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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 8 months

Note

So I may have just realized your requests are open (my grandfather says I would be a terrible witness to a murder bc I am unobservant we love adhd lol) so here I am to beg!

I never see a ton (any?) fics exploring Din and Boba’s friendship and only that. Like, my blog IS the horny corner. Friendship fluff ain’t my usual reblogs but fuck it’s also like amazing??? Idk I just think Din and Boba and Cobb deserve to have time to be just guys being dudes and bonding. (I do love me some DinCobb tho don’t get me wrong) anyway, nothing specific other than learning more about how you see their friendship? They obvs respect each other and trust each other. I bet they have a lot of weird inside jokes.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME

Beskar Buddies [Mando and Boba Fett]

Warnings and Information: Not a relationship fic. This is just a silly, not-taking-itself-too-seriously friendship fic for Boba and Din Djarin. References to canon-typical violence, drugs (spice), alcohol, and some events from both The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett. Minor Star Wars and real-world swearing. We're gonna make fun of Shiny Dad who doesn't know he's in Star Wars just a little bit. Din's helmet stays on. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. Minor proofreading and editing.

Word-count: 3,880

He's supposed to be here on Tatooine for a simple bounty - it's really nothing more than a glorified errand run for some spoiled little princeling who insists on only the finest Sansanna spice from the Outer Rim. But the princeling doesn't need to know that; he'll be allowed to believe that it was necessary to spend as much time as was desired for Din Djarin to acquire enough Sansanna for this young man's birthday celebration hosted on one of the Core Worlds, if it means Din can cleverly lighten those pockets by a few more credits in order to provide for himself and the little one a little more comfortably, even if just for a while.

Din only meant to spend an extra day here at most before collecting the requested goods and taking them back to his client. But when word made its way to the new Daimyo, and he knew that it would, that another who clads himself in the armor typical to Mandalorians is sniffing around Mos Espa, how could he refuse the request from the Master Assassin and second-in-command to pay a visit.

"Shand." he greets her once he's calmed the slight tremor of his heart after being taken by surprise in an alleyway in the Worker's District of Espa, and reholsters the IB-94. "I didn't expect to run into you here. Conducting business on behalf of the Daimyo?"

"Greet every woman that way?" Fennec Shand teases him with an indicative toss of her head to the holster. "Or am I just special?"

"You surprised me." Din admits, repeating himself that he didn't expect to run into her by this point. He knows Boba is a busy man with a syndicate to operate, and what he cannot oversee himself, he often delegates the task to the bounty hunter standing in front of Din now.

"Good. Means I'm not losing my edge." Fennec answers, a playful purr of pride in her voice. "Serves the Daimyo well if I can maintain the element of surprise when I am tasked to carry out his bidding on a busy man's behalf. To extend an invitation of sorts: Lord Fett would like an audience with you."

"Very well." Din agrees, playing into the façade of formality - all part of the performance of power and command that is carried out in the halls of the Palace on the fringes of the Northern Dune Sea. He relays a short message to Peli Motto over in Mos Eisley that his return for Grogu may be a little delayed, first, for peace of mind, before Din will follow Shand back to the Palace. "Lead the way."

Boba Fett dismisses the people within the throne room of the Palace - likely members who serve as part of the gotra or those who had come to pay tributes or give offerings of sorts to one of Espa's influential figureheads - as Fennec returns with Din as she had been asked.

He wears his armor and (most of) his notable weaponry while seated on the throne, save for the cool, dark green helmet which sits neatly on the armrest. Displayed, rather than worn, now. "I hoped she would find you. I asked if she could extend my invitation once I heard there was someone who did not tell me he would be paying the fair city of Mos Espa a visit." Fett is teasing him, he knows, but Din cannot help feeling the need to apologize regardless of that. There are only chuckles in return as Boba climbs from the lordly seating and moves to greet Din like an old friend.

Warm and calloused hands find their way around the other's wrist as Din and Boba first behave as if it is a simple handshake, but remain linked for some time. Old and ancient ways of checking strangers for weapons have turned to displays of trust. The longer the link, the stronger a bond, some would say.

There both is warmth and a mischievous glint to his eyes as Boba visually takes him in, almost inspecting the gleaming beskar for imperfection or pitting that would speak to a scuffle of sorts that might make for a good story, "Your armor gleams in the light of the twin suns, Djarin, of course someone will notice you trying to skulk about my territory. Are you looking for work?" Boba had offered him payment for a place at his side once. He believed the Mandalorian to be a respectable and trustworthy fellow; Boba would gladly extend the invitation for a stable occupation once more.

Din shakes his head, slowly, calmly, in the dim light of the throne room. He's not looking for work, he explains, he is working. "Product for a client. Princeling who wants a small crate of Sansanna spice for a party before next Taungsday. Specified that he wanted it from Tatooine of all places."

That explains what brought him here to the planet, at least.

"And why come to Espa to look?" Boba asks politely, keeping the conversation flowing as he pours himself and his friend something from a carafe he's kept on hand. One that Fennec is partial to, so he is sure to offer some to her as well as a silent expression of gratitude. Asking the Mandalorian to come to the palace and entertain a silly notion was a long shot when he has a foundling in his care, so Boba had cautioned Fennec that in the event he did not agree to come, it would be of no consequence. (He would prefer what's in the decanter, but he has yet to procure more, so it is untouched as it would not be enough to split among three.) "There is not much to find of the Sansanna that once belonged to the Pyke's before it was… misplaced." Boba suggests with a mirthful smile.

"I wouldn't have come asking the mighty Daimyo first," Din retorts after a polite sip from his glass of the contents of the carafe, replacing his helmet that had been inched just high enough on his head to drink and resetting the seal, "that wouldn't have been good business, for you, or me."

"No indeed." Boba agrees, appreciative of Din's caution given his reason for being here. Din knew to act in just the right way; ways that would not tarnish a carefully crafted image Boba had made for himself since putting an end to Bib Fortuna and laying claim to all that was once Jabba's. "Did you tell your client how long it would take?"

Din's helmet bobs. "I did."

"And did you tell this princeling how long it would actually take?"

The helmet remains still, but the mouth within it must have found an upward curve as the bounty hunter implies that he was not quite so honest with his client. "It might have slipped my mind."

Boba chuckles, almost proudly. An old trick of the trade: mislead the right clients on the right details, and you can earn yourself a few more credits. Live a little more comfortably for a time if you wanted.

While Din could be a uniquely honest and humble bounty hunter at times, he was still a bounty hunter. Clever, resourceful, and cunning. Just the sort of thing he was looking for. "Well, I'm certain a crate or two will turn up to take back to this princeling in the morning, and he'll pay you handsomely for the spice brought in from rugged lands to boast at his party, my friend." he suggests promisingly to Din, patting the shoulder-bell that bares the profile of the Mudhorn as he leads him from the throne room, and into other areas of the palace before he lays out why he invited the Mandalorian to come. "In the meantime, I'd like you to come with me. Out beyond Espa."

The low hum in his throat before he speaks suggests Din feels hesitant or uncertain about this idea. "Where? And why?"

"Call it something of an impulse; I have my business to attend to here in Mos Espa as the Daimyo of course, but recently I dreamed of camping under the stars, out in the desert - " Boba answers, bringing Din to an inner chamber that is guarded at all times, where once they have passed the guards, he shows to Din two crates of spice that are contained within a vault, " - and I have not been able to shake myself of the notion since. Could I convince you to join me, my friend?"

Din understands that the spice is being used to sweeten him to the idea of sleeping out in the sand-sprawling seas of this arid planet, where temperatures can drop dramatically within a few hours of the suns' setting, here. Even if he declined, Din Djarin doesn't believe the spice would be withheld now when it was already offered to him.

"Why not take Shand?" he asks curiously. "Or will she be staying here at the Palace to keep an eye on things in your absence?"

"I did ask Fennec, as a matter of fact," Boba replies with a bemused expression, carefully denoting the crates with one of the guards for a moment, "and she wasn't too keen to the idea the same way I am. And, yes, she has said that if I do this she would remain with the Palace to oversee matters, should anything happen tonight."

So it appears that Boba wants to entertain this fantasy tonight. Not just "some time in the future", but now. That in and of itself isn't surprising, but Din hesitates for one reason.

One curiosity has been sated. Another remains. "And if I don't know how I feel about the idea? I have a friend watching Grogu for me in Mos Eisley, and I didn't make any mention that I would be leaving him with them past nightfall at the latest."

Boba seems to give something a little thought before he asks "And who is this friend?"

"Peli Motto." Fennec replies from the threshold, watching the two men with a cool gaze that many would perhaps find intimidating if not for a simple smile. "I did a little digging while you boys were having your fun in the vault. She's a simple mechanic."

"A good mechanic." Din finds himself insisting. He's not at all surprised that the second-in-command to the Daimyo had recalled the frequency to and found some way to find information on Peli, but calling her a simple mechanic felt like an insult to her character and he would not let it slide so easily.

"And are you paying this good mechanic to watch the little one for you?" Boba wonders. "If you are worried about giving her adequate payment for minding your foundling, don't. I would gladly help you settle it with Ms. Motto."

It takes a moment to explain that Peli will need to mind Grogu for him overnight, but Din promises to explain why in the morning. "I need you to watch Grogu for me until the morning. Something came up."

Peli sounds worried. "Trouble?"

"Only if we make it…" Boba chuckles to himself in the background, and Fennec warns him to behave in a way that suggests this is not the first, nor the last time, she's heard him make self-entertaining remarks like this.

"What was that? You say something, Mando?"

Din dodges the question with some redirection. "No trouble; I just need to spend a little extra time in Mos Espa. I can explain when I come for Grogu." He hears the way the little one perks up at the sound of his name, a bright, cooing sort of noise. Peli must have pulled him closer to the receiver, because the next time he coos and babbles inquisitively, the sound is sharper, louder, but no less sweet.

"Ha-bah?"

"Grogu, can you behave for Peli for me tonight? I'll be back early in the morning, I promise."

Boba makes no further jokes or commentary in the background while allowing Din to speak to Grogu until he is satisfied that the little one understands Din will not be back tonight, but he will be back soon. Phrasing and re-phrasing his brief explanation until with a little help from Peli, the diminutive, green lifeform seemingly makes sounds of understanding.

He can imagine the way Jango would similarly caution him and repeat himself in preparation for his absences when he was perhaps too young to accompany his father on a bounty. These are memories from so long ago, now, to Boba. At least, they feel that way. He's only entering his forties, he reminds himself. Slightly older than Din, to his belief.

But roughly similar enough in age that neither of them feels any need to take separate materials for temporary shelters. Old enough and mature enough to tolerate the shared arrangement for a single night under a canopy of stars on a bed of sand where they would lay their sleeping sacks. Din has offered to start a modest fire since Fett insists he can pitch the tent on his own. He certainly sees the influence of the Tuskens that Boba spent time with after surviving a sarlacc pit in the shelter's construction once it is firmly staked in place.

"Sturdy."

Boba nods acceptively of the compliment, settling himself beside the fire across from Din. "I learned much in my time with the tribe of Tuskens that cared for me like one of their own before I became the Daimyo. They didn't teach me everything, but you can still learn by watching and observing."

There's a knowing chuckle before the dark t-visor turns and looks off into a rather deliberate direction for just a moment. Freetown. They're not too far from Vanth's community, as it turns out. "Wondering how the sheriff's doing; will we need to pay a visit in the morning?" he offers half-questioningly to Din, trying to gauge and guess what is on the mind of the man clad in beskar before him.

"Tempting. But perhaps another time." Din replies, beginning to remove a select few parts of his armor to make himself more comfortable. He did not opt to leave it behind in favor of more appropriate desert-wear, even when offered. Fett reasoned that much like his own armor, once belonging to his father in his case, the armor made of beskar carried its own significance to Din beyond a protective shell.

"Feeling guilty for leaving the little one, again?"

His companion shakes his head in answer as he carefully sets aside what he's removed. "Not quite. Just eager to complete this bounty and lay low for a time."

"Smart. Have somewhere in mind?"

"Yes." is all Din will answer. And wisely so. Telling Fett where he plans on going would defeat the entire purpose, no matter how much they each trust and respect each other. Because they do, a simple word is all the Mandalorian glowing in the light of the fire will find necessary to say.

"Good. I wish you uneventful times when you make it there, my friend."

They listen to the stillness of the desert together following Fett's sincere wish for Din and Grogu's safety; the crackle and muted roar of the fire, distant and slow gusts of wind, and once off in the greater distance, bantha. The deep bellows of the omnivorous quadrupeds were a strange comfort as the two men listened.

"Have you ever ridden a bantha?" Din asks, noting the nostalgic smile evident on the other's face. The smile broadens as Boba answers. "I have. There was a bantha I once had for a mount, I think of them from time to time."

The helmet tilts to the right with mild concern or surprise. "What happened to it?"

"Oh, nothing bad," Boba assures his friend, giving a singular chuckle as he stokes the flame a little higher, "I simply set them free before I reclaimed my ship. Hopefully they are out there now, meeting other banthas and making baby banthas."

"Heh. I see. Is that the strangest thing you've ever ridden that isn't a speederbike?" Din asks with a laugh, once more turning his head out to look beyond the light of the fire into the desert. Perhaps with his sensors, he could find these distant herds of wild or domesticated bantha

"That would be a rancor."

"You're joking."

"I'm not." Boba laughs with some insistence. "And what about you, my friend? Find a mythosaur to ride, yet?"

"Funny… " Din replies somewhat slowly, "...there was an Ugnaught named Kuiil who claimed it should have been easy for me to learn to ride Blurrg because of my 'ancestors' who rode mythosaurs when he was trying to teach me." He grows quiet, and his body language becomes a lot less casual, less open and fluid. "I haven't thought about his remark in a while." Din admits somberly. His companion, the man who invited him for a night in the desert, under the stars, doesn't press him for anything more to say for a moment, letting the silence grow.

"You've been busy." Boba reasons with him only when he is certain Din doesn't have anything to add. "Traveling the galaxy, collecting bounties… All while you care for the little one." The words don't seem to bring him any comfort. If anything, Boba suspects he's said the wrong thing. "Was he a friend?"

"Yes. Killed by Imperial scout troopers."

"I am sorry, Djarin," he sympathizes, for a moment thinking to lay his hand on the other's shoulder in a gesture of comfort were Boba sitting beside him rather than across the fire. "To lose those we care for is no easy thing."

The Mandalorian scoffs and, jokingly, asks Boba if he's certain he's as old as he claims. "You sound and look older."

"Well, the profession ages you. And I imagine there are still a scattered few, somewhere out there, that would look just like me. Maybe even older." This is the second time Din does not seem to understand what he means judging by his silence. "Surely you've seen them. Heard about them at least, the clones?" Boba inquires, growing increasingly more confused by the lack of apparent understanding as the t-visor slowly wags in the firelight.

"Djarin."

The fire is smothered out with sand following the conclusion of something of a pseudo history lesson once Boba feels he's adequately explained to Din what exactly Clone troopers are. Were. (Maybe still are? Truly, he's not certain how many men who look just like him and sound just like him remain in the galaxy.) The sand is stamped down for good measure before both men enter the tent for the first time since it had been put up and prepare to sleep. The night grows stiller and serene in a way that is entirely unique to Tatooine.

The desert planet is not for the weak-willed and those who will not be prepared to adapt. If you traversed the Dune Seas, you had different tribes of nomadic Tuskens to contend with (and hope they would let you pass through their lands in peace for small tributes), or the wild animals that were not as docile as the bantha that called this planet home. It took grit and gumption, or no small amount of necessary self preservation skills, to live in places such as Mos Espa and Eisley where you would expect to find yourself brushing shoulders with bounty hunters and crime families. Things could get messy.

Boba Fett and Din Djarin are no strangers to the grime and filthier aspects of what the galaxy has to offer them. Bloodshed and banthashit that would make weaker men stumble and turn away from such a profession far sooner. Sacrifices and difficult choices have been made in each of their lives.

Tonight didn't have to be one of them. A night of simple company and some time to catch up with a friend was a welcome change for both. Boots are carefully removed before each slip into their sleeping sacks after simple ration packs are eaten in silence - backs turned to one another even in the dark - and wrappers have been taken care of.

"We'll start our return to the palace before first light," Boba explains, "that way you can return to Mos Eisley for Grogu before Ms. Motto would begin her workday after you've secured the spice for the princeling."

There is a soft laugh under the modulator to his left, where he can make out the general form of his friend's body beside him and sees he's already laying down. "Thank you. Hopefully he will have slept well when I retrieve him."

He certainly hopes the little one will too, for Din's sake, with a laugh. "I have not forgotten my offer to pay Ms. Motto either. And thank you, my friend, for entertaining this idea with me."

"Anything for the mighty Daimyo of Mos Espa." he says in all seriousness he can muster for the moment. He can't maintain the composure for long, and thankfully it's Fett who laughs first, the two of them free to laugh as loud as they would like when it's just the two of them out here for miles as far as anyone would be concerned.

Free to spend as much time as they would like "winding down" and talking in low, golden tones until they come to realize it is coming up on first light, and they have spent the whole night in conversation without meaning to.

At least it may not be just Grogu who has not gotten any sleep tonight, they joke together as they come up on the palace, and Boba gives Din what he was promised. Two crates of Sansanna spice to carve a deeper hole in the pockets of his client, and many words of thanks from Boba follow after Din as he secures some transport to Mos Eisley. "Safe travels, my friend. Remember-"

"Oh I will." Din replies with a mischievous inflection, giving Fennec Shand reason to pause and consider what unfinished communication is unfolding before her as both men, Fett once more clad in his own armor in order to properly send the Mandalorian off before assuming his seat at the throne for the day. "I take it you now have… inside jokes." she grins.

"Maybe." each reply in tandem.

Boba smiles, nodding to Din. "Or-"

"-Reminding me to get a little more sleep once I'm in a hyperspace lane." Din concludes, bidding them farewell once again. He was eager to return to Grogu, and Din could only hope the little one had gotten some sleep. But if he hadn't, then perhaps they would be napping together as they navigated hyperspace. It would certainly not be the first time Din would potentially need to doze off when he could when traveling with a child, or at least daydream while looking at the view from the cockpit of his ship.

Nor will it be the last. Hopefully the same could be said for another opportunity to present itself for nights like last where Boba Fett and Din Djarin could simply spend time with a trusted friend.

Note from Frost: The title was a placeholder name, but then it grew on me; I'm callin' them the Beskar Buddies from now on. Ideas also changed direction on me in the course of writing, so apologies for the lack of Cobb in the end. :( I have not written anything for one of my first major Star Wars crushes in a long, long time. Probably since I was 16? Poor Boba. So this was a delight, and I had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you for making the request!

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

#frostfics #Beskar Buddies #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #tbobf #din darjin #mando #grogu #baby yoda #boba fett #fennec shand #friendship fic #fic request #your-slutty-gf

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thirsty-boba-fett-posts · 1 year

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Boba Fett sharing an s/o with Fennec Shand headcanons

I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed at the prospect of writing Part IX of The Princess Saga, so as an exercise in creativity let’s explore some headcanons involving Boba Fett and Fennec Shand sharing the same woman.

Boba Fett x reader x Fennec Shand

tw: mild smut

The relationship with Fennec came first and because Boba places the highest value on his loyalty to Fennec, he is reluctant to pursue a woman he sees as Fennec’s despite being powerfully attracted to you

Fennec is extremely observant and recognizes that Boba is reigning in his desires

Fennec first speaks with you privately, then with Boba, then the three of you speak frankly over drinks and decide together that you will pursue a sexual relationship with Boba while continuing to have one with Fennec

Boba and Fennec don’t compete with any seriousness for your affection, but they do occasionally tease each other about how good they can make you feel

Boba has matured beyond jealousy. He has you in his bed often, and knowing that you have someone else to bring you pleasure when he is unavailable only brings him a sense of satisfaction. You’ll never want for anything because you have both the Daimyo and a Master Assassin

Boba likes to sit on his thrown and watch you give Fennec a lap dance (that usually ends in sex)

He enjoys being able to concentrate on your facial expressions and the way your body moves when Fennec pleasures you with her mouth and her fingers

Fennec will give you a pet name and Boba will hear it and start using it as well

Boba will call you some endearing term and Fennec will adopt it

Fennec calls you dumpling, sweetling, porglette, sunlight

Boba calls you princess, little one, beloved, blossom

Fennec loves seeing Boba’s bite marks on your ass and thighs and will tease Boba about how naughty you must have been to earn such discipline

Fennec loves your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Boba pays particularly attention to lower back, ass, and thighs. They both enjoy resting their head on your stomach after pleasuring you for as long as you can take it.

There are times when Boba just needs you. Fennec adores you, but she has settled her debt to both the trauma she has endured and the suffering she has inflicted. Boba is still healing and sometimes he needs you in his bed to ground him to the present.

Both Fennec and Boba love seeing you in water. The opulence of a bath was not something Boba considered until Fennec recommended taking one with you. The first time he saw your butt and thighs wet and slick with soapy water, he came undone.

You’re more than a sexual plaything to both of them and it shows in their willingness to share you with each other and spoil you absolutely rotten.

That’s all I’ve got for now. This isn’t my best work, but I needed to do a little stretching.

#boba fett x reader #fennec shand x reader

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sprout-fics · 11 months

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Dunecat Chapter 8

Masterlist

(Read here on Ao3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.4k Tags: Slow Burn, First dates, Shopping excursion, Sugar Momma Fennec Shand, Biker Butch Fennec Shand, Thinly veiled excuse at being a bodyguard, Teasing, Flirting, Possessiveness, Mutually unrequited pining Warnings: Mention of assault from previous chapter A/N: Happy Pride Month to Lesbian Queen Fennec Shand

The twin suns had just begun to peek over the horizon of the Tattooine desert, painting the sky a vivid orange through the dust laden atmosphere. The haze murmured of a distant sandstorm, one that darkens the skies to a gritty, blinding bister. You could imagine the sand, gritty and dark, blistering your eyes and embedding in your skin with the unerring power of the planet’s violent atmosphere. For now, the searing red and pinks of sunrise cast stark but emollient morning shadows long across Boba’s palace.

Despite the early hour, the temperature had already begun to reach the point of discomfort, laying hot against your skin like an oven's breath. The wind picking up over the Jundland whispered of the forming sandstorm. You could feel the growing wind of it flutter under your clothes as you stood in the morning light, pants tucked tight into your boots so avoid the sand and day pack strapped tight to your back where sweat already begins to pool between your shoulders.

Yet you paid no attention to the wafting breeze or the promise of storm or the relative silence of the palace before the day’s activities truly commenced, instead feeling your eyebrows arch into your hairline at the scene in front of you. A certain black-clad, master assassin leant on a speeder bike and observed your surprised expression with a smug smirk splayed across her red lips, arms crossed and hip canted suggestively.

"...Morning." Fennec offered after a beat, balancing against the seat of the bike as it hovered a foot or so off the ground.

"Er...morning." You replied automatically, eyeing the huntress skeptically. Fennec's eyes had that tell-tale twinkle in them that told of her being up to no good. You had learned that look by now, and you knew that, if anything, it meant mischief.

"I- uh...thought you were still off planet." You supplied after silence fell between you both, stammering awkwardly. "Lord Fett didn't say when you'd be returning."

Not that I was paying attention. You wanted to add and bit your tongue instead.

Fennec gave a small shrug, her eyes never breaking yours. "Flew back in last night." She returned simply, not elaborating on the conquests of her secretive adventure. Things you weren’t privy to, like so much of her you were yet to understand.

You shuffled on your feet, feeling a bit awkward in even hinting that you had anticipated her return, feeling a strange bashfulness at the idea Fennec might somehow perceive you as being clingy.

"W-was it a good trip?" You asked at last, scuffing your boots against the dusty entrance to the hangar side door you had eased through before the rest of the palace could wake. The dust clouded at your feet between you, and you watched it if only to avoid the assassin’s peering gaze.

Fennec hummed a note in her throat, and for some reason that alone made you suppress a shiver, the sound almost amused. Your eyes were drawn up again as Fennec shifted, standing up off the bike and sauntering over towards you, hips swaying. The sudden motion makes you freeze, uncertain if you should approach her as well and yet wanting by some instinct to retreat when she looked at you with that stare.

Hungry.

"Did what I had to." She replied noncommittally. "Though it sounds like you had more fun than I did while I was away."

You cringed automatically, remembering the scuffle with the visitor who had leered at your work-mate and had assaulted you. The sound of Boba's blaster shot still rung loudly in your ears, even a day after the incident.

"...You could say that." You muttered, frowning down at your feet and feeling your hands wrap tighter around your bag's straps. "I...wouldn't say it was fun."

Fennec chuckled, and you blinked as a leather clad touch tipped your chin up so you would meet her gaze. The touch alone had a shudder tremble through your frame, body remembering the same way she drew you into her bed, had your crying out for release.

Fennec didn't speak, instead gazing down at your astonished expression almost as if she was searching for something there. You fear she might see the memory, make warmth flood to your face as she tilted her head knowingly, eyes twinkling.

You took the moment to let your own gaze flicker across her face, eyes darting down to her lips and then back up to her eyes once more. Fennec must have noticed this, as the smirk on her lips tugged upwards for just a moment. A forbidden glimpse into her thoughts.

For a moment you thought -wished- she would kiss you, even if it was just a small peck against your lips. A bold and daring taste of her, there and gone before you truly had the chance to savor.

Yet Fennec merely hovered over you for several long moments, eyes dark and searching. You had just thought to let your eyes shut, hiding yourself from her keen, unrelenting stare when her touch vanished from you completely.

"Going into town?" She chirped as she turned and paced back over towards the bike, and for a moment you couldn't respond because your heart was beating so loudly it deafened any other thought.

You took a moment to simply start breathing again, trying to recompose yourself after the dizzying force that was her.

"I- yes." You replied at last. "Fett gave me the day off."

"Odd, he offered me the same." Fennec hummed as she swung a leg over the bike, hitting the starter and letting it hum to life.

One hand seized her helmet from the other side of the vehicle, and she shrugged it on it hid all but her eyes underneath it. You watched her form briefly lay low across the front, figure lean and agile like a panther. Then Fennec turned towards you, and through the gap in her helmet she raised a slender eyebrow at you in question.

"Coming?" She inquired, almost strangely cheerful. "Unless you want to walk, that is."

You gulped.

You had been intending to walk, a trek though it was. You even had enough credits to flag a ride back if need be. It wasn't a pleasant prospect, slogging across the desert, but it was a necessary one. The thought of riding behind Fennec, however, was as alluring as it was intimidating. The thought of your form pressed close up against her back, arms wrapped around her front...

You didn't trust yourself to not become a flustered mess in the process.

"Suns are rising, sand mouse. Better get a move on." Fennec quipped, eyes intent on your hesitating form. Again, you shifted a bit uneasily on your feet, before at last letting them carry you to the bike and gingerly set yourself behind the assassin.

Fennec waited for you to settle, and your hands carefully reached out to settle on her shoulders, clinging to her jacket in an effort to balance yourself properly.

“All set?” She tossed over her shoulder, as if to question your gentle touch- a warning that you may careen off the bike.

“Mhm.” You offered quietly in response, fingers tracing the synth-wear edges of her jacket.

Without a word Fennec let the engine purr to life, and you remembered to take a breath before you both went shooting off into the desert, faster than you could think to gasp. Instantly, the speed at which the bike launched across the dunes made your clothes flutter and legs cling tighter to the speeder below you.

No sooner had you zoomed down the hill leading the palace did you immediately reconsider your notion of not trying to cling to Fennec. With the leaning of the bike, the wind and sand whipping in your face and your hair flying, your hands instantly drifted down to Fennec's waist, where they secured your form by wrapped around to her front so you could lean further into her back.

Fennec's form shuddered for all of a moment, and if it hadn't been for the roar of the engine and whistle of the wind you could have sworn you heard her laugh.

You pressed your face in between her shoulders, telling yourself it was to avoid the sand, and ignoring your smile at the feeling of her firm, lean form tucked against yours.

----

The journey towards town ended far too soon for your liking. Yet you couldn't deny a twinge of relief as Fennec slowed the speeder to a stop just outside the city gates. The dust cloud the bike had kicked up on your abrupt entry floated over you both, beige and gritty, catching in your eyes and clothes.

You coughed once, trying to expel the dust from your lungs despite having buried your face against Fennec's jacket the entire ride to prevent just that. The assassin huffed, and you couldn’t decide if it was her clearing her lungs or being amused at your small plight.

Fennec dismounted in the moment it took for you to look up at the familiar streets, filled with bustling crowds and all shades of strange characters. Mos Espa seemed to not have changed despite the weeks you had spent working at the palace. The rebuilding efforts after the battle between the Fett cartel and the Pike syndicate had progressed, but otherwise the city seemed to remain the same. The townsfolk seemed unbothered by the standing piles of rubble and neatly stacked bricks intended to replace them, or the construction droids that scaled the destroyed tower with rancor claw marks still embedded in the stone.

Various passerby chittered in almost every language you could understand, and several of those you couldn't. Moisture farmers haggled with vendors in the entrance to the market, and Jawas skittered across the street, eyeing the speeder bike you sat on greedily. Several pairs of eyes glanced at you, and then to the dark-clad enforcer standing beside you, heads turning as Fennec’s reputation proceeded her, with your subdued figure sitting behind her.

You were so distracted you almost didn't notice the black leather gloved hand extended to you. Blinking, you looked up at Fennec, who had her helmet again tucked under her arm and a hand held out to you to help you off the bike. You took it gratefully, feeling a small, pleasant flutter in your stomach at the strangely chivalrous gesture from the assassin.

"Where to first, sand mouse?" She quipped as soon as you were on your feet, then paused to send a scathing look at the Jawas who had wandered just a step closer to the bike, sending them scattering.

You felt a smile tug at your lips at the stern disapproval that flittered across her expression, then blinked at her in surprise, noticing the unspoken meaning of her words.

"I thought you had business in town?" You asked, confusion tinting your words.

"I do." Fennec replied instantly, her eyes snapping back to yours brightly, a smile hidden under her gaze. "It's right in front of me."

…Oh.

As if the heat of the twin suns wasn't enough, you felt yourself flush under her gaze, heart stammering in girlish infatuation. Even now, despite all the time you had spent with Fennec, it was always the simple words of hers that managed to always catch you off guard.

Unable to keep her gaze, you lowered your eyes to your lap, leaning back until the backs of your knees bumped the bike. Yet Fennec merely crowded closer, and when your eyes flicked up to her face you could see that damned smirk playing across her face again, as if amused by your chaste bashfulness.

"A-are you sure?" You tried, voice weak despite your valiant attempts otherwise. "I'm sure you have plenty to do, after all, being Fett's enforcer."

You were practically sitting back on the bike again now, sideways on the seat. Yet Fennec only managed to press closer, and your heart thrummed loudly as one of her knees slipped between yours.

"Even enforcers get days off." The huntress hummed low, words soft enough for only you to hear despite the number of passerby that had begun to notice her blatant gestures towards you.

This was unlike her, you thought. To be this blatant with her affections. You were practically in the middle of the street, but here she was pressing you into the bike she had driven you here on, practically gleeful at your squirming.

Eyes wide, you looked down stubbornly at your lap, feeling your lips twitch in a somewhat pleased smile at the thought of those passing by and seeing Fennec clearly stake her claim on you for all to see.

You inhaled a stuttering breath, trying vainly to compose yourself despite the rush that Fennec's flirtations brought you. Yet inside you wanted nothing more than to hide your face in your hands shyly, feeling the eyes of the market pressing down on you both.

"...Okay." You breathed at last, both hoping and praying that Fennec would and wouldn't give you some space.

Oddly, she didn't. It was only once you looked up at her, her dark form blotting out the sunlight and letting a shadow fall over you, that you saw why.

In a single heartbeat Fennec bent down, planting upon your forehead a fleeting peck before straightening once more.

Any other thought you could have harbored came to a screeching halt, with you spluttering just as Fennec’s laughter rang tinnily in your ears.

“Keep up, sand mouse.” She offered to your embarrassment, even as you lifted an arm to shield your face with your bashfulness.

As she donned her helmet, you could almost see a dusting of pink across her cheeks, pleased and strangely demure. The sight alone made a smile spread across your lips, and briefly you ducked your head to hide your widening grin before trotting to catch up to the huntress.

---

The bazaar was bustling as you two made your way through the tented vendors and various stalls lining the wide street. Calls rang out in every direction, spoken in Hutteese, Basic, Jawa, and possibly every other language you could name off-hand. The suns had passed the horizon now, shining brightly down on the square and letting the sand and stone under your feet bake in the heat.

Despite the wide street, the market was already becoming packed, and more than once you felt yourself jostled or pushed aside as another, larger shape moved past you. You mumbled a series of apologies for bumping people, despite not even being noticed most of the time when you yourself were shoved partly aside. Still, you made your way forward, trying to get to the part of the market with the soaps and shampoos you had saved your wages for, longing for the sweet floral scents of other planets.

Fennec trailed behind you, seemingly happy to let you lead the way as you weaved through the crowd ahead of her. Yet if you ventured too far, walked too fast, it was a gloved hand on your shoulder that would draw you back, ensure you stayed close to her side. A glance towards her showed her expression remained indiscernible under the helmet coy eyes sliding to you and signaling once more for you to lead the way.

It’s an endearing gesture, one you couldn’t help but smile to yourself at, your huntress so intent on ensuring you didn’t stray from her sight. You tried to ignore the inclination to tell yourself it was almost possessive. Territorial, allowing others to see who you belonged to.

You blinked as you realize the sentiment gently revealed to you, with your mind occupied by thoughts of the woman who also occupied your bed.

Her.

Perhaps not yet, but in a way you so desperately wanted to be. In a way you hoped you’d be to her some day too.

You considered it further as you bent over the vendor stall packed with various tins of cream and soap, ogling the vast array of goods. Expensive though they were, you wanted desperately to indulge, knowing your scarce water supply was something to be enjoyed to the fullest extent possible. The thought of bathing with deluxe conditioner and bath soaps, of floating around Boba’s palace smelling of desert roses and feeling the wanting eyes of others looking after what they couldn’t have admittedly thrilled you.

“-and this one will ease those sore muscles after a long day at the moisture farm, eh?” The Duros woman before you offered, shoving yet another container in your direction. You lifted it up to your nose, inhaled the deep, rich scent of a flower you didn’t recognize, a bloom from a distant world you might never see.

“Or…” and now a small bottle offered in your direction with a strange amber liquid that smelled sweet and musky as you lifted it to your face. “Add this to your wash basin in the morning and your skin will be as smooth as Mandalorian beskar! Glowing like the three moons!”

“How much for both?” You asked quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the bustle of the market, and the Duros vendor rubbed her hands greedily at your question.

“Two-hundred credits for the batch!” She announced gleefully, much to your dismay. “I’ll even toss in a bar of bantha soap to boot.”

You looked despairingly down at your wallet, eyeing at the meager one hundred and fifty credits that twinkled from the purse. Frowning, you looked back and forth between the bottles, biting your lip as you tried to decide.

Fennec, who up until then had been idly watching your transaction with a mildly disinterested gaze, shifted beside you. You had nearly forgotten she was there with how still the huntress held herself. Like a cat crouching in the ferns. You saw her out of the corner of your eyes as she leaned over the vast array of perfumes and soaps, feigning interest before reaching into her pocket to withdraw her own credits.

“Two hundred?” She asked, amusement flitting through her voice at the seemingly paltry sum. “What does three-hundred get her?”

You blanched.

“F-Fennec.” You tried, aghast at her sudden display, even as the credits clinked down onto the counter. “T-that’s-“

“Sabbacc change.” She finished for you, head tilting and eyes sliding over to yours to regard your flummoxed expression. “My treat.”

The vendor, for what she was worth, seemed as surprised as you are. Yet her shock lasted only a moment, for soon she scrambled to push even more containers and bottles in your directions, stammering out her offerings.

“I-if that’s the case-! T-then maybe try this moisturizer, with water distilled from Bespin city-“

“Done.” Fennec interjected bluntly, shoving over the credits and swiping your purchases up into her hands, making a point to spin you around in her arms and deposit them in your rucksack before you could so much as protest.

Even as you spluttered, Fennec merely fastened her hand around your wrist, her eyes crinkling with glee and mischief as you were dragged off away from the stall, the vendors tinny ‘Come again soon!’ ringing out behind you.

“F-Fen-“ You tried even as you stumble after her, giddy and confused and in disbelief all at once. “You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” The assassin returned simply with a shrug, and despite her nonchalance you found delight dancing in her gaze as she glanced at you. “Now let’s get you some clothes to match. I can’t have you running around in rags, little sand mouse.”

You thought you heard your heart thump in your chest, skipping helplessly as the sun burned down onto you both. Yet the brightness there wasn’t nearly as dazzling as the glimmering twinkle in her beautiful dark eyes, the sight alone akin to laughter that bubbled up your throat in helpless delight.

Yours. Your heart murmured again as it called out to her, the warmth of her gloved hand spilling against your wrist and setting your tender heart aflame.

Taglist: (If you'd like to be tagged in the future please reblog this post)

@writeforfandoms @bunniesofsteel @okaycoldplay @thedevilishcaptain @grogusmum @kesskirata

#fennec shand #fennec shand x reader #fennec shand x f! reader #fennec shand x you #fennec shand x y/n #x reader #reader insert #my writing #my fic #fic: dunecat

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kleyamarki · 10 months

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MAY I PRESENT: BO-KATAN KRYZE AND FENNEC SHAND AS FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

Author’s Note: Timeline is pre-Mandalorian series. You can’t tell me the master assassin and former terrorist never met before Mando you just can’t. Okay cool let’s go lesbians let’s go. Let me know what you think <3

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Pairing: Bo-Katan Kryze/Fennec Shand

Summary/Preview: It’s not that Fennec was trying to track her down, the mention of a new Mandalorian in town just piqued her interest, and Fennec knew her well enough that she knew which bar to find her in, drinking whatever clear liquor would get her the drunkest the fastest. Bo-Katan was predictable in that way.

#bo-katan kryze #fennec shand #bofennec #fenkatan #the mandalorian #my fics #niche ship for the niche girlbosses #no beta just me and my dab pen

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superstarfishy97 · 1 month

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Fennec Shand, Master Assassin and Shadiest Bitch in the Galaxy. She read my poor boys to filth, but I have never been more obsessed.

#god i love her #the bad batch spoilers

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burnwater13 · 5 months

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There were a lot of things that Grogu liked about Fennec Shand. There were even things that he loved about her. And there was one tiny, little, itty, bitty thing that he really didn’t like. Fennec was brave. She was clever. She was very pretty. But… sometimes she said things that weren’t perfectly accurate. Well, at least once. She missed at least once and that had cost her dearly.

Lucky for her Boba Fett found her. Lucky for Grogu too. Without Fennec Shand, Grogu knew that his dad would try to save him, but would he have been successful at it? It was hard to say and Grogu didn’t like those odds.

He found it interesting and wondered if his old Jedi masters would have said that it was sure sign that the Force was connecting them in ways they couldn’t imagine. Grogu wouldn’t have argued with them at all about that. It was true. The Force had connected them all.

Grogu’s dad hadn’t been able to keep that stupid kid from hurting Fennec and he realized then that Grogu and Peli would be at risk and they had been. But Boba Fett had come along and saved the assassin and that had created a connection.

The connection grew when the Mandalorian had brought them back to Tatooine to find another Mandalorian to help them find a Jedi, which seemed pretty strange at the time. After Jedi and Mandalorians had never really been all that friendly toward each other, unless you only counted Grogu and his dad.

They hadn’t found a Mandalorian at Mos Pelgo, but they had found Mandalorian armor. Armor that just so happened to belong to Boba Fett, who they didn’t know at the time. But Boba Fett had worked out that his dad had the armor. Of course, probably because of Peli Motto, everyone on Tatooine knew that Din Djarin had gotten the other armor from Mos Pelgo after killing the Krayt dragon.

That allowed Boba Fett and Fennec to follow them to Tython and that had been a real and valuable connection. So, sure, Fennec sounded all scary and dire, saying what she said, but once the two Mandalorians settled the ownership issue of the armor, Grogu found himself with two additional protectors.

And then, because he had actually used the ‘seeing’ stone on Tython the way Ahsoka Tano had suggested (another Jedi who knew Mandalorians and didn’t fight with them), Grogu managed to reach out and contact Luke Skywalker, who had somehow met Boba Fett well before Grogu had met or run into or been acquired by any of them at all. That was definitely some heavy lifting by the Force.

Grogu hadn’t found out about that until he over heard Luke talking with Ahsoka and then Fennec confirmed it when Grogu returned to Tatooine to be with his dad. It was a strange set of meetings and partings and Grogu figured that’s why almost anyone would blame it on the Force. It seemed very unlikely and even Din Djarin wouldn’t have liked those odds.

That thought made Grogu laugh and he thought of his friend Ian and how he always said ‘Never tell me the odds, kid’. Grogu agreed. ‘Trust in the Force’ was the better saying, even if the way was winding and most people wouldn’t believe it. Grogu knew the Force never missed.

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

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therealjediknight · 2 years

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#star wars #cosplay #fennec shand #master assassin #in a galaxy far far away

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gloriousgwendolinechristie · 1 year

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Gwendoline Christie, Joonas Suotamo, and Ming-Na Wen to Appear at Star Wars Celebration Europe 2023

Report to Captain Phasma’s division at once.

The actors behind Captain Phasma, Chewbacca, and Fennec Shand are coming to London to join an impressive guest list of Star Wars stars.

StarWars.com is thrilled to announce that Gwendoline Christie has joined the guest list for Star Wars Celebration Europe 2023 in London this April. The actor first played Captain Phasma, the chrome-armored commander of the First Order in Star Wars: The Force Awakens, and returned for Star Wars: The Last Jedi.

She’s not the only sequel trilogy celebrity headed to the show floor. Joonas Suotamo has been confirmed to attend. The actor played the role of Chewbacca in the most recent Skywalker saga films and Solo: A Star Wars Story, after learning at the knee of the master, the late performer Peter Mayhew. Suotamo most recently reunited with Solo writer Jon Kasdan to play The Scourge in the Willow series on Disney+.

And Ming-Na Wen, the actor who brought elite assassin Fennec Shand to life on The Mandalorian, The Book of Boba Fett, and Star Wars: The Bad Batch, is also slated to appear.

#gwendoline christie #star wars #captain phasma #news #disney #star wars celebration

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lovelessdagger · 1 year

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Starlight - Chapter Thirty-One: The Devil Rings His Bell

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

Warnings: Explicit Language. Horror.. Angst. Suicidal Ideation. Gore. Light Medical Horror. Nonconsensual nonsexual touching. Panic Attacks. PTSD. Everything goes to hell.

Words: 13k

Summary : “There was a point to this, there should’ve been anyways.”

A/N: This chapter is A LOT. I usually advise to read with caution but specifically here

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Thirty Here

Read on AO3 Here

Objectively, this isn’t what Senior Officer Horix Kelis signed up for when he joined the Imperial Academy some twenty years ago. Stalking through thick branches with dying embers while being drowned from above. Oxygen tubes connecting from the boxy filter on his back to the front of his helmet does little to mitigate the fumes.

The mission briefing was short, conducted from whatever pseudo base was constructed on whatever Outer Rim scumhole that was chosen for the moment. It’s pointless to keep track of locations anymore, setting up only to relocate hardly a month after. Just another worthless planet filled with worthless natives who hadn’t the decency to learn Basic. Who dressed in animal hide and painted their faces with ash.

He heard his superiors talk the day before, bitterly recalling the memory. Moff Gideon and the Thirteenth Sister specifically requested the second best team. Being chosen was no honor.

It started off as twenty men packed into a cargo hold like a can of Naboo sardines. His personal team consisted of five, they crowded over a glitchy hologram. Prerecorded messaging allowed no questions.

“Your mission is to acquire one asset.” Gideon couldn’t be assed to give the report himself, and Horix assumed this Inquisitor was no better. The voice was the same as other report requests, some female lead on Gideon’s cruiser. “Target is female, estimated height 163, an estimated 25 to 28 years of age. Black hair, grey eyes, brown skin.”

A matching hologram appeared before them, a blue tinted figure. One of his men, Coltin—someone who never had much respect for hierarchy and basic rules—leaned over to him. “I’d fuck her,” he said.

“You’d fuck your sister if she offered,” Netru, his second in command snorts at his other side.

He works with idiots, running his hand over his pale face.

“—accompanied by Mandalorian, Din Djarin.” Another hologram, the man from the rumors of Nevarro. “Master Assassin, Fennec Shand—”

“Ain’t she dead?” Furge muttered.

“—Bounty Hunter, Boba Fett—”

“Isn’t he dead?” Horix found himself saying.

“And an alien.” Ugly, but not the most threatening way to end. “Moff Gideon orders that under no circumstance are the Mandalorian and Child to be harmed. The asset is to be obtained unharmed. Lethal methods are strictly forbidden. Intelligence suggest active harm of any kind will result in your own termination. If captured, Officer Kelis is to inform Moff Gideon via coded signal immediately.”

The cylinder stick pokes from his belt, a single red button protruding from the top. His hand covers it when the others look.

“The asset is invaluable Imperial property, it must be kept in prime condition,” she says. The word strikes them all in different ways. Property. Like the clones who taught them how to shoot blasters as children, or the cards for sabbacc they could buy from the commissary.

Her throat clears through the recording. “I’m sure you are all familiar with the tale of Lord Vader’s daughter—“ They all look to each other, tension in the stuffy room. “Private operatives have located and confirmed this being to be her. The asset shares the same abilities and skill of her father. Perhaps more.”

“This is a fuckin’ suicide mission,” Furge says. “We’re supposed to go after one of them devil wizards?”

Suddenly second best makes sense.

None of them stood a chance, they were never meant to. Another expenditure by the Empire. They weren’t esteemed soldiers from a dwindling lot, they’re as worthless as the rest of the galaxy.

Horix steps in a puddle, wincing at his foot stuck in the mud. He could still have a chance to make it out alive, comm chatter indicated other surges retreating throughout the morning. It’s a tough decision, to leave with his life a coward or leave this life a forgotten sacrifice.

“How are you all holding up?” he asks to the open communication line. “Any updates?”

“Same as they were ten minutes ago.” Coltin. “They already sent and called back the Dark Troopers. Why are we still out here?”

“The Moff specifically requested for us to head this mission, because we’re the best.” Almost. “We’ll stay as long as we have to until it is complete.”

“Reports onboard Gideon’s cruiser said the Inquisitor came down to engage the Mandalorian.” Triemp, the youngest of the group. He never got to properly graduate from whatever academy he came from.

Lothal, Horix thinks. He’s still too skittish, like a frightened kitten.

“Bitch is crazy,” Furge says. “They said we couldn’t do that.”

“Thirteenth Sister can do what she wants. She doesn’t concern us—“

“Wait,” Triemp says. “Wait. I’ve just gotten word—The Mandalorian has been… taken care of?”

“Elaborate.”

“It’s just that. We weren’t the only ones instructed not to harm him. My source says the Sister and Moff Gideon were screaming at another on board.”

“Is he dead?”

“Gideon?”

“No genius, the Mandalorian.”

“Uncertain. If not completely, close to it.”

Netru speaks up, “…The Mandalorian is down?”

“Correct.”

“Have you heard anything about the alien?”

“Acquired by the Inquisitor,” Triemp says, gulping his words. “She’s directly gone against orders.”

“If she’s alone we have to get back to the ship or else we’re fucked.”

“Let’s not be dramatic,” Horix cuts in. “This was the Inquisitors fuck up, not ours. We still have a job to do. There’s no reason for panic.”

“You think they told us to stay away for kicks?” Coltin asks.

“I’m only saying we don’t know why, it’s foolish to assume.”

“She’s Lord Vader’s daughter,” Netru says. “What else do you need to know?”

It is a valid point. He—whether it be fortunate or not—never had the pleasure of meeting Vader. But his paternity isn’t the only story told throughout camps.

“You honestly believe she’s his child?” Horix huffs. “That’s disappointing.”

“Disappointing?”

“Well, if she is his child… they must share more similarities other than abilities.” A chorus of ohs echos. “I always believed Vader looked more like us.”

“I heard the Jedi kid that blew up the Death Star was his too,” Coltin says. “That kid doesn’t look a thing like her.”

“It is possible she is from a different mother,” Triemp says.

“A bastard?”

“Or he is. She is the one Vader kept after all.”

“Kept the wrong one then,” Furge says.

For once, they all agree.

“Focus,” Horix interjects. “We’ll regroup at the ship, figure out a new plan. Netru, what’s your status on location?” On their initial spread they planned on no more than fifty yards of separation. But he’s always been a wanderer.

With no other man speaking, he’s met with static.

“Netru? Come in. Report your location.” The static pops, crinkling. “KT-9248 come in.”

“Net,” Coltin says.

“The idiot must have walked outside of comm bounds. Furge, what’s your status?” Reluctantly, he answers with coordinates. Not too far off, closer to where Netru was meant to be. “Will you find him?”

“On it.” He drops the connection.

“The rest of you—“ Thunder cuts him off, a lightning strike over the mountains. “Get to the ship on your own.”

“What about you?” Triemp asks.

“I have a mission to complete. I’m going to find and report the asset to Moff Gideon.”

A female voice breaks through the line, honeyed and smooth. “That’s bold.”

“Sir?” Triemp says.

“You can contact Gideon?” Then more to herself she says, “But I thought…”

“Who is this? This is a private channel.”

“Dammit,” she mutters under her breath. “Stupid.”

“This is Senior Officer Horix Kelis, KT-7392 of Imperial Corp 7254 of the Galactic Empire. I demand you disclose your identity.”

There’s shuffling, a cough then steady breathing. “KT-9248,” she says, like she were reading it from a manual. “Netru Bolts,” she sighs, “Junior Officer.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what his arm says.”

“How do you have Bolts?”

“Just his arm,” she corrects. “The rest of him is… here and there.”

“Holy shit,” Coltin says. “It’s fucking her.”

Triemp whispers, shaking, “Lady Vader.”

More breaths come from the end of the line. Spiking chills run up Horix’s skin. Breaking into a sprint , feet snapping twig and splashing in streams. “Back to the ship! Back to the—“

“I don’t know if I like that name.” She’s completely mellow, sounding dazed. “Lady Vader… Sith are given names—” She stops short, and humming enters his ears. “Hello. Which one are you?”

“Furge! Furge get out of there!” Horix shouts.

“Hi Furge,” she says. “I’m—oh, this is a lightsaber—an arm… I couldn’t figure out how to it take off. It’s in poor taste I know, but… yes, it’s his… I only wanted his help,” she snorts, “things got out of hand. Clearly. I won’t hurt you if you help me. I promise.”

The connection turns to static again, the surrounding rain and winds blowing out the mic.

“Sir,” Triemp says.

“Get on the other line, Tri. Contact the remaining, order every man to return to the ship immediately. After that I want you onboard, locked in.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Colt, get off the comm, I’m sending you my coordinates. We’re furtherest out, right now we’re stronger together.”

“Understood.”

The girl’s voice comes in again, more on edge, pointed. “Horix, is it? May I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Is Furge lying to me?”

“What?”

“He says they took the Child. Is he lying to me?”

Stuttering, Horix answers no. Distant from the rest, a scream to awaken hibernation sounds. Breathing follows. Five inhales, six exhales.

“How many of you are there?”

“Twenty.”

“Eighteen now.” Cold. Missing the sickly sweetness it was coated in just moments ago.

Sick to his stomach he can hardly repeat it. “Eighteen.”

The humming stops, and her voice comes directly from the microphone on Netru’s detached arm. “Officer Kelis?”

He swallows collecting spit. “Yes?”

“You should start running too.”

---

“Wake up Mandalorian. Wake up.”

Groaning to life, every muscle inside of Din tenses and every joint cracks. It starts with ringing in his ears, ending with vision restored to his eyes. His side is prodded by a blunt object, later discovered to be Fennec Shand’s foot.

“Lu…”

“Wrong Fett,” Fennec snorts above him. “I think he has a concussion. Should get checked out.”

He finds Boba, or three Bobas, the world a dizzy mess.

“Where is she?” The Bobas ask.

Din blinks, struggling to focus on the data within his helmet. Heart rate is at an all time high, blood pressure the same, oxygen levels too low. He considers the possibility of being dead, a void filling his mind. “Who?”

“Maker he’s lost it,” Fennec says. “Your girlfriend. Where is she?”

“Girlfriend?”

Concern now etches into Fennec, she crouches, face pinched. “What the fuck happened to you? Your girlfriend,” she says slower. ”Lumina. The one you were going to propose to this morning?”

“What?” The Bobas say.

“There was no good time to tell you.”

“Why was I not consulted first?”

“I don’t think that matters right now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Later,” she says. “Mandalorian, where is Lumina?”

Din groans again, pants unheard through his modulator. If this is how she feels after her increasingly common fainting spells, well he can’t blame her for getting sick each time.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Where’s the kid?”

The Bobas nod to Fennec. “Search the ship.” Then to Din, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. “I haven’t seen her.”

“Since when?”

“Since…” He frowns. When did he see her last? She was there last night. This morning before she left on her walk… Din coughs, the sludge of soil uncomfortably wet under him. Nothing comes back to him as a clear picture, fuzzy understandings lingering in his mind.

There’s a fire, a storm… Imperials. She came out of the woods at some point with the Child…

Din blinks, only now noticing wetness on his face, too cold to be blood. It hits him like a ship thrown out of hyperspace.

“Lumina,” he says panicked, sitting up far too quick. He speaks again, surprising himself with the anger it comes with. “That fucking bitch.”

A blaster bolt flies against Din, sparking beskar right over the left side of his chest. Knocked back fully to the ground again, the three Boba’s turn back to one with proximity. His soiled boot keeps Din pinned, blaster and wrist gauntlet pointed to his head.

“What the fuck—” Din gasps.

“Ne shab'rud'ni,” Boba says. “I don’t give a fuck what she did to you. If you ever disrespect her again, you’ll wish she got to you first. Am I understood?”

“Fett!” Fennec stands at the top of the Crest’s ramp, unfazed by the scene. “We have a situation.”

“I’ll say.”

“The Child is missing.”

While Din’s head snaps the best it can to her direction, Boba removes himself, holstering his gun. “What do you mean missing?”

“As in he’s not here.”

“The Jedi took him,” Din says. He tries to stand again, slow, an eye constant on Boba.

“What Jedi?”

“She came with the TIE… had a red one of those laser swords.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Fennec asks, jumping off the ship.

“Inquisitors,” Boba says.

“They’re all dead.”

“So are we.” He points to he sky. “And the Empire. And her. We’re all supposed to be dead, none of it matters.”

“But if they’re here then—“

“We’re too late. It’s already happened.” Boba grabs Din by his shoulders, despite the height difference and with significant strength. “Mandalorian, where is she?”

“She left,” he says.

“Left where?”

“I don’t know. She was talking about Gideon and—“ His hand leans against his head. “Fuck.”

“He needs a medic,” Fennec decides, approaching. “Concussion, internal bleeding, who knows what they did to him.”

“Mandalorian,” Boba says.

Din doesn’t mean to snap, or at least he doesn’t think he does. Nothing feels like himself. “What?”

“I need you to tell me everything you remember.”

“She said—“ It’s like he’s filled with static, memories glitching from one thing to another. “She… wanted to talk to him and—I don’t know. I…” He takes a breath, collecting his thoughts with the ground. “I was with her and she was crying and I— we… I had her. She promised she wouldn’t leave anymore. She promised she’d stay.” He looks up. “Then all I wanted was to get away from her. So I took the kid and I left.”

Fennec looks dumbfounded, he’s sure Boba shares the same expression.

“Let me ask you something,” Boba says. “Do you love her?”

“What?”

“You wanted to marry her right? Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t you rather she be here then?”

“…No.”

“Why?”

Din sits with himself, silent. He doesn’t have an answer, not one that won’t result in another assault from Boba. He can’t say the thought of her makes him irrationally angry. That he gave her everything, every piece of himself and she still left. Again.

But… he’s the one who left ultimately. He grabbed Grogu, he agreed to it, he knew what it meant, the conditions she set.

Pounding intrudes on his head again, the conflict more painful than the blows from the not Jedi.

“She’s in trouble,” Boba continues. “Do you understand that? We have to find her—”

“My kid is in trouble,” he counters. “She can take care of herself. What I need to worry about is getting him back.”

Boba’s arm sticks out behind him. “Fennec, hand it over.” She places a metal disc, the size of her palm in his. Painted black, it flashes red. “Do you know what this is?”

Din nods. “A tracker.”

“Found it on my ship after you left. Whoever put it there knew we would come for her. All of this was planned. All of it. Do you know what that means?”

He says nothing.

“It means she knew. She knew the Empire was coming.”

“You don’t know that—“

“That girl can sense the energy of a city on the other side of moon if she damn well pleases. She spent her whole life on my ship, you really think she couldn’t tell there was a tracker?” His voice lowers, a whisper with killer instinct. “They want her. You will never understand how valuable she is to them.”

“Why? She’s not special like the kid, she doesn’t have—“

“Abilities? Powers? Never mind everything else, you know she can feel energy, that she hears things we could never. What do you call that? They have your kid and they’re not gone. Why is that?”

“…She said she made a deal with Moff Gideon.” He says this slow, coming to his own realization. “That’s why she wanted me to leave. Said he wouldn’t hurt us, the kid. That he’s scared of her.”

“She knew exactly how this would go. They fucked up Mandalorian. If she finds out they have your child—you’re the only one that can bring her to her senses and stop her.”

“I don’t understand. Stop her from what?”

“From killing herself.”

---

Horix never met with Coltin. He took the girl at her word, sprinting before the last syllable dropped. He doesn’t care about being a coward, all he wants to do was live. Honor be damned. Being exiled, put on trial, discharged. He’d rather all of it.

He found Triemp first. The poor fucking kid, he looked just as scared as he always did. The others he’d rather not remember, though he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the smell.

There are five left, including him. Could be less and he just hasn’t found them. Coltin is out there still, but Horix doesn’t intend to look for him. He has to get to the ship, fly away, leave the sector, the Outer Rim.

He has to never look back.

It’d be easier if he knew how to get out of the labyrinth. If it weren’t for the fact that he has yet to see the same body twice, he’d be convinced he’s been running in circles.

He has no time, and yet it dares to feel infinite.

Horix sees Coltin first. He’s held against a tree, four feet in the air. His hands grip around his own neck, feet kicking out. Then he sees her. At the base, hand passively raised only to her shoulder. She’s drenched in rain, possibly other fluids he won’t spend time imagining. She has a lightsaber, red, prominent from the rest of them.

“Don’t move!” Horix shouts. His blaster rattles in shaky hands. He switches the setting off of stun. “I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you I swear.”

She listens. He catches how her eyes roll, annoyed, pushing her hair out of her face. The lightsaber turns off, and attaches to her hip. She turns.

“I said don’t move!”

“Officer Kelis?” she asks. “You came.” He could swear she’s relieved, voice like a lullaby. She looks at Coltin, tilting her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t need you anymore.”

Her wrist turns, and so does his neck.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, turning to Horix. “I’ve been looking for you. I need your help.”

“You killed him. You fucking killed all of them,” Horix pants. “You’re a monster. You tore them apart—“

“And I apologize for the mess. It could have been cleaner, I got carried away. That doesn’t matter now. I need you to help me, I won’t kill you.”

“No. No! You’re just like him—I’ve heard stories. Of your father—”

“Then you’ve heard about me. You know what they want with me, don’t you? What was your mission objective?”

“I don’t—“

“You’re the one in charge,” she snaps, then breathes. “You should know. What did they tell you to do?”

“Capture you.” He says this shaking, suffocating under his helmet. “To not hurt you. Not hurt the alien. Or the Mando.”

She frowns. She frowns like it were a personal insult. “What do you do after you capture me?”

“I contact Moff Gideon.”

“How?” He fumbles, pulling out the cylinder. His thumb hovers over the red button. “Do you have a rendezvous point?” He nods. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“You’re going to turn me in. Contact Gideon, if you can tell him you have me, do it. Then you’ll take me to your point.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to him.” She walks forward, his finger waver on the trigger. “I gave him my terms, he didn’t listen. So you either help me, or I’ll call him myself and you can join your friends. It’s your choice.”

---

Wiping her cheek, Lumina’s hand turns a dripping red, washed down her arm by the rain. Her chest heaves, soaked hair sticking to her skin. Her left hand clenches, nails biting into her palm. She smiles, the closed kind, full of relief.

There was a purpose to this, there should’ve been anyways. She looks to her lightsaber, drawing a scorch mark in the mud. It crackles with the wetness, a putrid smell coming with it.

She looks behind her, the troopers head—Horix—stares at her beyond the helmet. It flew farther from the body than she intended. She used to be better at that.

Decapitations are few and far between these days.

Her lightsaber attaches again to her belt, a breaking twig snapping her head to attention. She grabs the cylinder from his hand, cringing at the loose muscles.

It’s never not disgusting.

She clicks it, listening for the subtle whirling inside. It shouldn’t be too hard. Wait for the hold or TIE to descend from the heavens, make an entrance. Looking at Horix, she briefly considers bringing him as a gift. She decides against this, too tacky.

It’s his fault for not agreeing. All her plans have turned to shit, she should have expected this would join the list. Now she can’t play the prisoner angle. Not that Gideon would have believed it. But she likes having intent, it’s all lost now.

Dammit.

It takes two minutes for a ship to be spotted entering atmosphere, blinking lights closing in by the mountain range.

It’ll do.

Moff Gideon is a shorter man than Lumina expected. He stands by the entrance of a modified cargo shuttle, arms crossed in front of his body. He holds himself like a giant, gaze solid as stone, pointed forward.

The head would’ve been a nice distraction right now, the storm at last fading away for thick humidity. Taking a breath, Lumina pats down her now straight hair, pulling her shirt to not stick to her chest.

It’s important in times like these to make a good impression. To be presentable.

Lumina storms into the clearing, arm out stretched. Gideon slams against the hold before recognition arrives. His body lifts into the air, gasped breath and bulging eyes.

“I warned you what your insolence would cause,” she bites. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that child of yours. If you find such pleasure in direct disobedience and taking mine, just you wait until you see what I can do to yours.”

Words being too strangled to be understood, she releases her hold, just enough.

“It wasn’t me,” he coughs. “I told them not to—“

“Who?”

“The Inquisitors! I can’t control them, they’re like animals—”

Her body stalls before her mind, and she sounds like a little girl. “Inquisitors?”

“They need a leader. A voice to answer to, someone to fear, to show them the way. You—“ he coughs again, ”—they can all be yours.”

The notions tickles something inside of Lumina, hers. Nothing has ever been hers before. Always someone else’s, a temporary possession, a loan. Inquisitors would be useful… if not difficult all the same. They’d only want more power, her position, her favoritism. They’d be overgrown toddlers fighting over a toy. Then again, a toy can be powerful leverage. It’d give them a goal, ambition, meaning.

A reason to obey.

All useful to her, true. She wouldn’t have to bother in gaining their respect, it comes with the name.

Lumina shouldn’t listen to any of it. She knows the ways of Sith better than any living sentient in the galaxy. Then again… what else does she have to lose?

She lowers Gideon, keeping him against the durasteel. “Tell me more.”

“Some were recovered from Project Harvestor, runaways,” he says, face ready to flinch. “Others new followers, lost, greedy. Insubordinate.”

“How did you get them?”

“They found each other, and they found me.”

“Why?”

“Why else? Connection. Common goals. Three of your peers remain. Four including yourself. 324. 306. And 313.” Gideon catches the twitch in her brow, the split second of a dropped facade. It’s his moment to strike and he’d be a fool to not engage. “I would argue 313 is most eager for a reunion.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” He takes a step forward, she takes one back. “You’re spiritual, I’m sure you can find the answer in yourself. In fact, it was 313’s idea to recruit you in the first place. Something about… making good on a promise? Does that ring any bells?”

“Shut up,” she bites.

He takes another step, and she trips on a rock. “You are nothing but a scared little girl. Understand I am offering you the galaxy.”

Her hand shoots forward again, trembling while he’s only that short distance away.

“Hurt me and the Child dies,” he says.

“Where is he?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Gideon—“

“Do you realize how much of my time you’ve wasted playing your little game?” He cups her cheek, ignoring her ragged gasp. His touch is warm, dry. “Look at you,” he mutters. He strains her neck up and to the right. Thumb and middle finger pressing into her jaw. “You’re perfect.”

Spit flies to his face, streaking down his cheek. He shoves her head away, hard enough to throw her to the ground. Mud splatters in her hair on impact.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “I have never wanted to hurt you.” He kneels to her level, gripping her hair to force a stare. “If you only listened to me before. You could have avoided all of this.” Her eyes meet Gideon’s, he stares at her cold, unapologetic. “What would your father say if he saw you now?”

“Do not speak of him,” Lumina mutters. “You have no right.”

“Don’t you want him to be proud of you?”

“Stop it.”

“He chose you for a reason. Everything Lord Vader did was for you, and you threw it away. And now,” he stands, circling her like a vulture. “You’ve thrown that away too. Look at the mess you’ve made. Do you honestly believe you can go back after this? That the Mandalorian, that anyone could ever accept you when,” he waves outwards, “this is what you do? What you are?”

Lumina’s gaze hardens, head shaking.

“Did you think you could change? Take a hand at playing someone else? That is not how this works.” Gideon’s voice turns honeyed as he says, “Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere you’re wanted? Accepted? Where you’d never have to hide again?”

Gideon would make a good Inquisitor, she thinks. He turns into warmth, stopping behind her, kneeling once more. His hand grips her shoulder, the flesh of it bruising her. It’s as if a shadow follows him. It’s an enveloping darkness, pulling her hair behind her shoulders, stroking down her arms. Her back hits his chest, and shakes.

“Look at this place,” Gideon whispers. “You enjoy this.”

She’d prefer to sleep now, an exhaustion filling her bones. The ground is comfortable, softer than when it’s dry. Maybe if she did, she wouldn’t have to wake again.

“If you join me, I will give you everything you ever wanted. How does that sound?”

The shadow strokes her cheek, beckoning the rest of her to follow. It’s a hypnosis, singing to her in the echos of the Force.

The dark side has a way of dominating destiny. Forever a winding path, guiding the hopeless follower into the abyss. Ahsoka may have been wrong about her, about all of this. In thinking there could ever be more to her. Everyone was wrong. She is helpless.

The shadow whispers this in her ear.

Lumina doesn’t think it’s Gideon, non-Force Sensitives rarely have such palpable an aura to them. It can’t be her own either, she’s too friendly with it, too much a part of herself to be this distinct. The shadow is the same as it was this morning, before it all began.

Her hands are still red, darker now.

“Doesn’t it sound nice?” Gideon asks her again, but she can’t hear his voice anymore. It comes from the darkness, gentle still, familiar and old. “It will be like it was always meant to.”

“Yes,” Lumina whispers. Her muscles relax, head drooping forward. The shadow circles to her front and holds her chin up.

“You’ve been wronged,” it says. The shadow touches her again, a shiver flooding her skin. “With me, you can make them finally hear. Don’t you want that?”

She says, “Yes.”

The shadow presses, words hissed. “Yes, what?”

Lumina falls against Gideon’s body, eyelids heavy. “I want Din,” she mumbles, the whiny sort.

“He means nothing,” Gideon says, distinct from the fog. “He only holds you back. I give my allegiance to you, my Lady. ” Her head is light, fumbling to reach her lightsaber. His hand falls on top, a strong grip. “Don’t.”

“Relax,” the shadow urges, and she does.

“What do you get out of it?” Lumina asks.

Gideon’s answer is simple, coming without thought. “You.”

And the shadow responds, “All of you.”

Then Gideon says, “All you have to do, is come with me.”

---

When news first broke about Corellia, Din never thought much about it. It was everyone else in the galaxy that became obsessed. They questioned how a high functioning Imperial base could run in the core worlds, what that meant for the rest of the regions, and the effectiveness of the New Republic.

The location of the base was in plain sight, a presumably abandoned warehouse, tucked in some alley. Pedestrians watched storm troopers walk in and out every day without qualm.

As soon as the first report came out, written by some novice journalist on Coruscant, the whole of Coronet City was put on lockdown. Residents were arrested by the dozens, security footage from every business within two miles was seized for inspection. New Republic guards stood at check point bases on every other street, chain codes became mandatory upon inspection.

No one got in. No one got out.

To the citizens of Corellia, the new occupation meant the Empire never truly left.

The Senate didn’t care, no one did. They cared about image, brushing away their frayed edges behind riot gear and impromptu searches.

Din caught a glimpse of a news broadcast after Greef Karga told him of the incident. Some senator, a princess and former Rebellion leader, was the first to speak up. Spewing nonsense about needing to be strong and how the resolve of the Republic will not falter.

No one ever mentioned how the base was exposed. Only the initial report credited the discovery to the Red Axe Syndicate. No one else spoke of the so called atrocities found inside the warehouse. No one else gave mention to the reported dozens of storm troopers slaughtered like livestock. Not one word of the hazard crew called in to clean it all up.

As far as anyone was concerned, a base was found and promptly ‘dealt with’. End of story. Should they find it, Din wonders how the New Republic will cover up this disaster. If they’d even care.

It makes Corellia look like child’s play.

He can’t all together describe it. If a bomb went off there’d be no disparity to the current scene. Storm troopers aren’t just dead. They’re unrecognizable and thrown about like cheap Life Day decoration. Bodies are broken and bent into inhuman positions. It could be debated if some bodies are still to be considered bodies at all. Or just pieces of it.

“Keep your eyes forward,” Boba tells him, leading ahead. “No use lamenting.”

“I’m not.”

“No use for thought then.”

“…Do you know how this happened?”

“Like I said, thought isn’t helpful right now.”

“What does Lumina have to do with all of this?”

A cargo shuttle enters their eye-line, parked with the oversized droids from earlier acting as guards. “I’d wager that’s Gideon. Hurry up.”

“What does he want with her?”

Boba steps over a torso—just a torso—and ducks under a branch. “If she’s with him, you’ll have to go in alone. There’s no telling how much he knows. If he’s smart, his goal is separation. He’ll tell her anything he has to to get her on his side. If he knows what I fear he does, I won’t risk being the one to cause her turning.”

“And what exactly would he know?”

Boba comes to a full stop, and he turns. “You should consider yourself lucky you’re not interesting enough to have anything to hide. Over time, it devours you.”

---

The cargo hold of deliverance for Moff Gideon stands surrounded by droids larger than man. They wear an imitation of black armor. Red lights acting as eyes scan the area, their heads turn from left to right and back again.

The export door to the shuttle is prompted wide open, the Moff himself paces around the inside. His hands clasp behind his back, cape blowing with every sharp and unnecessary turn he makes.

An officer stands at attention in the doorway to the cockpit. Were it not for his rising chest Din would believe him to be a droid as well.

The inside of Din’s head feels like a steady vibration, his neck twitches. Maybe Fennec was right, a concussion would explain the weight of pounding dread in his mind.

Boba already circled back to camp, were he here Din would have it in his right mind to make him stay instead. What does he care about finding her? The idea of her alone ticks a bomb in his heart.

Boba should be the one here, not him. She’s his child whether he’d be keen to admit it or not. Din has his own to look after, to look for. All she is, is a distraction from the real issue.

She wanted to leave, Din reminds himself. She saw him. He gave her everything and she left. He shouldn’t be here, not for her.

He doesn’t see her until it’s almost too late, turning in the bushes to make an escape.

From the very beginning, the very first day in the mechanic’s hangar on Tatooine, Din Djarin has inexplicably been drawn to the girl. Possessed in a way to consume nothing but her, to live only off her smile and steel eyes. He’s lost himself in her, finding a horrifying discovery that whoever he is, whoever he was before, no longer exists.

She is a curse that has stripped him bare to all his inhibitions and he has so willingly granted this. He should despise her, he wants to. Everything in his head drives his logic to the conclusion that she must be left. To allow her to do whatever it is she does when she runs away. To take the opportunity and leave. Leave her, leave for good. That he would be happier beyond measurable belief.

And Din believes this.

But then he sees her. The same way he’s seen her every morning in the sun and every night in the moon. He can’t help himself anymore than he could on Arkanis, seeing her again. Barely an hour away feels like a lifetime apart.

The universe and all of its gods have guided him to her, and for what reason? What path could be so necessary he must face this constant torment? She holds a part of his soul he never knew was missing.

Try as he might, he can’t leave her.

Not yet.

Not without leaving himself.

Lumina sits in the hold, back to the outside on bent knees, head bowed. Muscles tremble, a constant shiver from the incoming wind. She’s tied up, shoulders forced back, rope digging into her wrists. Moff Gideon paces in circles. He grabs something black at her hips, handing it to a droid.

Gideon raises a hand against her but the strike never hits. Instead he’s frozen inches before contact is made. The droids pull their weaponized arms against her, a unified step forward. All at once Gideon’s hand falls, as do her shoulders.

Din alters the inner mechanics of his helmet, sound readjusting to a new frequency covered in static.

A rush comes over Din, pricking from inside his throat. His muscles turn rigid, his vision almost red. He’s never had a clear grasp on her abilities, they make as much sense as the kids. But if there’s a chance… he may have a plan.

“Fascinating.” The voice comes from Gideon, paused in front of her. “What your peers accomplish with action, you do with thought alone.” He reaches out. “I see why he chose you.”

“I told you don’t touch me,” she mutters, riddled in exhaustion.

“Lumina,” Din says, just louder than a whisper.

Her head lifts like a startled kybuck, turning to the left.

“Lu, can you hear me?”

“Don’t bring him into this,” she whines. “You can’t do that.”

“Who do you speak to?” Gideon asks. “What do you hear?”

“I’m sick,” she whispers, though not as a response to him. “I’m sick. He’s making me sick, none of this is real. None of it matters.“

“Sarad,” Din says. “It’s me.”

She stiffens, looking both directions. “What?”

“Get Dr. Pershing on the line,” Gideon says to the officer. “She needs an immediate evaluation.” The officer nods once, he disappears into the cockpit and Gideon follows.

“Lumina,” Din says again.

She doesn’t waste time. “Where are you?”

“East. Behind the shrubs, twelve degrees to your right.”

“I can’t turn around.”

“But you can feel me. Can’t you?”

It takes a second, but her head nods. “I thought—How are you here?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Din groans, shaking his head as the pounding returns. “I came to bring you—Fuck.”

“You have to leave,” she says. “It’s not safe here.”

“How did Gideon get a hold of you?”

“Din you can’t be here. I mean it. You have to leave, tell Boba I’ll be fine. If Gideon sees you—“

“Can you stand? I’ll distract the droids, you can make a break for it while they aren’t looking.”

“Din—“

“Can you?”

“…Yes.”

“Okay.”

Scared, breathy she asks, “Are you real? How am I talking to you?”

He shrugs. “I have helmet hearing. You have super hearing. It’s convenient.”

She scoffs. “Yeah… yeah it’s you.”

---

Plans, as Din Djarin has long come to find out, are far better in theory than in action. What he expects to happen as soon as he spots his opening—as he aims down the barrel of his pistol, pointed at the exposed mechanics of the droid furthest in the ship—is for the bundle of wires to collapse into a heap of itself.

In time he will learn reality will never match expectations.

The droid doesn’t even stumble in its assigned position, eyes lifting from its harder gaze on Lumina out into the forest. The others follow its direction.

Their march synchronizes like soldiers, filing out the shuttle two by two. Unfortunate, but not impossible. He shoots again, now to the first in line. In their hive mind, they approach him, guns raised.

Shit.

The droids block his view of the ship, but he picks up the sound of shuffling. “If you can run, I suggest you do that now!” His pistol fires, each shot directed and with no impact. “What the hell are these things?”

“More than you can handle. Get the hell out of here before they kill you.”

“What about you?”

“Do you actually want me to go with you?”

The shutdown of his mind is one Din never expects or intends to have happen. All thoughts disappear into an opening abyss. He loses focus of aim, sight, consciousness even. The ability to process the wind, the approaching droids, her words. It all vanishes.

Because he doesn’t. The simple and frankly obvious answer in his mind is no. He never wanted to do any of this, but he can’t say that. Not to her, not here, not in the middle of his failing rescue mission.

“Din?”

He wants his kid. He wants to go back to the Razor Crest and get the hell away from this place.

“Din?”

He wants to get away… from her.

“Din!”

Before he can act, let alone think, a hand of the front droid grips him. He’s lifted by the neck, dangling like a baby tooka from its mothers mouth. Despite his protest and struggle, he’s returned to the ship. Thrown to the ground he lands right in front of her. She hasn’t moved an inch.

Lumina pulls against the ropes that hold her, shuffling the best she can. “Be careful with him!” She barks. He isn’t sure they understand much of anything. “Din? Din, are you okay?”

An automatic response, the display in his visor runs through a heap of diagnostics, scrolling past his vision in orange text. Nothing’s broken, not yet anyways. Head trauma is suggested, whatever that means.

“I think I’m fine,” he mutters. “What—“ He stops short, seeing her. She’s drenched and bloody, red smeared across her cheek, her hands… dried mud caked in the creases of her pants, clumped in her hair. “What happened to you?” Gathering the strength, he rises to his knees. Cupping her face the way he has a thousand times before, his thumb wipes her cheek. “Is this yours? Did Gideon do this to you?”

Her face drains of color, the same emptiness he found in her on Corvus taking her features.

“You can’t be here,” she whispers, pulling away. “You’re not supposed to be here, it’s all wrong.”

“Shh.” He pushes hair from her eyes, leaning forward. “It’ll be okay. We’re together, we’ll find a way out we always do.”

She’s misty, distorted in motionless air. “No, Din, you don’t understand—“

“Gideon took the kid—“

“I know.”

“You know?”

Lumina leans against his helmet, shallow puffs of air fogging his vision. “Din, listen to me. I have to do things my way now, I can’t—I can’t have you mess this up. You have to let me go. You’ve done so much, you have to stop. Okay? You have to stop now.”

“Lu… I don’t know what’s going on. I feel—something happened. I can’t remember anything it’s like… I don’t know. What I do know, is that the kid is gone. Someone took him, I can’t get him back without you—“

“I know,” she mumbles. “That’s why I have to do this.”

“You, promised me Boba Fett.” Gideon stands above them in the doorway. Lumina slides her body in front of Din’s. “What is he doing here?”

“I don’t know,” she says.

“You told me—“

“I know what I said,” she snaps. “I can’t—I can’t control him. I don’t know why or how but nothing I do works.”

“Then what good are you?”

“Plenty. You’ll learn that, but you have to let him go. He doesn’t have anything for you.”

He stares at the Mandalorian, face twisted in a scowl. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Gideon, you have what you want from me,” Lumina says. “That should be enough. Let him leave.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Din Djarin.” Moff Gideon says. “I should have given the order to kill you when I had the chance.”

“That’s your own mistake,” Din retorts. “Whatever she has for you isn’t worth all of this.”

“You have no idea what she’s worth.”

“Destroying an entire moon? Have you taken one look at the damage you’ve caused? Your own men are massacred because of what you’ve done. Does it mean nothing to you?”

To Din’s own surprise, Gideon lights up. “What I’ve done? You don’t honestly believe that I am capable of all of this. What aim do I have in gutting my own forces like fish?”

“What aim did you have in destroying Mandalore? I don’t care what information you want out of her. I came bring her back and that’s what I intend to do.”

Gideon paces around them, the heels of his polished boots click on the floor. Each step heavy with purpose. “She isn’t going anywhere. Not anymore. She will be returned to exactly where she was always meant to be.”

“She doesn’t belong to you.”

“Of course not. Just like her father, she is property of the Empire.”

Beside him, Lumina turns rigid, biting her bottom lip raw.

“CF-318,” Gideon says. “How is he immune?”

The signs are the same as they always are. Her emotions become distant before disappearing completely, her eyes lose herself, her chest heaves, panicked and desperate for air.

Din’s reaction is muscle memory. His arms wrap around Lumina, the touch of his beskar cooling her feverish head. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay, just breathe. I’m right here, Lu. It’s okay, don’t listen to him.”

“Lu,” Gideon mocks on his tongue. “Midnight. Gloves. Tracker. Ayy’Numa. Marie. Nebula. Estelle. Ellian. Omani. Atikya. Lu. Why do you insist on hiding who you are?”

She strains herself to speak. “Do not—”

“CF-318. You are Imperial Assset, CF-318F1.” He kneels to her level, squinting. Were it not for the combat droids Din would have his hands around his neck. “I believe I asked you a question. How is Din Djarin immune?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Gideon says. “Tell me. Are you not strong enough?”

“I am.”

“So tell me why.” Snapping leather fingers, the droids form a new position. They circle the trio, guns all aimed… at Din. Before Lumina has a chance to react Gideon grips her arm, pulling her away.

She struggles against him, yanking until the rope burns her skin. “No, no! Gideon!”

“Why has he not listened?”

“I told you!”

“Don’t. Lie.”

“I’m not! Don’t hurt him!“

“Fire on my command. In three. Two—“

“It’s the beskar!” Lumina shouts. The light behind them shatters at its base, glass spilling on the floor. “I can’t get past it, it’s blocks everything! That’s all I know. I promise.”

Gideon, never one to be satisfied, throws Lumina at Din. She crashes into his chest, they almost topple over. “Mandalorians,” he mutters. “You lower yourself with him. Do you realize this?”

“That’s not true,” Lumina says.

“And what do you suppose they’ll say when they’ve realized you’ve broken the first rule of your programming? You have no credibility with him.”

“Lu,” Din says. “What is he talking about?”

Gideon’s expression flickers. “Does he not know?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters.

“Do you have any idea who she is?” Gideon asks. “The power she holds?”

“I don’t care about that, that’s behind her. It’s behind us.”

“Oh but you should,” Gideon laments. “Since the death of her father, she is the rightful heir to the Empire. Hand selected by the Emperor himself to one day rule at his side.”

“What?” Comes in unison from both Din and Lumina.

“That’s not true,” she says.

“Do you deny your inheritance?” Gideon asks.

She says nothing.

“Lumina—“

“Palpatine tried to kill me. He never wanted me, he wanted the other one.”

“The Jedi,” Gideon says.

“He had a choice. It wasn’t me.”

“And yet here you are. Alive. Why do you think that is?”

“My father saved me. He wanted me alive.“

“Do you honestly believe, the Emperor did not know you survived? That he is capable of making mistakes?”

Her tone strikes with hesitancy. “You don’t know him like I do. He is selfish, and greedy, and his arrogance blinds him. I spent my life studying his weaknesses. I know exactly what that man was capable of. Mistakes are high on the list.”

“He sees you as his granddaughter,” Gideon says. “Your return is of his demand. He wants you. He needs you.”

Only now, Lumina falters. Din can’t tell what comes over her. Why her head falls back, why her breathes come from her mouth, or what she stares at on the back wall like she’d seen a demon.

“Stop it,” she whispers. “I don’t want—I don’t want you. Shut. Up.”

“What are you doing to her?”

“Nothing. She’s deranged,” Gideon offers.

“She’s sick. Has been for weeks. You’re making her worse.”

“No. She’s only rediscovering herself, her anger, her loyalties. And you my friend, are the final piece.” He looks at the droids, waving his hand. “Allow Din Djarin to stand.” So he does. ”Follow me.”

Moff Gideon guides him to a wall of screens, he twirls a code cylinder between his fingers. “I believe it’s time you discover the truth, Mandalorian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your girlfriend.” He snickers from the word, plugging the device into the computers terminal. “I’m afraid, has been harboring a dangerous secret from you.”

Lumina stops talking to herself, short, all at once. “What are you doing?”

On Gideons command, two of the droids haul her off the ground. One grips her arms together, the other keeps its gun to her head.

“What are you showing him?” She pulls at her hold, to no avail. “Gideon let me go. This wasn’t part of the deal! I told you he can’t know about it!“

“What deal?” Din asks, facing her.

“Moff Gideon,” Lumina ignores, to his surprise sounding like a politician. Strong. Powerful. “I command you to stop and release me this instant.”

Display monitors come to life, static and blue. All fill with the same frozen with an image of Lumina. Sat in the Razor Crest, a growing bruise under her left eye.

“I apologize,” Gideon says, regretfully melodramatic. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

On the screen, Lumina comes to life. Rustling plays through speakers before her voice. “Red Axe, Crimson Mission Report,” she says. The date and time follow. Over four months ago. “Current location: Trask. Previous location: Arkanis. Destination is currently uncertain, but I assume somewhere in the Outer Rim. I’ll update when I can. Contact with target has been successful. Relationship with target known as the Mandalorian is—” Lumina, the current version of herself, pulls against the droids. She strains herself shouting Gideon’s name, “—uncertain, and in development. No news of interest to report.” She sighs, hand rubbed over her face. “You know I really fucking hate you for sticking me with him again. I was better on my own. I left for a reason. As soon as you clear me to come back I’m gone.”

The next video plays:

“Current location: Hyperspace. Previous location: Llanic. Destination: Ryloth. Relationship with target…” Smiling, Lumina says, “Good.” Noise rattles in the background, she turns to it. “One second!…Get a better ship and I’ll be faster!” She looks back at the camera, grinning. “Really good. I gotta go, bye Lena!”

The next she dates hours later, bright red marks littering her neck. She pulls her hair in front of her shoulders. “I’m doing my job. You said to get close to him… I am not being disrespectful… no I know I’m not allowed to but… All of it?” Her eyes roll. “Red Axe, Crimson Mission Report…”

The next plays, cut to the middle. “Relationship with target is decreasing and really fucking annoying.”

Then the next. “Relationship with target, satisfactory.”

---

“…Acceptable.”

The videos never end.

“…Stupid.”

They play one right after the other.

“…Fine.”

Din hasn’t said a word.

“…Increasing in my favor.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s breathing at all anymore.

“…The best its ever been. He’s really great—at falling for it, I mean. No I just—it’s pathetic. Naboo is really nice though, it’s the most at home I’ve ever felt… I don’t know, it’s familiar.” The clip stays uncut after this, Lumina nodding, tying up her hair. “Technically I’m not ‘diverging from the mission’. My job was to follow the Mandalorian, I’m still doing that…”

“Turn it off,” she says. “We didn’t agree to this, turn it off!”

“Don’t.” It comes from Din.

No one dares to move.

“…I’m not that horrible,” Lumina says. “I can pretend to not be horrible. Very well, might I add. You know this.”

“Pretend?” he repeats.

“Din, I can explain.”

“This whole time. This whole time you were pretending?”

“No! No, never.”

“He is!” Lumina laughs in the video. “He’s been very… sweet to me, in his own way. And he’s started taking his helmet off. I haven’t seen anything, obviously, but, well it feels important to report that.”

Finally, he looks at her. She can envision his face, every line, every hair with perfect clarity. She wishes she couldn’t.

“You didn’t know her lineage,” Gideon says. “You don’t know her worth, her power. You have no idea what she is capable of. How she,” he points, “alone produced what you’ve seen out there.” His attention returns to the screen. “This is my favorite part.”

“I’m not attached,” Lumina argues. “I do not love the Mandalorian. I will not ever love the Mandalorian. And he certainly does not love me. I am perfectly capable of staying on my mission and completing it. Whatever it is, I can and will do it.”

The montage ends here, glitched and stuck in the middle of her eye roll.

“These are doctored,” Din swallows, “it’s easy enough to do. You have the technology.”

“I ask you this,” Gideon muses. “What benefit do I gain in creating a false narrative? When she excels at spinning her own web? Mandalorian, how well do you really know her, when she has been my payroll from the beginning?”

Din remains stuck on the screen, her broken image. “Tell me he’s lying,” he says. His voice holds no inflection, no emotion to bear vulnerability. He speaks like it were a term of business. Another arrangement between them, agreed upon over a contract. “That’s all I need. Tell me you don’t work for him.” He turns to her. “I promise nothing else you’ve done matters to me. Just tell me those are fake.”

“Din.”

“Tell me.”

Her mouth opens to close again, shaking. “Din—”

He stands in front of her in an instant. He stares at her the same way he did on the Razor Crest. Before it all began, stuck in the cockpit arguing about her return to Coruscant. “Are they real?” He’s venomous, rasped in a growl. “Yes or no.”

Quietly, she responds, “Yes.”

He says the same thing he did then too, “You’re unbelievable.”

“I quit right after Naboo,” she defends in vain. “I never knew it was for Gideon until it was over, I promise. I would never take a job for the Empire, you know that. Lena never told me why I had to follow you, I thought she was getting back at me for Corellia, that it was another punishment or a joke. Din you have to believe me.”

“Why? You said so yourself, you lied about everything. It’s what you do. So why the hell should I believe you on this?”

Lumina has no response to give.

And he says, “I’m done with you.”

Nothing inside her is intact. “What?”

“I’m done. I’m done, Lumina. All of this. Everything that’s happened, everything we’ve done. Everything I’ve done for you. It meant nothing.”

“No, no it meant everything—”

“You lied to me.”

She pulls against the droids, bruising her arms. “You think I wanted to?”

“Trust me you don’t want to know what I think.”

“Relena owned me. If I didn’t do what she wanted I—you know what they did to me. You know what everyone has done to me. I have to listen! I had no where else to go.”

“You had me!” She can’t remember the last time he shouted at her, and she flinches like he were any of the others. “You had me, and you left. That was your choice. I told you then, I’ll tell you now, it’s always been your choice. You left. You went back to that shit hole. You took the job. You work for the Empire. Not Relena. Not Neri. Not your father. You.”

“I told you, I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know?” he mocks. “Who the fuck else wants anything to do with me Lu?”

“I wasn’t hurting you, I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Din scoffs, shaking his head. She thought there was nothing left inside, that her tears were spent. “Cara was right about you.”

She was wrong.

“Don’t say that—“ she whispers.

“You’re a selfish entitled brat. You can’t stand one second away from yourself to think about who you might hurt. Or you and you just don’t care. The moment anyone tells you anything you break down like a child because you know exactly who you are.”

A dam breaks inside. The light above pops and burns out, her jaw clenched. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Oh I’m sorry your highness, did I offend you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m past being fair.”

“Din—“

He steps to her, like it were instinct with a clenched fist glued to his side. “Say my name one more time.” He shakes his head. “I gave you everything I had. Everything you never got. Not because anyone told me to, because I wanted to. Because I was stupid enough to think you had an ounce of good inside of you. I wanted to marry you. I trusted you with my son—“ He stops. He looks at Moff Gideon whose sly smile only grows.

“Where’s my kid?” Din asks. “Do whatever you want with her, I want my kid.”

Moff Gideon shrugs at the Mandalorian. He’s leaned against the entrance of the cockpit and he shrugs. “Ask her. The attack on you was her idea. I thought we had an agreement you were to be left alone, or else I would’ve done it myself.”

Lumina manages her voice before Din, who whips his head so fast it might actually break. “What?”

“318, now is not the time to be daft,” Gideon says. “The jig is up, you’ve been caught. It’s best to admit it, there’s no going back for you.”

“What did you do?” Din sneers.

“Nothing!” she stutters, a laugh, as panicked as ever coming out. “I would never—I don’t know what he’s talking about. You—You know how much I love him, I would never. He’s my baby too, I wouldn’t—“

“He’s my kid,” Din interrupts. “He’s only my kid, you are nothing to him anymore. Do you understand that? What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

Another light goes out.

Gideon’s tongue clicks the roof of his mouth. “318, I’ve told you I have no use for the Child anymore. Clearly your plan has again failed. I implore you to tell him the truth for once.”

“Shut up!” she snaps.

“Where’s the kid Lumina?”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“If you lie to me again I swear— I’m only here because Boba didn’t want to look for you himself,” Din admits. “I didn’t want to be here to begin with. I never came for you, I came for him. What did you do?”

Slow, Lumina’s head turns to Din. Her mouth partially opened, her eyes to match beskar, glare. “You…” she begins. She speaks with deliberate pause, dark from her chest. “You don’t want to look for me.”

“I don’t want to look for you,” he agrees.

“You want the Child.”

And he nods. “I want the Child.”

Huh.

Considering all possibilities… Lumina ultimately decides Gideon is right. There is no going back. She does an awfully good job at ruining herself, its happened again with greater consequence but so what?

What reason does she have to care anymore?

At the end of the day she’s still alive. She still has herself. That’s should be all that matters. And it is.

Tears sting at her eyes, she tries to blink them away but they fall with no regard for herself. For six years she’s had nothing but headaches and nightmares. She isn’t proud, she can’t see herself as a victim. She only is what she is, no matter how horrible that may be.

What other choice does she have?

She sees in Gideon the same thing she’s seen in so many people. In Neri, Sully, Relena. What she saw in the mechanic who homed her on Tatooine. In Omera as her wounds were nursed and her body washed. In Tidhel and her stupid pretentious friends playing dress up in greed. In Petiko before his head left his body.

She almost smiles.

It’s exactly what she saw in Din. Sees in Din. And what Vader saw in her.

Opportunity.

Lumina looks between the Mandalorian and Moff Gideon. She can hear the analog clock tick away further in the ship. She counts the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…

At thirteen she nods to Din, her lips pursed. “You think… I… kidnapped my own kid. My child. You think I’m that dumb to take him like this, and not the million times before that I’ve been left alone with him.”

The Mandalorian’s head twitches, and his fist unclenches.

“You, think I’m selfish and entitled and that I’ve been manipulating you from the very beginning. You have to hold yourself back from hitting me.”

Now both his hands turn to fists.

“You hate me,” Lumina says, eyes searching whatever lays beyond the visor. “You actually hate me now. You don’t think I ever loved you.”

“You never did.”

“Yeah? Maybe I didn’t. Then what? You saw this coming.”

“I saw it coming.”

“You knew this would happen. You knew I never loved you. You always knew.”

“I always knew,” he mumbles. “I…”

She instigates, pushing forward. “What else do you think of me Din? Huh? I lied about loving you. So fucking what. Tell me how much you hate me Din. Tell me.”

The answer is instinctual. “You’re evil.”

“I’m evil.” Lumina scoffs, biting her tongue. “I’m evil. I spend my whole life trying to be good enough to be called evil, and you—I have been nothing but good to you. You, have never seen evil in your life,” she snaps like a whip. “Never.”

The hull shakes, the Dark Troopers holding begin expel black smoke from their chests.

“That’s enough!” Gideon barks.

“Evil is letting your kid get murdered because of some blond cunt you don’t know. Evil is blowing up an entire planet because some princess won’t tell you where the Rebels are. Evil, Mandalorian is dying and leaving the only person who loved you, who you conditioned to love you without any closure!” The display monitors shatter, glass flies everywhere. “You want to talk about evil? You wanna call me evil? You don’t know the first thing about evil!”

“Does it make you feel better?” Din asks, as always only having eyes for her. “Hurting people like your dad hurt you? Do you think that’ll make him give a fuck about you?”

“What did you just say?”

“You ever think about why Boba doesn’t want to call you his kid? It’s because you’re psychotic. He hates your dad, and you’re probably just like him.”

Without a second to waste, every source of light in the room flickers on and off. On and off until the bulbs explode one by one. The computers of the ship power down to reboot three times over. The droids at her side collapse.

Lumina feels herself burn.

“Get him out here,” Gideon orders the remaining droids. “Now!”

“Where’s my kid, Lumina?” Dark Troopers grab Din by the arms, forcing him back. “Lumina, where is he?”

“Don’t touch him,” she mutters, pulling at her rope. “Don’t touch him. Gideon! Gideon don’t touch him!”

“Hold her back,” Moff Gideon instructs two others. They do and she is once again helpless.

“Lumina what did you do to the kid?” Din shouts.

“Get rid of him,” Gideon says. They drag him out of the ship, the squad of them with guns raised.

“I said don’t touch him! Din! Din!”

Lumina screams until her throat is raw and the doors shut, trapping her inside. She screams promised threats at Gideon, throwing everything she knows. His mother, his sisters, his daughter, his status. He doesn’t so much as blink.

Not until she starts laughing.

“You stupid fucking cunt. You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’ll ever help you,” she spits. “You were so close… You’re a mistake, Gideon! All of you are the same. You. Fucked. Up.”

“Sedate her,” Gideon says. “Two doses.”

“You’re a coward! I gave you two rules! You think what I did out there was bad? Just you wait until I get my hands on you. You’re going to wish you were dead by the time I’m done with you.”

Lumina screams until a needle pricks her neck, blood running cold. She collapses, and the lights never turn back on.

---

“Where is she?”

The Mandalorian pushes past a questioning Boba Fett without a comment to spare. He limps, shaking out his arm. The droids threw him at a tree, and took off when he hit the earth. Surveying the area, there are less bodies scattered, and he sees Fennec at cliff’s edge wiping her hands.

That’s one way to do it.

“Where’s Adi?” Boba asks again, grabbing his shoulder. He’s stronger than before—or Din’s getting weaker, they’re both reasonable—forcing his entire body to turn on his heel.

It might be a Mandalorian trait, the ability to discern emotion despite the helmet. They both wear theirs, but he can still make out Boba’s tight jaw, his fleeting eyes darting back and forth.

“Who is she?” Din asks, hoarse.

“What?”

“Who the hell is she, Fett?”

“What’s happened?”

Din laughs. Shaking his head he points to where he came. “What happened? What happened is that she’s a maniac and apparently the Emperor’s granddaughter—“

“Who told you that?”

“Did you know?”

Boba shakes his head. “That’s not—she’s not.”

“The heir to the Empire? The chosen one to take over for her father? You’re the one who wants her as an advisor, all that education had to be for something.”

“It was the vision of my employer, I never wanted that for her.“

“Gideon says the Emperor chose her.”

“Impossible. Palpatine never knew her, we made sure of that. We both knew how dangerous it would be if he found out about her.”

“She’s working for Gideon,” Din says. “This whole time she’s been working for Gideon, spying on me. You want to talk about dangerous? Let’s start there.”

“She would never do that, she loves you.”

“I saw the video myself, Fett. She confirmed it!”

“Where is she?”

“She’s with Gideon still, wherever he fucked off to. Hopefully it’s hell.”

“Shit,” Boba spits. He moves from Din, speeding to the Slave I. “Fuck!”

“What’s going on?” Fennec asks. She holds a trooper helmet like it were a toy.

“We have to go,” Boba says. “Ready the ship.”

“Context?”

“Gideon’s taken her too.”

“Unfortunate, but I’m sure she can save herself.”

Boba leans over, whispering. Din can’t make out a word, but Fennec’s expression changes from passive dismissal to real tangible fear.

“You’re certain he’ll find out?” she asks.

“They wouldn’t wipe data like that. One test and she’s caught.”

“Would they tell her?”

Boba shrugs.

“I told you you had to tell her yourself—“

“Now is not the time for a lecture. We have to go. I made a promise to keep her safe, I’m making good on that.”

Fennec motions at Din. “What about him?”

“He’ll come with us.”

“I’m not doing anything that benefits her,” Din says in defense. “I’m going back to my ship. I’m looking for my kid. I’m done with this.”

The moment comes as if on cue, and Din will forever consider himself nothing but a cursed joke of the galaxy. A green bolt of energy blasts from the atmosphere, shooting between the clouds until an explosion ruptures miles away.

In the exact location of the Razor Crest.

“You’re fucking with me,” he says.

“Like I said.” Boba comes from behind, a hand on his shoulder. “You’re coming with us.”

---

Din Djarin is perpetually stuck in a vacuum of space and time where he is forced to watch its continuance with no say of his own.

His body jostles with every movement of Boba Fett’s ship and he has nothing of value or importance to occupy his vision but the rifle belonging to her. Laid against the wall, propped and looming with shadow.

It is shadow.

Everything is shadow.

He’s too reflective to be devoured by famine.

Fennec and Fett are upstairs, talking. Arguing. He can’t hear their exact words and he doesn’t want to. They can talk about him. Of her. Of them. None or all of the above. He’s lost the ability to care for any of it.

The only thing he feels is the weight of whatever he could save from the Razor Crest; two ingots of beskar, the ball Grogu played with, and his spear.

Nothing else remains.

“All I’m saying,” Fennec says. She jumps down to the hull, and Boba follows. “Is we could at least try.”

“No,” Boba replies. “I’m not involving her in this.”

Fennec holds some frame that she waves around haphazardly. “She’s been involved in this.”

“The answer is no. You don’t know for certain if she’s alive, and I won’t allow them to meet like this. We can do this on our own. I said I’ve found her before, I can do it again.”

With an exasperated sigh, Fennec tosses it onto the seat next to him, landing face up. “How do you suggest we get coordinates to Gideon’s cruiser?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“We’re on limited time.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Your sister—“

“Meg is the last person I want to talk about right now.”

Meg, or whoever, Din assumes is the girl in the photograph. Young and blonde, sat in the middle of a group of armored men. Each different than the last.

He looks at the photo then to Boba, and back again.

And again.

And a third time for good measure.

Or not so different after all.

“I know someone,” he says. The first he’s spoken since entering the ship. “He can get us coordinates… If we go to Nevarro, I can get the assistance I need to contact him.”

They stare as if he’s grown a head, and Boba nods.

“I’ll reroute,” Fennec offers, and leaves the way she came.

The helmet does nothing to hide his stiff glare and tight jaw. “We’ll need more numbers if we don’t want to die on that cruiser. I know other Mandalorians we can contact on Trask. They can offer assistance.”

“Who?”

“Bo-Katan Kryze. Her gang. She owes me, or… her.”

“She’s met Bo-Katan?”

“You know her?”

“Of her. She’s a reluctant friend of the family. To put it simply.”

“Reluctant?”

“My people aren’t welcomed in most circles. Specifically hers.”

“Is she going to be an issue?”

His head nods to the side. “She might be.” Boba steps back once, then forward, then back again. “I’m sure you have questions, and although it’s not my place to answer them… do know I understand how you feel.”

Din lifts the frame, tilting for examination. “These your people?”

“Some.”

“How many left?”

“Of them? None.”

“Except her.”

To this Fett says nothing.

“Anyone else?” Din asks.

“There might be more of us laying around still. I never kept track of that, it was more her thing.”

“Anyone else?” he asks again.

“I have a nephew,” Boba says after a moment. “And a niece.”

Din nods, slow, careful. “Do you have children of your own?”

“No. She’s the closest I’ll ever get—”

“And you don’t claim her as a foundling?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t want to hear you say that you understand how I feel. I’ve lost my home. My child has been taken from me. I have been lied to, for months. I wanted to marry her this morning and she is the reason all of this happened, and now she may be dead. You do not understand an ounce of how I feel.”

Boba’s squint can be confused for a glare, or maybe it is and they are one and the same. “You blame her for this?”

“She should have told me.”

“And what would that change?”

The snap is as heavy as cut rope, and burns just the same. “I wouldn’t have gotten involved with her to begin with.” His chest aches, and the fire of the forest has moved to rage of grief inside him. “I wouldn’t have trusted her with my child. I would have never looked at her if I knew this would come from it.”

The glare now, is unmistakable. “She didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did I.”

Din leans while his hands grip the plates of beskar on his thighs. “I’m getting my kid back,” Din says. “And if she’s still alive, you’re getting yours. I don’t care what happens after. That is where it ends for us.”

---

An Imperial Starcrusier drifting through hyperspace with no real urgency, rumbles and creaks. Inside the sterile white room, florescent lighting blinds. A male, appearing middle aged, paces. He wears latex gloves and a lab coat, wire frame glasses perched on his nose. He clicks a recorder in his hand, the mechanics whirling awake.

“Hello. Greetings. This is Doctor Pershing,” he says to the holoscanner opposite him. “Let this be documented as HoloLog Twenty-Seven in the Harvested Project. The first in the category subtitled: CF-318F1. Unfortunately, all known documentation on the subject prior to adolescence has been completely wiped. I will have to begin again. There is a lot of ground to cover, so for simplicity sake, I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

Behind him, a girl lays on an operating table. She’s strapped by all her limbs, completely unconscious. An IV hooks into her arm, wires of an EEG covering her head. Her heart rate projected on a second monitor, oxygen levels on a third.

“While enacting my employment under Imperial remnants to Moff Gideon, it has been my task to properly assess all Force Sensitive assets acquired. Mainly, these have been of the remaining Inquisitors. These were former inductees into Project Harvestor. This one, however, is different.”

He sits in a rolling chair, spinning to see her. “She is quite special. Imperial archives have listed this being as CF-318F1, marked terminated some thirteen years ago. The reason for speciality is that this is the alleged daughter of Lord Vader. Whether it is a genetic relationship or not is unfounded. The Daughter has become a myth in Imperial circles. Legends tell of a child raised and trained in the ways of the Force by the Emperor’s right hand. She has been kept hidden for years. Intellectuals such as myself all believed her to be dead or simply nonexistent. Until now. I am proud to say the forces of Moff Gideon have successfully acquired her for my studies. The question has plagued the minds of my colleagues, myself, and my superiors as to why she was favored, saved, selected. I aim to discover this.”

Releasing one of the girl’s arms, he turns it in examination. “It is completely organic, and appears human. Blood samples indicate an M-Count far exceeding that of the other surviving Inquisitors I have examined.” He snorts, pushing up his glasses. “It really is quite extraordinary,” he says to the camera. “I am currently awaiting the results of a DNA sampling.”

“Ah, it is best I mention now. Data logs from a recovered ship of Lord Vader’s details several times over documents listed under the code 631-120-282-024-618.” Doctor Pershing reads this from a notepad on his lap. “Almost all the information has been redacted, save for the name and one mention of a female. Should this be his child it is not unreasonable to presume the file is on her.”

He ties down her arm again. ”I believe Moff Gideon knows more than he is telling me. He’s instructed perfect preservation of the subject’s—.”

“Doctor.” An Imperial Officer stands in the doorway. He jumps. “Your lab results.” She holds out a data pad. “Moff Gideon wishes to meet with you to discuss your findings. He says you may proceed with any questioning and studies you wish.”

“Ah, thank you,” he stutters. “Yes. Please, tell the Moff I am thankful. I will meet him before days end.” Doctor Pershings walks out and reenters frame, the doors shut behind him.

He gawks at the data pad. “Maker above,” he whispers, grip tight enough to turn knuckles white. “This is… this is marvelous.” He throws the tablet onto his desk, scurrying around the girl. “I can’t believe it.”

He laughs, a loud singular clap to follow.

“More research is needed,” he tells the camera. “Hundreds of hours perhaps. But should my theory prove correct—“ he motions around the body, waving over her core, “—then I am in the presence of the greatest scientific achievement known to man—so far.” He shrugs. “I never thought I would see this come to fruition.”

The lights in the room begin to flicker. Medical equipment powers on and off, the room fills with beeping. The girl begins to move, reanimating limb by limb.

“No no no no,” Doctor Pershings whispers. He grabs a needle, injecting a relaxant into her arm.

She groans, weak with a scratchy throat. “What…” She pants, blinking awake.

“Hello.” He crouches by her head, her eyes lazily blinking and soon blinded by a miniature light. “Have no alarm, I don’t wish to hurt you. I am Doctor Pershing, you are currently in my office. I have waited a very long time to meet something like you. If you don’t mind, I have some questions I’d like to ask.”

---

Chapter Thirty-Two: An Image of Perfection

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