Din and the servant outside, ready to be done with being in public so you can go back to your room and wallow in sadness. You return back to the mansion and make a beeline for your room, tossing your dress on the dresser before falling into bed. You cry yourself to sleep and miss dinner, waking up the next morning with puffy eyes and an upset stomach.

The next several days feel monotonous, an endless cycle of pretending to care about wedding preparations and crying in your room. Valsi’s father and your family arrive on Naboo a few days before the wedding. Surprisingly, your parents invite the few friends you had on Savareen before you moved away; the best thing to happen to you in days. You’re happy to see them again but you wish it was under different circumstances. Din still hangs around, checking in on you in your room occasionally but you still hold some animosity for him for not being willing to get you out of here.

“Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Now this is an open-shut case

Guess I should've known from the look on your face

Every bait and switch was a work of art”

It’s the night before the wedding and you hear a soft knock on your door. You open to see Din and despite your disdain for him you let him in. He sits on the bed gingerly, seeming nervous. You fold your arms, getting ready to speak first. But surprisingly he does.

“I just wanted to see you one last time.”

You sigh. In all honesty you wanted this, too.

“Me, too,” you admit, sitting down next to him and looking down at your hands.

He reaches over and palms your thigh. You pull off your dress before laying down on the bed and opening your legs for him. The dim glow on the lamps reflects off his beskar as he moves to your underwear, hooking the fabric with his fingers and pulling it off. He brings his finger to your cunt, teasing you lightly, taking his time with you on your final night together. You whine at his delicate touch, aching for more. He pulls off his gloves and feels just how wet you are for him, wanting to hear you beg for him again.

“Please, Din. I need you,” you moan.

On command he slides his finger in, pumping it and out of you slowly. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

It’s been days since you last had him and you missed him so much. You writhe under his touch; just from one finger. He marvels at your body, the plush skin of your thighs and how you arch your back in pleasure. Aching for more he pushes another finger in and brings his thumb to your clit. He rubs small, quick circles around it and curls his fingers, pulling an orgasm from you in no time. You soak his hand down to his wrist as your cunt grips his fingers. He waits until you’re done riding out your high before removing them from you and pulling his cock out of his flight suit. He lubricates his length with your release and aligns himself with your entrance, taking your hand one last time as he enters you slowly. You gasp at the sensation of him filling you up completely, burying his cock into you balls deep and grazing your cervix. His hands move to your waist pulling you into him as he thrusts into you. Your moans fill the bedroom and you couldn’t care less about anyone hearing you right now. He looks down at you in complete adoration as you take him. Din feels his cock tense up and his balls tighten. He’s at the brink of orgasm but he wants you to cum with him. He slams his hips into you harder and faster, sending you over the edge. Your cunt flutters around, pulling every last drop of cum from him as he fucks you through your release. He slows and pulls out of you, laying on the bed next to you. You place yourself in the crook of his neck one last time, inhaling his scent and trying to memorize every last detail about him before you never see him again.

“Yooba solus mesh’la,” he whispers. (You are beautiful)

You sigh against him, never wanting this moment to end. But it’s getting late and you have to wake up early tomorrow. Reluctantly, you pull away from him and he gets up. You lead him to the door and give him one final hug.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, alor’ika,” he whispers against your hair.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

After one final look at each other he leaves, returning to back his room. You put on your pajamas and crawl into bed, silently crying before you fall asleep.

You wake up the next morning with puffy eyes and an ache in your heart. Din’s surely gone by now. What reason would he have to stick around for the wedding?

Servants knock on the door and tell you they’re here to help you get ready. You get up to let them in and they begin to work on your hair and makeup. You put on your dress and look in the mirror. You look beautiful but you don’t feel beautiful; getting ready to marry a man you don’t love while you’re full with the seed of another.

The servants escort you down the stairs and you see your parents. They tell you how beautiful you look and how happy they are for you. You give them a faux smile, trying to fake any ounce of happiness you can muster.

Soon, it’s time for the ceremony and you look out into the garden from the house at all the guests. It has to be a large wedding of course, filled with some of the most important people in the New Republic. You see Valsi at the end of the aisle, looking annoyed like he’s just waiting for this to be over. You walk down the aisle with your father and start to feel sick to your stomach at all of the eyes on you. He hands you off to Valsi who takes your hand, a little too tight. The officiant begins reading the wedding passage and your ears start ringing. You don’t even listen to what he and Valsi are saying, missing your cues to speak several times. You can sense Valsi getting annoyed with you, his brow furrowing at you as you trip up on your vows again. Before you can finish you hear a loud, “Stop!”

You rip your gaze from Valsi to see Din standing in the aisle. He doesn’t even have to continue calling for you. You immediately run towards him and into his arms, ignoring the protests of Valsi and your family and the gasps from the guests. You hear Valsi call for the guards and Din draws his blaster. He places one hand on the small of your back and begins firing once the guards do.

“Run, cyar’ika! To the docking yard!”

You turn and bolt. You hear Valsi shout, “Don’t let her get away!”

Din follows you, shooting his blaster at anyone chasing after you. Between the adrenaline rush of escaping and being fired at you push yourself harder, desperate to get away. You reach the docking yard and run straight to the Razor Crest. Din opens the exit ramp and ushers you inside, firing his blaster a few more times at the guards before following you inside. He closes the ramp behind him and rushes up the ladder and into the pilot seat, preparing the Crest for takeoff hastily. Not before long you’re taking off, staring at the beautiful planet beneath you but feeling so grateful to be leaving. Once you left the atmosphere Din jumps to lightspeed. He turns to you and grabs your hands.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt, cyar’ika?”

You shake your head no, still panting from the chase and replaying it in your head.

“How are we going to do this, Din? They’re going to send everyone after us.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan. We’re going to Nevarro where I have some people who’ve agreed to hide us. But there’s one thing… you have to become my riduur.”

“Your what?”

“My wife; my spouse.”

Without hesitation you tell him yes and he sighs in relief, worried that you didn’t want to escape one marriage by entering a new one. He lets go of your hands and brings them to the edge of his helmet. You immediately throw your hands over your eyes and ask, “What are you doing?!”

“Don’t you want to see the face of the man you’re marrying, cyar’ika?”

“...I can do that?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he chuckles but his heart swells at the idea of you agreeing to marry him without seeing his face; at your devotion to him.

He pulls off the helmet and you hear the hiss of the modulator. You slowly remove your hands from your face and see Din, staring back at you. Brown, curly hair, a little matted from the helmet, a strong, prominent nose, two frown lines perched between his eyebrows, slightly patchy facial hair, and warm brown eyes scanning your face for any sign of approval. He’s beautiful; more beautiful than you ever could’ve imagined.

You crash your lips against his and entangle your hands in his hair, reveling in the feeling of his bare face pressed against yours. You break the kiss and rest your forehead against his.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me, cyar’ika. I’d do anything for you… I love you.”

“I love you, too, Din,” you say, kissing him again.

He rests his hand on the back of your neck, continuing the kiss until he pulls away to check the coordinates on the control panel. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, watching him in the blue glow from hyperspace. He turns his face towards you again and smiles, the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. That’s your man.

End note: Wow ok so that's the longest fic I've ever written!!! I would love to hear your thoughts!!! I was pretty nervous about posting something with this large of a scale contained in one fic so I would love to hear what you think 🥺🖤

Tag list and anyone else I thought might be interested!: @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @bearsbeetsbeskar @jksprincess10 @dinsdjrn @dindjarinslegs @pr0ximamidnight @ghoultalks @beee-haw @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @heareball @littlemisspascal @marisemonteiroo @split-spectrum @hnt-escape @polishedtaylor @toxicanonymity @scmdsblog @babeincolor @undrthelights @tuquoquebrute @pedritosdarling @tieronecrush @pedrostories @tinygarbage @pedropascll @theelishad @kirsteng42 @pedritolover @randomnessfangirl @cannolighost @saradika @readingfan

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hunnythebee · 1 year

Text

Stow Away

Chapter 3: Hiding in Plain Sight

A tense day on Nevarro followed by an evening with a different kind of tension. Is she crossing a line or is he?

Warnings: NSFW, NSFT, mentions of trauma, PTSD, crying, cursing, voyeurism, masturbation

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Masterlist

A/N: So I changed up a few things in this chapter. First, it explores third person omniscient territory, giving us a glimpse into our Mando's thoughts as well as the MC. From here on out I intend to include more glimpses into his mind and emotions as well.

Second, finally diving into some smut. I'm excited for that, but I am also a complete plot-whore so it's definitely going to be plot with porn.

And last but not least, I have officially given the MC a name. I hadn't intended on naming her, but I couldn't help it, it just kind of happened.

Hope you enjoy and I look for to seeing you all next week for chapter 4!

It had been awhile since he left. He took the kid with him so she has the whole ship to herself. She searched around for a good hiding spot, which there really weren’t any. Then she had a brilliant idea. She rooted around in her sack and pulled out her hooded cowl and engineer goggles.

Perfect.

She removed a panel on the outside of the Crest and began to do idle busy work. She tucked her hair completely into the hood and pulled the mask up, with the goggles covering the remaining exposed portion of her face no distinguishable features were left visible. She was deep in the panel when two bounty hunters approached the ship.

“What’re you doing here?” The taller one asked, resting a hand on his blaster.

“Workin',” she kept her words short. “You?”

He laughed gruffly, “Workin’”

The two men boarded the Crest. Her hand was violently shaking, but she hid it by throwing them back into work. The two reappeared a minute later, with the carbonite slabs floating gracefully between them.

“Enjoy your 'work' little lady,” the other said, his voice making her skin crawl.

She swallowed hard and nodded to them. The nod made a small strand of hair peek out from the hood. Her hair was truly her most recognizable feature, it was colored to look like a nabooian sunset, a gradient from purple to orange. The small strand was a blaring siren, begging to be noticed, but lucky for her they’re backs were already turned to her. She quickly tucked the strand back in and shoved her head into the ship compartment. Once their gravelly footsteps receded, she hustled back onto the ship and closed the ramp behind her. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she crumpled to the cold floor, allowing her emotions to pour out. A sob echoed through the quiet hull. She let her tears flow. Mando didn’t remind her of him. But those men, those hunters did. After the tears slowed she took a few deep breaths. Just in time too, because the gangplank lowered, and the Mandalorian boarded the ship. She wiped away at her eyes, hoping her breakdown wasn’t too apparent on her face.

It was.

Mando noticed immediately. Her nose was pink, her eyes were swollen and red. Her cheeks still had faint tear stains on them. He felt a protectiveness come over him. He wanted to ask who had done this to her. He wanted to make them pay. More than anything he wanted to pull her in and make her feel okay. All of this ran through his head as he simply stood there, staring at her.

She can never know. He warned himself.

“H–How’d it go?” She asked, wanting to break the silence.

“The usual.” His voice sounded so distant. Realistically, he was just lost in thought.

“The…usual?” she questioned.

“Got my payment. Got more bounties.”

“Ah. The usual. Got it.” She began to walk towards her cot, but he stopped her in her tracks with his next words.

“I brought food.”

“You… brought food?” She echoed.

He silently held up a satchel, burstin with assorted produce and meats.

“You brought food.” She said once more, feeling a sense of safety nudge at her heart.

He handed her the satchel, and she examined it closely.

“Hmm… I know exactly what to make from this,” and she left for the galley. He remained cemented to the spot. Silently swearing to himself to learn why she had been crying and to never let it happen again.

A few hours later, they were in orbit of Nevarro and she was putting the finishing touches on a roast. They hadn’t spoken since he had given her the food, she had plunged herself into cooking. It was mostly an attempt to recover from the flashbacks of earlier, and it mostly worked.

She shouted out of the galley up at the cockpit, “Food’s ready! Come get it while it’s hot!”

She fixed the three of them plates, and set one plate down at the spot he usually sat in. She and Grogu took the seat that they had been in before, their backs to the seat he would take. Grogu was already finished by the time she heard Mando’s boots hit the floor. She had, unwittingly, waited for him to start eating. She heard his helmet depressurize and she started to eat her meal with him. She nearly choked when she heard a sound from where the Mandalorian sat. He had taken a bite and moaned. He kriffing moaned, and it made her freeze completely. She couldn’t see it, but he had frozen too. Shocked by his own involuntary noise. He knew she had heard it, because he heard her gag on her food. Heat crossed his face and he was never more thankful for the Creed than in that moment.

They ate the remainder of the food in complete silence. He collected the plates when they were finished, and she put the now sleeping child to bed. She was closing the crib when he reappeared. His visor was fixed on her and it sent a shiver through her body.

“I liked it.” He spoke abruptly.

“Hmm?” She asked as she slumped back down into her seat.

“The food. I liked it.”

“I bet.” The tease slipped out before she could process what she was saying. Her whole body tensed.

“What was that?” He asked, taking a step toward her.

She stood and moved backward, “N–nothing. I’m glad you liked it.” The nerves caused her voice to quiver slightly.

He stalked closer. “That’s not what you said.”

She tried to turn, wanting to hide in the 'fresher, but his hand snatched her wrist and pulled her to the wall. Pinning her between him and the cool durasteel. Her heart was thundering in her ears. She should have felt scared but this was different. Less threatening. Probably because he wasn’t holding a blaster to her this time.

“What. Did. You. Say.” He was impossibly close now. He smelled like her blanket.

No… she thought, the blanket smells like him.

She steadied herself for a moment and committed to the teasing.

“I said, ‘I bet.’ As in I bet you liked my cooking. At least it sure sounded like you were enjoying it.”

He hovered for a moment. He was contemplating something. She assumed he was debating whether to smack her for taunting him or not. In reality he was contemplating her. Her body. Her face. How good she would feel when he–

Stop!

His internal voice screamed. And he finally released her, quickly leaving for his bunk. The door hissed shut behind him before she even had a chance to move. She slid to the floor. She was dazed and confused by the bizarre interaction that had just occured between her and the Mandalorian. He didn't seem angry. In fact he had seemed... Excited. A heat settled low in her body, which she elected to ignore.

That's absurd. No way was that what had been happening.

She shook the thoughts out of her head and finally stood up from the floor. She still wanted to shower before bed. The scent of ash and smoke was clinging to her hair and she craved the scent of the soap. She didn't take long, focusing mainly on her hair. She stepped out into the hull and the quiet was deafening. All she could hear was the soft breathing of the child on the other side and... She froze.

She heard a moan. Before tonight she wouldn't have been able to place it but now she knew exactly what she was hearing. She was planted to the spot. Not moving. Not breathing.

Another moan ripped through the quiet.

Her eyes found his door, lit dimly by the light of the refresher. The warmth she had felt earlier returned, this time it was less bearable. Her body moved without her willing it to, and she found herself in front of his door. She wasn't sure what she was doing there. This was a private moment. An intimate moment she wasn't supposed to bear witness to, yet she couldn't keep herself from listening. She chewed her lip for a moment and wrestled with herself internally.

After a moment of contemplation, she pressed her ear to the door. She wanted to hear more. His moans were hot and it had been so long since she had been a part of anyone's pleasure, so she indulged.

The moaning was expected, as were the whispered curses. What she hadn't expected was what he groaned out as his orgasm slammed into him.

"Jomira..."

She stumbled back. That was her name. He was moaning her name. Her heart raced as she rushed back to her cot and quickly climbed under the covers. His voice echoed in her mind.

Impossible. I just imagined it. That's all. Still...

She pressed her thighs together. Her arousal had reached a fever pitch and it was becoming a problem. She reached over and shut the child's crib. Then she slipped her hand below her waist band. She was soaked. Her pussy. Her thighs. Imagined or not, he had an effect on her that she could not deny.

She pressed her middle finger to her swollen bundle, working it in slow, precise circles. She whimpered quietly and covered her mouth quickly with her free hand. She continued working herself closer to release. She could feel it, she was on the precipice. Just as it poured over her the door to the Mandalorian's bunk slid open. She jumped, throwing the hand that had been covering her mouth over her eyes, burying her face in her elbow. The hand that had been working so desperately for her release was trapped between her legs. Her orgasm made her throb against her fingers, the ruined release causing her cunt to clench and spasm.

Neither she nor Mando moved. She took a deep, slow breath, feigning sleep. She prayed to the Maker that he hadn't seen her, that he would just assume she was asleep and leave. After another beat, she heard his boots move. They ascended the ladder, followed by the cockpit door hissing open and then shut.

She let out a sigh and removed her arm from her eyes and her hand from her pants. Her heart rate slowed finally, and her eyes began to feel heavy. Sleep fell heavy onto her body and she knocked out quickly. She dreamt of him that night.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Masterlist

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stargazersmut · 1 year

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A Trade | Pt. 13 Sowing/Reaping (18+)

Joel X Reader (First Person) 18+

Includes: Smut, threats of violence, dubious consent, teasing, verbal humiliation, manhandling, mild violence, weapons, rough sex

Check out my Ao3 profile for more! StargazerSmut

You and Joel head back into the city.

“Hurry up,” I hear Joel yell from outside the motel room door. “Gotta get movin’.’

I splash my face with water, relishing the feeling of being clean while I still can. I want to convince Joel to stay. Just for a day or two. Ignore the snow outside, Lay in bed while he devours me. Take another shower.

His hand on my shoulder interrupts the fantasy, and instead, we’re out the door and starting the hike back to the main road.

It’s dusk now, and the plan is to reach town by nightfall so we can travel while it’s dark. Despite not seeing signs of anyone else since we left the forest, Joel seems uneasy and more cautious than before. He hardly says anything while we travel, and he takes frequent pauses to stop and listen around him.

His uneasiness is catching, and I find myself looking over my shoulder than before, aware of every small sound.

The sun begins to set, but I can see the outline of small buildings off in the distance. We’re almost back. As we crest the top of a hill, the city comes into view, and Joel turns on his heels, putting a hand up to my chest to stop me.

“Do you remember what I told you when I agreed to take you with me?”

“What you say, when you say it…” I roll my eyes a bit as I repeat it, but that doesn’t seem to phase him. He’s serious, and his eyes are wide and laser focused on me.

“No fucking around.”

I resist the urge to take offense. “Yeah.”

He pulls his pack off and reaches inside, pulling out a small hunting knife as well as my pistol from the house.

“You had that the whole time?” I ask, a little bit upset that I didn’t find it earlier while I was snooping.

He ignores my question. “You remember what I showed you?”

I nod.

He hands them both to me. I tuck the knife into the chest pocket of my coat, and stuff the pistol into my pack.

I get a sick feeling in the gut of my stomach that Joel is sensing something I don’t. I try to shove the feeling down, but the more I study his hard face, the seriousness of it, I can’t shake the feeling.

“It’s safe to go through, right?”

He’s still. “Just do what I say, okay?”

I nod again, and we begin our descent into town.

___

He takes us down the highway and directly into the city. I haven’t gone this way since before the outbreak, and seeing the center of town like this, abandoned, filthy, overgrown, suddenly fills me with an overwhelming sense of dread. I see the remains of stores and buildings I used to know, used to walk through before.

I look up at him. “Are you sure we should go this way?”

“Fastest way though. Easier to see anyone coming,” he says quietly.

I don’t argue, but every step we take has the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up.

In the dark and the quiet, all the buildings seem taller, and loom over us. A few cars are scattered on the streets, completely picked apart. The air, even in the cold chill, has a sickly sweet, musty smell that makes my stomach churn.

“I don’t like this Joel.”

His hand shoots back to keep me still. He’s listening. The sound of footsteps in the near distance. He yanks by the front of my jacket and pulls me into the alleyway next to us, shoving me behind a dumpster towards the back of the alley.

His eyes are cold as he stands over me, poking my chest.. “You stay here.” He emphasizes the word stay.

“Joel…” I say, wanting to argue.

“Stay.”

I feel myself beginning to shake in cold and fear, but I listen, planting myself against the brick wall and slinking down behind the dumpster, out of eyeline. Joel pulls his gun off his shoulder, and disappears out of my view.

I fumble with my pack, fishing out my pistol and holding it to my chest. I try to calm my erratic breath as I listen. Eventually, the sound of Joel’s footsteps disappear, and then…nothing.

It feels like an hour passes before a loud shot rings out.. Then another, and another, and another. Then the sound of a different shot. Then more. I lose count.

I listen intently, but I hear nothing. No screams, no sound of Joel coming back. I reassure myself at first. Tell myself that he’ll be coming back to get me. More minutes pass. Another shot.

I try to talk myself out of it at first, but I can’t. I stand up, carefully peeking around the side of the dumpster. Nothing. I take a few cautious steps, listening, and I sill don’t hear anything.

I keep my pistol aimed as I step from around the corner of the alleyway and follow the large footprints left in the snow by Joel’s boots. I walk for block or so before I see figures in the distance.

It’s hard tell in the dark, but there are three. I see Joel crouched in the snow over the other two.

I can’t help myself and let out a small scream as I call out Joel’s name.

As I run towards them, Joel yells out to me. “Don’t! Stay there!”

I ignore him and jog towards him, feeling the burning air hit my lungs. I feel like I’m running on pure adrenaline. As I stumble towards him, the metallic tang of blood hits my nose and I feel like I’m going to vomit.

There’s blood everywhere. I see it still spilling out, covering the snow, sticky and thick. Two crumpled bodies in the snow, their packs pulled off and laying open. Then I see him.

“Joel.” His name comes heaving out of my mouth, sick. “Joel what did you do?”

I see the bloodied, broken face of someone I know. It takes me just a moment to remember. He was a gardener at the outpost, maybe a few years younger than me. He’d loaded up bags of vegetables for us the first time we’d visited, when it was still summer.

Joel’s arms wrap around my waist, knocking the air out of me, pulling me up my feet, holding me back.

“He was good!” I scream. I feel myself losing control. The words tumble out of me, half scream half sob. I kick at Joel as he pulls me back, my heels digging into the ground. “I know him. He’s from the outpost. He didn’t do anything!”

I feel tears and snot streaming out of me. I realize just how much I’d held everything back until now. It all violently spills out of me uncontrollably. How I’d been able to ignore it. I’d never seen an infected, never come across raiders, never had to kill anyone. Never even seen a freshly dead body.

I can feel my eyes going wild as I struggle against him, screaming at him. “What the fuck did you do!?”

He says nothing, dragging me off the street and towards the building next to us. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me against the wall, grabbing my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.

“Hey!” He shouts at me, shaking me. “You’ve got to get it together.” His voice is stern.

I feel myself shaking in his grip. I know I need to get it together, but panic and bile are rising in my throat.

‘Hey.” He shakes me again. grunting. “Get it together.”

I’m all but hyperventilating, his fingers digging into my shoulder feel like they’re burning. I take a few short breaths, staring past him, desperately attempting to calm myself. I nod at him. “Okay.” I say, voice shaking. “Okay.”

He gives me a questioning look, and I nod at him again.

My legs feel weak and I can’t form a coherent thought as I follow him, jogging several blocks until we reach a tall building. I recognize it. It’s an old insurance building. Joel kicks in a side door and ushers me in.

We walk up rows and rows of stairs. I’m grateful for the time to collect myself. I keep seeing his face in my mind.

As we reach the top, Joel barricades the door with a large metal office desk. I go sink into a corner and bury my face into my coat sleeve and realize I still have my pistol in hand and throw it onto the ground.

Joel approaches me tentatively, crouching down in front of me. “Hey,” he says, softer than usual. “You good?”

Something in me explodes. I shove him away as hard as I can, and he goes stumbling back. “No Joel, I’m not fucking good.” I push myself up and stand over him. “You killed them for no reason, why would I be good?”

He stands up and pokes a finger into my chest. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says angrily. “They shot at me first.”

“Did they Joel?” I spit, scowling at him. “He’s a fucking gardener. And why did it look like you beat his face in?”

He sighs angrily, grabbing me by the shoulders again, trying to meet my eyes. His voice grows dark. “They were going to kill me, and then who knows what they would do to you.”

I shove his hands off me and attempt to push him back, but he’s like a brick wall. “Not everyone is a piece of shit Joel.” I scowl at him angrily. “Not everyone is like you.”

He gets quiet again. “Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the bad guy Joel. Not them. You.”

I break down then. The sobbing starts and I’m angry I can’t stop it. I sink to the floor again, overcome with the bigness of everything. I feel it all at once.

Strong arms wrap around me, and even though I hate him, I let him hold me for a moment.

The anger returns and I beat my fists against his chest, and he lets me. I shove him and kick at him, and he holds me tighter.

That moment of rage, touching, intense emotion does something to the air between us, charges it. I’m angry and wet with tears and he’s suddenly touching me, and I’m touching him back. He looks hurt, angry, resigned.

We move at each other violently. Clothes are stripped away roughly. I swear at him, tell him I hate him as he runs his hands down my body, groping me with no gentleness.

I decide I’ll deal with myself in the morning, because I need this touch tonight. I need to feel a closeness, even with this man who I despise. Who I’m disgusted with. I clench my teeth as he pulls me down on him, and I let the sting of being split open rush over me, calming me.

His fingers dig into my hips as I slam down on him, letting the shocks of pleasure roll through my body, distract me. I hate myself in this moment almost as much as I hate him. But warmth is warmth, and touch is touch, and I’m starved for both.

His hand is wrapped in my hair, gripping it tightly, and I can feel every part of him tensing as I push against him, desperately attempting to find some release. His face is pained, mean-looking. He breathes in short, heavy bursts.

My orgasm comes hard and fast, and runs through me like electricity. I feel my body slacken immediately. I feel drunk.

I push myself off of Joel, and he groans, I sit back against the palms of my hands and watch as he jerks himself off and comes seconds later.

We lock eyes for a moment, and for just a split second, I want to crawl into his arms. Let him hold me, comfort me. I think he would. I think if I let him, he would stroke my hair and call me baby and tell me it will be okay.

But I don’t. I retreat. I stumble back and get to my feet, reaching for my pack and storming to the opposite side of the room.

Joel gets to his feet and begins to walk in my direction. He looks desperate to say something, but I stop him.

“Don’t touch me.'

I’m shocked at the disgust in my own voice, but I choose not to think about it. I unfurl my sleeping bag and cocoon myself inside, back facing him, and streams of tears fall down my face until I fall myself slipping into sleep.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut

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burnwater13 · 1 year

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Grogu had recently been thinking a lot about Mandalorian armor. It defined them. Were you even a Mandalorian without it? But how did that happen? How did they end up covered in the stuff? And why stay covered in it all the time?

Grogu had ranted about the helmet rule before and he wasn’t talking about how Mandalorians hid themselves from scrutiny in colorful, shiny, augmented head covers so other folks couldn’t see the fear or heartbreak on their faces when they were in battle or just haggling over a cup of broth.

He was talking about how he had never even seen his dad’s hands. Just, you know, the skin of his hands. He’d only seen the skin on his arm or leg when he’d managed to get hurt and needed to be healed. But Din didn’t even like taking off his boots when they were just relaxing in the old Razor Crest.

That seemed very strange to Grogu. Sure the Jedi wore a lot of clothes. First layer, because of course (you know, underclothes). Then the second layer, usually a tunic and a pair of leg coverings. Then a third layer, often a shirt or coat with a belt. Then, sometimes, a fourth layer, which could be a cape or cloak, or long vest, or something like that. And depending on the Jedi and where they were, all that stuff could be made of thin, fine material, or heavy thick material. But Jedi did layers.

And even with all those layers, you could still see them and know who they were and something about their heritage. And Jedi came from every heritage imaginable. Humans, Togruta, Cerean, Nautolan, Wookiee, and the list went on. All shapes and sizes, including Grogu sized, or at least Master Yoda sized.

But that’s why Grogu pondered the Mandalorian Armor. While Mandalorians certainly came in tall and taller and strong and stronger, he hadn’t met one yet who was something other than human.

He hadn’t met anyone who might be a Twi’lek. Or an Iktotchi. Or a Rodian. Or even a Toydarian. You get the picture. It wasn’t just about the helmet rule, it was about how did the armor conform to standards that weren’t fundamentally human?

Now, in his case, Din Djarin had asked the Armorer to make him something out of beskar and they had made him a shirt to wear over his first layer and under his coverall. If you don’t look closely enough, you wouldn’t even know that he had it on. Which was great until he wondered if the Mandalorian didn’t want people to know that he, Grogu, was also a Mandalorian. After all, none of the rest of them hid their armor.

And that was what had gotten him to think about the armor to begin with. It was kind of itchy and a little heavy and he’d asked his dad if he could take it off. Din acted all offended. Like taking off the armor shirt was equivalent to disowning him or something. Grogu just wanted to be a little more comfortable.

Grogu had dropped the subject of course. He didn’t want to make his dad cry again, like when he went with Luke to Jedi Sleep Away camp. But he did want to understand why Mandalorian’s wore the stuff the way they did.

Did they feel so responsible for everything in their path that they couldn’t trust themselves to work out a problem without having the armor on as a back up? Or did they only know one way to solve a problem and therefore needed to wear the armor all the time in order to deal with the likely outcome of blaster fire and fighting?

Grogu didn’t think it was that last one. At least not for his dad. Grogu had seen his Mandalorian negotiate with people, like the Tuskens, without having to hurt anyone. They just talked, shared provisions, and scratched their pets. Oh, and paid for their access, because fair was fair. And he knew Din Djarin didn’t feel responsible for every little thing. Otherwise he wouldn’t have left Fennec in the dessert injured and dying.

So did Mandalorians form attachments to their armor like it was a new layer of skin and they could no more remove it than peel their own skin off, like when you got bonding material on your fingers and then touched something else and it just got worse from there? It seemed that way to Grogu.

He wondered if the Mandalorians could have learned something from the Jedi and just worn more layers?

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

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ftb-writes · 1 year

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Here it is!!!

It's been a few years since I wrote the original post (it is tagged now, for easy finding). The next prompt is a fun idea:

"I've considered your offer."

Zevhel glances up from the map table where points of interest -- and potential marks -- are inventoried with various-shaped wooden totems. Two of his men flank Kas, and the bedraggled serf has a determined fire in his eyes.

Zevhel turns back to the map. "Leave us," he orders, feigning indifference, and his men nod and duck out of the small alcove. Giants most of the local men, Kas included.

Kas himself approaches the table, stooping slightly to fit. He's cautious, no doubt nervous of being left alone with the head of an assassin ring he'd tried to kill not even a fortnight ago. Kas stands almost a head-and-a-half taller than Zevhel, but it is obvious to any who might see that the smaller man is in charge.

Zevhel motions to the map. "Where are you from, Kas?"

Kas eyes the map spread across the thick oak table and swallows before pointing to an unmarked spot south of a group of totems. The map shows a road there, but nothing else. "The village is called Mudpakt."

Zevhel barely avoids pulling a face. "How quaint," he mutters. "Anything interesting in Mudpakt?"

Kas shrugs. "A few people. A few farms. More dirt and pests than anything else. There's the tax-collector's office, but it's usually locked up tight. He's by for the crops we give for taxes once a moon or so."

Zevhel selects a totem and sets it in place. It is of a little money-bag. "I take it he was the one you got the orders through?"

"No," Kas explains. "Since I was the last of my family, I was moved to the lord's main holding at Ovchark, so the hovel could be used for a new family. Lord Brond apparently saw me working the land from his manor and was impressed with my strength for being a half-starved serf."

Zevhel hums. He remembers the fight Kas put up when he'd been caught, and the feeling of those hands grabbing at him. Kas hadn't been at full health then, but with a little care and training, Zevhel could turn this man into a formidable opponent. And a wonderful opportunity for Zevhel's group.

"Lord Brond was the one who sold your sister to the knight?" Zevhel remembers.

"Yes. Or, really, she was 'payment' for the knight clearing out a few bears." Kas looks forlorn at the mention of his sister. Since his arrival, Zevhel had learned from him that the girl's name had been Ava, and that she had been two years his senior. Kas is only just barely a man now. To lose his only family, and while still just a child…

"Did you ever find out what city the knight was from," Zevhel asks, and curses quietly when Kas shakes his head. "That will put a bit of a strain on the plan."

"Do you have paper and pigments around," Kas asks.

"Yes," Zevhel admits, poking his head out to call for some to be brought. "What were his colors?"

"Blue and yellow," Kas replies, "but I can do better than just heraldry. I saw his crest when he came to take Ava." He points to the road, following it east with his finger. "He took the highway this direction from town."

Zevhel considers the map for a moment before nodding. "This information will do a lot of good in our search for him. However -- and I mean this in the nicest way -- you must have been really poor if you think that's a highway."

"Fifth generation serfdom," Kas grunts. "We were about as poor as serfs can get before outright slavery." He is tracing the lettering on the map, frowning over Zevhel's chicken-scrawl.

Zevhel chuckles at the young man's curiosity. "I doubt a serf would have been taught letters, but I prefer my people to be literate. I'll have you taught reading and writing so you will be able to help properly on this mission of yours. After all, you should be able to tell the difference between a letter telling you where someone will be and a letter to a far-off mistress." The assassin casts about for a bit of charcoal and scribbles three letters onto the edge of the map. "There we are. You can start with that. Everyone should know the shape of their name, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, I'm not important enough --" Kas starts to argue, but frowns when Zevhel snorts. "What?"

"I think you're just scared you'll be shit at it," Zevhel sniffs, and turns away to receive the pigments and paper. Kas can't see the smirk Zevhel has when he hears the charcoal start scratching.

"Gilalen and her boys found him in Estwich," the messenger is explaining as a knight is brought before Zevhel, forced to his knees and de-helmeted. Kas stands proud by Zevhel's side, an imposing figure now after several months of eating well.

"And he just… let you take him hostage?" Kas and Zevhel share a confused glance.

"He's supposedly turned to drink, according to the locals."

The knight, black hair and grungy, raises his head to solemnly regard the pair. "Assassin Zevhel. I have heard rumors of you. Many of my countrymen have found their ends on your blade. I wondered when we would meet. You… I know you." The knight fixes his hazel eyes on Kas. "You were Ava's brother."

"Before you killed her," Kas spits.

The knight flinches like Kas had struck a physical blow. "I hadn't meant for her to die," he whimpers. "Please, sir, if you believe nothing else, believe that. I meant Ava no harm. I wanted her to at least grow to accept me, even if she could not outright love me. Marrying me would have gotten both of you away from that life, and she had at least seemed interested in that. She'd been the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen when I rode through your little village, and I knew right then I had to save her from that squalor. That is why I offered Brond my services."

Zevhel leans closer, drops his voice low so only Kas would hear. "Up to you if you'll accept that version of things, but I've trained to see through lies. He believes himself to be telling the truth. And if she had given the knight a child, it would have elevated her standing as well as any family's standing with her. That much is fact."

Kas at least gives pause, turning the information over in his mind. "How did my sister die?"

The knight begins silently weeping. "She got sick. I don't know -- When I sent for the doctor, he didn't think a lowly serf was worth his time, even one who was to marry a knight. It was my fault. I should have pressed him harder, offered more. I --"

"From what I understand," the messenger cuts in, "Sir Rodrik's family had fallen on hard times. His father squandered the fortune over a gambling table. The little money he had left after taxes would have likely only barely paid for himself and your sister to eat, and maybe room at Estwich's lowest-rated tavern."

"I would have sold my armor to pay," the knight cries.

"I… I need to think about this," Kas murmurs to Zevhel. "Is there somewhere you can stick him for now? Get all the information you want from him."

"I'll have my best interrogators talk with him," Zevhel agrees. "We'll talk later."

Later ends up being well after dusk. "Are you alright?" Zevhel steps into Kas's room and eases the door shut behind him. "We've worked toward this for months now for you, but--"

"And I'm grateful," Kas interjects. "You've taught me so much, skills I can use to make a decent living for myself, when you could have just killed me and been done with it. But now that I've met him face-to-face, Sir Rodrik… isn't what I'd imagined him to be."

"We are multifaceted beings," Zevhel murmurs sagely as he leans against the desk. "Rarely is every conflict black-and-white. Ultimately, he is your prisoner, Kas, and his fate rests in your hands."

"And what about you, Zevhel," Kas challenges. "When I've made my decision, what will you want from me? Just to keep me here as an assassin? Or am I free to leave after all is said and done?"

The questions are valid ones, and Zevhel respects Kas enough to be honest. "I'd be sad to see you go, but I will not stop you if you leave. Brond may have you thrown in prison for failing to kill me, and you should know that before you decide, but your path is your own to choose. If you do stay, I would see you become a proper assassin worthy of the title, and I'd like it if you were a friend and confidant. I've enjoyed getting your input these past few months. Your personality is… calming, to me. This profession tends to attract a certain type, and you've been a welcome change from the norm. I've… grown fond of you, while you've been here."

Kas is quiet for a time, mulling this all over. "You've given me even more to think about," he finally says. "But I appreciate the honesty, and everything you've done for me, Zevhel. But what of Sir Rodrik?"

"Disgraced, from what we can gather. He turned to drinking away his sorrows when your sister passed, apparently, and is a laughing stock among the other knights around the area for going and falling in love with a serf. Why do you ask?"

"He's realized he's just as much a victim of the system as the serfs, now," Kas whispers, almost as if he's afraid that if he voices the thought, the knight locked up on the other side of the hideout will vanish. "If… I decide not to take his life, he would be a valuable asset."

Zevhel looks at Kas for a long moment before chuckling softly. "In a few short months you've learned what it takes some of us years to."

"What is that?"

Zevhel thinks back to when he first became an assassin. This lesson was one he'd taken longer to learn than he is proud of.

Zevhel sets a hand on Kas's shoulder and squeezes slightly. "The best assassins are measured by their kills. But the truly great ones know when to stay their blades. If you forget everything else you've learned here, never forget that."

The head assassin steps out into the hall and leaves Kas to think.

#Kas and the Assassin

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ariadnekurosaki · 3 years

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HitsuKarin 💚🖤 either SFW or NSFW whichever you prefer. Karin seeing Adult Tōshirō for the 1st time? XD or something similar...

We're going SFW for this one, because once my brain finally started percolating on this it went straight to Deathberry Family and the events of "Bittersweet". This story takes place during the same timeframe.

Old Friends

Rating: G

Pairings: HitsuKarin; IchiRuki

Read below or on AO3.

“Don’t say it,” Karin warned with a low growl.

“I think Captain Hitsugaya’s taller than you are!” Rukia exclaimed with an unrepentant grin. “He’s gotten handsome, too, hasn’t he?”

“I told you not to say it!” Karin whispered harshly.

But Karin’s sister-in-law just laughed, even though she was propped up on a heavily-padded chaise in the courtyard and heavy with her second – and much more difficult – pregnancy. A stack of manga from Karin’s shopping in Karakura was piled up on the end table beside the chaise, an entire series worth of tankobon that Karin thought Rukia might like.

After all, it wasn’t like Soul Society had television (a serious drawback, in Karin’s opinion), and Rukia was on bed rest. When Ichigo had gotten a message to her asking if she’d help Rukia out and keep her company for a few weeks, she’d put in for vacation time at her job and gotten not just permission to come through a senkaimon but a personal escort.

From a man she hadn’t seen in years and almost didn’t recognize.

Ignoring Rukia’s snickering, Karin sprawled out over the padded bench in the little grove of weeping pines. She grabbed for one of the tankobon and glanced up at Rukia. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? Ichi-nii told me you’re not allowed to do anything strenuous. And Yuzu made a tonof food, so that includes cooking!”

“Your brother is exaggerating just a little,” Rukia muttered, but she took a sip from the glass of water that Karin had retrieved for her. “I’m still allowed to get up and walk around in my own home. I did miss Yuzu’s cooking, though,” she said wistfully.

Karin knew that she missed Yuzu, too, but her sister had three kids to take care of, and her husband had freaked out so badly the one time they’d told him about his in-laws that Rukia had needed to modify the guy’s memory.

“Hn. Still.” Karin opened the manga volume in her hands to the first page, but really it was an excuse to think about what had happened the day before, hopefully without her sister-in-law noticing.

“Ah! Kurosaki-san,” Urahara greeted enthusiastically, ever-present fan fluttering to create a breeze in the spring warmth. “I’m told your escort will be here momentarily.”

Karin adjusted the enormous backpack she wore. She’d filled it with lots of tankobon to give to Rukia, who – according to Ichigo’s message – was bored out of her mind during her medical leave. Her sister-in-law still loved to read some of the trashier manga on the market.

In one hand she carried a second bag, this one full of Yuzu’s home-cooked food. “Am I going to be able to take all this stuff to Soul Society?” she asked skeptically. “Ichigo said you’re able to convert stuff. If I don’t give all this food to Rukia, Yuzu’s going to be really mad.”

Urahara chuckled behind his fan. “Of course, Kurosaki-san, of course. I’m sure Rukia-chan is looking forward to it.”

The senkaimon structure before them glowed suddenly and a tall figure in the black shinigami uniform and a white haori – a captain’s uniform, Karin knew – stepped forward. Her ability to sense reiatsu and reiryoku was still limited even decades later, but Karin recognized it just the same. His figure was much taller and his face more chiseled, his hair neater.

His eyes, though. She knew that cerulean color, even though she hadn’t seen it since Ichigo and Rukia’s wedding reception almost twenty years earlier. And hadn’t that been awkward? “Toshiro?” she asked quietly.

“Karin.” His voice was just a hair deeper than it had been years ago. But she shouldn’t have been surprised: he had to be almost fifty centimeters taller than he’d been when she was a kid. She was much shorter than him, her head just reaching the top of his shoulder. His eyes raked over her. “You’re… different.”

“So are you,” she shot back. “It’s been almost twenty years, you know.” Still, she felt self-conscious in the plain jeans and old football jersey she wore, a relic of time spent playing on a team in the Nadeshiko League. She’d been retired from playing professionally for a few years, but the dark green jersey was comfortable. Still, Karin knew what he saw: a woman grown, no longer the gangly teenager she’d been. A few strands of white stood out against her black hair, now that she was in her thirties. And she had a figure even more voluptuous than it had been when they’d hung out at her brother’s wedding and he’d acted like a weirdo because she’d gotten taller than him in the four years since they’d last seen one another.

Well, she guessed height wasn’t a problem anymore.

She was conscious, suddenly, of the way Urahara watched them, expression hidden by his stupid bucket hat and fan. The black cat beside him looked way too interested, too.

“Hn. I guess it has been. Time… moves a little differently in Soul Society,” Toshiro admitted quietly.

“Guess so,” she agreed. “Anyway, I need to get all this stuff to Rukia-nee. My brother’s beside himself about her.” Then she eyed him with a touch of suspicion. “Enough to send a captain to get me, but not enough to come get me himself.”

Toshiro folded his arms across his chest; his shoulders were broader; she could tell even though he was wearing those bulky shinigami robes. “Ichigo is running their division without Rukia or their third seat right now and he’s swamped. He asked me to escort you as a favor, so they wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Is there a reason to worry?” Karin asked, absently allowing Urahara to take her backpack and bag of food so that he could pass it through his converter. Something about the set of Toshiro’s lips, the way his shoulders tensed, told her it was more than just Ichigo being busy that had him sending a captain instead of a subordinate.

Toshiro’s lips thinned into a grimace. “Maybe. Are those done, Urahara?” he asked.

“All set, Hitsugaya-san,” Urahara said cheerfully. Karin reached for the pack he held out and shrugged it over her shoulders, but Toshiro grabbed for the tote bag full of food before she could. “Kurosaki-san, please let your brother and Kuchiki-san know that if there is anything I can do to help, I will.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. Karin wasn’t sure what the shopkeeper could do about Rukia’s pre-eclampsia – she didn’t even know until Ichigo got his message to her that shinigami could get pre-eclampsia – but she guessed that Rukia and Ichigo might appreciate the sentiment.

“Good,” Toshiro said gruffly, and with a thought summoned a pair of dark butterflies. At Karin’s inquiring look he explained, “Hell butterflies. They guide us between the worlds, so we don’t get lost.”

“Oh.” Ichigo and Rukia – and Sumiye, when they brought her – always walked a good distance away from the house since Yuzu’s husband wasn’t in the know. Karin had the presence of mind to bow shallowly to Urahara. “Thanks,” she said quietly, and followed Toshiro – and the butterfly – through the senkaimon. Her body seemed lighter as she stepped through; she hadn’t felt anything like that in years.

After all, Ichigo and Rukia almost always came to Karakura, rather than asking the Kurosaki family to make the trip through a senkaimon.

This trip was shorter than she’d remembered; it seemed like it only took a moment before they were stepping through an enormous pair of white doors. “Welcome back to Soul Society,” Toshiro said in that low voice of his. “I’ll escort you to Kurosaki’s home. It’s…”

“Near the Kuchiki Manor, I know,” Karin finished. “I visited when Sumiye was born.”

The Tenth Division Captain shot a look in her direction. “I didn’t know you’d been back since the wedding,” he said after a long moment of silence. They walked through the archway that led down into the Seireitei proper, and Karin followed him through the winding streets that led towards the manor, and the home Ichigo and Rukia shared.

“Just a couple times,” Karin admitted. She glanced in his direction. “I thought you said time moves differently in Soul Society. Ichigo and Rukia look like they’ve barely aged a day in twenty years except that Ichigo grew his hair out, but you look…older.” She caught onto the way he stiffened beside her, and added, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s related to my bankai,” Toshiro admitted after a long moment of silence that settled awkwardly between them. But he glanced at her furtively when he said it, as though there was more to it than that.

They reached the pretty home that Rukia and Ichigo had called theirs for close to twenty years, and Karin trotted up the steps to the front door eagerly. Toshiro followed, carrying the heavy tote of food along with him.

A servant bearing the Kuchiki crest answered the door, bowing low and ushering them into the house. “Welcome, Kurosaki-san, Captain Hitsugaya. Captain Kuchiki is in the courtyard,” she explained softly. “Is there anything I can take for you?”

“Yeah, that bag.” Karin gestured at the bag Toshiro still held. “It has meals in it for Rukia. Can you put everything away so it doesn’t spoil?”

“Of course, Kurosaki-san,” she murmured, and took the bag from the captain. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I will be here until early evening.”

She directed them to the engawa and then into the courtyard, where Rukia waited on a comfortable-looking lounge chair, an all too knowing smirk on her lips. “Karin,” she greeted, “Toshiro.”

“Rukia,” Toshiro acknowledged his fellow captain in return, while Karin hurried forward and leaned down to wrap her arms around her sister-in-law. She was so petite that her body was already heavy with her pregnancy, lower stomach rounded and cheeks fuller.

“Thanks for coming to keep me company,” Rukia murmured, arms wrapped tight around Karin’s back and shoulders. “You have no idea how boringit is to be stuck here with nothing to do. Your brother barely even lets me look over paperwork!” Then she looked up at them both. “Please, sit – Miura-san will bring us something to drink.”

“You’re not supposed to be reviewing paperwork on medical leave,” Toshiro reminded her as he lowered himself onto a bench shaded by weeping pines. Karin took the other half of the padded seat, and glared daggers when Rukia shot her another significant look.

Ignoring the look entirely, Rukia smiled easily at them both, one hand rubbing light circles over her swollen stomach. “Ichigo should be home soon. He promised to leave the division early today so that we can have dinner together.”

“Is he really having that much trouble keeping up?” Toshiro asked.

“Ordinarily it wouldn’t be a problem. But Sentaro’s still recuperating in the Fourth Division,” Rukia explained. “And our Sixth Seat just went on medical leave too. So, we’re stretched thinner than usual.” She glanced between them and added quietly, “And there’s that… experiment of Kurotsuchi’s, as well.”

Toshiro’s scowl was so fierce that Karin had to stop herself from edging away from him. “I still don’t understand why the Captain-Commander has allowed it,” he grumbled, smoothing his expression when Miura stepped into the courtyard with a tray of drinks. She set a glass of juice down at Rukia’s elbow and offered two others to Karin and Toshiro.

“Please have a glass ready for my husband when he returns,” Rukia requested politely. Miura left with a little bow at Rukia’s nod of dismissal.

Karin sipped cautiously, then more enthusiastically: it was strawberry-kiwi, one of her favorites – and one of Ichigo’s favorites as well. “Isn’t Kurotsuchi the weird one who wears all the face makeup?” she asked after a while.

“Hn. That’s one way to describe him,” Toshiro agreed.

“Genocidal crackpot is another. Hey, Toshiro.”

Karin looked up to see her brother, still in his uniform and with his lieutenant’s badge wrapped around his bicep, standing in the grove. She hadn’t even seen him enter the courtyard. “Ichi-nii!” she called, and hurriedly put her glass down before rising to wrap her arms around him. He smelled of sweat and dust, and ink.

Ichigo gave his little sister a squeeze and ruffled her hair, ignoring the moue of irritation she gave him. “Hey, Karin. Thanks for coming to stay with us a while,” he said. When he let go of her it was to lean down and brush his lips against Rukia’s, chaste and gentle. “Holding up?” he asked in a low murmur, one hand resting feather-light on her stomach.

“I’m fine and you’re still worrying too much,” Rukia retorted, but her fingers threaded into his hair to keep him close for another kiss.

Karin glanced away, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on something private, and looked toward Toshiro instead. There was a faint but telltale pink hue to his cheeks, and when he caught her looking at him, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“They’ve been like that the whole pregnancy,” Toshiro muttered when she sat back down beside him. “But your brother’s only gotten worse since Rukia had to go on leave a few weeks ago.”

“Heh. You’ll be just as bad if you ever get married.” Ichigo sprawled on the bench closest to Rukia, fingers threading through hers. He glanced between Karin and Toshiro, and exchanged a look with his wife. “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Toshiro? Miura says Yuzu sent enough food for an entire division.”

The white-haired captain cleared his throat. “I don’t want to intrude,” he said slowly. “I know you haven’t seen Karin for a long time.”

“And you haven’t seen her in even longer,” Rukia pointed out brightly. “We can all catch up together. And Sumiye is less surly when we have company.”

“Che. She’s just mad because Byakuya an’ me won’t let her train with Kenpachi,” Ichigo grumbled.

“Alright,” Toshiro said, and glanced at Karin. “I wouldn’t mind eating something other than food from the barracks, for once.”

Karin willed her cheeks not to turn pink. She thought she’d gotten over her little childhood crush years ago. She was in her thirties, the idea that she could still have any sort of feelings for a man she hadn’t seen in two decades was ridiculous.

Toshiro was just an old friend, someone who’d helped her win a soccer game and fight off some hollows back when she barely knew what the things were. She was just catching up with an old friend.

But when he offered his hand to help her up from the bench so they could go inside for dinner, Karin’s heart gave a traitorous flutter.

#hitsukarin #toshiro x karin #ichiruki #ichigo x rukia #bleach fanfiction #deathberry family

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sw124 · 3 years

Text

BonelyHearts Reader Insert

{Female!ReaderXSkeleton household}

Camping! Pt.1

It was nippy outside, no question there. But you couldn’t beat the sheer beauty of it all. The field was vast and filled with rolling hills turning the loveliest shades of tan from the upcoming winter season. There was not a tree for miles around. You stretched your arms back, breathing in that beautiful air, it was so crisp it would put an apple’s skin to shame. You let out a long breath, watching it curl into its own cloud before quickly dissipating.

“So pretty here...” you whispered to yourself.

“Human! Have you found a spot yet?!”

You turn to see your gaggle of skeleton friends all unloading things from the van, you smile and wave to Papyrus.

“One sec ok I think I found a great spot for us all!”

Happily you half-jogged down the little hill you were standing on and scoped out a nice spot, it was flat and void of twigs and leaves. You stamped the ground to be sure there weren’t any spots waterlogged from rain, but no the ground was perfectly dry and level.

Back up the hill you run and call out. “Guys over here, I found the perfect spot!”

Back down you raced and skipped around the spot, the first skeleton over the hill was Blue with the picnic table; a perfect sign that this spot is claimed by someone. Blue hands you the table and you set it up, he runs back over the hill. The next skeleton to come over the hill is Papyrus with some of the chairs, all neatly marked with everyone’s name on the back of each unique chair, including yours.

You take them and set them up in a line; to both keep them out of the way and to let everyone choose where they’d like to sit when things get ready. Boss and Ash were the next couple of skeletons over the hill bringing the tents. Poplar was close behind carrying some bags, Nox and Rus were the next two over the threshold carrying two large boxes.

You rushed back up the hill to the van and met up with Red and Sans who were digging stuff out of the van. You came up and collected what they just took out and went back to the spot, you set the things down and went back for more. Stretch passed you carrying some of the sleeping bags. You couldn’t help but imagine everyone plus yourself as a bunch of worker ants. You were the one to get the last of the things, the box labeled ‘plates, utensils and cleanup’.

You just reached over the crest of the hill, you watched as Boss and Papyrus began laying out the tarps for some of the tents while Nox and Blue set up the canopy tent, Stretch and Rus were getting the sleeping bags sorted out. Of course Sans was already napping in his chair, you walked over to Ash, Poplar and Red who were getting the portable fire pit ready. You set the things down and grabbed a bucket nearby, you turned to the skeletons.

“I’m gonna go get some water and firewood!”

“Wait human!” You paused as Papyrus walked up to you...Sans neatly tucked under one arm. “Take Sans with you, he needs to do something productive instead of lazing about!”

Sans gave you shrug after Papyrus sat him down, you smile and take his hand.

“Its not that far, lets go lazy bones.” You just had to giggle seeing the blush form on his face.

You and Sans didn’t have far to walk, the communal area was at least just a yard away. You paid for fire wood, making sure to have extra just in case also filling the bucket up with water. You told Sans to teleport the wood back to the campsite you’d be fine walking back with the bucket.

“Actually, I got a better idea.” Taking your hand and in a blink of an eye, the both of you were back at the campsite, firewood and water in hand.

“Ah you’re back! That was quick!” Papyrus took the bucket from you as Sans sat the fire wood down by Red.

“The hell- I don’t know how to start a damn fire, why you putting it by me?” Red growled.

“Well someone’s gotta know, other wise we’re gonna be ‘burned out’ by the end of this.” Sans chuckled, a echo of groans is heard.

You took the initiative, while Sans and Red went back and forth you began setting things up for the fire. Ash and Poplar watched, you balled up some dry-dead grass and layered some small twigs on it. Taking out a lighter you packed you lite the grass, after you got the smaller fire going you started layering on the wood. In a matter of a few minutes you had a nice fire all set.

“Fires ready.” You said, you felt a little proud seeing everyone’s expressions.

“Anything else that needs to be done?” You asked, surveying the layout.

“If you could set up the cooking station under the canopy that would be nice.” Said Poplar, Ash helping him stand up.

Nodding you went to the canopy and start unpacking, you unpacked the snacks first but kept the perishables like the fish inside the cooler along with the vegetables. You took out a large pot, pasta, ramen and other things and set them on a separate fold-out table; preparations for tonight’s dinner. You had just set out the last of the snacks when you heard Nox curse, you look to see him knelt down by a peg and holding his hand.

“Nox, you ok?” You walk over.

“I’m fine, I just caught the side of my hand with the hammer.”

You were quick to take his hand and inspect it, a habit of yours whenever someone had gotten an injury no matter how minor it was. Nox grumbles but doesn’t take his hand away, you gently rub his hand between yours to sooth the wound before standing back up. Giving him a sweet smile, was it your imagination or was he blushing.

“I’m setting up some snacks for when you boys are done, drinks too; I’ll let you know when there done.” You left before he could give you a reply, you had a task to complete.

You arranged the small snack bags into two groups, one side was for the shorter skeletons the other for the taller skeletons. Of course it had everyone’s name written on the baggies but this just made it simpler. Next were the drinks, coco and coffee. You took great pains to make sure the coffee was just right too, you brought a special hand grinder for the coffee beans.

The coco you decided was going to be just as special, you were going to make it just like how your parents did back when you were really small. As you were finishing everything up, something caught your attention. You turned and saw at least a few yards away a giant RV party bus pull in, it was blaring popular club music, you could feel the ground vibrating from it. You wrinkled your nose a little, the smug oozing off the thing was almost too much. You tried to tell yourself it might just be a family and their kids put the music on loud as a joke.....you were dead wrong. The people that stepped out were four young men. You wrinkled your nose again, everyone else around the campground were either elderly/young couples or families. Not these wannabe campers...

You turned back to your task, just ignore them and things would be fine. You took the pot of hot coco and poured them into some mugs, next was the coffee and whatever the boys put in their coffee. You basically memorized everything these boys put in their drinks. You had just finished pouring the last cup when you heard Papyrus’s triumphant laugh. You turn to find a rather impressive sight, three tents but they were all connected with small extension tunnels, length maybe a single meter?

“Whoa...” you whispered.

You had two large tents sandwiching a slightly smaller one in the middle, you walked over and marveled at them. Papyrus walked over, his hand proudly placed on his hips and chest puffed high.

“Yes a magnificent sight indeed human! A friend of ours lent this to us, the tent on the left over here is where I, Boss, Poplar, Rus and Stretch will sleep. Our brothers will be in the tent on the far right and you will have the center tent!”

You blinked, the center tent was yours? You unzipped the front and looked inside, for goodness sake the center tent could fit five fully grown adults it was so huge! It had pockets to fit your phone too, you looked to and saw two opening ‘doorways’? Tentways? Whatever it was called you looked inside and goodness both sides were massive, but then again it probably was for the best since they were fitting five tall skeletons...and five short ones. Thankfully you found you could zip up both sides for privacy.

“What do you think human?” Asked Papyrus.

“Really amazing!” You couldn’t lie, this was impressive.

“Nyeheheh! Thank you human!”

“Well I’m glad your done cause I’ve just finish setting up the kitchen and have some hot drinks and snacks ready.”

You turned to get the drinks as Papyrus called everyone together, the skeletons all propped their chairs around the fire as you passed out their snacks, coco and coffee. You made yourself a cup of warm butterfly pea tea and sat down in your own chair. Rus softly blew across the top of his coco to cool it down before taking a sip of it, you smiled seeing his eyes light up.

“W-Wow...did you buy a new coco brand?” Rus looked at you, stars dancing in his eyes.

“No, I just made coco the way my parents did. No instant coco or coffee for this camping trip!” You giggle.

Ash smiled wildly as he tasted his coco along with his brother, Nox was inspecting his coffee, inhaling its steam to be sure you did a proper job in preparing his drink. You slyly rolled your eyes but didn’t hold it against him, good coffee is hard to come by or make right. Stretch though was not as picky and spoke up.

“Heeeeey this is pretty good, you sure you didn’t use the instant stuff?”

You knew he was poking fun at you but shook your head, you turned back to Nox, you caught a glimpse of his eyes going wide before returning to normal...followed by a fox like grin.

“Well my dear you certainly have been paying attention to my lessons on coffee haven’t you?” He purred.

“Yes, even I must admit you do have a way with making a good cup of coffee.” Replied Boss sipping his own cup.

Blue, much like Rus had stars dancing in his eyes, if the coffee was a little more cooler he might have chugged his entire mug down in a single go but it was still nice and hot so he had no choice but to sip. Red seemed to be restraining himself from downing his own cup as well. Papyrus and Sans were the last to speak up.

“Wowie human this is truly amazing!”

“Yeah, what did you buy?” Asked Sans, looking into his cup.

You smiled. “If you really want to know, I used milk, butter, sugar and coco powder all mixed together in a small cooking pot. My parents would make that kind of coco all the time in winter when I was really little, when I heard we were going camping I thought I’d share it with you guys.”

“Thats really nice...” said Ash, you smile at him...you were making a lot of skeletons blush today.

Papyrus spoke up next.

“So human, what shall we do now that we’re set up?”

[To be continued..]

[A fanfic reader insert for the fan-game @bonelyheartsclub I hope you enjoy and I will be planning more in the future with gender neutral or male centered readers, I hope you enjoy. Also I kinda guessed on what drinks the boys would like so don’t rag on me about getting drink choices mixed up ok? I’ll make corrections when I learn more about the boys]

#undertale #fanfic #bonely hearts club

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beaubokuto · 3 years

Text

━ iv. what you broke

pairing: tobio kageyama x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au, angst

summary: prince tobio kageyama is cruel. he was known to be vindictive, revengeful, other synonyms for anger’s embodiment. you were not quite as interesting: a simple village girl with a knack for stealing things and a wish to kill the prince.

a/n: i love writing this fic so much

tags: angst, royalty, swearing, medieval, fantasy, enemies to lovers, all characters are aged up, minor depictions of violence (dueling, training, a little bit of blood)

glossary

previous chapter ━ next chapter

You did not change before following the guard out of the room. You just followed quickly behind the burly man in your cloak and dirty clothes. If the prince wanted to request your presence, you would come as is.

The sun had completely gone down in your time meeting your roommates, though the darkness did not do much in the already dark corridors. As you followed, it became instantly brighter as you entered the main wing of the castle.

The castle itself was dark. It was created by the Dark King long before your time, and he was as his name threatens. He took over this land and forced others to build him a castle of the darkest brick. From then, his lineage contained the same demeanor. Dark, mysterious, all together authoritative and intimidating.

You were annoyed at the thought.

The doors to the throne room were massive, arching three sizes above your head. The ceiling became taller, the room lighter against the dark brick and wood, and the Kageyama crest stared directly at you as the guard opened the door.

Tobio Kageyama was sitting in his throne when you entered. His throne sat just slightly shorter on the right hand of the king’s, made of silver instead of Black Gold (the richest form; the throne must be very uncomfortable to sit in). Soon that would be his seat.

The King and Queen were no where in sight. This was a personal request.

He sat straight up, hands resting on the arms in attention. You would expect a crowned prince to be more relaxed. Perhaps a leg over the arm or something interesting.

“Prince Tobio.” You greeted. It was formal to greet the royalty first; however, calling him Tobio was the opposite.

“Already you mock me.” He tilted his head. The crown stayed perfectly in place. “Guard, you may leave. She is fine, there is no need for a chaperone.”

The guard simply nodded and left the room, closing the large door behind him.

“I must inform you that Shoyo was not given my permission when granting you this.” He told you instantly. His blue eyes were the same color as the crest on the clasp that held his cloak around his shoulders.

“Are you telling me to leave?”

“No.”

“Then why tell me that?”

“Because,” He returned to sit straight up. “After he did, I heard that you were excellent with a sword. I happen to be trained in the sword as well. I hope to find our inevitable duel interesting.” A pause. “However, this is not why I asked you in here today.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting with you privately?” You asked, sarcasm dripping off of your tongue like honey.

You watched as his shoulders relaxed with a roll of his eyes. “You are going to be a difficult one, aren’t you? I asked you in here to tell you some of the rules before you go into training tomorrow. Every one else here has had their introductions; they’ve all been training for quite a bit now.” Another pause. “I am being generous.”

“Informing me of the basic rules and regulations for my training... ah yes, thank you for doing the bare minimum.” You scoffed. “Tell me, Tobio, how long have you been this generous?”

In one motion, he was standing. His movements were so fluid and complete that you hadn’t even registered that he was walking; it was as if he floated to you.

Standing in front of you, you could see his anger at your disrespect.

“With every word that you have directed towards me, you have done nothing but disrespect me, my position, and my virtue. Continue to do so, and you will be removed.” Tobio said, voice low and against your ear. “If you wish to stay, I suggest minding how you speak to me.”

He leaned back. You caught your breath that you hadn’t realized that you were holding.

Calling to the guard, “Guard! We are done here!”

“Wait, you never gave me the rules.” You blinked at his back.

“My apologies.” Tobio walked back to his throne. Sitting, he continued, “My guess is that you will figure it out. It being the bare minimum, after all.”

"We have a newcomer today, so we will be doing some introductions.” The trainer spoke. His voice was monotone and casted silence among anyone listening. He stood taller than everyone else in the room, including the other trainers, even though you were sure he was your age. “My name is Kei Tsukishima.”

The Knight Training room was a large room in the dungeons below the dorms. It was stained in blood and cleaned spills that left dark patches in the black brick. In the center of the room, there was a large circle painted in light grey surrounded by two smaller circles. The walls were lines in varying weaponry and training courses, along with fake bags shaped like people and targets.

“Welcome to Knight Training.” Another trainer added. He was a tad bit older, with dark hair and had a quiver strapped to his back. His voice seemed deeper, too. “I am Tetsurou Kuroo, I specialize in archery and survival techniques.”

“I’m Koutaro Bokuto!” The buff one added. He stood with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. He had a scar that crossed from his nose, through the left side of his lip, and curved back to his left cheek; it made his smile lopsided. “I specialize in knife throwing and hand to hand combat. Yamamoto, remind me to finish your D-4 later.”

Akari nodded to him from beside you, not caring for his lack of formalities.

“And I am Keiji Akaashi.” The last spoke. He was the shortest, yet stood tall. He also seemed incredibly bored by the introductions, as were you. “I specialize in the spear and hunting, including stealth and gathering.”

“I specialize in the sword.” Kei Tsukishima added. He turned to you, eyeglasses hiding his eyes. “So, newbie, you will be with me.”

As it turns out, the knights were rather informal people. They seemed to be formal with royalty and in public, but they talked casually the entire time you were in the training area.

You were sure Koutaro Bokuto swearing would be the most entertainment you have ever had.

“I was told that you are excellent with a sword.” Tsukishima said once it was just you two. You had followed him directly to the area furthest to the left, where you found an array of swords and targets.

“This is the second time in two days that has been told to me. Who is spreading this rumor?”

He shrugged. “Just people. I want you to show me what you can do.”

“Show you what I can do?”

“Yes.” Tsukishima nodded his head to the box of swords. “Pick a sword and show me on the dummies what you would do if they were enemies.”

He gave you no other instructions. You were used to your own sword, the one that sat on your hip. So you reached for it. He didn’t seem to mind.

Unsheathing your sword, you stood in the circle of fake people. They were rather realistic looking, despite no true facial features.

Quickly and effortlessly, you brought your sword down on the dummies. In only a swift movement, you had taken off one head and another’s arm. You finished with a stab to the last’s throat.

“I see Shoyo was telling the truth.” Was all Tsukishima said. “Although, next time you must inform us of carrying your own weapon. Follow me.”

The rest of training consisted of you traveling between the trainers. But they maintained your closeness to Tsukishima.

Yua Ito and Akari Yamamoto met you back in the quarters. You were all complete in sweat, wear, and tire. You were sure your face had dirt and grime on it, as well as your messy hair.

“You didn’t tell us that you were that good with a sword!” Yua exclaimed as she changed, not caring for the presence of others. “You don’t even need training!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Akari sighed. “You are good, I admit. But you still need training.”

“That’s why I am here, is it not?” You offered.

Yua giggled at your sarcasm, and Akari raised a brow. Most of the trainers and others at training were informal and spoke in sarcastic tones. They couldn’t have been that surprised.

“I like you.” Akari said, collecting a pile of clothes to go bathe.

Dinner for the knights was quite eventful.

Beside the training center, there was another large room in similar dark brick and grey accents. This room had small windows near the ceiling, large tables lining the middle, and buffet style tables on the outer edges nearest the walls. It was the most food you had ever witnessed.

Meats, potatoes both fried and mashed, fruits and vegetables, fish and other harbor foods, breads that were warmed, frozen desserts and chocolate... you had no idea where to start.

“First meal here?” Tsukishima appeared behind you. Without his knight gear on, he was just as tall and brooding.

“It is that obvious?” You looked over your shoulder instead of turning around. He walked closer. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“I always start at the right side, near the breads. It leaves the necessities first and the desserts and sweets last.”

“Are you always this kind to new knights?”

“You are greatly mistaken.” Tsukishima shrugged. “I am not kind, nor are you a knight. Not yet, at least.”

The following days consisted of non stop practicing. The schedule was easy to follow: train at sunrise, have lunch, continue, and then dinner. Lights out when the sun sets. Repeat.

However, several days in, you started to notice a new presence.

Tobio Kageyama would watch from the outer stands that lined the walls. He would sit, guard at his side, and analyze the training. Without a single word.

One day, you felt his gaze on your back as you attempted knife throwing. It wasn’t too difficult for you, but it was far different than your usual heavy and long sword.

One of your knives hit the target directly where you had aimed, it’s head, and Bokuto cheered happily. He exclaimed, “you are going to be excellent at your first duel!”

You shrugged off his praise. And the prince’s stare.

“For today, we will only be practicing for the first duel of the season.” Tsukishima stood in the center of the circle, arms crossed and voice echoing. “We will go by how long you have been in training.” His eyes turned to you. “Which means you, newcomer, are last and will be fighting against whoever wins.”

“The rules are simple.” Kuroo stepped up. His voice seemed deeper. “You will fight with your weapon of choice. You can win by three ways. One, you manage to get your opponent out of the circle. Two, you have them on the ground for three seconds or more. Or three, they simply cannot continue.”

Akaashi spoke, “There will be no killing, nor major injury. We will step in and announce the winner before then. Other than that, expect to bleed and fight with all you have. This is training to be a knight on the king’s court, not practice for games.”

“That being said,” Tsukishima looked at some parchment in his hand. “The first duo will be Akari Yamamoto and Ren Sato.”

You stood beside Yua as they battled in the circle. Akari was amazing at knife throwing, you’ve witnessed it throughout the past several days. Ren was an older man, older than anyone in the room; but he must’ve been here a long time and have had the money to return through the years.

“I had no idea Akari has been here that long.” You muttered to Yua. “To be the first duel, I mean.”

“She’s been here for years.” Yua didn’t take her eyes off of the pair fighting. “Don’t say anything, but I am not sure she wants to be a knight. Her father is one, so he got her into the training program. But each year, she never makes it to the final duel.”

You turned to Akari, who threw the knives directly where she knew to. She was strong, tall, and had all of the qualities of making a perfect knight. You wondered why she was delaying her career.

The winner of the series of duels was a man named Kaito Hashimoto. He was around double your size, both in height and build. His weapon was a spear, which was perfect for you because you planned on being very close to him. A distance weapon like a spear had no victory over a close ranged weapon like your sword.

You informed the trainers of your personal sword, and they agreed to allow you to use it during the duel. “Although, in the final duel against the king, you must only use the weapons provided.” Kuroo told you.

The duel was a blur in your vision. Like most days when you spent a majority of your time sparring Kiyoko, you placed the entire world out of view and only focused on the enemy in front of you.

Kaito Hashimoto had laughed when you entered the circle. As if he had already won.

You remembered small pieces of what happened. You remember witnessing Tobio Kageyama’s entrance into the training area, finding his place in the stands. You remember opting for offense immediately, knowing that he would be surprised at your lack of defense. You remember using all of your strength and weight behind every attack.

You laughed when you had him knocked down for five seconds. Because you had won.

"Congratulations.” Tsukishima announced. “For this duel, our top ten will continue. Although you will get a small advantage, being our overall winner.”

“We can discuss that advantage later.” Bokuto said. “For now, I do believe that our crowned prince has something he would like to say.”

Everyone stood in a hushed silence, attention fully on the man in black and blue.

“I do have an announcement.” Tobio Kageyama said from the center of the training ground. All of you surrounded him, standing on the outer edge of the circle, clinging to his words.

You crossed your arms over your chest. You were still sweaty, heavy breaths rolling out of your mouth in huffs.

“In two days time, I will be crowned King.” He said. The silence was deafening. “And with that, many kings and rulers from other kingdoms will be arriving to bare witness to the event. After, we have a week of balls and festivals.

“I wanted to give my thanks to all of you for your effort and training. You will have the entire week off. I invite you to all of the events that will take place at the castle. This includes the crowning.”

You felt your jaw drop. You looked over to Yua and Akari, who both shared the same expression. You would be at balls, at fairs and festivals, with the royalty of the nations.

You’ve heard stories from Kiyoko of balls, of extravagant parties and drunken nights. You’ve heard stories of the other princes and kings that rule the kingdoms that are on the other side of the outlying woods. You’ve only ever heard stories.

And none of them excited you.

They were always something to brag about. They were always something that made other’s seem better, seem richer. If you heard someone in the town streets talking of going to such events, you would turn away and steal something from their bag as punishment for making you feel inferior.

Being able to attend yourself sounded like the perfect time to practice.

You felt someone’s eyes, and you looked up to find Tobio Kageyama staring directly at you.

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

Phantoms

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Two

A JSE Fanfic

Oh wow, second chapter already? :O Yeah I was really excited to keep writing this. Fantasy is my element; I’ve returned home. After wandering out into the woods for so long, Chase wakes up in an unfamiliar location. Where is he? Who are these strange masked people who have found him? And what happened back in his village? Answers will follow, as we meet new people...including a couple boys that us readers will know :D

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

Chase woke up slowly, over the course of what had to be a few minutes. First, he was aware of weight, something pressing down on him. It was warm. And that felt really, really good. Because there was a coldness in his core that he couldn’t quite shake, sending chills across his skin. After the weight, sound came trickling in. There wasn’t much of it. Just some strange scratching sounds, and occasionally footsteps, which echoed. It was only after registering the echo that thoughts started to form. Where...where was he? How’d he get here? Last he remembered, he was...in the forest? It was dark. Was it nighttime? Chase found it hard to recall.

He finally opened his eyes. It was difficult; they felt weighed down. But he did it. And once his eyes were open, he saw...stone. Rough, natural stone, not stone bricks. The light was strong, but flickering. And completely unfamiliar.

Turning his head to the side was an effort, but he managed. He was on a bed, he recognized that much. With a few layers of blankets, including one made of fur on top. Again, completely unfamiliar. As was the rough stone room he found himself in. Some sort of cave...? But then why was there a bed in a cave? No, scratch that. There was a whole row of beds, he could see them extending to the side, along with a couple rickety wooden chairs. And, currently sitting down in one of those chairs, was a woman with a bird face.

“Wh...?” Chase tried to sit up, but the blankets were too heavy, and his body felt weak, so he gave up easily.

The bird-faced woman looked up, and—oh, no. It was a mask. Of course. With a long, curved beak that couldn’t be practical. The woman gasped, and put down the items she was holding—a stack of parchment and a long white feather—a quill—down on the nearest bed. “You’re awake. How do you feel?” She asked, standing up again and hurrying over. Her voice was...it sounded different. In a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

How did he feel? How did he...how...The simple question took Chase a full thirty seconds to answer. “...tired.”

“That’s to be expected,” the woman said, “when you catch the shivering like you did.”

The shivering? Chase groaned as he suddenly remembered the events of last night. Running through the forest, tripping and falling in the water, then continuing to walk until he couldn’t. How stupid. He knew about the shivering, how it could kill a man who stayed out in the cold for too long. Why had he kept going? Actually, why...why had he been out in the forest that late? It felt...important. But those memories still eluded him.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be alright,” the woman reassured him. “We found you just in time. You, ha...wandered pretty close to camp.” She gave a small smile. Though the mask only covered the upper half of her face, the beak still hid most of the smile. “What’s your name?”

“...Ch’se.” Chase mumbled. His eyelids were really, really heavy. Maybe if he just closed them for a moment...

“Chess? Odd na—no wait, don’t fall asleep!”

Too late. The moment his eyes closed, he drifted off.

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

He kept drifting for some time, bobbing on the sea of sleep, occasionally cresting a wave and catching a brief glimpse of that strange cave room again, before falling back asleep. He didn’t regain true awareness until he heard voices. And then, he opened his eyes and turned his head towards them.

This time, he’d rolled over to the other side of the bed. He could see the row of beds continuing, then ending at a large, dangling sheet of canvas. Like for a ship sail? Was he on a boat? No, silly him. A cave wouldn’t be on a boat. Maybe it was just blocking off the entrance. He also saw lanterns this time around, dangling from the distant rock ceiling on chains. There were a lot of them, actually, providing a bright light. Bright enough to see the two people talking to each other nearby. Chase concentrated, and soon the words started to make sense.

“It’s dangerous!” This voice was coming from a man with a fox face. No, wait. Again, it was a mask. The man was also wearing leather armor on his chest and arms. His hands were on his hips and he was staring down at the other figure he was talking to.

“Oh, really? He was already deep into the shivering by the time they found him,” the other voice said. Also a man, if Chase had to guess. He couldn’t quite tell, because this figure had its back to him. All he could see was a red cloak, down to the figure’s waist, with the hood pulled up.

“That could’ve been...a mistake,” the fox-masked man said slowly. “After all, he was wet. If he tripped and fell, and out in the middle of the Dragon’s Greatwoods, there wouldn’t have been time to retreat to shelter. So he continued on his mission.”

“Mission?” The cloaked figure laughed. “Yea, the King sent a man without any jacket or cloak, only armed with a shortbow and five arrows, to find his current greatest threat’s lair. That makes perfect sense.”

The man folded his arms. “He could be a scout. There could be a greater force coming.”

“Look, Lukas, I admire your vigilance,” the figure said. “But there’s just too many holes. If he’s a scout, why doesn’t he have an insignia anywhere? And I know you’re going to say he had to have nothing in case he was caught, or that he could’ve been sent to infiltrate, but in that case? He should have had better gear. A dagger or knife, at least.” The man started to talk again, but the figure kept going. “And also, even if he is part of the King’s forces, shouldn’t we keep him around to ask questions? Instead of just throwing him out into the cold with the shivering like you’re suggesting.”

“Not with the shivering—”

“That doesn’t make your idea much better.” The figure snaps, and surprisingly, despite being at least a head taller, the man in the fox mask shrinks back. “Like I said, I appreciate your vigilance,” the figure continued in a softer tone. “But right now? Does this man look dangerous?” The figure turned around and gestured to Chase, then stopped. “Wait a moment. I think he’s awake.”

The fox-masked man gasped, and backed up. Chase tried to say something, or nod, or do anything, but...the depths of dreamland were already calling him back. He closed his eyes once more.

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

The third time Chase woke up, it was for good. He opened his eyes, and found he didn’t have the urge to close them again. When he turned his head, it was easier. And his mind was clear, able to take in the strange cave in more detail. Like the fact that it was large enough to put three cottages inside, and still have room to walk in between. Or that the end opposite the canvas was actually a pile of rocks, like there was a cave-in, but with a few stone bricks in the gaps, as if people came along and tried to reinforce the rocks into a solid wall.

He was really, really warm. Not hot, but just warm enough to be noticeable. So he tried to sit up. It was harder than expected, both because of the weakness that lingered in his limbs, and because the layered blankets were surprisingly heavy. But he managed to get upright.

“You’re awake again!”

Chase let out a startled cry, then turned to see the woman with the bird mask from before. She was standing near the rock-brick wall, a wooden chest open at her feet, which she quickly closed. Now, Chase took in more about her. The long, curved beak was still impractical, and Chase couldn’t recognize the type of bird the mask was modeled after. She wore a white apron over a tunic and a pair of trousers. Her black hair was pulled back in tight braids, and she had darker skin than anyone Chase had ever known. She hurried over. “Lay down, lay down. And keep the blankets on.”

“It’s a little hot, actually,” Chase mumbled an explanation.

The woman hummed, then leaned over and pressed her hand against Chase’s forehead. The touch was cool. “Well...I suppose your temperature is closer to normal,” she said, leaning back. “But don’t get up yet. How do you feel, Chess?”

“Um...well, my name is Chase, actually,” he corrected. “But anyway, I feel...still a little tired, but I’m not...not sleepy. Just kind of...weak, I guess.”

“Well. That’s good,” the woman said cheerfully. “One moment, do you mind holding this?” She reached into a pocket in her apron and took out a smooth, round stone the size of a fist.

“...sure?” Chase took the stone. For a moment, his hand dropped with the weight, but he kept it aloft.

The woman hummed again, watching his arm as his muscles trembled slightly. “I suppose that’s not enough to worry.” She took the stone back.

“Thank you, I guess,” Chase said. He glanced once more around the large cave—or, actually, a cavern. “Now, uh...if you don’t mind. Where am I? And who are you? And how did I get here?”

“You’re...well, that’s hard to say,” the woman said. It was then that Chase realized why her voice sounded different: she had an accent, one he couldn’t identify. “I’m not sure if I should tell you that yet, but you are safe. You are in a...place...full of good people, and you are currently in our infirmary.”

“In a cave?” Chase blurted out.

The woman laughed. “Oh believe me, they argued about where to put it for so long. They still do, actually. But we keep it clean. As for how you got here, you wandered right up to the edge of our...place. There was a whole group out nearby, talking to each other and spending time, and they saw you in the distance. So they picked you up and took you here. And for your question in the middle, you can call me Ibis.”

“Ibis,” Chase repeated. “Is that a type of bird?”

“Yes, it is!” Ibis beamed, and adjusted her white bird mask. “They live near rivers, in warm climates.”

“Oh. Interesting. I...hadn’t seen them before,” Chase said slowly.

“You are not the only one,” Ibis assured him. “It is cold in these mountains. But I have to ask you something. I hope you don’t mind. It is...What were you doing so far out in the woods, so late at night?”

“I, uh...I go out into the forest to hunt,” Chase said. “Every day, usually, except in the winter, unless it’s really necessary.”

“Really? Interesting,” Ibis said. She brushed some dirt off her apron. “Well, Chase, you are recovering from the shivering nicely. But I hope you don’t mind if I have someone else take a look at you. Not today, tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Oh. Um...alright,” Chase said, still a bit confused. “And...when are you going to tell me where I am? And who this group is? And why all of you are wearing masks?”

“Chase, I would really like to answer your questions, but I don’t know what we’ve decided,” Ibis said honestly.

“So keeping it a secret is important, huh?”

“I suppose you could say so. Now if you don’t mind.” Ibis walked around the bed. “I am going to get you some water. You must be very thirsty.”

He hadn’t actually noticed it, given the more pressing concerns of his situation, but the minute she mentioned it, Chase realized how dry his mouth was. “I am. Thank you.”

“I will be right back,” Ibis assured him, then headed towards the canvas. She pushed through a flap in the middle, not unlike that of a tent, and disappeared.

Chase stared after her for a few moments, then slumped back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, wondering. Who were these people? What did they want? And what was going to happen to him?

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

True to her word, Ibis reappeared the next day with someone else in tow. Chase heard the sound of the canvas flap open from the bed where he was laying, and rolled over to see her and another man walking in. They took a slight detour to the side, where they both put on a white apron, then headed over. “Hello again, Chase,” Ibis said cheerfully. “This is Owl.”

The other man nodded. “Hello.” As the name would have indicated, his white mask was shaped like an owl, though...Chase noticed that his mask was more...decorated. Ibis’s mask had a symbol in the center of the forehead drawn in black, a vertical line with two others twisting around it. The man’s owl mask had that, too, but it also had colorful details along the feathers, and a pattern of pale blue diamonds along the cheeks. Underneath the apron, the man wore a blue scarf and a white tunic with buckles in the front. He also had a belt with several pouches hanging off it. Brown hair framed the owl mask, cut short, and blue eyes looked at Chase through the wide eyeholes.

“Hello,” Chase said politely. “How’re you doing?”

“Oh, ah, I am well.” Owl sounded a bit surprised by the question, which confused Chase. People always said that when greeting each other. “But more importantly, how are you?” He continued, sitting down in a chair next to the bed.

“I’m tired.” Yes, tired of saying that.

“The fatigue is expected. How are your thoughts? Is your head clear, or is it more foggy?” Wait a moment...Owl also had an accent. But it was different from Ibis’s. While hers was smooth, mellowing out the vowels, his was sharp, especially on the S’s and TH’s. And it...sounded strangely familiar...which really stood out in contrast to all the strange new things Chase had been going through.

“No, it’s pretty clear,” Chase said slowly, silently wracking his memories. Where had he heard that accent? “And before you ask, I’m not cold, but I’m also not that warm, either. At least, not on my own. The blankets, though, they are making me warm.”

“That is what they were made for, yes,” Owl nodded. “Ibis says your temperature is not too bad, so if you would like, we can take away some of them.”

“That would be good, thank you. And, um...slightly related question. Where are my clothes?” Chase gestured to the shirt he was wearing. It wasn’t his; this one was thick and woven. It hadn’t seemed important yesterday, but might as well ask now. “And all the rest of my things, too?”

“Ah, sorry about that. They were all wet, so we had to change you out of them. They would just make you colder. We have your things nearby, you can go get them later,” Owl explained. “Once we are sure you are not with the shivering anymore.”

That way of talking was just so familiar, it was distracting. Where would he have heard it before? Chase fell silent for a moment as he thought about it. Maybe in another similar environment? When he was sick? Well, he didn’t really get sick that often, but maybe when someone else was sick...like...

Owl paused, waiting for Chase to say something else. “...are you okay?”

The memory hit Chase in a flash, making him gasp out loud. “Henrik?!”

Owl looked shocked for a moment, but then he glanced at Ibis, who had an identical expression under her mask, and quickly turned the shock into confusion. “I am sorry?”

“That’s you, isn’t it? Henrik...I don’t remember your surname, but you had one. I thought that was strange. You’re a traveling doctor, you were in town last summer!”

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Owl said slowly. “You might be mistaking me for someone else—”

“No no no, I couldn’t be mistaking you,” Chase insisted. “It’s embarrassing that I didn’t remember you until now, really. Maybe I am still foggy from the shivering. My son, Quentin, he caught a fever, we—we were really worried about him making it. But Michael told me there was a traveling doctor staying at his house—maybe you remember him, he’s a woodcutter? But I ran over and I explained everything to you, and you came back with me straight away to see to Quentin. You gave him some medicine, and...and you probably saved his life.” Chase went quiet. “I’d never forget that.”

Owl looked like he wanted to deny it at first, but the longer Chase talked, the more recognition sparked in his eyes. “Actually, you look...In a mountain village last summer? A little boy with a fever...Did he have dark curly hair? And a quiet sister?”

“Yes! That’s Quentin! And my daughter, Amabel, too.” Chase nodded fast enough to make his head dizzy. “That was you, right?”

A slight pause. “Well I suppose if you already guessed, there is no point in saying no.” The man reached up and took off his owl mask, revealing his full face for the first time. And now, there was no mistaking it.

“It is you!” Chase smiled wide. “Oh, elders. I never thanked you enough. We would have—Quentin’s only eight, you know, but he’s had trouble all his life—and that you agreed on such short notice—”

“You think I would say no to something so urgent?” Henrik scoffed, though it didn’t come across as harsh, more like a habit. His voice was actually quite soft as he continued, “And for a child, as well.”

“A lot of traveling doctors charge a lot—”

“They are selfish. Who would charge for a child?” Henrik shook his head. “But you recognized me. I am surprised. I have not done any traveling in nearly a year.”

“It was the accent,” Chase explained. “I think I remember you explaining why you have it? You’re from Al...Altir...Altherd...”

“Alterde,” Henrik finished. “It is across the sea, to the east of here.”

“Right.” Chase glanced over at Ibis, who was standing to the side while they talked, bouncing on her feet and waiting for them to finish. “Are...you two aren’t from the same place, are you?”

“Oh, no no, not at all,” Ibis said. “Though, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to get specific.”

“Oh. That has to do with the masks and the secrecy, doesn’t it? Well, that’s okay.”

Ibis smiled, then walked away a bit. “Henrik, if you do not mind, I am going to continue inventory.”

“No, no, go ahead,” Henrik said, nodding. Ibis nodded back, then walked towards the back of the cavern and bent over to open up a chest. She took out some parchment and a quill with ink, then proceeded to open another chest. “Ah, anyway.” Henrik turned back to Chase. “Where was your village? Is it nearby?”

“On the edge of the forest,” Chase confirmed. “They call it Hilltown.”

“Right, because of the slopes and steeps,” Henrik said. “And how is your son now? He has not had any more scares since I tended him?”

“No, nothing major. Though the other day, he fell into the trough for Rainer’s sheep.” Chase laughed. “He was fine, but we should keep an eye—” He suddenly stopped.

No. No, they couldn’t do that. Because the day after that incident, Chase had gone hunting and returned to find the village burning. His family—Stacia, Amabel, Quentin—they’d all disappeared. And now, as the memories came flooding back, he remembered why he’d gone into the forest so late at night, why he’d kept walking despite being so cold and tired. Because his family was missing. Because he’d run in to see his cottage alight, the orange flame searing his eyes, the scent of woodsmoke and ash all around, smoke filling his throat...then run into the forest, hoping maybe, maybe he would see them. Frantically searching, not caring about what happened, just as long as they were safe, please let them be safe. Please let them be safe, somehow, somewhere—

“Chase?” Henrik said slowly, eyes filled with concern. “Is everything okay?”

And with that simple question, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears filled his eyes and overflowed. Chase bent over and started sobbing, burying his face in his hands as his body shook. Henrik’s concern grew into worry, and he leaned in closer, putting a hand on Chase’s back. “What is wrong?” he asked quietly. “Is there—could I help?”

“I don’t—know what happened—to them,” Chase said in between gasps for air. “Town was—I went out hunting a-and town was—it was on fire—when I came back. A-a-and the cottage was on fire, a-and they were—my wife, my kids, they—I-I couldn’t find them. I thought I’d look for them, i-in the forest, but—but I couldn’t find them, and I—I—kept shouting, but I—I—”

“Oh.” Henrik’s expression slowly shifted to horrified realization. “Oh, no. Chase, I am so sorry.”

“They—they can’t be...gone,” Chase continued, a desperate edge to his voice. “I-I-I couldn’t see their—they could’ve gotten out and headed downhill, or to another village. But I do-don’t know. That—that chance that they could be—it’s j-j-just—” He gave up on forming words and just cried.

Henrik didn’t say anything. He sat with him, a comforting presence, letting Chase sob his eyes out. Which was appreciated. Chase didn’t want any words, any promises of false hope. He wanted to let the tears consume him. How could he have forgotten that was what happened to his family? That they were the reason he was even here in the first place? How could something like that have slipped his mind?

It was some time before Chase’s crying died down. Slowly, the wracking sobs petered out into quiet whimpers. Henrik reached into one of his belt pouches and took out a square of cloth, which he handed to Chase. “Thank you,” Chase mumbled as he took it, and wiped his eyes.

“It is no problem,” Henrik said. “Chase, that is...I am sorry.” He paused. Chase just nodded. So he continued. “How...how was the village on fire? If I remember, most of it was stone, except for the houses on the sloping parts.”

“It was...the oddest thing,” Chase said, recalling the sight. “The stone buildings were on fire, too.”

Henrik’s eyes seemed to sharpen. “Really?”

“Yes. I-I don’t know how, but I know what I saw.”

“No, no, I believe you. Ah...” Henrik cleared his throat. “You do not have to answer if you are uncomfortable, but...was anyone there who...was not supposed to be?”

“Oh. Oh. Yea, there were these strangers on horses,” Chase remembered. “Or at least, some of them were on horses. They were all dressed the same, or similarly. Dark tunics.”

“Did they have any sort of—of marking, or insignia?”

“I was too far away to see...no, wait.” Chase closed his eyes to remember. “Yes, some of them had the crest on the back of their tunics.”

“Crest?”

“The kingdom’s crest, Glasúil’s crest. The green field on the striped shield. Heh. That’s how my mom taught me to remember it in lessons.” Chase smiled for a moment, but it soon faded. “You know, I was...obviously more concerned at the time, but...why were strangers wearing the crest even there? They had to be working directly for the royal family. Maybe they were there to help?”

Henrik didn’t answer, though when Chase looked over at him, his face was dark and stony. “Chase. Ah, I think we could send someone to...look at the village...ruins. To see what happened. If you’d like, we could tell you...if we find...”

“That would be good,” Chase said softly. “Henrik, is...is something wrong?”

After a moment, Henrik put his owl mask back on. “Yes, something is wrong. And I will explain to you what it is, after you are completely better from the shivering. That should only take a few more days. Is that okay?”

“Yea, I guess that’s alright,” Chase agreed. Maybe it was just the fogginess from the shivering, but he felt really overwhelmed and more than a little confused. But he got the feeling he wouldn’t be getting any answers right away, so he had to wait. That was okay. He was patient, even if the distress for his family was eating a hole in his chest.

“Thank you.” Henrik stood up. “I can come see you later, if you wish, but I have to take care of something right now. Feel free to ask Ibis for anything.”

“Alright.” Ibis looked really busy with the chests at the back of the cavern, totally absorbed in her writing on her parchment. Chase doubted she’d heard any of their conversation. But okay. He’d ask her if he had to.

Henrik gave him a small smile. “I will be back.”

“Goodbye.” Chase waved as Henrik turned and left through the canvas flap at the front of the cavern, disappearing from sight. Then he sighed, and looked up at the rocky ceiling. He didn’t know what was happening, but he was sure he’d stumbled into something far bigger than he’d ever expected.

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

It took three more days for Chase to fully get over the effects of the shivering. During that time, Henrik and Ibis were frequent visitors, talking and helping him regain his strength. Occasionally, he’d see some other person in a mask enter the infirmary cavern. Usually someone wearing a bird-themed mask, but he saw other animals as well—he recognized a hedgehog, a badger, a couple mice, and a snake. And he noticed that the ones in bird masks would always put on an apron before entering. Given how Henrik and Ibis had bird masks and would do the same, he assumed that the birds were the doctors for...whoever these masked people were.

None of the masked people talked to him, so he didn’t talk to them. But more than once, he caught someone staring at him. No doubt he was an unusual sight. And probably some sort of security risk. He could still remember that conversation he’d overheard between the man in the fox mask and the figure in the red cloak. Talking about how he shouldn’t be there, how he could be...some sort of enemy, he guessed. So he didn’t blame them, though it did make him a bit uncomfortable at times.

Eventually, the fatigue disappeared, and Chase could walk around and pick up and hold things without his muscles trembling. Henrik had brought him his set of clothes back, and Chase had quickly changed into the familiar garb, which wasn’t nearly as warm as the clothes they’d given him. Though he couldn’t help but notice his bow and arrows were missing. More security risk, probably.

On the third day, at a time when Ibis had left the cavern and Chase was on his own, idly sitting on his bed, Henrik walked through the canvas flap and right up to him. “Chase?” He said.

“Hello, Henrik,” Chase said. “How’re you doing?”

“I am well, thank you. And you?”

“Doing fine.” Chase stood up and stretched. “Except I’m completely bored.”

Henrik laughed a bit. “Well, it is not the most exciting thing to be stuck in here.”

Chase smiled. Honestly, he preferred being bored to being constantly worried about his family.

Henrik’s expression became serious. As if reading Chase’s thoughts, he said, “Well...do you remember what I said a few days ago? That we would go to check Hilltown and see if...there was anything left?”

Silently, Chase nodded.

“I have some good news, and some bad news, Chase. And the good news is that we could not find any signs of your family being dead.”

The wave of immense relief Chase felt was enough to make him physically stagger. “Really?” he whispered.

“Really,” Henrik confirmed.

“Oh, thank the elders.” Chase sighed. But then a wave of nervousness shot through his body. “What’s the bad news, then?”

Henrik sighed, reaching up and taking off his mask so he could rub his eyes. “Hilltown is...gone. There are the remains of buildings, but...no people in sight. Or at least, none alive.” He paused. “The bodies the group found, they...looked them over. And none of them are children, women, or elderly. All of them were adult men. Not killed by fire, but by...wounds that would be inflicted by people. Arrows, and blades.” And he paused again. “That is not all, though. The reason the group took so long to return was because they checked out the nearby mountain villages as well. And...things are exactly the same in the three they found. Burned, with bodies of men, but no one else.”

What color there was in Chase’s face completely drained, leaving him white as a sheet. “The...same thing happened in three other villages?” That was...it was too terrible for him to even put into words. He’d been to one nearby village a couple times before, called Pinetown, but the other two...though he might have known of them, their names escaped his mind. But they all had to be roughly the same size as Hilltown, with about three hundred to four hundred people living there. Altogether that was...as many as sixteen hundred people dead or missing.

“At least. They only checked nearby,” Henrik said tentatively. “We are going to go out farther, see if there are more...tragedies like this.”

“...oh.” Chase wasn’t sure what to say at first. But after a moment, he landed on a question. “Wh-who would do this? And why?”

“We are not so sure about the why. As for who...” Henrik hesitated. “This may be difficult to hear, but do you remember how you saw strangers wearing the Glasúil crest that night? They had to be working for the King.”

“I’ve figured that out by now, yes.” It was really the only logical explanation.

Henrik was clearly waiting for Chase to say more, but when he stayed quiet, he asked, “And...did you wonder what they were doing up in the mountains? Very far away from Suilthair, where they would most likely be?”

“I...yes, but...maybe they were some sort of group on patrol,” Chase suggested. “That happens sometimes. And they saw the fire, and came to help. Why are you shaking your head?”

“Chase,” Henrik sighed. “You do not want to hear this, I understand. But those soldiers had to be the ones to start the fire.”

“That’s absurd,” Chase said weakly. Really, it made sense. Because even though it was true that soldiers sometimes patrolled the kingdom, it was rare that they would go up into the mountains. The terrain was difficult if you weren’t familiar with it. In all his life, he’d only heard of nearby patrols only a few times, and it was too much of a coincidence that they’d be there when the fire happened. But...

“The bodies they found had injuries from blades and arrows,” Henrik reminded him. “The fire was not an accident, it was a cover for soldiers shooting down innocents. They probably took away all the townspeople they didn’t kill, so that they could not tell anyone what happened. And do you remember what you said, about how even the stone buildings were burning? That could only be caused by wizardry, and the King has many wizards working for him.”

“Whoa, wait, how do you know it was a wizard?” Chase asked. “There are other magic users. And how do you know that, even if a wizard did cause the fire, that they were working for the King?”

“You do not know that much about the branches of magic, do you?” Henrik asked, raising an eyebrow. “Only wizards and sorcerers would be able to conjure fire, and even then, only a very powerful sorcerer would be able to burn stone. And as for why the wizard was most likely allied with the King...well, that is a longer conversation, but suffice to say, they have good reason to be.”

“I can’t believe the Alterden knows more about politics in this kingdom than I do,” Chase muttered.

Henrik laughed. “Well, the Dragon’s Teeth Mountains are very far away, not many things affect you up here. Or at least...they didn’t used to.” His expression became serious once more. “Chase...the King is not a good man. I have lived here for fifteen years, I have seen things change. He was good once, but...he is different. He desires power, and control, and he will go to any lengths to have it. The villages burning it is the sort of thing he would do, even if we do not know why just yet.”

“I...I need a moment.” Chase sat down hard on the edge of the bed. His whole world had flipped upside down. There was no longer ground beneath his feet, and he was spinning through empty space. But, still, it made sense. The people praised the King and his actions when he took the crown after the previous royal couple, but over time, that praise had dried up. He’d assumed that people were just getting used to it, but hearing no news from the flatlands below regarding their leader? That was just...odd. Maybe deliberately odd. And of course, there was the evidence of his own eyes. Strangers working directly under the King, showing up the same day Hilltown burned...it just made sense.

“This is a lot, I understand.” Henrik sat down next to him, setting his owl mask in his lap. “But...our group, the ones you have stumbled into, we—”

“You’re some sort of rebels, aren’t you?” Chase interrupted. “The other day—before everything went down—my wife, Stacia, heard rumors that there were masked people in the forest, and that they might be plotting against the King. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Henrik paused. Then hit his forehead with an open palm. “Well I suppose I should have some words with people about being seen! Rumors up here already, damn it all. We are trying to be subtle and invisible. Like spirits.”

“So I’m right,” Chase summarized, a small grin on his face.

“Yes, you are right,” Henrik sighed. “We are trying to fix everything. Protect people. Stop things like the villages burning.”

“Noble cause,” Chase said.

“Thank you. And...it is a cause you could help with.”

Chase blinked, unsure if he’d heard him right. “Sorry?”

“We could always use the numbers,” Henrik continued. “And as a hunter, you already have some skills. Of course, you do not have to. But...we cannot risk anyone hearing we are up here. Even though there are apparently rumors.” He scoffed for a moment. “So, I am giving you two offers, Chase. You can help us, or I will give you a tonic that will make you forget what you saw up here, and we will drop you off somewhere where you could move on with life.”

“A tonic? There’s something that could do that?” Chase asked, leaning away a bit.

“Oh yes, you would be surprised.”

“And...those are my only choices?”

“Unfortunately,” Henrik said apologetically. “I trust you, but many of our people are more paranoid. And we cannot have anyone knowing who we are.” He paused, then stood up. “I can give you some time to decide—”

“No, I’ve already decided.” Chase stood up as well, grabbing Henrik’s arm. “You said that these soldiers who burned down town...they probably took everyone away that they didn’t kill, right? That...that would include my family.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I—I need to find them. A-and it sounds like you could help me with that.” He tried for a weak smile. “Besides, if you made me forget everything that happened up here, I’d go looking for Stacia and the kids on my own. We might even run into each other again. So, really, it wouldn’t do much.”

Henrik smiled, relieved. “I am glad to hear that, Chase.” He put a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “And I give you my word that we will find your family. We will help you get them back.”

Chase nodded, stiffening his resolve. If he’d been there that night, he might have been able to get Stacia, Amabel, and Quentin to safety. But he hadn’t. So, now he’ll have to make up for that. He will find them. Whatever it took.

“Oh elders, finally!”

Chase gasped, and turned to the source of the strange voice. The tent flap had flown open, and in walked...a man in a waist-length red cloak, with the hood pulled up. The same man that Chase had overheard talking with the other man in the fox mask.

Henrik jumped, and spun around as well. “Schwestern, do not scare me like that, Jackie!” The moment the name escaped his voice, he clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Sorry, Hen. And don’t worry about the name, if he’s going to join, he’d find out eventually,” The other man—Jackie—waved off the concern. He had a mask as well, though this one was in the shape of a wolf. There was a different black symbol in the center of its forehead, a circle with two dots inside. But...his mask was also more colorfully decorated, including some red triangular markings along the edge. So far, his mask and Henrik’s were the only ones with color like that. Besides the mask, Jackie wore a blue tunic pulled over a chainmail shirt. The end of a dark ponytail stuck out from under the hood, and bright blue eyes looked at Chase with excitement. “It’s so good to have you on board!”

“On...board? On board what?” Chase asked, confused.

“It’s just a figure of speech, I mean that you’re part of the group now! Welcome to the Phantoms!” Jackie hurried over and stuck out his hand, in a blue glove. Chase took it, and Jackie shook his hand vigorously. “It’s been so hard to recruit people up in the mountains, every other location of ours is bringing in more people than ever, because the King keeps being a prick, he’s increasing his prickishness. But up here there aren’t even that many people to begin with, and everyone’s tight together in the villages, and nobody knows what’s going on down below. So you’re the first! It’s nice to meet you!”

“I—uh—Phantoms?” Chase latched on to the easiest part of that rambling to take in.

“Yea, that’s us, the Masked Phantoms,” Jackie confirmed. “Because we strike invisibly, and before anyone knows we’re there. And the mask part is obvious. You’re gonna get one, too! Well, eventually. Right now we just have a few backups, we’re waiting to get more plaster to make more. But when we get that, you can choose the animal and everything.”

“Jackie, please, you are overwhelming him.” Henrik stepped in and pushed Jackie back a bit. “Give him space, a lot has happened.”

“Sorry, I just get excited sometimes.”

“I know you do, it is okay.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Chase added. “I was, uh...surprised. Were you listening to our whole conversation?”

“No, just the part near the end where Hen was explaining your options,” Jackie said, tucking a lock of hair behind one of the ears of his wolf mask. “Anyway, if you’re ready, we could finally show you around where you’ve been staying all this time. I mean, the infirmary’s nice and everything, but it’s still a cave. We need more open air in here.”

“No, we do not,” Henrik said firmly. “Open air can bring wind, which can bring insects and other small, unclean things. Not to mention it could blow everything around and mess things up. Nemet works so hard on keeping everything organized.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, you’re the doctor. Anyway, Chase, we can show you around now if you want.”

“Uh...you know what? Yea, I’d like that.” Chase nodded. “I’ve been here for, what, seven days?”

“Six,” Henrik corrected.

“A long time. I’m tired of it. So, yes, you can show me around now.”

Jackie beamed. “Alright! Come on, follow me. You’re going to love this place.” And he turned and headed towards the canvas at the front of the cave.

Henrik looked at Chase. “It will be a bit shocking,” he said.

“Okay,” Chase said, frowning uncertainly. What could be so shocking? Well, he was about to find out. He hurried after Jackie, with Henrik following him in turn, who was waiting for him, holding the flap partly open.

“Alright.” Jackie smiled at him, then disappeared through the flap, holding it open on the other side.

Chase walked through. At first, he blinked in the sunlight, partially hidden through a cloud but nonetheless bright after being stuck in the infirmary cave for so long. Then, when the afterglow faded, he looked around. The cave entrance was on the side of a steep slope of rock, almost vertical. Before them was a large, almost empty space, the ground cleared of any brush and packed down into dirt. There weren’t any trees nearby, but there was a line of large white...rocks? Curved rocks. They rose in size, and continued into the distance, the line curving gently. The gaps in the rocks were large enough for at least three people to walk through side-to-side, so that’s exactly what the three of them did.

Beyond the line of rocks was more space clear of brush. Though this area was filled with tents. And with people. Some of them wearing masks, many of them bare-faced but with a mask somewhere on their person. They bustled about, carrying weapons, equipment, or stacks of parchment. Or they stood and sat around, talking with each other. The air was cool, so they were all wearing cloaks or jackets, though Chase noticed that he was the only one wearing a hat. The line of rocks continued to curve around the tents, getting larger and larger to one side. Wait a second. What was that in the distance? Chase raised his hand to shade his eyes from the sun, eyes following the curve of the rocks.

No, they weren’t rocks.

They were bones.

Gigantic bones.

That thing he’d seen, a bit off to the side in the distance? That was a ribcage. He turned around, noticing the way the bones they’d walked between were similar, but got smaller and smaller. A tail? Yes, a tail. Probably of a reptile, judging by the shape. The skeleton curved around this massive area of space, big enough to fit half of Hilltown inside. And the area it circled was filled with tents and people.

“What the...?” Chase whispered.

“I told you,” Henrik said. “And you cannot even see the skull from here. Or the legs. Or the wings.”

“I’m sor—wings?!” Chase repeated. What animal was this big?! And had wings?! And was reptilian?! Oh...wait. He knew exactly one animal that fit all those qualifications. His eyes widened, and he looked back at the skeleton, mouth open as he gaped.

Jackie clapped his hands. “Welcome to Wyvernlair, Chase. Come on. There’s so much more to see.”

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos au #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #jackieboy man #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Weird, “Chain Song.”

This one might be a bit cheesy, but I was feeling something feel good this morning. I hope you guys like it.

The Commander said it was the furthest human colony away from earth, and in fact, it was the furthest colony away from any sort of civilized society as far as anyone knew. The people who lived here had volunteered for the job and had been sent by the UN to pay of debts, prison sentences, or simply as a way to avoid homelessness. And now their job was to mine the asteroid fields for precious metals , usually by hand as spare equipment was hard to find and was rarely sent this far out in the system.

Commander Vir explained that their colony was technically outside the reach of GA control and was actually positioned in unclaimed airspace as far as anyone knew.

IN essence, these people were alone in the universe as far away from anything as anyone might be, and only receiving supplies once or twice a year.

The planet on which they lived wasn’t really a planet at all, but an exoplanet about the size of pluto, which they were steadily mining for it’s precious metals to be sent back to earth.

At that moment the Harbinger cargo bay held all the equipment these people would need to make the components to complicated mechanical devices including computers implanted electronics and projection screens for military installations.

They took a wide turn through the asteroid field, where, they could already, occasionally see small mining cycles with one or two riders floating on the back, one working to mine the metal and another working to make sure they did not float away from their post. Their ship was barely noticed as they passed by, except for when they got close enough for their shadow to fall over the working figures.

They crested over another large asteroid, in a surprisingly tight belt and came across the small exoplanet around which much of the debris circled. It was nothing special at first, smaller than the moon would have been back on earth, but a closer look at its rocky, dust-covered surface showed evidence of sustained human life: metal towers, footprints, vehicle tracks, and more branching outward across the entirety of the minuscule exoplanet.

On the bridge most of the crew was thinking the same thing. As the docking bay of the little planet came into view-- welded together by way of thousands of scraps of metal into an amalgamated monstrosity of a construction-- all of them shivered at the thought of living in such a desolate place. Commander Vir, while thinking the build was cool and well worthy of best-selling science fiction novel or action movie, found the place more than a little depressing to look at, as there were no stars nearby to light the dark little planet.

There was simply the space around and the human made lights which lit the docking bay surface.

Dr. krill was under the impression that the entire thing needed to be scraped and burned, so they could start over. He could not imagine how many deaths and injuries had been sustained creating this place.

Sunny had no real opinion, though her brother Cannon couldn’t help but find a strange and melancholy beauty about the place, as it was, somehow a statement of survival, and a symbol of hope to him rather than a demonstration of sadness.

The commander pulled up to gently maneuver their ship into place in the docking bay, which had slowly opened for them. Even the door to the docking bay looked as if it had been patched together like the most patchwork of quilts. On the outside of the docking bay figures in antiquated space suits: bulky and difficult to maneuver waved at them from the platform.

The door behind them closed, the sharp metal silent in space until the exact moment where the interior was pressurized. Commander Vir unbuckled his seat and ordered a small team to follow him as the dock workers secured their ship into place.

Stepping out into the musty air was a strange experience.

The docking bay echoed with voices and metal clanged constantly against itself.

The floor below them, the ceiling above them, and all around the ground and walls were made out of a patchwork of material. Rusted street signs, and caution signs were pinned up against the walls as in decoration.

Graffiti stained the metal with bright colors in pinks and faded yellow.

Small lights whirled overhead, dim and fading towards their last breath.

He was just beginning to think of how depressing it must be to live in a place like this when a figure approached them from the back their arms wide. They all blinked in surprise as the smiling figure burst into peals of delighted laughter and enfolded the commander in a full contact bear hug.

The man was at least two inches taller than the commander and had muscled arms that were about as big as the other man’s head. His teeth shone white against his dark skin and his wide, honest eyes. His dark hair was braided back into long plates that hung down to his lower back.

He pulled out of the hug and then kissed the commander on either cheek leaving him standing stunned and confused as he moved onto the rest of the party. He did the same for everyone alien or otherwise despite having no idea who he was.

Then he stepped back to stand before them.

The commander frowned in confusion, looking the other man over.

His garb was…. Rather unexpected for a place like this. His shirt was sleeveless, but the shirt he wore had been dyed a bright yellow and was drawn about with patterns and stained with dust. His pants were a bright green and tied with ribbons made in red from the top of the leg down to the lower knee. And then there was the metal, Just like the walls and floors it looked like it had been welded together using scrap pieces for parts, and he wore it like armor on his chest, and on his exposed arms like some sort of armor, though it looked more decorative than anything else.

He raised his hands out wide to either side, “I am station master Jicari and welcome, to the Paxicar mining colony.” His voice was deep and melodious resonating with a kind of accent that none of the could quite place. The smile never left the man’s face, “we are pleased to see outsiders, we don’t get many visitors.”

Looking around the room, they could see other figures going about their work. These figures too were brightly colored, and decorated in scrapped metal.

They waved enthusiastically at the newcomers.

Commander Vir scratched his head in surprise.

“Please, we will unload your cargo, and I will show you to our lovely home.”

The group glanced between each other not entirely sure if lovely was the right word for it. Krill was definitely thinking tetanus, but the captain shrugged. He liked this man already and his strange clothing.

He waved them forward with a smile that never faltered, and together they clopped over the metal flooring and up a set of stairs where neon signs hung on the wall flickering slightly with disrepair.

They passed more men and women in the hallway all of them still dress in bright colors and decorated in metal. One woman wore a headdress that encased her ponytails in rings of metal all the way down her back. Another man wore a helmet that had delicate patterns of silver crawling down his cheek and around one eye.

And everywhere they went the people smiled at them.

Happy laughter echoed from the tunnels to their right and left.

At one point a group of children raced past the down the tunnel giggling and laughing bright rainbow colors flapping behind them in the darkness of the tunnel.

The spaces were not so cramped as they thought it might be and none of them felt claustrophobic walking down the hallway despite its low ceiling, exposed wires, and piping.

A dim blue glow emanated from the distant end of the hallway giving the metal interior a sort of atmospheric haze.

Commander Vir thought he could hear the sound of rushing water.

“I…. Forgive me for sounding ignorant Mr. Jicari.”

“Just jicari will do.”

“Very well…. Then , lie I said, I don’t mean to sound insulting or anything but…. Your people they seem so…. Happy, and colorful. I haven't seen anything like it, not on earth, or Mars or anywhere else in the galaxy, and…. Well.”

His booming laugh echoed down the hall, “And you are wondering how a group of metal miners taken from prisons, and off the streets could find more happiness than those who still live on earth?”

He frowned a bit, “I was going to be more delicate about it, but yes.”

He continued to smile, “Because we have nothing.”

Commander vir frowned, “I’m confused.”

The man patted him on the back, “Of course you are.” The man patted him on the back, “You must understand, Adam that when we came here we had nothing, we had the clothes on our backs and the strength of our hands. Back on earth you can go and you can get rich and you can buy things. But the secret about things is that they do not make you happy. You think that getting a new car can make you happy, that going on exotic vacations can make you happy, well that is not the case because after a while you get used to that new car and soon enough exotic locations are commonplace. You will never be happy unless you find that happiness inside. Happiness is a decision we here have chosen.”

He glanced back at the small group that trailed behind him and smiled, “We are happy because we have nothing, and nothing forced us to look inwards at ourselves. The people who are not happy are not forced into it. They may do what they wish, but it is much better to be happy than it is to wallow in misery for our circumstances.”

The Commander nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure it was that simple, but he was willing to listen.

“And because we did not dwell on how miserable we could be, we made something beautiful, we tried to create with our hands, brighten our days with colors, and smiles, and laughter and stories. We created a culture of happiness.”

They continued to glance at each other, but as they were passed by in the hallways more hands waved at them and more smile were exchanged.

Jicari paused turning to look at them with his deep black eyes lined in wrinkles, “You are about to see the gem of the asteroid belt, something no outsider has ever seen before because they don’t bother to visit our “sad little mining colony.”

He stepped forward motioning them to follow.

And.they did as told stopping in their tracks eyes wide at the massive cavern that stood before them. What rose up before them was a beautiful city, not conventionally beautiful like it was made from white marble, but beautiful and strange in its construction. Gravity mats had been placed about the curvature of the inside of the exo planet allowing the city to climb the walls in a slow parabola upward. The buildings themselves were multi-leveled rising up into the darkness and lit from inside with a thousand little lights. Open cables and wires spilled down from the top of the buildings hanging downwards towards the streets.

The street itself was a walkway on two sides with a canal going down the middle. And the water there was crystal clear and lined with a strange green moss. Neon light lit the cavern with a hazy blue and pink lighting the people and their colorful garments from all sides.

The water sparkled with the pink and blue light as if it had been sprinkled with fairy dust.

Machinery melded with metal and was occasionally covered in delicate green climbing moss.

The people were not idle. Sparks flew from their hands as they worked to repair the buildings, some on the bottom floor and others high in the air. The sound of mallets and chisels rattled through the cavern.

A few people stood on metal rafts that slowly drifted down the length of the river.

And as always that purple blue haze backed everything lit form inside with that light pink, yellow and blue light.

They were walked through the city listening to the rhythmic clatter of tools, and the soft murmur of voices. The city had looked very small from the outside, but perhaps that was just their perception of how small the exo planet was. In reality the interior was quite large though it was not one hundredth of the interior.

Reaching the edge of the city, they could look upwards and see thousands of feet of open rock face being chiseled away by hand using pick axes and drills. Many of these people were held in place on wires or stood precariously on the edge of ledges without anything to hold the in place.

The group of them craned their necks back staring up at the massive walls of stone and a thousand lights that crawled across it reaching up into the darkness finally to be obscured by the blue haze.

“Its…. beautiful.” The commander was surprised at himself for saying it, but it really was true..

Jicari smiled, “it is beautiful, yes.”

He motioned them to follow, and they continued to do so winding up a few short switchbacks towards the base of the wall. Moss grew on either side of them adding a greeness to a place that shouldn’t have been green

They were close to the wall of stone now able to see the workers and hear the clattering of their pick axes as they continually worked the stone . Sometimes they worked alone, and at other times they worked in teams of two, one person holding a chisel while the other used a mallet to beat herder into cracks within the stone.

Jicari turned to look at them and put a finger over his lips.

The group tilted their heads in surprise.

Then Jicari began to whistle.

The tune that he began had an immediate rhythm sharp and piercing enough to carry itself on echoes upwards to many of the workers at once. Krill grew woozy and had to steady himself against Cannon’s open arm as it began.

As soon as the whistling began there was a sudden dynamic change in the sound and movement of the workers. A short pause and then a clatter as all the pick axes and mallets hit at once following the beat set out by Jicari’s whistling. What had once been a clattering amalgamation of noise now turned itself into a steady pounding rhythm.

They listened in awe as the beat spread upwards as all the waiting humans latched on to the beat allowing their work to be the base for the music.

Jicari’s whistling continued, and voices followed soon after humming along with him at a steady pace to match the rhythm of their song.

Krill was having a tough time staying awake

The Drev and humans were having a tough time not humming along.

“Join us.” Jicari said, “Understand why we are happy here.” he motioned them forward, and the commander was the first to follow, interested.

And like humans do they began to match the song of the other humans humming along with the rhythm as Jicari lead them over to the wall.

They were met by a group of other miners who smiled openly and handed over pick axes to the newcomers still humming as they did.

“For some reason, I get the feeling you are getting free labor off us.” The commander teased quietly.”

Jicari just grinned, “Perhaps, but you might find you get something out of it too.”

The commander took the pick axe resting it against his leg as he pulled of his jacket and then his shirt. The marines followed his lead, and even the Drev were invited to join.

Krill floated next to Jicari half in and half out of consciousness. Jicar gently set him on the ground before walking over to join the newcomers.

The group of humans and Drev waited with their tools in hand for Jicari’s lead.

He lifted the pick axe and brought it down on one of the down beats, and then he began to sing. The beat was slow and steady carried by the thunder of axes against stone and the shedding of sparks. The rhythm had spread itself all the way up the wall until the entire cavern was echoing with the beat.

Each beat allowed for the worker to swing back and build up enough momentum for the next hit.

Slowly the new humans followed the example of the others, until, just like that they were following the same beat pattern. Their bodies swaying back and forth almost as if they were dancing. It took the Drev a bit longer, but soon enough they were one with the wall of humans.

Jicari’s voice was deep and powerful reverberating up the stone and down the line to the next human who took up the song with him. Her voice rung like a clear bell locking the beat into place as, one by one, other voices joined the song.

At first, it was a melancholy song about the stone and the axes, and the people who carried them, but as more voices joined in the sadness was replaced as hope took over weaving itself in through the music as an entire human population worked as one. They sung about their home, about their families returning to a chorus of stone and hope that didn't mind death so much, or the blackness, or the void separated from them by walls of stone.

It wasn’t long before the new humans understood the chorus and began to sing along with the workers sweat slicking their backs though they never dropped beat for a moment. Even the Drev continued to hum along, their powerful base voices lending a power behind Jicari’s words as they all continued to sing.

From where he sat half conscious Krill could see the humans as they swayed back and forth swinging the pick axes in slow under hand arches to gain the momentum they would need. And then came the powerful overhand throw that tighten the muscles of the back and sent rivulets of sweat dripping down onto stone. Muscles flexed fighting against the stone returning the force.

He couldn’t say how long they kept that up, thought it seemed longer than it should have been a somehow the song lent energy to arms that should have failed, Still when the songs finally died away some time later, they backed away from the wall panting their shoulders heaving as sweat dropped down their faces.

Commander Vir leaned against the axe wiping sweat from his hairline.

Jicari shouldered his axe, “Did you know that when humans sing their heart beats synchronize?”

“Really? I didn’t know that?”

Jicari smiled, “yes, and that is why we are so happy commander. This chain song helps us keep time while we work. It goes back to the traditions of many who came before us, laborers who worked on the trains, and slaves who worked in the fields, and builders who came before them, singing to keep in time for work but also to build hope.”

He believed him, it was easy to see why, and that is why they stayed on the colony for a few days working alongside the people. The commander wanted them to feel what they had felt on that first day wanted to figure out how to bring it aboard the ship.

Cannon was the first to figure it out, secretly secluding himself where he could listen slowly writing with inspiration from the music.

When they were getting ready to leave he handed his work to the commander, who seemed surprised but pleased and sent the image of his work on with a message.

Jicari stood next to the commander and slide waving as the other humans slowly drifted on to the ship for departure.

Cannon began to hum.

Jicari turned in surprise, and it was the Commander’s turn to whistle, the clear tones ringing through the docking bay and into the cargo hanger. He was the first to pick up the tune followed by Ramirez and some of the other marines.

Jicari beamed wide and hummed along with them as this new song filled his docking bay, one about flying into the unknown, surrounded by dangers, into the blackest void, but being happy about it because they were those whose hearts couldn’t stay in one place too long.

As they stepped onto the ship, He could hear the echo of voices rising up, as it slowly spread through the hallways, up onto the bridge, and down into engineering, until the entire ship was connected by a chain of voices, somehow all together despite being so far apart.

Jicari waved them off doing his best to remember the lyrics to the Harbinger’s song, so he could sing it to his people later.

And hat was how cannon became the first known Drev to compose a song. A song that took its roots from the chain songs of exhausted human laborers thousands of ears in the future, looking for hope, but secretly made with the idea of Drev training combat in mind.

The song would be used on the harbinger for both, to bolster productivity, moral, and for the Drev to keep time during training fights.

All a lesson learned from Paxicar, the happiest place in the universe.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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dindjarinsleftboot · 3 years

Text

Safe in your arms

Part three <3

*Teeny bit of blood and violence in this one*

Word count: 2.4k

You wake up in your usual spot. In Din’s arms, in hyperspace and the kid sound asleep in his hammock behind you. You wished these moments could last forever, but then Din is a bounty hunter and at the end of the day there is always a bad guy to be captured somewhere. Over the past few weeks, you’ve been to about seven different planets- each one unique with different foreign languages you’d never heard of, creatures of all shapes and sizes being dragged into the crest and then shoved into carbonite- each one with a different facial expression frozen onto their face. It excited and scared you all at once. You knew you were never in danger- especially when you have a Mandalorian standing close by whenever you ventured out into large buzzing cities. People all walking in different directions bumping shoulders as they walked. The kid would be strapped around Mando and his hand wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you close to him. Overhead thousands of airspeeders all flying in unison travelling to different places around the city. Neon lights would hang from the tall buildings towering over you, all different colours brightening the sky through the darkness. Even when you were just walking through small towns to get some more food and supplies, Mando’s hand would never leave you.

You hated him leaving you even more now and missed him so much when he was away- no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself. Whenever he returned to you, dirty and tired, all he wanted to do was cuddle up to you. Falling asleep in your arms as you slowly trace your fingers up his arms and back and press soft kisses onto his neck. A few times you had fallen asleep on his chest while he softly ran his fingers through your hair and whispered quietly with his rich unfiltered voice, telling how much he cares about you and how much you’re on his mind whenever he is gone. You assume he thought you were asleep and couldn’t actually hear him but that made it more heartfelt, and you treasured every last word he said.

You rolled over to kiss your mysterious lover good morning- is there even such thing as morning when you’re deep in hyperspace? He was already awake and propped up on one elbow while he laid on his side with his other hand pressed lightly on your waist.

“C’mere” You whispered still feeling half asleep. He laughed quietly then leant into you, whispering at your lips “Sleepy” before gently kissing you. Both snug under a blanket melting into one another as your noses brushed against each other’s cheeks. His hand still pressed against your waist tightening his grip slightly, and yours tangled in his hair, lightly scratching your nails against his scalp. You both cannot get enough of each other and you could honestly stay kissing him forever if you didn’t have to stop to breathe. Feeling him invading all your senses as he slides his hand around you and pulls you in closer, claiming him as yours. You could feel the heat radiating off your body onto his, your heart racing but your whole body relaxed as if you just melted at his touch. He rolled you onto your back and started to show you just how much he missed you when he was gone.

You sat in the cockpit with the baby in your arms, content as he played with his shiny ball- dropping it into your lap every now and then. You were out of hyperspace now and approaching a large planet with swirls of white and grey covering the dark surface. Din had told you earlier that you were headed to Corellia- the capital planet of the Corellian system- and that you’d be accompanying him for a while to get supplies. You always enjoyed leaving the crest for a while and exploring new places with him, it was thrilling and gave you a taste of adventure. You landed and made your way down into the hull behind Din. Watching as he strapped heavy armour to his body along with rifles and blasters. He hesitated for a moment before pulling a smaller blaster from the weapons cabinet and just holding it in his hands staring down at it. Your eyes flicked from the blaster to him, wondering what he was thinking. He then looked up at you “Take this” your eyes widened. Is he serious? You had never shot a blaster before. “This isn’t the safest planet and I want you to feel like you have protection when I’m not here.” You took the blaster from him and studied it. You knew the safety switch and the trigger and that’s about it. Point and shoot. Should be easy. Not that you will actually need to use it- you reassure yourself.

“Okay… urm- thank you.” You’re not really quite sure what to say but you gently smile at him and attach the blaster to your belt. He takes the kid from your hip and places him in the floating cot before closing it shut. You follow him down the ramp and into the foggy air.

It is humid on Corellia and you can feel the warm sticky air fill your lungs as you breathe. You’re walking for about hour, past old buildings and remains of statues. The streets you pass are dim and eery. In the distance you could hear animals snarling and wicked laughter echoing from alleyways. Lines of washing hang from window to window above you and a group of small children wearing dirty motheaten clothes, kicking a tin can around catch your eye ahead of you. When they spot you and your intimidating protector- they quickly disappear into the shadows. The sun being blocked by a thick layer of dark clouds above you, trapping the hot air. The humidity is making your hair frizz- you pull a hair tie from your wrist and quickly tie it up in a messy bun on top of your head, dropping pieces as you try to keep up with Mando’s long strides. You reach the city, plants starting to appear adding some colour to the grey outskirts you were just in and more people start to appear. The shops around you start to look slightly more well-kept and expensive, and the buildings get taller, and the place is suddenly buzzing with all different creatures. Din moves in closer to you and wraps his arm around your waist at it starts to get busier, he then turns into a dimly lit street where there are significantly fewer people. A shop selling the essentials is up ahead and you’re just about to step inside when a voice bellows out from behind you.

“Hey! Mando!” You both stop in your tracks. You glance across to Din who is still facing forwards.

“Oi! I’m talking to you.” The voice sounded deep and menacing and something about his tone made the blood run cold in your veins. Din eventually turned to face him; you turned your head to follow. A large Twi’lek coloured a deep purple started to walk towards you. A sinister grin plastered on his face and his hand was gripped tightly around a sharp blade. He stopped a few inches from Mando’s face and stared him up and down, trailing the knife along his chest plate.

“Qin.” Came through the modulator. Deep and harsh.

“You didn’t think you could leave me for dead and get away with it did you?” The Twi’lek said while laughing to himself and inching closer to Mando pointing the knife to his helmet as he spoke. His head suddenly turned to face you- making your heart sink to your stomach.

“Who’s this pretty little thing then?” The knife came to touch your face- you squinted your eyes shut and tried to turn away but before he could get close, Din was planting his boot firmly into his stomach sending the knife flying from Qin’s hand and stumbling back as he gasped out in pain. Din was walking sternly in front of him forcing him to step back further and further until he was up against a wall. He then pulled a gun out and held it up to Qin’s head in one swift move. You’d never seen him be so large and intimidating and that somehow made you even hotter for him- seeing how protective he was over you. Before you could catch your breath and calm your nerves, someone was behind you placing a firm hand over your mouth and pulling you back. You went numb. You wanted to scream and fight against his grip, but you were shackled by your own terror. Din quickly turned to see you and raised another blaster to the man behind you without hesitation. Your eyes glanced over to the crib and you were relieved that it was shut tightly, the baby was safe in there. Qin started to laugh again “Lower your blasters Mando. We have you outnumbered” His helmet looked up to see more men stationed on the roofs above you, all pointing a blaster at either you or Mando. The blaster pointing at Qin lowered before he turned to look at him and snapped “I like those odds.” Before Qin could respond, a dozen small missiles came flying from Mando’s wrist each one hitting one of the men- including the one holding you. You shut your eyes tightly as the grip around your mouth loosened and the sound of him hitting the ground jolted them open again. Mando was looking at you and you nodded to tell him you were okay. He turned back to Qin once again raising the blaster to his head and pulling the trigger. You turned you head away not wanting to see anything, the adrenaline still pumping through your body making your legs feel weak. Din quickly put his hand on your chin and tilted your face to the side. He then dropped his hands to your arms as he pulled you in tightly. “I-I’m so sorry.” He said shakily, sounding out of breath.

“I’m okay Din. Don’t apologise” you whispered against the cold chest plate, your breath fogging it up slightly. He quickly went back to looking at your face. “You’re bleeding.” What? You furrowed your brows and reached your own hand up to your face. Ouch. It stung when you touched your cheek and surely enough there was blood on your fingers. Qin must have managed to catch your cheek before getting thrown back. Din sighed and reached into the bag to get out a gauze. Slowly and carefully dabbing it over your wound- you tried not to squirm as the adrenaline wore of and the pain started to kick in but apparently you made it obvious because Din lifted his helmet above his chin and kissed your cheek tenderly.

“It’s not deep, the bleedings stopped, and it shouldn’t scar.” He sounded so soft and gentle it made you close your eyes and imagine you were cuddled up on the floor of the crest. “Come on, let’s go.” You take his hand and start walking back to the crest. When you reach the quiet suburbs, he opens up the crib to reveal the child sleeping soundly. Completely oblivious to the danger he was in moments ago. You take a deep breath and rest your head on Din’s arm as you walk together, holding him close to you.

He felt a knot in his stomach, the feeling of guilt and regret. He kept replaying the event in his head. What he could have done differently. He should have reacted sooner. He should have left her on the ship. What kind of life is he giving her? She deserves so much more than this. Sleeping on the floor. Going to dangerous planets and being couped up on his ship for a couple of days. She deserves a quiet life on a beautiful planet- full of happiness and content. Something he wished he could give her. Could he? He thought about how nice it would be to wake up in a serene place every morning and just be himself. Raise the kid with her and grow old together. He had never thought about a life outside of bounty hunting- but since meeting her his life had changed. She had already shown him so much without even trying and made him feel things he had never felt. She had shown him love, kindness and a purity that he didn’t even know existed. He was so in love and ready to give up everything he had known to make her happy.

Back safely on the crest, he dressed the cut on your cheek and kissed you one last time before heading off again. You always caught a glimpse of tan skin whenever he lifted the helmet to kiss you before he left. Showing you a tiny portion of his chin lightly covered in dark facial hair- giving you hints as to what he looks like under the helmet. You had parts of the puzzle - dark brown hair that flicked and curled up when it was messy. Facial hair lining a strong jawline and shading his soft lips that you knew so well, perfect tanned skin all over his body- which left you to put the rest together yourself. You felt he had brown eyes. The type that would glow different shades of golden and hazel under the sun. You bet they were soft but fearless, and if you ever got to look into them, you were worried that you’d never want to look away. People always romanticise the colour of eyes as if they were of some importance. Although you thought about his eyes almost every day- you knew they’d be beautiful no matter what colour they were. You wanted to know the finer details, like the shape his mouth makes when he’s trying to stifle a smile. Did his nose scrunch up and his eyes shut tight when he laughed? Did he have dimples in his cheeks when he smiled at you? So much you longed to know, but you were content with what you had so far. You watched him disappear into the darkness as the ramp closed. You’d never been so relieved to see a world shut away from your view. You turned to the kid, sitting in the crib and staring wide eyed up at you. You smiled down at him and lifted him up onto your hip before turning the radio on and singing quietly while he beamed up and coo’d along with you. Back in the only place where you felt safe when Din wasn’t with you.

#the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #mando x y/n #mando x you #mando x reader #grogu #the child #pedro pascal #fanfic #fandom #mando fluff

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sagedgeek · 3 years

Text

A Foundling

Part 3 of Whispers of Fate (A Rey Djarin fic)

Summary: The tribe doesn’t agree with Din’s decision. It’s time for him to accept this new responsibility, despite his effort to avoid it.

Rating: Gen (Platonic)

Word Count: 4.9k

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Next Chapter

Din rubs his thumb over the smooth surface of the beskar ingot he held in his hand. He stood outside the entrance to the covert, staring at the cloth draped over the entrance as he contemplated whether he should come back another time after Rey had more time to grow used to the others. Then again, she might’ve calmed down soon after he left the day prior.

He's put this off for an entire day already… much longer than he should have. He could be halfway to Arvala by now if he had simply left right after receiving his assignment. But his worry and insecurity had got the best of him and he spent the better part of the day doing menial repairs to his ship and stocking up on rations and other essentials he’s burned through as he continuously fretted over returning to the covert to see how Rey was adjusting. And maybe even perhaps offer a proper fairwell with a promise to return any word he may find about her parents.

Soon after he left, he had regretted not staying a bit longer to help her adjust. It was a startling change in environment for her, being dumped into a maze of dark sewers surrounded by masked faces of unfamiliar characters. He’d been through the same affair when he was brought to the Mandalorians, but there were many there more than willing to care for him and nurture him until he was able to begin his training, and he knows that’s what Rey needed. He never had a proper buir or Mandalorian family of his own, and the closest he had to one was the man who had saved him. He died soon after Din began his training, but the tribe still raised him alongside the other Foundlings, as if he was one of their own.

Times were different now. Foundlings were rare and very special to the tribe, even more so than before. There were many practiced Mandalorian mothers and fathers in the covert that would be more than willing to take in such a promising young child as Rey and be a much better caretaker to her than Din himself. She needed the support and stability that he could never offer her, but still… that didn’t ease the guilt.

This morning is when he had made his decision. He was never one to loiter, and he never dallied when it came to a job, yet this time he felt a pull keeping him grounded on this ashy planet. So, he figured it would be best to make quick work of this and be on his way to rid himself of these distractions. One visit to the armorer and a couple questions of the girl’s wellbeing and that would be all. No strings attached.

He pulls the drapes back and begins his descent to the underground tunnels, and once he’s passed through the first threshold, he’s immediately stopped by a large hand extending from the shadows and landing on his chest. His first instinct is to attack before his opponent can exploit the well-executed surprise, but patience and reason remind him he’s in the covert and there were no enemies down here.

So, he simply raises his hand to clasp down on the gloved wrist on his chest in warning.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” Paz replied with a gruff and irritated tone, as he stepped from the dark shadows. “It will upset the child again.”

Din turns his head to look up at the taller Mandalorian. Paz has been a close companion of his since he was young, and still one of many he considers to be a trusted friend.

“I didn’t come to see her,” he lied.

“You should’ve taken her with you,” Paz snaps right back at him; never one to beat around the bush. “She is a Foundling, and she is scared. She doesn’t trust us. You should’ve stayed at least until she grew comfortable.”

Din grips Paz’s wrist even tighter pulling it away from his chest plate with a scowl. “I have a job. It is not safe for her.”

“She is a fighter,” Paz counters.

Din pushes away from him, moving further through the halls to try and put an end to the discussion. Paz follows him though, continuing with his lecture which Din tries to ignore. “She has tried running three times since you left and fought Gutt and Ovod with a staff she stole from the armory. We had to lock her away with the healer, away from the other children.”

“She will grow used to you all here,” Din replied, “just like she did me.”

“Don’t be so sure of that Djarin. She’s as bull-headed as you. Atin Djarin,” Paz mutters the familiar exclamation under his breath and Din smirks beneath the helmet. Paz was most definitely right, Rey was quite stubborn from what he could tell so far.

Paz followed him to the armorer’s forge, loitering around by the entrance as Din’s new pauldron was crafted out of his newly acquired beskar.

“This is extremely generous,” the armorer states as the molten beskar fits into the mold. “The excess will sponsor many foundlings… including the new adiik you brought to us.”

“That’s good.” He can feel the strong glare of Paz burning into the back of his helmet. “She will make a powerful Mandalorian.”

“That she will,” the armorer agrees.

When the pauldron is finished, she approaches and attaches it to his body stocking. “The little one has caused quite the ruckus down here,” she announces while taking a single step away from him to admire her work.

“So, I’ve been told,” Din stands, turning to retrieve his Amban rifle that he’d propped against the wall when he arrived.

“She has nearly been successful in leaving the covert herself… had she been she would have exposed the location of the tribe.”

Din pauses, back still to her and he turns around slowly.

“Most Foundlings are not so fierce. Where does she come from?”

He turns to her, ignoring the pointed nod of his helmet that Paz directs towards him. “I found her on a backwater skug hole called Jakku. She was a slave scrapper for two years after her parents abandoned her there.”

The armorer nods once and turns back towards the smelter. “She is strong, but she will need proper guidance and training.”

“Yes,” Din agrees. That is exactly why he brought her here.

She turns back to face him, now several feet away and her hands clasped behind her back. “She will not find that here.”

Din takes a startled step towards her. “What do you mean?”

“She does not trust easily, and she will have no trust for us that much is clear. We were not the ones to save her, and she will grow to resent the tribe. Any training we will provide to her as we would a Foundling would prove as a danger to the tribe and the rest of the Foundlings. The anger and desperation I sense in her will only give more strength; a corrupted strength absent of honor or trust. I’ve seen it happen twice before. Neither ended well for Mandalor. and just like them she will grow to hate the Mandalorians for stealing her from her home twice over.”

“Twice?”

“You, Djarin. You were her second home whether you may see it that way or not.”

“She has only known me for a short time. That’s not possible.”

“She was abandoned as a young child Djarin… by parents who may or may not have loved her. Care, stability, and trust has been absent most of her young life, and you were the first to give it to her after many years of imposed independence and suffering. It was inevitable for her to form such a strong attachment. And it is very well that after you left her here, she will never care to trust anyone again. In her eyes, you were as her new father. Another father who abandoned her.”

“I cannot care for a Foundling,” Din reiterates desperately. He cannot care for a Foundling. “It is too dangerous.”

“So, it is your job to protect her.”

“I can’t--”

“You will.” Paz steps in, voice strong and undeterred. “The Foundling has chosen you and it would be dishonorable to decline. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” the armorer speaks in response, and then both turn towards him expectantly.

Din hesitates, feeling a surge of panic overcome him. He had no choice… this was the way. It was only a technicality, but one that left him no choice. And by denying this responsibility, he would in a sense be abandoning his own child, which by extension would be breaking his creed. Dar’manda.

“This is the way.”

The armorer nods. “Good. Now the child has no need to know you did not request this privilege. You will raise her as your own, teach her the ways of Mandalor, and when she comes of age, she will have the choice to vow and accept the creed. Vizla will take you to where she’s being held.”

So, Paz leads Din further into the covert, past several gatherings of his tribe members and to a barred door Din knows to be the infirmary. He’d been a consistent guest to Xiyu during his early days of bounty hunting.

“Was she hurt?” Din asked.

Paz ignores him and lifts the latch of the heavy door to push it open.

“Xiyu, Rey’s buir is here for her. Thank you for watching over her.” Paz tells the tribe healer sitting beside the cot Rey had curled herself up on.

The older Mandalorian stands slowly and she makes her way towards the door with a small nod of her head. “That is good. She was not doing well. She is no longer angry... just sad and tired.” She pauses when she notices Din. “Djarin? You?”

He nods his head. There was no need in denying it anymore.

The older woman looks at him with a nod of approval. “She will do good for you Djarin.” Then she walks away without another word, and Paz makes a gesture for him to enter the room ahead of him.

“Kid,” Din speaks slowly, clearing his throat as he approaches the cot. He felt nervous and frustrated. He had no clue how to care for a child, and absolutely no desire to learn, but now he had to. There were so many things he needed to change and add to the Crest to fit her needs…

She recoils at his voice, pulling her face to her knees and hugging them close. She was still wearing his old tunic and had not changed into the new clothes he bought for her. They sat lying on a platform beside the cot, along with a few added accessories courtesy of the rest of the tribe.

“Rey, it’s time to go.”

She shakes her head stiffly, back still facing the two Mandalorians. “I don’t wanna go anywhere with you,” she bites out with a nasty growl.

“Would you rather stay here then?” Din counters with a scoff.

Din can tell by the squaring of her shoulders that she found herself in a bit of deadlock and she mutters something under her breath which he could barely here.

“Where you gonna drop me off this time, Mando?” She says his name like it’s a curse in her mouth.

“He wants to take you with him,” Paz steps in, approaching the cot and effectively pushing Din out of the way to avoid the tension and anger from progressing any further. Apparently, having two frustrated, stubborn blockheads in the same room would not spawn a peaceful interaction.

Rey turns to look up at Paz, eyes rimmed red and puffy. She doesn’t look at Din. “Why?” She asks him, tears evident in her voice.

“Because you belong with him.” Paz takes her hand gently and helps her sit up on the cot. He’d always been particularly fond of children, ever since their teenage years. He did well with them… unlike Din. “Now let’s get you changed into those new clothes so you can be on your way verd’ika, yeah?”

She nods softly, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand and sniffling lightly. Paz gently lifts her from the cot and into his arms. Rey wraps her arms around his neck and drops her forehead against the large man’s shoulder which has Din scoffing scornfully.

Bantha shit!

Why isn’t Paz the one caring for the child?? He was obviously much better suited for a Foundling.

Paz must sense his glare and he turns towards him with the child in one arm as he scoops up her clothes in the other. He tilts his helmet, lifting the chin just enough so Din won’t mistake it for affection or curiosity, but as the challenge it was.

“Would you prefer to carry her?”

Din frowns. No, he’d rather not.

His fingers twitch and tense as he squeezes them together.

“She’s perfectly capable of walking on her own.”

The statement doesn’t please Paz, that much was clear, as he shoulders past Din and exits the room. He leads them towards a private area and sets Rey down on her feet. He’s squatted in front of her, holding out each item of clothing to her.

“Do you need any help? I can call Xiyu.”

She shook her head and took the clothes from him, retreating into the private room to change.

“She seemed awfully fond of you,” Din muttered once the thick curtain was pulled closed.

Paz turned to look at him. “The last I saw her she nearly tore my helmet after she knocked me on my back. That was the first I’d seen her act civil.”

Rey steps out from behind the curtain, wearing her new clothes. It fit her nicely. She wore a dark grey long tunic that went to midthigh sinched by a nice brown leather belt around her waist which had several accessories for attachments similar to Din’s. Over it she wore sleeveless vest with a high collar. And of course, the tan utility trousers and sturdy leather boots. She came out holding her old clothes to her chest shyly. Her hair was down, no longer in its braid and she looked up at Din with wide eyes and a sad frown.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry I asked so many questions. I won’t anymore. I promise.” She shuffles closer to him, pressing her forehead against the soft padding below his cuirass.

Din sighed in resignation and placed his hand atop her head, gently petting her long brown hair to offer some sort of comfort.

“Don’t apologize for being curious,” he instructs softly.

She steps away from him, staring up into his visor with shiny eyes all the while. Then she turns to look over at Paz. “I’m sorry for being mean to you and everyone else.”

“There’s no need to worry about it verd’ika.” Rey smiles at him, seeming to be much less forlorn than before.

“Come,” Din says, ready to get back to his ship and get on his way. He gestures for Rey to begin walking in front of him, then turns his head to face Paz. “I’ll return soon.”

Rey doesn’t chatter his ear off as they walk back to the Crest. She doesn’t even grab onto his cloak as they march through the busy streets of Nevarro. Even once they’re sailing out the atmosphere and into the empty cavern of space, Rey had yet to express any excitement or curiosity. It was completely silent in the cockpit. She sat quietly in her chair, staring out at the stars without so much a word.

“Kid,” Din starts, unsure of what he even wanted to ask, “Is everything alright?”

He turns his head so he can peek over his shoulder at her, and she only shrugs her shoulders, pulling the blanket bunched in her hands over her nose.

Din spins in his chair to face her and she flinches away from him at the sudden movement.

“Rey.”

She looks at him with big eyes from underneath the hem of her blanket. “I-I…” she starts. “Are you taking me back to Jakku now?”

Din tilts his head at her in confusion. “No. You’re staying with me.”

“But-but I thought—”

Din spins his chair back around. “No, I’m not taking you back there end of story. There’s no one to look out for you there. It isn’t safe.”

There are a couple moments of silence and Din thinks maybe Rey got the point. “I-I didn’t mean I wanted to go back…” she replies, her voice almost a squeak. “I just… I thought your tribe didn’t want to take care of me like you didn’t want to, and you were supposed to take me back.”

Din’s feels a sudden pain strike him in the chest and suddenly breathing made him nauseous. It’d been a while since he was able to actually sympathize with another person. And here Rey was sitting here thinking an entire tribe of people would turn their backs on her and leave her to the fate of the harsh wilderness of Jakku simply because she wasn’t wanted. How despicable the universe must have been to this little one for her to think anyone wouldn’t want her to be happy and safe.

Kriff, the only reason he handed her over the tribe to begin with was to keep her safe because he knew she wouldn’t be with him.

He sighs and slowly spins around once more. “That’s not what’s happening Rey.”

“Well, I sure know you didn’t come back for me! You obviously still don’t want me around!”

Din scowls. “You’re right,” he snaps at her, “I didn’t want you around. It’s dangerous and I don’t want to see you get hurt. That’s why I was taking you to my tribe; where you would have been safe while I looked for your family.” Rey stares at him and doesn’t utter a word to respond, and Din hesitates to continue. “Then they explained to me that you would do best staying with me. They would’ve loved to have you if you wanted to stay. Foundling’s are treasured by our culture; they are our future.”

“Oh.”

Din turns yet again, but Rey still hadn’t returned to her talkative self. Perhaps she was just tired like Xiyu had said. He glances down at the nav system he’d yet to set the coordinates into, then glanced back over his shoulder at Rey still staring out at the stars with a sad frown.

“Rey. Come here.” He gestures his hand to the space between himself and the control panel. “I need help inputting our next coordinates. And then I think it’s time you go down and sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Rey’s at his side in a matter of moments, wiping any lingering moisture in her eyes as she looks down at the display Din was pointing out to her. He guided her through punching in the correct numbers and she did well enough to coax a proud smile onto her face. She turned her grin up to him, looking for his validation and he gave it to her with a small nod of his head and awkward pat on the back.

“Now, go down and rest.”

Rey hesitates, her smile falling into a worried frown.

“You won’t leave me here?” Din doesn’t answer right away. “Right?” She reiterates a bit more desperately.

“No, I won’t leave you on the Crest.”

“Do you promise?” She holds up her hand to him, arching one brow in doubt.

Din stares at her outstretched palm in amusement. “What are you doing?”

Rey looks at him with a scoff. “It’s a handshake, dummy.” Din grunted. “It’s what people do when they agree on stuff,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “But you probably don’t know what that is, ‘cause you just punch ‘em till they do what you want.”

Din sighed to cover an involuntary chuckle and lifted his gloved hand towards her. She grabs it which ends up dwarfing her own as she shakes their joined hands adamantly and with such seriousness it was almost amusing.

Instead of letting go after the shake was finalized, Din gently tightens his grip on her hand and stands from the pilots chair, guiding her towards the ladder leading into the hull. It wasn’t exactly what he had expected of himself when he thought to tell the girl to go to bed, but something urged him to follow her down and make sure she was settled and comfortable in bed.

He begins by straightening out her bed of blankets on the floor which he had put the day prior as she went to the privy. So, it was all ready for her to dive right beneath the collection of blankets by the time she got out.

She’d forgone her new tunic and vest and had instead changed back into the oversized flight suit garb Din had let her borrow on her first night, claiming it was much more comfortable for sleeping. He says nothing more regarding that and drapes the top few blankets over her once she had settled.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?” She asks him meekly, pulling one of the blankets close to her nose as Din made sure she was situated properly and would remain warm throughout the night.

He nods.

“What kind of planet are we going to?”

Din stands and his knees pop slightly after kneeling on the hard floor. “It’s like Jakku, but with rocks.”

“Oh,” Rey nods, rolling onto her side so she could continue to look at him.

“Go to sleep.” He instructs with a tenderness that even surprised himself. “You need rest after such a long day.”

She listens. Smiling up at him just before her eyes slip closed. Her knees draw closer to her chest as she curls around her blankets. And he thinks she might have fallen asleep before he was even able to ascend the ladder.

***

It had taken approximately two and a half days before they landed on Arvala-7.

Din had used that time to clean the ship and do some on board maintenance he hadn’t gotten around to while he was twiddling his thumbs on Nevarro. Rey was a good help, always at his side and eager to aid him with whatever he asked, and apt to listen at whatever knowledge he was willing to bestow on her. She was much more subdued this time around though. She wasn’t nearly as talkative, and refrained from touching him in any way.

He should’ve found relief in her sudden change, but all he felt was guilt. He had broken her trust. The quiet was now almost suffocating in a way he’d never found it before, and it wasn’t like he knew how to fill a void of silence. He was perfectly fine working in silence—awkward or not—but what irked him was knowing the child was upset with him. The child he was supposed to be caring for, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

She would ask a necessary question here and there, but never really stemming from her parched curiosity. And considering the little she knew about the galaxy beyond her small world of Jakku, that could prove to be a hindrance later on if this continued. As his logic dictated, it was good for a child to be curious and question their surroundings. It was how they learned.

However, that was a problem he’d decided was to be tackled another time when he was perhaps a bit more comfortable with this newfound guardianship role. Instead, he’d found that Rey was quite proficient with the mechanics of his ship and was quick to catch on to small things he’d teach her, similar to her “piloting” skills which consisted mainly of fabricated procedures to keep her busy and entertained amongst the unprogrammed buttons and switches beside her seat. Either way, she was good at following instructions, even when he could tell she found some things just a bit ludicrous.

They spent quite a bit of time with each other on the Crest during those two days. It was inevitable considering the cramped quarters. And Din made extra care not to scold or discourage her if it was not necessary which most times it definitely wasn’t.

So, by the time they had landed, it was easy to tell Rey had grown a bit more comfortable with him. She was eager to help him land the ship, and that time he may have given her a few real switches to flip through. As soon as they’d touched down, she bolted down into the hull before everything could even be properly powered down. Din sighed in amusement and went about shutting down the Crest. By the time he’d slowly stepped his way into the hull, Rey was standing over by the loading ramp, dressed in her new clothes, hair done up in a proper braid, and her shoes on and ready to go with her makeshift staff in hand as she bounced on her toes.

“Someone’s eager.” He quipped lightly, tapping on his vambrace to open the weapons cabinet. He pulls out his rifle, tucks it under his arm and makes his way towards her, pushing a button on the control pad to lower the ramp. “Stick close to me. Understand?”

Rey nods emphatically, staring out at the rocky expanse that’s revealed as the ramp lowers to the muddy ground. Din could tell she was tempted to dart ahead of him to explore, but she does as he says and stays by his side as he moves to the middle of the small clearing he’d landed his ship in. He holds the fob outwards to test the signal and drops his arm in agitation as he looks out into the vacant landscape.

He turns towards Rey and holds out the fob towards her. “Your job is to hold this. Don’t lose it.”

She takes it from him, cradling it gently in her hands as she stares down at the blinking light. Din lifts his rifle to peer through the scope and she’s none the wiser as she traces the small box with her finger. Enthralled with the tiny device as it beeps slowly. She looks up just in time to see a big fishy creature charging right at them.

“Mando!” She shouts, startling the Mandalorian from his focus. He tosses her out of the way just as the beast grabs his arm and hauls him back a good ways, tossing him around like a dead womp rat.

Rey looked on horrified, frozen in place. For the first time since she met him, Mando didn’t seem to have the situation under control. It didn’t take but a couple more moments of her silent terror that she was shaking it off and charging the beast. It’d grabbed hold of Mando again after he’d escaped the first time and it didn’t look to be a very fair fight. She leapt onto its back, holding tight as she wails her fists and her staff on the tops and sides of its big head.

She’s bounced around on its back, but is somehow able to hold on for a good while before she goes down. Hard. The beast collapsed sideways, and she had to dive out of the way to avoid being crushed by its weight. Mando’s arm is still stuck in its mouth.

“Rey!” He shouts, waving his hand frantically at her. “Go! Get out of the way!” She turns just in time to see a second creature running at her and she dives forward to try and evade its charge, landing near Mando. He pushes her behind his body as the beast comes up on them acting as a proper shield, but at the last minute it keels over as well, a tingling blue spark spreading over its scaly body.

Rey holds onto his outstretched arm as she peers out from behind his back curiously. “What are those things?”

And then another one shows up, but it was much more subdued. Probably because of the Ugnaught riding on its back. Mando’s arm prevents her from moving out from behind him still as he slowly assessed the man.

“Thank you.”

“You are a bounty hunter.” The small man states in response.

“Yes.” He slowly lowers his arm, apparently assessing he was there to cause no harm and allowing Rey to properly crawl out from behind him.

She locks eyes with the man on top of the creature. He stares at her for a couple moments before speaking again. “I will help you… I have spoken.”

And with that he guided the large beast to turn and walk away.

Rey decided that she liked him, and she jumped to her feet with a smile, ready to follow. She does her best to be polite and help Mando up from the muddy ground also, but she doesn’t think she’s doing much more than offering the pleasantry as the large man takes her hand politely and grunts in his effort to stand up. She puts all her strength into it, her bodyweight too… so she likes to think she at least helped him a little bit.

Either way, she’s pleased he’s alright and trails beside him as they follow the Ugnaught back to his camp.

~ Next Chapter ~

#the mandalorian #fanfiction #rey djarin #din djarin #dad!din #the mandalorian adopts rey #Rey Skywalker #rey of jakku #rey and mando #din is a softie at heart #paz viszla #paz is the cool uncle #the mandalorian fanfiction #platonic fanfiction

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vercopaanir · 4 years

Text

In For a Credit

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 19

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: Fellow Mandalorians teach you how to handle weapons.

Words: 3.5

Rating/Warning: G, I think. Some references to death.

Notes: So, this originally was going to include a lot more. However, the chapter was nearly 7k words, and I didn’t feel like it was fair to post the entire thing because so much happens. So it will be split up. The nice thing is that the next update will be on Monday night. Thank you all for your patience and support!

AO3

The Tribe is a working society, and you quickly become fascinated in the opportunity to occupy yourself. You are no stranger to work, and the constant inner need to be doing something of value, to be useful, to earn your way is so ingrained that it borders restlessness. The morning when the Mandalorian says he’ll be taking his collected bounties to Greef Karga in town, you look up from the book where your fingers pause over the raised indentations of braille, tilting your head. Corde and Venka follow your eyes upward, nibbling at their food, and watching him curiously.

“What should we do while you are away?”

He pauses his adjusting of his vambrace, glancing between all of you, four pairs of expectant eyes, and he explains that there exists many skills that the Tribe hones together as a collective, from fighting to healing to child rearing.

Watching the small green infant play with his stuffed bantha toy perched on the warrior’s lap, you straighten your back and lay your hands on your knees. As a servant and slave, you have performed a variety of tasks. You can clean, cook, mend, garden, and farm. As a handmaid, you’ve developed skills that were fine tuned for a lady of an older age. You’d taken care of her hair and nails, you’d seen to her correspondence, fetched her tea, and kept her company. Having taken care of children before, you knew your strength as a caretaker is hard to rival, blinking at the three children surrounding you.

But this was a chance to learn something new .

A decision settles within you, and you hold your chin level.

“I would...like to learn about weaponry.”

The Mandalorian’s visor trains on you for so long, you think perhaps you have said something wrong. You begin to wonder how you can explain away the whim when he stands suddenly, placing the baby in his pram. He clicks a button on his vambrace to program it’s tracking before holding a hand out to help you to your feet. Venka and Corde shove the remainder of their breakfast in their mouths to follow behind you both as he leads you through the passages of the enclave. The child floats between you and the siblings, large inky eyes blinking curiously.

“Will we get to learn, too?” Corde asks, her eagerness palpable.

“No. But there are foundlings here that you should find. They can teach you games I’m too old for,” the Mandalorian grunts, and she gasps, rushing around to stop in front of you both. You feel his fingers tighten over yours when you both halt suddenly.

“Can we go find them now?”

You hesitate, the idea of the two children disappearing somewhere in the tunnels making you uneasy, but the Mandalorian tilts his visor down at her, taking her measure. “So long as you stay together, and do not leave the covert.” Corde’s eyes light up, but before she can bolt away as if on an invisible speeder bike, the Mandalorian grabs the back of her collar, keeping her in place. He squats down in front of her, still slightly taller in stature, and you hold your breath as you watch them. “I mean it, ad’ika,” he repeats, his voice pitching deeper in warning as he looks down at her. “Promise me.”

Venka is quick to promise, holding a hand over his heart with a bowed chin as if taking an oath for life, and Corde nods so fast her hair comes loose from her braid. “We promise.”

“Go.”

You watch their small shapes disappear from your line of sight, the slap of the shoes you’d sewn them echoing off down the rocky walls of the passageway. They will not be alone, you remind yourself, forcing down the nerves twisting your stomach. If the beskar clad warrior at your side trusts his people to watch over them, you will, too. The Mandalorian watches them until they’re out of sight, nearly jumping out of his armor when you slip your hand in the curve of his elbow.

“And where will you be sending me?” you ask softly, walking alongside him when he seems to remember his feet. He lays his other gloved hand atop your fingers, and you think he might be smiling.

“You said you wanted to learn about weaponry.”

You never see him without a weapon, his blaster ever present against his hip or the ominous rifle slung across his back like a saint’s marker. It is not a leap in judgment to assume protection is important to him beyond his profession, and knowing what you know now, you realize the level of trust he holds for you when he had shown you the weapon’s locker aboard the Razor Crest.

But the memory of how helpless you’d felt holding the blaster and aiming at Toro Calican had not left you. The blurry recollections of Cantonica leave you sick, and you silently wonder, at night when you are alone with your thoughts, if things could have been different had you not been such a foolish thing. That is something Mandalorians are not-and now, you are determined to change it.

“I would like to not be so afraid of weapons,” you finally manage in a quiet tone, resting both hands on his arm now and leaning your weight into him. He inclines his head in your direction. “I think fear is disrespectful for something that can save your life.”

He moves his hand, the warm leather covering your fingers that rest on his forearm, and there is a feeling he seems to radiate that washes over you. The backward set of his shoulders, a near defiant tilt of his chin, and you’re surprised when he comes to a brief stop in the middle of the passage. The child coos from his pram, blinking owlishly between you both and perking his ears upward.

The Mandalorian turns you toward him with a gentle, crooked finger beneath your chin. You expect him to say something, his thumb grazing your chin in such a slow, delicate sweep. Your eyes feel heavy as his other fingers uncurl against the warm flesh of your neck, sliding to cup the side of your throat beneath the thick veil of your hair. You keep your eyes upon the shine of his visor as he leans his beskar covering to whisper over your brow, and the complete tenderness in such careful, quiet movements makes your heart speed up. You think he must feel it, your pulse fluttering beneath his fingers where he’d once sunk his teeth out of passion born from fear and admiration, and you swallow hard at the memory.

For a single, still moment, you think he may take your hand and drag you back to your quarters.

The sound of approaching boots has the Mandalorian calmly stepping back from you, and whatever spell had blanketed you both is broken. Feeling flushed, you drop your head away as a fellow Mandalorian passes by both of you, nodding towards your bounty hunter in silent greeting. You draw some hair behind your ear, looking back at the child who grins up with all of his teeth at you as if privy to a joke you hadn’t heard.

The tunnels that interconnect are not twisting or turning as much as you expect. They are large, wide and windy, and you try to remember your way back the way you’d come to begin memorizing the layout. You give up just before the Mandalorian stops in front of a short flight of steps hewn into the rock. He wordlessly offers his hand to you, and in the distance you hear two male voices bantering back and forth.

The armory is large, spanning the same length as the Razor Crest at least, and it is filled with every kind of weapon of all shapes and sizes. Blasters, rifles, blades, and contraptions you have never seen before. There are lights ensconced upon the surface of the rock walls that allow your vision more opportunity to open to your surroundings, and you follow behind the Mandalorian as he comes to stop near a large bench littered with blaster parts, tools, oil, and dirty rags.

Across from you are two Mandalorians, and they stand upon your entrance. The slightly shorter warrior wears armor the color of moss with so many silver nicks and dents that you wonder if he hadn’t been thrown down the side of a cliff face. The taller, broader of the two is covered nearly head to toe in dark grey armor that’s shined to a shimmering gleam. You smile uncertainly, feeling shy as you stand just behind the Mandalorian.

Well. Your Mandalorian.

“Su cuy’gar,” greets the green armored warrior, his thick accent making you tilt your head. “Didn’t think we’d see you here again.”

“That’s because you don’t think much,” shot the grey armored Mandalorian, putting his hand out to grasp the forearm of the man beside you, shaking firmly in welcome. His voice is much smoother, deeper, and you can’t help but feel intimidated a bit by the magnetic presence when he turns his reflective visor upon you. “Tion’cuy?”

The Mandalorian rests his hand upon the small of your back, ushering you to stand properly beside him as he gives your name. “This is Briinx,” he tells you, nodding to the Mandalorian in green before gesturing with his hand to the other. “And Rhalaz. They are valued warriors, firearm instructors for foundlings, and the covert’s mechanics.”

“‘Mechanic’ makes it sound like we’d tinker with any ship that flies in, Djarin. We modify weapons that you can’t quite get through strictly legal means,” Briinx says, twirling a vibroblade between his gloved fingers. “I think we’re artists.”

“No, no,” Rhalaz shakes a hand, sounding completely put off. “Weapons sing. We are musicians, if anything.”

“Then we’d be conductors-”

“Look,” the Mandalorian sighs loudly, interrupting what you assume is going to turn into a conversation he’d rather not be a part of. “You have someone who wants to learn about weaponry. Think you can stay focused long enough to teach her something?”

“I’m offended you think otherwise,” Briinx says suddenly, dropping the blade on the workbench without ceremony. You can’t help the small smile tugging at your mouth. “We might bicker like an old married couple-”

“You are a married couple,” the Mandalorian growls.

“-but we always deliver,” Rhalaz quips, tilting his helmet towards you before settling his visor on the bounty hunter at your side, almost predatorily. “We’d be happy to teach her, but...well, why aren’t you teaching her? Cuyir dar gar riduur?”

Your eyebrows lift curiously when the Mandalorian goes completely still beside you, and you suspect that he stops breathing. The three warriors stare each other down for such a long, tense moment that you’re afraid to even blink. You can’t begin to guess what the implication is of what was spoken, but when the Mandalorian’s hand curls against your back, you feel his unease.

“Sa jate sa,” he finally mutters, staring steadfastly forward. His voice is full of annoyance, bristling and testy. “I have business today, and she wants to learn. Any more questions?”

Briinx puts two hands up in surrender, and Rhalaz’s helmet shakes with laughter.

The Mandalorian turns you both away from the other two warriors, resting one gloved hand on the middle of your back and inclining his helmet down towards you. “I’ll be back by the evening to find you.”

A small furrow forms between your brows, and you tilt your head. “I’m sure I can find the children if I just ask-”

“No!” You jump at his sudden whisper, blinking rapidly when he almost shuffles nervously. “No, I’ll...I’ll come find you.”

You frown after him, his shadow disappearing up the short flight of steps with a snap of his cloak. When you turn around, the other two Mandalorians survey you with their arms crossed across their chests. In for a credit, in for a pound, you think. You take a deep breath, folding your hands in front of you and stepping forward. You haven’t held many conversations with people since you left the cantina outside of the Mandalorian or the children, and it feels very odd.

“Ever held a blaster before?” Briinx asks, picking up one of the hand guns from the workbench that shines beneath the light. It looks freshly oiled and cleaned, and you swallow at how dark and foreboding it seems in his gloved hand.

“Yes,” you murmur, thinking of Toro Calican’s blurry form lying dead on the floor of the Razor Crest’s hull. “And I’ve shot one, too.”

“Well you’re already ahead of most of our students,” Rhalaz chuckles, seeming to sense your discomfort. His tall frame comes around the bench, and he pulls out a stool for you to sit on, patting it.

As daunting as the idea of learning weaponry seems, the two men are accommodating teachers with very different styles. Briinx is more hands on, insisting you hold every weapon, part, or tool you learn about while Rhalaz gives you in-depth explanations for what the parts of a blaster do, how a flash grenade detonates, and even the benefits of using blaster energy versus slug bolts.

“Blasters don’t have the same kickback as a slugthrower,” Rhalaz says, bringing down a long rifle that you immediately recognize. Your face must betray you, because he chuckles and sets the firearm in your hands, braced across your lap. “Where do you think Djarin got his rifle from?”

“I’ve never thought about it,” you admit, feeling the weight of the amban sniper weapon. The familiar pronged end feels awkward and precarious as you heave the gun upward, testing the weight.

“One of my favorites,” Briinx chuffs from across the bench, coming around to show you how to brace the stock pad against your shoulder. He fixes your hands, tilting your head up from hunching over, and correcting your overall posture with a sharp eye.

“Disruptors are one of the most dangerous kinds of weapons. They can short circuit an entire space station if you know where to aim,” Rhalaz tells you sagely, watching his husband adjust your stance.

You swallow hard, wishing you could put the rifle down and far away from you. “What would you need such a thing for?”

“For short circuiting a space station,” Briinx huffs as if the notion is obvious.

“This model and its modifications use more energy than your average blaster, so it...well-”

“It disintegrates people,” Briinx deadpans, moving your hand that cups the stock beneath the gun further out to give your grip balance.

You gape helplessly. “D-Disintegrates?”

“Or electrocutes, if you don’t want to kill the target,” Rhalaz sighs, seeming annoyed with the other Mandalorian. “That’s what the prongs are for.”

“It sounds like these should be banned,” you mumble as Briinx comes behind you to straighten your shoulders once more. You shudder to think what the Mandalorian would need such a weapon for.

“Oh, they were,” he chirps, tilting your head up again. “Now, see this here? It’s the scope. Allows a sniper to see his target from miles away.” His glove floats over the eyepiece and turns the dial. “It’s got heat sensors, too. Maybe Djarin will take you out sometime so you can see for yourself.”

You frown curiously, leaning forward to press your eye to the scope. It’s not nearly as blurry as you expect, and when he flips the dial again, your vision lights up with various shades of color. Rhalaz walks to the far end of the room into the darkened corner of the armory, and you see his heat signature fill the screen. He waves, fluttering his fingers so you can see him.

Excitement tingles along the back of your neck at actually being able to see what has been described to you, and you can’t help the small smile that curves your lips. “Oh.”

“We don’t give these to just anyone, mind you,” Briinx stipulates, patting the crown of your hair as you sit back. “Djarin only got one because he’s the best sharpshooter in the covert.”

“Really?”

It occurs to you that you know very little about the Mandalorian’s skills as a warrior. You had seen him move with precision and even witnessed his deadly reflexes, but you’d never actually seen him fight. The few times he’d killed, you had not been conscious enough to witness it.

“Can’t fight hand to hand worth a damn, but we all have our helms to wear,” Rhalaz sighs dramatically, earning a grin from you as Briinx takes the rifle from you and opens the barrel with a satisfying crack. “Alas, if you do learn to shoot, it should be from him.”

“I...I shot someone once,” you confess, and the armory goes very quiet. You don’t know if it’s from your confession itself or the tone of regret you can’t keep out of your voice. You take a deep breath, your eyes watching as Briinx’s gloves cradle the rifle like you might cradle the child in the crook of your arm. “It...he was going to kill us.”

A firm hand on your shoulder draws your eyes up to the shimmering stormy grey helmet, and Rhalaz tilts his visor down to try and meet your gaze. “There is honor in defending yourself, vod’ika. And the ones you love.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you whisper, curling your hands in your lap. Your heart begins to pound, face flushing with a cold sweat appearing behind your ears. The words must sound so foreign to seasoned warriors as the ones flanking you, and your quiet confession sinks your shoulders. How could you claim to be the companion of a Mandalorian when you couldn’t even protect yourself?

Surprisingly, Briinx is the one to allay your fears.

“No one wants to truly hurt another,” he says with his unique accent, his green helmet tilted conspiratorially towards you. “And if they do, they are the ones you should keep in your line of sight.”

Rhalaz nods once, grim and somber, and you frown gently. Had you not been able to fire the blaster at Toro Calican, would the Mandalorian have been able to gain the upper hand? Would the child still be safe? The two questions chill you, chasing the flush from your face, and you decide that you would never be in the position to ask such things again.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you murmur, conviction making the words sound stronger than what you truly feel, but you straighten your back and breathe deeply. “But...I want to protect my child. The children. M-My clan.”

Rhalaz thumps his fist once on the bench, and Briinx chuckles happily, “ Mandokarla! ”

“That we can help with.”

When the Mandalorian descends the steps that evening, you are sitting on the workbench, legs crossed at your ankles as you work to put a WESTAR-34 blaster pistol back together after taking it apart. Briinx stands with his back against the wall while Rhalaz holds several throwing knives in one hand, balancing one in his other. a

“Don’t forget to slot the spring in. You don’t want to jam it, because that will wear it down.”

Thud.

“Your aim is getting worse, old man,” Briinx chides, a teasing note in his modulated voice. “I’m supposed to be able to deflect it, and you have to at least try to hit me.”

The Mandalorian clears his throat, and you look up with a bright smile in greeting, swinging your ankles from your perch.

“Djarin! Welcome back. We did half your job for you,” Briinx declares just as a knife thunks against the side of his helmet, skittering across the floor. “She’ll make a deadly ver’verd yet.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” the Mandalorian deadpans, inching around behind Rhalaz as he gears up to throw another knife at his husband. You smile wide as the Mandalorian approaches you, and one hand comes to rest on the bench beside your thigh, the other resting on his belt. He leans his weight on one foot, visor tilting toward you. “Having fun?”

“I like this one,” you declare to him, your hands deftly slotting the slide over the barrel and finishing the job. The blaster gleams nearly platinum beneath the light, weighing it in your carbon smudged hands. “It’s very light.”

“You have good taste,” the Mandalorian compliments, taking the pistol from you thoughtfully. You watch with fascination as his gloved hands expertly charge the slide, tilting his head. He looks back up at you. “They teach you how to handle it?”

An offending huff comes from somewhere behind him, but you grin proudly. “I know how to put it together, take it apart, clean it, and reload it.”

“Good.” He straightens, offering a hand to you that you take gratefully. You didn’t realize how much you’d miss his companionship until you were apart, and you squeeze his fingers with a gentle sigh. That is, until he speaks next.

“Now stand up, and I’ll show you how to shoot it.”

Mando'a Translations:

Ad'ika - little one

Su cuy’gar - "You're still alive." A greeting or form of hello.

Tion'cuy? - Who's this?

Cuyir dar gar riduur? - Is she not your wife?

Sa jate sa - As good as

Vod’ika - Little sister

Mandokarla - Showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mandalorian virtue.

Ver’verd - mercenary

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