#something something the mandalorian who was never a mandalorian until by all accounts he was
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I think i am becoming unironically attached to bobadin
#bobadin#theyre husbands theyre best friends theyre ace theyre lesbians theyre t4t theyre queer platonic theyll be together until they both fall#something something about the mandalorian who has always been mandalorian until by all accounts he wasnt#something something the mandalorian who was never a mandalorian until by all accounts he was#and they hold hands
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Best Kept Secret
chapter eight : solar markets (RE-UPLOAD)
ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧
pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 5.3k
summary : the mandalorian takes reader on a day trip
warnings, etc. : language, reader thinks about sex like a little bit
A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!
It’s nice to wake up excited again.
You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. You’ve spent the last four weeks cooped up and you couldn’t be more thrilled to finally get to see something new.
As much as you love the library it can be suffocating to spend every single day between those four walls.
So you summon Elaine and Lysa as quickly as possible, grinning as you stand in the mirror until you notice the faint blooms of purple on your waist.
Shit.
You have to rush to find undergarments that will cover them and you’re barely pulling them over your hips as the door swings open.
“Good morning ma’am.” Elaine smiles at you as she grabs a brush, going to stand behind you to comb out the knots in your hair. She snaps her fingers sharply and points to the closet signaling for Lysa to fetch you a gown.
“Good morning Elaine.” You give her a smile, “Good morning Lysa!” You say slightly louder as you watch in the mirror as she brings out a flowy lilac gown. “I’m going out today girls.” You turn to smile at both of them.
“Is that so ma’am? Where are you going?” Elaine speaks as she pulls the dress over your head and begins lacing up the corset.
“The Mandalorian is accompanying me to the markets in the city today.” You try to hold back a bit of the enthusiasm in your voice.
“Mhmm. That sounds wonderful ma’am.” Her head turns. “Go get her a cloak, and then go find Leodall to give her some credits.”
“Of course.” In a rush Lysa threw a light gray cloak onto the bed and darted out of the room. Elaine dressed you in near silence after that, softly humming a song to herself every once in a while as you let her straighten the cloak over your shoulders.
It gives you time to think.
Are things going to be different now? It would be hard to go back to how things were at this point, but you don’t want to have to act like strangers again. You’ve agreed to keep having sex at the very least which is a huge relief, but you also want to make sure that you can still talk to him. Just act normal. Act like nothing is different.
She’s quick with your makeup, doing some simple little accents around your eyes and letting your hair fall around your face in a way she typically doesn’t.
“Even though you haven’t made many public appearances it will be best to keep your face mostly hidden my lady.” She adjusts the hood slightly over your hair to shield the top of your head. You nod slowly.
“Is there a bag I can take?” Is all you have to say in response, you aren’t particularly worried about any threats in the city. After all, you have Mando. Who, now that you’re thinking about it, you have never seen in action. Sure he’s big and imposing but it’s still troubling to think that he might be all talk. He does love to talk. You’ll be fine. He wouldn’t take you into the city if he couldn’t protect you.
Probably.
Elaine throws a white satchel over your shoulders and takes a step back to admire her work before nodding.
“If you’re ready I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” She gives you a grin before leaving. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Elaine really does work wonders. You honestly aren’t sure how she does it, it’s not like you’re unattractive by any means but you don’t think you were this alluring back on Hoth.
Is it okay to hope that he notices? That doesn’t break any rules right?
You don’t have long to wonder because Leodall is bursting into the room holding a small leather coin purse. Holding it out to you.
“I wish you had given me more warning princess… this was what I was able to put together on such short notice.” He’s seemingly trying to catch his breath still as you take the purse and open it, your eyes going wide. You were royalty back on Hoth but clearly not this royal. There’s more credits than you could possibly know what to do with inside.
“A-are you sure?” You manage to stammer out, you’re nervous just holding them.
“I mean if you’d like I can see if I can make it down to the vaults but it will take me much longer to get more, how much do-” You cut him off.
“Nevermind Leo. Thank you.” You give him a reassuring smile as you put the credits in your bag and dismiss him with a nod. You slip on a pair of riding boots before exiting the room yourself.
He looks different.
Scarier.
You clearly hadn’t been getting the full Mandalorian before because now there’s somehow more attachments. Ammunition. He’s shinier if that was somehow possible, like he polished his armor for this outing and he’s got a brown canvas bag thrown over his shoulder.
He looks like a proper killer.
Why does that send a rush of heat between your legs?
“Good morning, princess.” He gives you a curt nod.
So far so good.
“Good morning Mando. You look… nice.” You tilt your head slightly, getting a real eyeful of him before meeting his visor.
Okay this is a little more difficult than you thought it was going to be.
Of course it’s harder than you thought it’d be to have a conversation with someone you’ve had impulse hate sex with.
You just want things to be normal. Just friends. You can do this, this is what you wanted so you need to make it work, you will make it work.
“Are you ready?”
“Always.” He turns on his heel to start making his way down the hall and you swiftly follow.
“Will we be walking there?” You can’t stop smiling at the prospect of finally actually seeing other people.
“It’s a bit far for that. We’ll take a speeder.”
“Like a bike?” You can’t hide the excitement in your voice, as he lets out a low chuckle.
“No princess. I don’t think it would be proper for me to take you into the city on a speeder bike. We’ll be taking a landspeeder.” You try to hide your disappointment as he leads you through the twisting halls until you finally reach the familiar front gates. You’d only ever gone in through them when you arrived all those weeks ago. When you went to the garden you had taken back exits. Mando is already talking to a droid near the gate and you can’t catch what he’s saying but he comes back with two silver bands, holding one out to you. “Palace rules, if you’re leaving the grounds you’ve gotta wear it.” He easily clips his on as you fumble with the clasp on yours.
“What are they for?” You can’t help but bite your lip as you try to get the damn thing on before finally he takes your wrist and does it for you.
“Trackers.” He says it like he doesn’t like the taste of the word in his mouth but you choose to ignore it as he walks through the gate, scanning the bracelet as he does so, you follow his lead and then you’re outside. A light blue landspeeder is waiting for the two of you and you take his hand as he helps you get into the back seat before pulling himself up next to you. The driver nervously turns to stare at him but says nothing as he turns back around. “Solar Markets.” Is all Mando has to say in that stern, bounty hunter tone before you’re flying.
✩
It’s annoyingly beautiful.
You’d convinced yourself that Naboo was a place you had been condemned to but it’s stunning. It’s greener than you’d realized and you swear you hear Mando laugh at the awestruck look on your face.
He looks comfortable like this, leaning back, his arms spread out across the back of the seat. You must look like an over eager child the way your eyes keep darting around. You almost want to ask if you can keep riding around for a bit when the speeder stops.
Almost.
But the markets are much more enticing.
Alive and buzzing with people, there’s probably more people just on this street than there were in your entire colony back home. Mando helps you out of the speeder by lifting you up by your waist and once you’re on the ground you pull your hood back up. He leans down to whisper to you.
“No one is going to recognize you, it’s okay.” Is he smiling? It sounds like he’s smiling. You let the hood fall and run your fingers through your hair to try and brush the wind out of it. He holds his arm out and you briskly take it, clutching yourself close to him as he starts walking. It’s almost like a small path through the crowds clears whenever you walk and you immediately regret letting your hood down until you realize it’s not for you.
They’re scared of him.
People get quiet when you walk near them, they whisper, eyes start darting around frantically.
“I didn’t realize you had a reputation…” You mumble, leaning closer to him.
“Not me princess, my people in general. Don’t worry about it, it just means no one is going to mess with you.” He lets out a chuckle as he slows his pace.
“What are they saying about you?” You look warily around the crowds, holding on to Mando’s arm a little tighter.
He fidgets with something on his gauntlet and is silent for a few minutes as you walk before he fidgets with it again.
“Just your usual Mandaloian panic, mostly people worried about you.”
“Me?” You can’t help it when your voice goes up a pitch. It makes him chuckle softly.
“Some people are worried you're my prisoner.”
“Why would people think that?” You can’t help but look up at him in confusion.
“Usually we travel alone, or with other Mandalorians. Or people don’t see us at all, some people are just concerned that I’m holding you captive.” Why does he sound like he’s enjoying that fact?
“Well that’s annoying.” You scoff.
“So, what are we shopping for today?” He tilts the helmet down to look at you as you take in the dozens upon dozens of stands. It’s entirely possible that they will have quite literally anything you could ask for.
“I didn’t actually have anything in mind… can we just look around?”
“Of course.” Okay, he’s definitely smiling.
The two of you arm in arm walk through the first street of stalls. Nothing in particular catches your eye, it mostly seems like antiques and other such things, it must take well over an hour though and as he turns you down the next street you're hit with a wave of different smells as you start your trek through what you figure is the food stands. Your stomach lets out a small grumble since you skipped breakfast for this.
“Are you hungry? Can you eat if no one is looking?” You say softly, turning towards him.
“Someone is always looking. I’ll eat when we get back.”
You can’t help but frown. It passes quickly though as you get an idea. You keep your eyes peeled for a specific stand.
“You called this the Solar Markets earlier?” You say absentmindedly, still looking around.
“Yes. During the day they are called the Solar Markets, at night they do a quick turn around and then open the Lunar Markets.” He’s speaking so softly you can barely hear him and you wonder if he does it on purpose to keep up appearances of a stoic silent killer.
“Will we be able to stay for the Lunar Markets?” You turn to him hopefully and you hear the beginning of a laugh before the modulator cuts off. He takes a second before you hear the filter crackling back to life.
“No princess. I will have to find a way to sneak you out after hours to show you the Lunar Markets.” His voice is tinged with amusement.
“Why? Are they dangerous?” You instinctively squeeze his arm tighter.
“Not at all, we’re just going to have to make sure you don’t have a tracker on when we go, I’m sure I’d get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out you went, we’ll have to keep your hood up for that trip.” There’s a teasing tone to his voice that you don’t get.
“Are you going to tell me why or am I going to have to guess?”
“I think it will be better if it’s a surprise.” He whispers as he pats your arm gently. You’re about to interrogate him further but you see what you’re looking for and drop his arm, jogging up ahead to a stand, handing over what is definitely too many credits as you tell the Gungan running the stand to keep the change, Mando is right behind you when you turn around, you’ve got a big smile on your face.
“Don’t run off like that. Just because nobody knows you doesn’t mean you aren’t precious cargo.” His voice is stern but you don’t let it bother you as you hold up your purchase.
“Look what I got us.” You're beaming ear to ear. “It’s pear and some kind of spikey melon I didn’t recognize.” You hold the smoothie up towards his helmet and he tilts his head ever so slightly.
“Okay…?” He says it slowly like he’s being careful not to hurt your feelings.
“It has a straw! So you don’t have to take your helmet off.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as you take a sip. It’s thick, and sweeter than you were expecting but it goes down smooth and you can’t stop smiling as you hold it out towards him.
“That’s very kind of you princess… but it might affect the presence I’m trying to put out if I’m walking around with a straw under my helmet.” He sounds serious as he says it which makes you lose the smile as you think again for a moment.
“Okay. I need to tell you something.” You take his hand and pull him just behind the stall, out of sight of most of the people.
“You’re confusing me princess.” He laughs softly. “What do you want to tell me?” He puts his hands on his hips and you hold a finger out to make a “come closer” motion.
“I have to whisper it.” He sighs as he leans down so his face is next to yours and your mouth is where his ear would be. “Release the airlock on your helmet.” You whisper it and he starts to pull back but you put your hands on his shoulders. “Please. Just for a second.” He lets out another exasperated sigh but after a moment you hear a hiss of air and you bite back a giggle as you bring the drink up between the two of you and shove the straw under the edge of his helmet, you use your body to shield him from anyone passing by. If anyone looked it would look like you were just whispering a secret to him. There’s a moment where you’re worried you’ve gone too far but then you hear a quiet slurping noise and you know you’ve won. After a moment he pulls back and you can see through the clear cup that he’s downed a solid quarter of it. The air hissed as he resealed his helmet.
“Happy?” He has a mock tone of defeat as you grin.
“Extremely.” You take his arm again and lead him back into the crowd as you sip at the drink lazily while you walk. “Did you like it?” You don’t bother concealing the satisfaction in your voice.
“It was a little sweet for me… but yes.”
“I knew you would. I’m always right.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Do you come here at night to buy food or do you just get stuff from the castle?” As you speak you walk over to a pastry stand and drop a pile of credits into the young woman's hand as you take a few small cakes and cookies and put them into your bag, waving off the change again.
“I usually just eat ration packets back at my cabin.”
Full stop.
“Why aren’t you getting food from the kitchens?” You take a step in front of him, staring up into his visor with your arms crossed. You’d had ration packets plenty of times back on Hoth when they were unable to get cargo ships in. They were filling but honestly you’d found them gross most of the time. You didn’t like the idea of him relying solely on those when he had so many other options available to him.
“I never thought to do so. I’ve always just eaten rations packs.” He sounds almost bored with the conversation as you glare up at him. You want to scold him but you know he won’t listen so instead you make a mental note to pick up a few things while you’re here. You take his arm and start walking again. “Do you need anything else from this street or do you want to go to the next one?” He whispers it like he’s unsure if you’re mad at him.
“I’m done here, we can go to the next one.” You keep it light, not wanting anything to ruin this day as he brings you down the next street. This is easily the biggest, most crowded area. It seems like the majority of the vendors set up shop here and you’re having trouble focusing on any single stand as you start your slow trek. A particularly sharp burst of color catches your eye as you approach the stand. The Toydarian manning the shop seems nervous about Mando but you ignore it as you start searching through the plastic flowers.
“We have the gardens at home, why the hell do you need fake flowers?” His eyes are looking around the shelves as he speaks and you find the plastic lilies you were looking for.
“I had these growing up. I just want some for my room.” You can’t help but smile at the idea of having a piece of home back in your chambers, as you hand the shopkeep the credits you catch Mando also handing him some as he shoves something into his bag. You don’t ask because once you leave another stand has already caught your eye.
“Oh no. You’re not getting that.” He’s groaning as you run up to the droid selling vibroblades.
“Come on, they’re all so small I won’t be able to do much damage with one anyway.” You’re peeking through the display case at the knives, settling on a simple dainty one, it’s entirely silver, handle and blade. The droid retrieves it the moment you point it out and you hand him the credits as you put it into the sheath provided before shoving it into your bag.
“Why do you even need that? You have me to protect you.” He puts a hand on his hip but you just take his arm and push him to keep him walking.
“Just for emergencies. Don’t worry about it.” He sighs as you keep walking.
“What emergency? You have a state of the art locking system on your door and a state of the art bodyguard.” He sounds almost offended and you burst into laughter.
“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of a knife.” You can hear a little huff of air coming from the modulator.
“No.” There’s that bounty hunter voice.
“Oh come on, don’t be jealous, I promise I like you more than the blade.” You poke his pauldron as you tease him.
“I’m not jealous.” He scoffs out.
“Just making sure.”
✩
You spend the rest of the day in the third street of the market. It’s massive, you don’t even get a chance to see every stand. You aren’t even sure you’ve seen half of them. Around midday you take out one of the little cakes you’d bought and eat it, offering him half but of course he declines. You buy a lovely crystal vase for your faux flowers, a few other little snacks you find and several bowls with sealable lids. You’re sure that purchase has Mando raising an eyebrow but he doesn’t say anything.
You’re exhausted by the time the sun is lowering in the sky but you don’t want this day to end. You can tell he’s about to call it as you see a stand that catches your eye and you drag him along to it, you can feel a slight resistance as he realizes where you’re dragging him but it’s too late because you’re already talking to the woman folding fabrics at the entrance.
“Do you by any chance have other wares I could peruse in the back?” You give her a smile as she looks warily between you and the Mandalorian before nodding and taking your hand. He starts to follow but you put a hand against his chestplate.
“You’re not going anywhere without me.” His tone has gotten all stiff and bounty hunter serious as he gently takes your wrist and removes your hand.
“I’m trying on clothes. You need to wait outside.”
It’s way too tense for such a simple request. You can feel the shopkeep trembling behind you but you don’t drop the glare you’ve got trained on his visor. You don’t know how long you stand like that. Scowling at each other. Definitely too long but eventually he sighs and takes a step back.
“Ten minutes. If you don’t come out, I’m going in.” He points a warning finger at you but plants his feet and you know he’ll stay put as you give him a big grin before following the woman into the back.
It’s exactly what you thought it would be.
A lot of the stuff was classier out front but you knew there would most likely be skimpier options where the public couldn’t see them. You started looking through the shelves of lace and silk. You’re only doing so for a moment before the woman is clearing her throat.
“Are you okay, miss?” Her voice is small and timid as she looks over her shoulder anxiously. You raise an eyebrow in confusion.
“Yes…? Why do you ask?” You look away from the woman as you find a shelf exclusively containing green fabrics. Jackpot.
“It’s just, I don’t mean to intrude but- but I’ve never seen a…” She leans in to whisper. “A Mandalorian traveling with someone before. I just want to make sure you aren’t being held against your will. Such a pretty young woman, accompanying such a dangerous man.”
Oh.
Well you should have seen that coming. You give her a reassuring smile. You want to be offended on his behalf but maybe you just didn’t truly grasp how afraid people were of him.
“I’m perfectly safe ma’am, he’s my friend.” She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with your answer as you hold up a particularly revealing piece. A satiny green two piece set. They could probably pass as pajamas if the bottoms weren’t practically just panties. You put it over your arm as you look for something a little more racy. “Is this everything?” You turn to look at her again.
“No miss, but we don’t bring out what I think you’re looking for until after sundown.”
Oh. That’s why you weren’t staying for the Lunar Market.
“Ah, okay. I’ll be sure to come back for that at some point. Thank you so much for being so accommodating” You hand her half of your remaining credits and her jaw is practically on the floor as you make a swift exit, shoving the clothes into your bag. Finding Mando just outside. He’s in nearly the same position except now he has a small bag in his hands. You pay it no mind as you go to take his arm.
But you miss it completely as someone grabs your other arm pulling you in the opposite direction.
“I haven’t seen you around here before, are you new in town?” It’s a human man with long black hair, he’s got welding goggles strapped to his head. You try as gently as possible to shove him off.
“No, I’ve lived here for some time now, and I should be getting back to my friend…” You’re about to point to Mando hoping that would scare him off but the man is putting a hand around your waist and starts walking you down the street.
“Oh come on sweet thing, why don’t we just walk for a little bit, maybe you can show me what you bought from that stand.” You can hear his hot breath against your neck as he leans closer and you’re about to reach for the blade in your bag but you don’t get too because he’s already on the ground.
You don’t have anytime to realize what’s going on until it’s already happening.
“ Give me a reason to do it. ” Mando’s already on top of him, blaster pressed to the bottom of the man's jaw. His voice sends a chill down your spine, if you thought that the stern tone he used on most strangers was his bounty hunter voice you were horribly wrong. This was his bounty hunter voice. When the man didn’t respond you watched as the barrel of the blaster pushed a hair deeper into the man's skin.
You should probably unpack at some point why you find this so attractive.
Maker, would it be inappropriate to ask him to recreate this later in your chambers?
You don’t register what the man mumbles as Mando reholsters his blaster. Standing up and facing you. You do happen to catch the next words the man mutters as he gets to his feet, unlucky for him Mando catches the words as well.
“Have a good night with your whore, jackass.”
The crack of the punch is so loud, you’re absolutely certain that Mando broke his jaw. The man drops to the ground in an instant and your Beskar companion simply shakes his hand out once before offering you his arm again. You take it as you try to avoid looking at the crumpled body of the man.
Stars, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this attracted to someone.
As a friend. Obviously.
“You get everything you need?” He says as he starts backtracking you down the market street. He’s alarmingly casual.
“Yes. I’m ready to go now.” You give him a nervous smile as you walk, trying to enjoy the sun setting on everything.
It’s hard not to talk about it.
But it’s probably for the best all things considered, if you start reliving that memory, who knows how long you’ll be able to resist dragging the Mandalorian into an alley and getting on your knees.
On your way out you tell him you want to stop and grab some things for dinner, if he notices you buying more food than you could possibly eat he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t even say anything when you make him carry it. It’s a quick ride back to the castle and you can feel the exhaustion taking its toll as he walks you up to your chambers. Leo is waiting for you in the hall to take your tracker bands, Mando mumbles something about losing his but you pay him no mind as you hand Leo yours, telling him to inform the girls that you won’t need them, they can have the night off, and with that he departs. Mando helps you into your room and helps you set your things onto the bed.
“Did you have a good day?” He’s gentle again. Nothing like his tone when you were in public. It makes you smile, like he saves it just for you.
“I did. Thank you, for everything.”
“So you aren’t stressed?” He doesn’t look up, he’s setting a few of the bowls you’d bought out on the bed.
“No not at all, why? If you’re worried about the guy, don’t be I didn’t even have a second to process what was happening…” Your voice trails off as you realize why he was asking.
You idiot.
This is Purely Stress Relief.
Your rule.
You want to take it back immediately but he’s already standing up straighter, and you know you’ve already missed your chance.
“Do you need anything else or should I leave?” He says it with the same tone of disappointment that you currently feel.
Damn it.
You stupid, stupid woman, less than an hour ago you were gonna jump his bones in the street and now that you’ve got him alone you just blew your chance to… well, blow him .
Whatever. It’s for the best. It would be weird to have a really great day out together and then come home and have sex anyway. That’s something a couple would do. And that’s not what this arrangement is. But you can’t let him leave without executing your master plan.
You start opening the food containers and scoop half of everything into the bowls, sealing all of them before rummaging through your bag for one of the little cakes, setting it on top of the three sealed bowls, stacking them.
“Here.” You hold it all out to him and he just stands there for a moment.
“You don’t have to-” The voice that comes out of the filter almost sounds small.
“I know I don’t have to. Now take it, I’m ordering you to go home and eat actual food.” You shove it into his arms and he starts carefully tucking it into his bag.
“You don’t have the authority to order me to do anyth-”
“Shut up. For once, about that.” You give him a stern look and you both stand awkwardly across from each other. You aren’t really sure what he’s waiting for but finally he reaches into his satchel and hands you the small bag he had been holding earlier.
“I bought this for you earlier while you were trying on clothes. It made me think of you.” He doesn’t even give you a second to say thank you before he’s out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you open the bag, looking down at the contents.
You reach in and hold the necklace in front of your face so you can get a good look.
It’s a simple leather cord but what really catches your eye is the tiny charm. It’s a little silver outline of a flower hanging from the band. A little flower.
Sarad’ika.
You’re glad he didn’t linger to watch you open it because you have to hold back tears.
Even though he didn’t stay you can’t help but smile as you started nodding off. Closing the food containers before grabbing a few things, retreating to the closet. You lay down in your nest of blankets, setting your book down next to you as you stare down at the charm in the palm of your hand. You don’t think you ever had a day this fun even back on Hoth. No one had ever put this much thought into a gift for you. No one had ever defended you like that before either, he had even drunk what you offered him… Your fingers played with the small silver charm as you carefully tucked the necklace between the pages of The Smitten Paladin.
It was probably the most lovely day you’d ever had.
A specific scrawled line of text catches your eyes as they dart to the rules scrawled against the back inside cover and you slam the book shut, shoving it into your pillowcase for safekeeping.
No Romance.
Fuck.
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Best Kept Secret
chapter eight : solar markets
THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!
pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 5.3k
summary : the mandalorian takes reader on a day trip
warnings, etc. : language, reader thinks about sex like a little bit
It’s nice to wake up excited again.
You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. You’ve spent the last four weeks cooped up and you couldn’t be more thrilled to finally get to see something new.
As much as you love the library it can be suffocating to spend every single day between those four walls.
So you summon Elaine and Lysa as quickly as possible, grinning as you stand in the mirror until you notice the faint blooms of purple on your waist.
Shit.
You have to rush to find undergarments that will cover them and you’re barely pulling them over your hips as the door swings open.
“Good morning ma’am.” Elaine smiles at you as she grabs a brush, going to stand behind you to comb out the knots in your hair. She snaps her fingers sharply and points to the closet signaling for Lysa to fetch you a gown.
“Good morning Elaine.” You give her a smile, “Good morning Lysa!” You say slightly louder as you watch in the mirror as she brings out a flowy lilac gown. “I’m going out today girls.” You turn to smile at both of them.
“Is that so ma’am? Where are you going?” Elaine speaks as she pulls the dress over your head and begins lacing up the corset.
“The Mandalorian is accompanying me to the markets in the city today.” You try to hold back a bit of the enthusiasm in your voice.
“Mhmm. That sounds wonderful ma’am.” Her head turns. “Go get her a cloak, and then go find Leodall to give her some credits.”
“Of course.” In a rush Lysa threw a light gray cloak onto the bed and darted out of the room. Elaine dressed you in near silence after that, softly humming a song to herself every once in a while as you let her straighten the cloak over your shoulders.
It gives you time to think.
Are things going to be different now? It would be hard to go back to how things were at this point, but you don’t want to have to act like strangers again. You’ve agreed to keep having sex at the very least which is a huge relief, but you also want to make sure that you can still talk to him. Just act normal. Act like nothing is different.
She’s quick with your makeup, doing some simple little accents around your eyes and letting your hair fall around your face in a way she typically doesn’t.
“Even though you haven’t made many public appearances it will be best to keep your face mostly hidden my lady.” She adjusts the hood slightly over your hair to shield the top of your head. You nod slowly.
“Is there a bag I can take?” Is all you have to say in response, you aren’t particularly worried about any threats in the city. After all, you have Mando. Who, now that you’re thinking about it, you have never seen in action. Sure he’s big and imposing but it’s still troubling to think that he might be all talk. He does love to talk. You’ll be fine. He wouldn’t take you into the city if he couldn’t protect you.
Probably.
Elaine throws a white satchel over your shoulders and takes a step back to admire her work before nodding.
“If you’re ready I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” She gives you a grin before leaving. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Elaine really does work wonders. You honestly aren’t sure how she does it, it’s not like you’re unattractive by any means but you don’t think you were this alluring back on Hoth.
Is it okay to hope that he notices? That doesn’t break any rules right?
You don’t have long to wonder because Leodall is bursting into the room holding a small leather coin purse. Holding it out to you.
“I wish you had given me more warning princess… this was what I was able to put together on such short notice.” He’s seemingly trying to catch his breath still as you take the purse and open it, your eyes going wide. You were royalty back on Hoth but clearly not this royal. There’s more credits than you could possibly know what to do with inside.
“A-are you sure?” You manage to stammer out, you’re nervous just holding them.
“I mean if you’d like I can see if I can make it down to the vaults but it will take me much longer to get more, how much do-” You cut him off.
“Nevermind Leo. Thank you.” You give him a reassuring smile as you put the credits in your bag and dismiss him with a nod. You slip on a pair of riding boots before exiting the room yourself.
He looks different.
Scarier.
You clearly hadn’t been getting the full Mandalorian before because now there’s somehow more attachments. Ammunition. He’s shinier if that was somehow possible, like he polished his armor for this outing and he’s got a brown canvas bag thrown over his shoulder.
He looks like a proper killer.
Why does that send a rush of heat between your legs?
“Good morning, princess.” He gives you a curt nod.
So far so good.
“Good morning Mando. You look… nice.” You tilt your head slightly, getting a real eyeful of him before meeting his visor.
Okay this is a little more difficult than you thought it was going to be.
Of course it’s harder than you thought it’d be to have a conversation with someone you’ve had impulse hate sex with.
You just want things to be normal. Just friends. You can do this, this is what you wanted so you need to make it work, you will make it work.
“Are you ready?”
“Always.” He turns on his heel to start making his way down the hall and you swiftly follow.
“Will we be walking there?” You can’t stop smiling at the prospect of finally actually seeing other people.
“It’s a bit far for that. We’ll take a speeder.”
“Like a bike?” You can’t hide the excitement in your voice, as he lets out a low chuckle.
“No princess. I don’t think it would be proper for me to take you into the city on a speeder bike. We’ll be taking a landspeeder.” You try to hide your disappointment as he leads you through the twisting halls until you finally reach the familiar front gates. You’d only ever gone in through them when you arrived all those weeks ago. When you went to the garden you had taken back exits. Mando is already talking to a droid near the gate and you can’t catch what he’s saying but he comes back with two silver bands, holding one out to you. “Palace rules, if you’re leaving the grounds you’ve gotta wear it.” He easily clips his on as you fumble with the clasp on yours.
“What are they for?” You can’t help but bite your lip as you try to get the damn thing on before finally he takes your wrist and does it for you.
“Trackers.” He says it like he doesn’t like the taste of the word in his mouth but you choose to ignore it as he walks through the gate, scanning the bracelet as he does so, you follow his lead and then you’re outside. A light blue landspeeder is waiting for the two of you and you take his hand as he helps you get into the back seat before pulling himself up next to you. The driver nervously turns to stare at him but says nothing as he turns back around. “Solar Markets.” Is all Mando has to say in that stern, bounty hunter tone before you’re flying.
✩
It’s annoyingly beautiful.
You’d convinced yourself that Naboo was a place you had been condemned to but it’s stunning. It’s greener than you’d realized and you swear you hear Mando laugh at the awestruck look on your face.
He looks comfortable like this, leaning back, his arms spread out across the back of the seat. You must look like an over eager child the way your eyes keep darting around. You almost want to ask if you can keep riding around for a bit when the speeder stops.
Almost.
But the markets are much more enticing.
Alive and buzzing with people, there’s probably more people just on this street than there were in your entire colony back home. Mando helps you out of the speeder by lifting you up by your waist and once you’re on the ground you pull your hood back up. He leans down to whisper to you.
“No one is going to recognize you, it’s okay.” Is he smiling? It sounds like he’s smiling. You let the hood fall and run your fingers through your hair to try and brush the wind out of it. He holds his arm out and you briskly take it, clutching yourself close to him as he starts walking. It’s almost like a small path through the crowds clears whenever you walk and you immediately regret letting your hood down until you realize it’s not for you.
They’re scared of him.
People get quiet when you walk near them, they whisper, eyes start darting around frantically.
“I didn’t realize you had a reputation…” You mumble, leaning closer to him.
“Not me princess, my people in general. Don’t worry about it, it just means no one is going to mess with you.” He lets out a chuckle as he slows his pace.
“What are they saying about you?” You look warily around the crowds, holding on to Mando’s arm a little tighter.
He fidgets with something on his gauntlet and is silent for a few minutes as you walk before he fidgets with it again.
“Just your usual Mandaloian panic, mostly people worried about you.”
“Me?” You can’t help it when your voice goes up a pitch. It makes him chuckle softly.
“Some people are worried you're my prisoner.”
“Why would people think that?” You can’t help but look up at him in confusion.
“Usually we travel alone, or with other Mandalorians. Or people don’t see us at all, some people are just concerned that I’m holding you captive.” Why does he sound like he’s enjoying that fact?
“Well that’s annoying.” You scoff.
“So, what are we shopping for today?” He tilts the helmet down to look at you as you take in the dozens upon dozens of stands. It’s entirely possible that they will have quite literally anything you could ask for.
“I didn’t actually have anything in mind… can we just look around?”
“Of course.” Okay, he’s definitely smiling.
The two of you arm in arm walk through the first street of stalls. Nothing in particular catches your eye, it mostly seems like antiques and other such things, it must take well over an hour though and as he turns you down the next street you're hit with a wave of different smells as you start your trek through what you figure is the food stands. Your stomach lets out a small grumble since you skipped breakfast for this.
“Are you hungry? Can you eat if no one is looking?” You say softly, turning towards him.
“Someone is always looking. I’ll eat when we get back.”
You can’t help but frown. It passes quickly though as you get an idea. You keep your eyes peeled for a specific stand.
“You called this the Solar Markets earlier?” You say absentmindedly, still looking around.
“Yes. During the day they are called the Solar Markets, at night they do a quick turn around and then open the Lunar Markets.” He’s speaking so softly you can barely hear him and you wonder if he does it on purpose to keep up appearances of a stoic silent killer.
“Will we be able to stay for the Lunar Markets?” You turn to him hopefully and you hear the beginning of a laugh before the modulator cuts off. He takes a second before you hear the filter crackling back to life.
“No princess. I will have to find a way to sneak you out after hours to show you the Lunar Markets.” His voice is tinged with amusement.
“Why? Are they dangerous?” You instinctively squeeze his arm tighter.
“Not at all, we’re just going to have to make sure you don’t have a tracker on when we go, I’m sure I’d get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out you went, we’ll have to keep your hood up for that trip.” There’s a teasing tone to his voice that you don’t get.
“Are you going to tell me why or am I going to have to guess?”
“I think it will be better if it’s a surprise.” He whispers as he pats your arm gently. You’re about to interrogate him further but you see what you’re looking for and drop his arm, jogging up ahead to a stand, handing over what is definitely too many credits as you tell the Gungan running the stand to keep the change, Mando is right behind you when you turn around, you’ve got a big smile on your face.
“Don’t run off like that. Just because nobody knows you doesn’t mean you aren’t precious cargo.” His voice is stern but you don’t let it bother you as you hold up your purchase.
“Look what I got us.” You're beaming ear to ear. “It’s pear and some kind of spikey melon I didn’t recognize.” You hold the smoothie up towards his helmet and he tilts his head ever so slightly.
“Okay…?” He says it slowly like he’s being careful not to hurt your feelings.
“It has a straw! So you don’t have to take your helmet off.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as you take a sip. It’s thick, and sweeter than you were expecting but it goes down smooth and you can’t stop smiling as you hold it out towards him.
“That’s very kind of you princess… but it might affect the presence I’m trying to put out if I’m walking around with a straw under my helmet.” He sounds serious as he says it which makes you lose the smile as you think again for a moment.
“Okay. I need to tell you something.” You take his hand and pull him just behind the stall, out of sight of most of the people.
“You’re confusing me princess.” He laughs softly. “What do you want to tell me?” He puts his hands on his hips and you hold a finger out to make a “come closer” motion.
“I have to whisper it.” He sighs as he leans down so his face is next to yours and your mouth is where his ear would be. “Release the airlock on your helmet.” You whisper it and he starts to pull back but you put your hands on his shoulders. “Please. Just for a second.” He lets out another exasperated sigh but after a moment you hear a hiss of air and you bite back a giggle as you bring the drink up between the two of you and shove the straw under the edge of his helmet, you use your body to shield him from anyone passing by. If anyone looked it would look like you were just whispering a secret to him. There’s a moment where you’re worried you’ve gone too far but then you hear a quiet slurping noise and you know you’ve won. After a moment he pulls back and you can see through the clear cup that he’s downed a solid quarter of it. The air hissed as he resealed his helmet.
“Happy?” He has a mock tone of defeat as you grin.
“Extremely.” You take his arm again and lead him back into the crowd as you sip at the drink lazily while you walk. “Did you like it?” You don’t bother concealing the satisfaction in your voice.
“It was a little sweet for me… but yes.”
“I knew you would. I’m always right.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Do you come here at night to buy food or do you just get stuff from the castle?” As you speak you walk over to a pastry stand and drop a pile of credits into the young woman's hand as you take a few small cakes and cookies and put them into your bag, waving off the change again.
“I usually just eat ration packets back at my cabin.”
Full stop.
“Why aren’t you getting food from the kitchens?” You take a step in front of him, staring up into his visor with your arms crossed. You’d had ration packets plenty of times back on Hoth when they were unable to get cargo ships in. They were filling but honestly you’d found them gross most of the time. You didn’t like the idea of him relying solely on those when he had so many other options available to him.
“I never thought to do so. I’ve always just eaten rations packs.” He sounds almost bored with the conversation as you glare up at him. You want to scold him but you know he won’t listen so instead you make a mental note to pick up a few things while you’re here. You take his arm and start walking again. “Do you need anything else from this street or do you want to go to the next one?” He whispers it like he’s unsure if you’re mad at him.
“I’m done here, we can go to the next one.” You keep it light, not wanting anything to ruin this day as he brings you down the next street. This is easily the biggest, most crowded area. It seems like the majority of the vendors set up shop here and you’re having trouble focusing on any single stand as you start your slow trek. A particularly sharp burst of color catches your eye as you approach the stand. The Toydarian manning the shop seems nervous about Mando but you ignore it as you start searching through the plastic flowers.
“We have the gardens at home, why the hell do you need fake flowers?” His eyes are looking around the shelves as he speaks and you find the plastic lilies you were looking for.
“I had these growing up. I just want some for my room.” You can’t help but smile at the idea of having a piece of home back in your chambers, as you hand the shopkeep the credits you catch Mando also handing him some as he shoves something into his bag. You don’t ask because once you leave another stand has already caught your eye.
“Oh no. You’re not getting that.” He’s groaning as you run up to the droid selling vibroblades.
“Come on, they’re all so small I won’t be able to do much damage with one anyway.” You’re peeking through the display case at the knives, settling on a simple dainty one, it’s entirely silver, handle and blade. The droid retrieves it the moment you point it out and you hand him the credits as you put it into the sheath provided before shoving it into your bag.
“Why do you even need that? You have me to protect you.” He puts a hand on his hip but you just take his arm and push him to keep him walking.
“Just for emergencies. Don’t worry about it.” He sighs as you keep walking.
“What emergency? You have a state of the art locking system on your door and a state of the art bodyguard.” He sounds almost offended and you burst into laughter.
“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of a knife.” You can hear a little huff of air coming from the modulator.
“No.” There’s that bounty hunter voice.
“Oh come on, don’t be jealous, I promise I like you more than the blade.” You poke his pauldron as you tease him.
“I’m not jealous.” He scoffs out.
“Just making sure.”
✩
You spend the rest of the day in the third street of the market. It’s massive, you don’t even get a chance to see every stand. You aren’t even sure you’ve seen half of them. Around midday you take out one of the little cakes you’d bought and eat it, offering him half but of course he declines. You buy a lovely crystal vase for your faux flowers, a few other little snacks you find and several bowls with sealable lids. You’re sure that purchase has Mando raising an eyebrow but he doesn’t say anything.
You’re exhausted by the time the sun is lowering in the sky but you don’t want this day to end. You can tell he’s about to call it as you see a stand that catches your eye and you drag him along to it, you can feel a slight resistance as he realizes where you’re dragging him but it’s too late because you’re already talking to the woman folding fabrics at the entrance.
“Do you by any chance have other wares I could peruse in the back?” You give her a smile as she looks warily between you and the Mandalorian before nodding and taking your hand. He starts to follow but you put a hand against his chestplate.
“You’re not going anywhere without me.” His tone has gotten all stiff and bounty hunter serious as he gently takes your wrist and removes your hand.
“I’m trying on clothes. You need to wait outside.”
It’s way too tense for such a simple request. You can feel the shopkeep trembling behind you but you don’t drop the glare you’ve got trained on his visor. You don’t know how long you stand like that. Scowling at each other. Definitely too long but eventually he sighs and takes a step back.
“Ten minutes. If you don’t come out, I’m going in.” He points a warning finger at you but plants his feet and you know he’ll stay put as you give him a big grin before following the woman into the back.
It’s exactly what you thought it would be.
A lot of the stuff was classier out front but you knew there would most likely be skimpier options where the public couldn’t see them. You started looking through the shelves of lace and silk. You’re only doing so for a moment before the woman is clearing her throat.
“Are you okay, miss?” Her voice is small and timid as she looks over her shoulder anxiously. You raise an eyebrow in confusion.
“Yes…? Why do you ask?” You look away from the woman as you find a shelf exclusively containing green fabrics. Jackpot.
“It’s just, I don’t mean to intrude but- but I’ve never seen a…” She leans in to whisper. “A Mandalorian traveling with someone before. I just want to make sure you aren’t being held against your will. Such a pretty young woman, accompanying such a dangerous man.”
Oh.
Well you should have seen that coming. You give her a reassuring smile. You want to be offended on his behalf but maybe you just didn’t truly grasp how afraid people were of him.
“I’m perfectly safe ma’am, he’s my friend.” She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with your answer as you hold up a particularly revealing piece. A satiny green two piece set. They could probably pass as pajamas if the bottoms weren’t practically just panties. You put it over your arm as you look for something a little more racy. “Is this everything?” You turn to look at her again.
“No miss, but we don’t bring out what I think you’re looking for until after sundown.”
Oh. That’s why you weren’t staying for the Lunar Market.
“Ah, okay. I’ll be sure to come back for that at some point. Thank you so much for being so accommodating” You hand her half of your remaining credits and her jaw is practically on the floor as you make a swift exit, shoving the clothes into your bag. Finding Mando just outside. He’s in nearly the same position except now he has a small bag in his hands. You pay it no mind as you go to take his arm.
But you miss it completely as someone grabs your other arm pulling you in the opposite direction.
“I haven’t seen you around here before, are you new in town?” It’s a human man with long black hair, he’s got welding goggles strapped to his head. You try as gently as possible to shove him off.
“No, I’ve lived here for some time now, and I should be getting back to my friend…” You’re about to point to Mando hoping that would scare him off but the man is putting a hand around your waist and starts walking you down the street.
“Oh come on sweet thing, why don’t we just walk for a little bit, maybe you can show me what you bought from that stand.” You can hear his hot breath against your neck as he leans closer and you’re about to reach for the blade in your bag but you don’t get too because he’s already on the ground.
You don’t have anytime to realize what’s going on until it’s already happening.
“ Give me a reason to do it. ” Mando’s already on top of him, blaster pressed to the bottom of the man's jaw. His voice sends a chill down your spine, if you thought that the stern tone he used on most strangers was his bounty hunter voice you were horribly wrong. This was his bounty hunter voice. When the man didn’t respond you watched as the barrel of the blaster pushed a hair deeper into the man's skin.
You should probably unpack at some point why you find this so attractive.
Maker, would it be inappropriate to ask him to recreate this later in your chambers?
You don’t register what the man mumbles as Mando reholsters his blaster. Standing up and facing you. You do happen to catch the next words the man mutters as he gets to his feet, unlucky for him Mando catches the words as well.
“Have a good night with your whore, jackass.”
The crack of the punch is so loud, you’re absolutely certain that Mando broke his jaw. The man drops to the ground in an instant and your Beskar companion simply shakes his hand out once before offering you his arm again. You take it as you try to avoid looking at the crumpled body of the man.
Stars, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this attracted to someone.
As a friend. Obviously.
“You get everything you need?” He says as he starts backtracking you down the market street. He’s alarmingly casual.
“Yes. I’m ready to go now.” You give him a nervous smile as you walk, trying to enjoy the sun setting on everything.
It’s hard not to talk about it.
But it’s probably for the best all things considered, if you start reliving that memory, who knows how long you’ll be able to resist dragging the Mandalorian into an alley and getting on your knees.
On your way out you tell him you want to stop and grab some things for dinner, if he notices you buying more food than you could possibly eat he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t even say anything when you make him carry it. It’s a quick ride back to the castle and you can feel the exhaustion taking its toll as he walks you up to your chambers. Leo is waiting for you in the hall to take your tracker bands, Mando mumbles something about losing his but you pay him no mind as you hand Leo yours, telling him to inform the girls that you won’t need them, they can have the night off, and with that he departs. Mando helps you into your room and helps you set your things onto the bed.
“Did you have a good day?” He’s gentle again. Nothing like his tone when you were in public. It makes you smile, like he saves it just for you.
“I did. Thank you, for everything.”
“So you aren’t stressed?” He doesn’t look up, he’s setting a few of the bowls you’d bought out on the bed.
“No not at all, why? If you’re worried about the guy, don’t be I didn’t even have a second to process what was happening…” Your voice trails off as you realize why he was asking.
You idiot.
This is Purely Stress Relief.
Your rule.
You want to take it back immediately but he’s already standing up straighter, and you know you’ve already missed your chance.
“Do you need anything else or should I leave?” He says it with the same tone of disappointment that you currently feel.
Damn it.
You stupid, stupid woman, less than an hour ago you were gonna jump his bones in the street and now that you’ve got him alone you just blew your chance to… well, blow him .
Whatever. It’s for the best. It would be weird to have a really great day out together and then come home and have sex anyway. That’s something a couple would do. And that’s not what this arrangement is. But you can’t let him leave without executing your master plan.
You start opening the food containers and scoop half of everything into the bowls, sealing all of them before rummaging through your bag for one of the little cakes, setting it on top of the three sealed bowls, stacking them.
“Here.” You hold it all out to him and he just stands there for a moment.
“You don’t have to-” The voice that comes out of the filter almost sounds small.
“I know I don’t have to. Now take it, I’m ordering you to go home and eat actual food.” You shove it into his arms and he starts carefully tucking it into his bag.
“You don’t have the authority to order me to do anyth-”
“Shut up. For once, about that.” You give him a stern look and you both stand awkwardly across from each other. You aren’t really sure what he’s waiting for but finally he reaches into his satchel and hands you the small bag he had been holding earlier.
“I bought this for you earlier while you were trying on clothes. It made me think of you.” He doesn’t even give you a second to say thank you before he’s out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you open the bag, looking down at the contents.
You reach in and hold the necklace in front of your face so you can get a good look.
It’s a simple leather cord but what really catches your eye is the tiny charm. It’s a little silver outline of a flower hanging from the band. A little flower.
Sarad’ika.
You’re glad he didn’t linger to watch you open it because you have to hold back tears.
Even though he didn’t stay you can’t help but smile as you started nodding off. Closing the food containers before grabbing a few things, retreating to the closet. You lay down in your nest of blankets, setting your book down next to you as you stare down at the charm in the palm of your hand. You don’t think you ever had a day this fun even back on Hoth. No one had ever put this much thought into a gift for you. No one had ever defended you like that before either, he had even drunk what you offered him… Your fingers played with the small silver charm as you carefully tucked the necklace between the pages of The Smitten Paladin.
It was probably the most lovely day you’d ever had.
A specific scrawled line of text catches your eyes as they dart to the rules scrawled against the back inside cover and you slam the book shut, shoving it into your pillowcase for safekeeping.
No Romance.
Fuck.
#din djarin smut#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin/reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin#mandalorian smut#mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian#mandalorian x reader
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illicit affairs [d.d] - one
summary: the mandalorian is hired for a job - finding the missing king of the planet tanadoia. falling in love with you isn't part of his plan. [masterlist]
warnings: none for this chapter!
enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged
-jazz
Tanadoia was the spitting image of the ideal planet.
Half-urban and half-jungle, it offered the best of both worlds. A bustling city, tangled with skyscrapers and thriving industries and the home of an ever-growing economy, paired with a thick jungle, heavy with trees and wildlife and sparkling lakes. The coaxium mines on the city’s edge only added to its appeal, making it richer than some of the planets in the Core Worlds. More and more people were flooding to get a taste of it, either as a tourist or a citizen. The culture was growing and so was the public interest in it.
And blessed be the bastard who was chosen to rule it.
Chosen was a strong word, actually. You’d been born into the Royal Family a little over twenty years ago - somewhat against your will - and shoved onto the throne a little after your eighteenth birthday. It was funny that literally every other person who roamed the galaxy would have killed to have been in your position. You would have slaughtered a thousand men to get out of it. The title was a like a collar round your neck; your expensive bracelets a shackle, the crown a weight on your head that was sure to dampen your spitfire nature. That was something they’d tried to whip out of you in finishing school.
(It hadn’t worked).
You tried to stay well-behaved, tending to your duties and even going as far as marrying the pig of a man that your mother had found for you. James liked the money and fame that came with the throne, so he didn’t care all that much that you refused to go near him. You truly feared the day that people started asking for an heir. For now, though, you slept in separate bedrooms and put on the face of a happy marriage every Friday come the weekly council meeting. It was all for show. Everything was for show.
He wasn’t around all that much. You slept in separate rooms and he occasionally joined you at council meetings when they started to ask about him, but by all intents and purposes, he meant nothing to you. The last time you had kissed him was for a photo on your wedding day almost three years ago. He spent most of his time frequenting brothels and trying new types of spice - all of which was paid for by the royal account, of course. James could fuck off for weeks at a time and not say a word - so, when you didn’t see him for nearly two months, you didn’t think much of it. In fact, you hardly even noticed it until your mother was kind enough to point it out.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up. There’s no need to spend so much money on a bounty hunter of all people-”
“- James is our king,” your mother’s voice had been curt. Far too curt for this early on a Monday morning. “You have a duty to find him.”
You were sat on the throne, legs crossed and crown dangling haphazardly from the end of your finger. Morning sucked as it was, but even more so when you were woken at the crack of dawn to be forced into a dress and corset and these stupid high heels. You rolled your eyes, momentarily staring out at the view of the Tandadoian skyline across from you. There were a few ships coming in out, probably carrying cargo and passengers.
“He has a duty not to fuck off every time he feels like it,” you shot back, slumping in your seat.
Your mother faltered for a second, a foul look on her face at your use of language. “You’ve sworn your life to him and to the throne.”
“No, you made me take the throne when father died-”
“- I’ve already found a bounty hunter. He was recommended to be by a High Magistrate on Nevarro.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking recommendations from Greef Karga now?”
“He says that this hunter has never missed a shot or failed a task.”
“I highly doubt that,” you muttered. “We have one of the best militaries in the Outer Rim and they’ve missed plenty of shots.”
“He’s on his way as we speak,” your mother replied. “His prices are dear but I think it will be worth it. You should be the one to greet him. Make a good impression.”
“When do I not make a good impression?”
“One of the hand-maidens will be with you shortly. She’ll escort you to him.”
Standing up, you stalked away from the throne room and back to your quarters.
Tossing the crown and heels aside, you entered your wardrobe and pulled out a pair of more comfortable boots. Your holster was hidden towards the back with your pistol, which you slid up your leg and hid under the skirts of your dress. You pulled a thick leather jacket over your shoulders too - Tanadoia was cold right now, and you needed something to protect you from the cold of the winter whilst you were out wandering.
The palace was quiet today, thankfully. It always was on a Monday. Most of the soldiers were out on military duty or on practice runs, and most of the staff were tending to their morning duties or taking in deliveries. That meant the gardens were empty, dusted with snow and lonely beneath the bright white Winter skies. The grounds of the palace stretched on for miles and miles, only ending when it reached the wall. You hated the structure; it was a prison to you, keeping you in your place, reminding you that you were never truly free so as long as you were the monarch of this cursed planet.
The hangar wasn’t too far from here. How easy would it be to just slip onto a ship and sneak away forever? It wasn’t like money was a problem, and there were hundreds of people out there who could have given you identity-
-you stopped in your tracks when you saw a strange man exiting the hangar. Every morning, a file was laid out to you with an exact list of people exiting and entering the planet. He wasn’t on it; a tall man in a suit of Beskar armour was surely someone you would have recognised, or at least noted.
You could have called in security, or a bodyguard, but wasn’t that just extra trouble? You hadn’t been secretly paying one of the military leaders to train you for the last five years not to use those skills at some point. The element of surprise was on your side.
Quietly approaching him, you ducked behind a pillar and peeked over, only to find he was gone. Not even a second later, you felt a large hand grab you by the waist - you managed to snatch him by the wrist, tugging him away from you and onto the ground. How the fuck had he snuck up on you? Not that that was your biggest concern right now, because you hadn’t at all considered the weight of his armour in your plan of attack. Actually, now it was a plan of…defend.
The Mandalorian was only on the ground for all of a second before he had you flipped over on your back, pinned beneath his spear.
“That’s not the warm welcome I was expecting.”
You thinned your eyes at him. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the bounty hunter that the queen called for.”
“Oh, right,” you murmured. “You just…you don’t look how I - I mean how the queen told me you would look.”
The bounty hunter stood up, pulling back his weapon and offering you a gloved hand to help you up. He might have been the first person you’d come across in your entire life that didn’t know you were the queen.
“Where can I find her? They made it out like it was an urgent mission-”
“- not that urgent,” you cut him off, holding onto his forearm as he pulled you off your ass. “Just a missing king.”
“That seems urgent,” he replied. “Are you palace security?”
“Of sorts,” you murmured. “I’ll show you the way.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“So…what’s your name?”
Silence.
“Right…well,” you trailed off. “I can tell you’re a Mandalorian so…I’ll just call you that.”
“Okay. What’s yours?”
“Uh…”
“You don’t know your own name?”
“Jane,” you replied. “My name is Jane.”
“That blaster you pulled out…that’s a traditional Tanadoian pistol. I haven’t seen many of those around. Not since the fall of the Empire, at least.”
“Yeah, they’re kind of rare. It’s a family heirloom here. It used to belong to the king.”
The Mandalorian looked at you (or at least his helmet did). “So how did you end up with it?”
“It was a gift from The Queen.”
“Is she nice…this Queen of yours?”
“I suppose,” you shrugged.
“Right,” he nodded. “I’ve heard she can be very difficult. One of my other clients also said she was entitled-”
“- I am not entitled!”
You froze, clamping a hand over your mouth. Having stopped in your tracks, you turned to face the Mandalorian. He seemed unphased…humoured, even. Not that it was easy to tell, but he tilted his helmet slightly, not saying a word as he waited for your next move.
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Assuming that I don’t extensively research all my clients was a weak move on your part.”
“Weak move?” you blinked in surprise. “Coming from the man who saw me, knew who I was and still chose to deck me?”
“I could tell what you were doing,” he shrugged. “I can’t say I was expecting the monarch to sneak up on me.”
“In any other country, that could have gotten you killed.”
“You were going to attack me first.”
“I wasn’t attacking you…I just saw a strange man in my palace and I wanted to defend myself.”
The Mandalorian shook his head. “Right.”
“I like your blaster, though,” you said. “What is that…an Amban phase pulse rifle?”
“It does the job,” he replied. “It’s not as fancy as yours.”
“Mine is all bells and whistles,” you shrugged. “I’ll show you the armoury when I get a chance. You’re gonna need to stock up if you’re going to be following in my husband’s footsteps. The planets he visits are…well, you’ll find out for yourself.”
You’d reached the palace by that point; the guard saluted you as you passed. He seemed slightly phased by The Mandalorian beside you. You tried to refrain a smile at his reaction.
He had an oddly refreshing presence. In fact, he was the first person you’d met in your life that hadn’t suddenly bowed down and began worshipping you. The only person that had ever conversationally - and maybe intellectually - challenged you were was your father. He was long gone now, and it had been a while since someone had bitten back.
“It might be none of my business, your majesty, but you don’t seem eager for me to find him.”
You grimaced. “Honestly? That’s because I’m not.”
“So why are you paying me to do it then?”
“I’m not. My mother is,” you replied. “James and I have an image to keep. One of a true love, a happy marriage…anything to keep the public happy. The longer he’s gone, the more worried they become, and god forbid the palace look bad to our citizens.”
The Mandalorian nodded: he could see more of the monarch in you now, however bored you seemed. The sudden change from how you’d been outside to how you were now didn’t go unnoticed. It was almost concerning, the quick shift from an easy-going, chatty person to someone who was almost afraid of what might happen should she not find her husband.
“I understand,” he nodded.
“That’s why this has to stay a secret,” you said. “If anyone knows that he’s missing, or that we’ve hired a bounty hunter to find him? There’s gonna be a lot of questions, and I have to answer them.”
You wandered further into the palace. The Mandalorian followed, eyes wandering over the high ceilings and expensive furniture. The walls were lined with paintings and restored weapons; portrays of former monarchs, ending towards the throne room with yours. It was intensely detailed - millions of brush strokes that formed a younger, brighter you. You hadn’t aged - not at all, really - but it was clear you more tired now. More weathered.
“You have my word,” The Mandalorian said. He stopped for a moment when you reached the throne room. “I’ll do my best to find him.”
“Right,” you nodded. A second passed and you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to perk up. “C’mon, I’ll show you the armoury.”
As to be expected, the armoury - which was only a short distance from the throne room - was just as impressive as the rest of the palace. The walls were lined with weapons; guns, spears, seismic charges in various sizes and knives of every shape and colour. The Mandalorian had thought that the armoury aboard his ship was impressive.
You were stood behind him, fingers slowly tracing over the walls. It was a surprise to him that you even had this many weapon; Tanadoia, after all, was a seemingly peaceful planet. It wasn’t one known to enter into battle.
“Take what you want,” you said. “It’s not like we use it, right?”
“This an impressive collection.”
You smiled. “Thank you. Getting to order in our weapons is one of the only things I really get to do and…well, I like to be prepared.”
“Do you know how to use all these?” The Mandalorian asked,
“Oh, obviously,” you shot back.
“So why don’t you?”
You faltered for a second. “I never get the chance. Our military has little reason to use them and even if they did, I would never be allowed to join them.”
“In my culture, our leaders fight with us,” he replied,
“Yeah, not so much here I’m afraid,” you sighed. “I’m not even allowed to leave the palace unguarded, let alone the planet.”
The Mandalorian glanced at you. It was clear that you were unhappy: that bright spark in your eyes that you’d had when you first met was completely gone now, replaced with some sort of willowing sadness. His job had meant he was especially good at reading people, and you were no exception to the rule. The version of you that you’d been in the five minutes where you were pretending not to be queen had been boisterous and upbeat; almost infectious in your energy and wit. Now? Now you were just sad. Cracking under the pressure and conformity that the throne put on you. It left him to wonder how many people had actually seen that version of you: the funny, happy one; the one that knew how to fight and apparently knew how to use every single one of these weapons (though he didn’t doubt it).
Maybe it got to him a little, knowing that had you not been a queen, you probably would have been in the same profession. A bounty hunter or a smuggler, at least someone he would have come across in his journeys. Maybe an ally of his.
“I’ll find your husband,” he said. “And this will remain a secret. You have my word.”
#din djarin x reader#din djarin imagine#din djarin imagines#din djarin fluff#din djarin angst#din djarin x you#din djarin x y/n#din djarin fanfic#din djarin reader insert#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian imagine#mandalorian imagines#mandalorian fluff#mandalorian angst#star wars x reader#star wars imagines#star wars#din djarin#the mandalorian#pedro pascal characters
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For several years now I’ve been wanting to buy a knotted dildo (why do they never have smaller ones) but my dad often helps me with finances because I’m really bad at math and I would be super embarrassed if he found out. I doubt he would be mad at finding out I’m a monsterfucker, but it WOULD be super awkward, especially since a lot of knotted ones are labeled “dog” I don’t want my family to have an even worse impression before I can explain! Maybe it would be easier if I could drive and try to find in-person shops and pay in cash, but I have a health problem that makes me driving illegal sometimes, so that’s not a practical option. I know you aren’t supposed to use things that weren’t designed to go inside of your body, but I’ve been using an old detachable razor handle for years because of this. I don’t know what to do! I don’t think my dad pays much attention to what I buy but if something is flagged as unusual by the bank, they will sometimes call him about it. I’m not sure what I should do. I haven’t even bought a regular sex toy because I’m self conscious about this, let alone one like that!
I’m the “my dad helps me balance my checkbook and I’m terrible at math but I want a dildo” anon, and you don’t have to post this part if it’s too uncomfortable. That’s why i didn’t include it in my first ask. But the only time I had a friend offer to help me buy one that friend later died before it could happen so… I don’t really have anyone around to ask for assistance in… this. I know these aren’t your usual confessions, but i don’t really know where else to confess to this. The only other friend I think might possibly have helped me, moved a state away and i don’t want to bother her about it. I joke about being a freak sometimes but I really doubt my older family who might have heard me say that actually expects me to consider “freaky” something beyond oral. I’m not… I’m shy and wasn’t raised by people who were into much extreme stuff (my parents didn’t even swear around us until we were all over 16, and even now they don’t do it much! There are slurs I didn’t even know existed until senior high and my parents never used them! For obvious reasons. Which is good, but gives an idea of what I mean when I say not extreme. Even my grandparents are/were like this) so I’ve been told that it’s surprising when i tell a friend about these things for the first time. Coming out as demisexual wasn’t nearly as stressful to be honest, that might be weird but admitting my (admittedly not super exciting among this community) kinks feels shameful and humiliating for some reason. Telling a close friend is different I guess. My parents aren’t conservative people, not politically or in many other ways, but they definitely don’t know much about kinks. I can say that with confidence, I’ve read the romance novels my mom had lying around and I’ve seen them react genuinely shocked when something a little crazy happens in a show we’re watching. I just think I might have super vanilla family (in the 25 years I lived with them the most spicy things I encountered were those romance novels and what might have been lube) and I’m sure they would react, if not badly, just awkwardly. It would be super uncomfortable. They are the kinds of people to hear about that, look slightly horrified, say “okay” and just avoid talking about it after that, but every time a conversation gets too close to that everyone is awkward and avoids it. It’s like when someone is trying to talk about politics and everyone has to kind of bite their tongue or a shouting match will start while we’re trying to watch the mandalorian, just less aggressive, so not exactly the same, just similarly uncomfortable. This one also got longer than I meant it to. I don’t expect that my parents would disown me or anything, but it would change some things (although because my mom and I accidentally shared a kindle account when I was in highschool I’m pretty sure she knows I’m into monster romance novels) sex isn’t really a taboo topic, but it’s also not a comfortable one
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The Thief x f!reader
New Year's Eve Drabbles
A happy ending.
Warnings: smut. P in V sex. Angst. Mentions of war.
Thief. Magician. Pillager. Conqueror. Destroyer. He had many monikers over the centuries. None compared to the one you gave him.
It had tumbled from your lips as you quivered beneath him the first time he had actually let you lay with him. "Mi Amor."
His heart ached with it, even months after you parted after last New Year's Eve. He had chosen you because he was captivated by you. He'd never seen such beauty. It radiated from your very soul. He knew they would love you. That they would be satisfied and he could feed from their satiated lust. And satisfy you did. The FBI Agent. The Boxer. The Criminal. The Protector. Them and the others. They all found what they were looking for. He'd fed from there satisfaction between your legs.
You were truly special. He didn't account for how special. Along with seeing what you needed to know about the men you were sleeping with, all his clients needed to give their full consent, he may be a monster but he isn't that type of a monster, you managed to turn the power he had given you on him. You would talk to him about his favourite things as he cleaned you with his tongue, drinking down the essence of their lust. He kept you longer than he should have just to hear your thoughts on his favourite things, your favourite things. When he returned you to New Year's Eve with no other memory than kissing him at midnight, you somehow returned to him. With each equinox or thinning of the veil you got close. He ached to touch you. To hold you, like he eventually had. To make love to you just once more. The years he let you stay pulled at him. No, you didn't belong with him. He'd convinced himself of that fact. Until he'd sent you back to your world at the time he had took you.
Somehow you still came back, still sort his deal, asked him to be reunited with a love you couldn't remember, a love you didn't recognise. He agreed to give you a chance, as long as you helped to fed him the quenched desires he needed. He was going to show you, show you you were better off without him.
He chose well from all the worlds in his grasp. The Mandalorian who gathered admiring glances where ever he went, a good heart under his armour. The Prince who was desired far and wide, a lover of skill. The Poet and the Artist, a taste of something sustaining beyond love. The DEA Agent, a man of determination, one that could fight to give you whatever your heart desired. The Superhero, an honest man who lived in the light. The Pilot, a fragile soul that you could grow old with. He tried to tempt you with them. He gave you softness with The Dreamer. A tasted of being provided for by The Businessman. A yearning for family with The Warrior. The Vampire had been an attempt to frighten you away from monsters. The Cowboy and The Killer were an attempt to frighten you away from the darker side of man.
None of it work. Even when they made you scream in ecstasy, you still called to him, still yearned for his touch. You lay together a hundred nights in between. You always returned to him. Maybe it was time he tried your company like they did. To find his truth, his path.
Opening the wine he poured two glasses. You would wake soon. The spell would take affect. You would only see enough of him to make you feel safe, to make your choice of if you desired him. If you wanted to share your bed with him.
Your eyes opened and you smiled at him. "Amando." That's all you saw. The solider that went with his army to do better for his people.
You didn't see how his blind faith in his commanders hurt people. How they destroyed villages in the name of their country and there was very little he could do to stop it. They never died by his sword. Never by his hand but he didn't always stop it either. One time he hesitated too long to save a life. For that he was cursed. Cursed to live off the satisfaction of others, cursed to live in servitude. He had long since made peace with it. Until you arrived.
It was like a dream, how you welcomed him into your arms. Your movements unhurried, you savoured each press of his lips, each swept of his tongue, every touch, every moan. As he joined your bodies over and over he expected the epiphany to strike him. Even after your lust was satiated. No moment of clarity came to him, his thoughts were all filled with you. Just you.
"My love." He sobbed against your cheek. As he let his guard down the walls of his spell came down too. You remembered everything. All your time with him. How you had fallen deeply in love with him. His kind soul, his warm heart, his intelligence, his creativity, the way he made you feel, safe, treasured, loved. You remembered his fear about letting you stay, about cursing you too, your agreement to see what other men could offer you.
"Shhhh. It's okay, Mi Amor."
Wrapped in your arms, letting you fully into his heart with no reservations. He finally felt satisfied himself. The tendrils of magic that gripped him withdrew, he felt it leave him. Felt his heart beat g9w it should once again, right against yours. Once more his spell had helped someone find their path. His was with you, free of his curse.
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I was listening to Thumbs by Lucy Dacus and I realized it really could be. the "Din's POV about Luke and Anakin" song. it even kind of expresses the Mandalorian sentiment of "No one cares who your father is, only the father you will be" at the end, you know?
abso FUCKING LUTELYYYYY anon I agree 10000%. lucy dacus lyrics and dinluke are my LIFEBLOOD!!! I feel that din’s thoughts on anakin would be very complicated. because he knows that luke had it in his heart to forgive him, that he loves him and considers him his father, and din respects that, but he cannot fathom it all all. in din’s mind anakin is the worst kind of person to be. not just darth vader but someone that would hurt their own children over and over again. din is vengeful, he respects lukes love for anakin but he’ll never get it or hold that same respect for anakin, even without taking into account din’s anger in how the empire stole beskar and tore his wounded culture to shreds
and maybe luke knows this….and though he feels ashamed for it, will even go as far as to defend anakin from din’s fury, but a part of luke likes it, having din advocate for the pain that luke has healed from. he cannot and will not ALLOW what vader did to him affect him anymore, but din’s hatred for vader makes him feel like someone is on his side. yes, leia is on his side and gets it more than din ever will, but it’s different because of how safe luke feels with din in the first place. he feels protected and advocated for
the mandalorian sentiment is sooo special to me.. because that quote would reassure luke more than anything else. din doesn’t see him as the big bad offspring as darth vader that luke is afraid of being, din sees him as something good!! not an extension of vaders evil!!!
“I love your eyes
And he has them
But you have his
'Cause he was first
I imagine my thumbs on the irises
Pressing in until they burst”
“I wanna take your face between my hands and say
"You two are connected by a pure coincidence
Bound to him by blood, but baby, it's all relative
You've been in his fist ever since you were a kid
But you don't owe him shit even if he said you did
You don't owe him shit even if he said you did"
Like wow …. sorry for rambling so bad op i just feel strongly about them or whatever
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The Razor Crest, pursued by New Republic X-wings on Maldo Kreis. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 2, The Passenger. Calendar by DataWorks.
Grogu loved the Razor Crest. It had been a great ship. It had taken them on a lot of adventures and somehow managed to fly again by the time they needed to get the heck away. Like the time the Mandalorian tried to avoid, evade the pilots from the New Republic and they had a particularly hard landing on that ice ball planet, Maldo Kreis.
The poor Razor Crest. Almost every bit of her was damaged during that “landing”. Her passengers were fine, which had been the one good thing that came out of that whole fiasco.
Grogu wondered not for the first or the last time, why the Mandalorian was so happy to bring bad people in under a bounty puck, but really, really, seemed to have a deep and profound distrust of authority? Did he think they were all corrupt? Did he think that they were all impatient? Or did he just think that whatever he was actually up to at the time was too complicated to explain to anyone else?
Of course, Grogu knew that the Mandalorian seemed to have a habit of making friends with shady people. Not necessarily evil people, but people who really didn’t seem all that keen on rules and regulations and following them the way other folks were expected to follow them.
Grogu found that down right hilarious. This Mandalorian, who voluntarily followed a Creed that didn’t let him take his helmet off in front of other people, was a bit of a scoff law. Grogu hadn’t expected that. He expected his tall friend to follow all the laws just like he followed the Creed. If he couldn’t do that, what was the point?
Sure, Grogu knows what you’re going to say. There are bad laws out there. Laws that make no sense. Laws that cause more harm than good. Laws that disadvantage one group over another. Grogu understood that. He had been trained by the Jedi after all. Then you change the laws. That of course takes time and the Mandalorian clearly didn’t want to spend his time gathering signatures on petitions. And he definitely wasn’t going to be speaking at zoning meetings to ensure that the slaughter house wasn’t built right next to the school. After all, Grogu really wasn’t school aged, so those other kids could fend for themselves or find their own Mandalorian guardians.
Grogu had to wonder what it had been like for Din Djarin growing up on Concordia. The only rules he followed were likely the ones set by the Mandalorians who lead the Children of the Watch. Whoever they were. The Mandalorian had never mentioned them by name.
Now, whoever they were, the Armorer must have trusted them enough to accept Din Djarin into the Tribe. He could have been like Bo-Katan. But whatever test she had put his guardian to, Din Djarin had passed with flying colors. The Armorer hadn’t cared that the bounty hunter wasn’t born on Mandalore, for instance. He must have told her enough about himself to make her happy that he was an old-school Mandalorian.
So why tell her all that stuff and not just answer the simple questions that the New Republic rangers, or whoever they were, had about where the Razor Crest had last been? Why bother running away? Why not just answer the question? What did he really have to hide? It wasn’t like anyone had seen his face. There weren’t virtual wanted posters plastered all over the galaxy with the caption “Have you seen this man?” No one had a bounty fob with Din Djarin’s vid attached to it.
But he sure acted like that was what was going on. Until something else happened that caused the Mandalorian to break all the rules he held dear. Now, that something else wasn’t minor or trivial or a mere inconvenience. Moff Gideon had sent super nasty battle droids to the surface of Tython and kidnapped Grogu. That was a shockingly bad thing to have happen. Especially if you were still being held accountable by the Armorer for the work she had assigned you. Uff. No way would Grogu want to disappoint her.
Because, even though the Razor Crest had been destroyed by Moff Gideon and even though Din Djarin had to pull in every favor he’d ever done for anyone else, and use every bounty hunting trick he’d ever learned to get Grogu back, the Armorer was still not happy that Grogu had seen the Mandalorian’s face. Loving rules that much seemed counter productive at the very least, which doesn’t really seem like the Way.
Was that why Din Djarin didn’t answer Captain Teva’s questions? Because the Creed made impossible? Whatever the reason, the Razor Crest had paid a steep price for it. Grogu just hoped it was worth it. He still missed that ship.
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Will of Fate
Chapter Seven
Fandom: Star Wars: The Mandalorian
Story Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Mature
Characters: Din Djarin x Original Female Character
Summary: There hasn’t been an unidentified spacecraft in the stratosphere of Arkadia in over two decades, let alone three in one day. Those skilled or mad enough to venture into the Chaos unguided were few and far between. That means no one has ever made it to Arkadia who wasn’t intending to be here.
Until today.
or
Din Djarin finds an unmapped planet filled with beings who have the same powers as the Child, but know nothing of the force or the Jedi.
Chapter Summary: An evening with the King of Arkadia reveals some truths.
Word Count - 4,288
Chapter Warnings: None
Will of Fate Masterlist
Read on Ao3
A/N: I am sad I missed releasing this on Star Wars day, but alas. The next update will probably take longer to post because we have family coming in from our home country for the next few weeks and I won’t have time to reread and edit the upcoming chapter.
Feedback and critique is welcome, I am trying to get better. Remember that this is unbeta-ed, so please let me know of any grammatical or continuity mistakes.. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter seven
Amarian took into account Eziriel’s warnings of the Mandalorian’s more orthodox lifestyle and did not set him a place setting. Amarian was making an effort to make him feel inclusive but not pressuring him to break any traditions the Mandalorian might follow. It’s so very diplomatic.
Most of the meal is spent with Amarian asking similar questions Eziriel had when they first met. The Mandalorian answers all the questions honestly, all the while trying to contain the mess the child was making from eating. Amarian listens intently, wanting to hear firsthand how the Mandalorian got here, never once pressuring him to reveal why the Empire was after them. The Empire was always after anyone who committed the most minor infractions so it is unsurprising that they would give chase to someone. When the story concludes Amarian looks at her with a questioning brow and an image of beacon stations and The Cloak of Arkadia enters her head from him and she sighs.
“I found a device that was causing some sort of interference. I just hooked it up and I’m having CHI pull the code off of it. However,” she sighs the word out before rubbing her eyes and sending a wave of worry out to her brother. “The device was created in my lab and has my approval seal on it.”
Amarian leans forward and asks, “And you are certain you did not approve of this device?”
“I absolutely did not,” she scoffs. “Firstly, the soldering was shoddy as hell, there is no way I’d approve that. Secondly, nothing leaves my department without me testing it and this never came across my desk.” She taps her index finger against the table.
“But your seal was stamped into it,” Amarian clarifies.
“Yes.”
“This is troublesome,” he states, leaning back into his chair.
“No shit, Amar,” Eziriel says with a pitchy voice and Amarian gives her a look. “I’m sorry, it’s just looking like I’m being framed for something and it’s scary.” Growing up in the Kaita political family always presented some sort of risk, but Eziriel had never been personally targeted like this before. She’s only ever had to deal with her own mistakes being amplified in the public news cycles as a way to undermine her whole family. This was something nefarious.
“It’s probably a bad time to mention that the squad we sent to that TIE fighter wreck did not find any bodies,” Amarian says with a sip of his wine.
“What?!” Eziriel exclaims feeling her stomach drop in a jolt of terror as she catches Mando whip his head at her brother.
“The storm washed away any potential tracks. We sent out more Enforcers to search the area, but there have been few leads,” he says with a serious tone. “Why was the Empire anywhere near us when this device was causing The Cloak to fail? This is very suspicious and you could have been blamed for it completely if you werent the one who found the device.”
It was very suspicious. Elections were to be held next year and politicians played dirty. To consider that someone would endanger an entire planet just to sully the Kaita name feels like overkill, but the oddities seem too timely to ignore completely. Eziriel hates politics and barely stands her obligated position on the Technology Council, but Amarian was such a good leader that she would play the well-behaved sister to make sure he remains in power for however long he could stand it.
“I’ll have more info when I can scan the code. I’ll send you a rundown,” Eziriel says, picking at her dessert.
“And I will get an Infiltrator to begin investigations,” Amarian says with a nod and brings his attention to the child who is using his Will to slide a second dessert from the center of the table to himself. “Your son’s Will is very strong, especially for someone from offworld. Most offworlders have no Will at all and struggle to connect with it in adulthood.”
“Someone taught him that before I found him. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” the Mandalorian says, wiping the bits of fruit tart that drip off the child’s traveling treat.
Amarian meets the kids eyes and gives him a smile. “I’ve not seen one of your kind in a long time, little man.”
“Where?” Mando asks desperately.
“When?” Eziriel snarks at the same time in a disbelieving tone reserved only for siblings and Amarian chuckles at her.
“It was around thirty years ago. I went with Papa to Sanctuary to shadow a discussion about possibly making contact with the Republic. I don’t know how an offworlder with no connections to Arkadia discovered us, but he reached out through the proper channels to open negotiations.
“I was barely an adolescent so I don’t remember anything about the discussion, but I do remember he was about the size of a child and had a unique way of speaking,” Amarian explains with a far off look, trying to bring up lost memories.
“The space station Sanctuary?” Mando clarifies.
“Yes, but I highly doubt he’s still there. He came from Coruscant, I remember that because he gave me some memorable sweets from there.”
The Mandalorian turns his head to Eziriel, “Are you clever enough to get the coordinates to Sanctuary?”
She smirks at him. “Be prepared to swoon from my slicing skills, Lori.”
“There won’t be any need for any swooning, Arkadia owns Sanctuary we will get you a fob. Don’t let Ziri fool you Mandalorian,” Amarian says smirking at the pout Eziriel shoots at him for ruining her fun.
The space station is meant to be an extension of Arkadia itself. A place where traders could safely sell their wares without jeopardizing Arkadia’s secrecy. Sanctuary has a ban on any violence onboard and often completely disallowing certain groups from boarding. If anyone not authorized tries to breach it, the failsafe on the space station sets off a chain reaction where the station breaks apart and jumps to randomly set coordinates to reconnect with itself. So the station was never in the same place very often and it was hard to get one of the encrypted fobs that gave you the current coordinates if you didn’t have connections.
“Thank you Amarian, for the help and the advice,” Mando says cordially and gives Eziriel a certain head tilt that she is beginning to recognize as an annoyed look.
“So why are you staying here?” Amarian directs the question to Eziriel. “You hate sleeping in The Pinnacle when you don’t have to.”
“I don’t hate it. I just prefer the estate,” Eziriel shrugs looking at her plate.
“Answer the question, Ziri.”
I—uhh,” she stutters, clears her throat and braces herself. “I bound my Will to their safety.”
Amarian’s hand falls to the table with a thunk. “You what? You bound yourself to someone you don’t even—“
“He’s Mandalorian! They are—“
“—know? I don’t give a kriff—“
“—honorable people! You know—“
“—what he is, this is beyond—“
“—they are! Rezzik raised—“
“—Dangerous and irresponsible!”
“—us with the stories. Cut the bantha shit, Amar!”
Their overlapping argument ends with them glaring at each other, daring the other to blink. The Mandalorian sits stiffly in his seat in obvious discomfort. She knows he doesn’t really know what it means to bind oneself to another but she knows he is smart enough to deduce its importance based solely on this argument.
She finally looks away from Amarian and says, “I’ll take care of it. They are my responsibility and I trust his honesty.” Her eyes flicker up to the Mandalorian’s visor to see it already set upon her face. He gives her a nod and she can feel the thankfulness coming off him.
“Do not let it end up another Kolvee situation,” Amarian says with a sigh.
“It won’t,” she says with an eye roll masquerading the hurt that comment caused. “I’ll get their sponsorship process started tomorrow and stop by Torbin’s to discuss having his ship towed and repaired. I have a plan, Amar.”
“I never doubt that you have a plan,” he says with a smile.
“Is there anything I can do to make our stay less inconvenient? I don’t want us to be a hindrance,” Mando says politely.
“It’s best to remain as open and honest with why you're here. Any deceit or ill will can delay your passage allowance visa,” Amarian explains and the Mandalorian nods in acceptance. “But you are in very good hands with Ziri. She might be impulsive and obnoxious but she is intelligent and if you gain her trust she is faithful to a fault.”
“I feel like obnoxiousness is subjective,” Eziriel says.
“No, from the time I’ve spent with you that is an objective fact,” the Mandalorian replies with that dry wit that Eziriel likes. Amarian gives a throaty chuckle and gives the rest of his dessert to the green toddler with a wave of his hand. The child gives him a messy grin before digging into the offered gift.
The rest of the dessert is spent with idle chat about Arkadia. Amarian was able to answer the Mandalorian’s history questions better than Eziriel could. She understands why offworlders would be interested in the history of the closed planetary borders and how the economy did not crumble under the restriction put into place, but it was completely dull to Eziriel. She did join the conversation to talk about the tech advancements they made over the years with the natural resources that Arkadia was able to protect from the planetary lockdown, but ultimately let Amarian lead the conversation for the rest of the night,
“My wife, Nora, should be home with the kids tomorrow afternoon from visiting her family if you want to set up a playdate,” Amarian says to Mando as he walks the three of them to the turbolift giving Rajesh a clap on the shoulder.
“I’m sure he would like that,” the Mandalorian replies graciously.
“Wonderful! Just tell CHI if you have time when you're back from Torbin’s. Ziri, good luck battling the prefecture tomorrow,” he says ruffling Eziriel’s hair as she lets out a groan at the thought.
They ride the turbolift down in silence as Eziriel starts making the mental checklist she needs to complete. As much as she wants to help him get his ship flyable as soon as possible, the sponsorship needs to take priority. If any of the officials see that they stalled in getting him registered then that would make it that much harder for him to get passage approval.
Eziriel kicks off her shoes when they walk into her living room and Wills them into her room before announcing she is making tea. She pulls her visor up and starts having CHI make to-do lists as she makes her tea. The Mandalorian leaves to his room and she thinks that is the last she will see of him tonight, but he comes back without the toddler and joins her at the kitchen island.
“Are you in trouble?” He asks propping his arm on the counter to turn towards her. She raises an eyebrow at him and he continues, “With your brother, for that oath you swore to me on my ship.”
“Ahh,” she says, tucking a foot beneath the other knee before turning to face him as well. “He is just worried that I’ll be taken advantage of again.”
He leans his frame into her space slightly placing his weight on his propped arm and tilts his head, a silent demand for an explanation. She looks up at him and smirks at his unconscious intimidating interrogation behavior before feeling her face fall into a more serious expression while she gathers her thoughts to give more explanation.
“Will Binding Oaths are a sacred thing, usually meant for relationship vows or political allegiances,” she says while trying to make eye contact through his visor. “We aren’t technically forced to follow the oaths we make, but Fate’s Will punishes those who don’t.”
“Punishes?” He asks while she takes a moment to sip her tea.
“Some people get bad luck, like fate itself is against them, others have trouble controlling their Will. Whether it is subconscious or the Will of Fate, when you put a binding promise into the universe you are honor bound to carry it out, and it cannot be completed until both parties agree the oath has been fulfilled.
“For example: I am bound to your safety through Fate’s Will. I must perform that duty with all that I have. Which includes feeding you, making sure your needs are met, and taking you to where I have the most resources in security,” she says with a gesture of her hand indicating The Pinnacle itself. “Until we both agree that you are safe I remain at your service.”
“I thought the promise was to get us out of the ship and onto solid land. I consider your oath of safety fulfilled,” he says with a gentle voice full of finality. She gives him a soft look with a hint of a smile. She was grateful that the gamble to trust a Mandalorian to not use the binding oath against her is seemingly correct.
“Well, I disagree. I won’t consider it fulfilled until you have safe passage with your ship fully repaired and stocked up,” she says with a shrug and he heaves a sigh.
“So you can just bend the parameters of your oath to fit whatever you want?” He asks with a hint of exasperation and she taps her nose playfully indicating his accuracy.
“See where it could cause a problem? Manipulation after the fact is not uncommon, sadly,” Eziriel says, slowly spins her mug in her hands.
“Then why did you swear a sacred oath to a stranger? Why hold onto it when I consider it completed?” He asks, leaning forward into her space once more. He seems to subconsciously try and use his body to intimidate her into answering questions even though she has never shied away from answering any questions he’s had. She looks up into his visor, once more hoping she is catching his eye and when she feels his emotions startle she knew she did.
“You were injured and scared”—he scoffs—“and I didn’t know how else to soothe your fears.” She places her hand on his gloved one laying on the counter and gives it a squeeze. “I just hoped that as a Mandalorian you would recognize the honor I held in giving an oath.
“I also keep it because it will gain you favor from officials when they hear you are trusted enough that I bound my Will to you,” she explains, bringing her hand back to help with another sip of tea. He lets silence fill the space and he leans back into his chair, kicking a leg up onto her chair’s unused crossbar. It’s as relaxed as she’s ever seen him.
“So being oathbound to a princess plays in my favor?” His dry teasing makes her stomach spike with affection, but the moniker makes her nose wrinkle with disdain.
“Eww, no, don’t,” she shakes her head at him with a snarl of disgust. “That title is only used to leverage traditionalists, it really means nothing.”
“I don’t know, princess, seems to me you’re a pretty big deal,” he deadpans as he crosses his arms and tilts his head at her.
“Blugh!” She exclaims. “C’mon, I thought we were becoming friends, now you gotta go and ruin it.” She kicks her foot at his leg playfully and he lets out a breath of amusement at her attack.
The air around them falls into a relaxed state of casual conversation nestled in between comfortable silences. They discuss what is expected at the prefecture tomorrow, she has to convince him that handprints and vocal recognition are the only options if he doesn’t wish to show his face or give his name and he begrudgingly agrees to it. She tells him the kid should be fine since he is underage but will probably need some sort of nickname for the paperwork. He suggests “Adiik” and once Eziriel remembers what it means she dramatically rolls her eyes at his lack of creativity but ultimately concedes.
It was an unusually domestic evening for the two of them, neither one willing to admit to themselves how much they enjoyed it.
She could sense the Mandalorian and toddler were up by the time she made her way to the kitchen the following morning. It was much too early for her liking and Malka had sent down fresh baked goods and fruits to ease her upcoming day.
She lays out the food with plates and starts the caf machine before making way towards her workshop to grab a spare datapad for the Mandalorian. Once in the warm light and organized chaos of the shop she notices that CHI’s progress with pulling the code off of the mystery device was successful, and she quickly stops her trajectory and focuses on the information.
“CHI-CHI, can you tell me what the code is meant to do?” She asks stopping in front of her Holotable and watches while CHI brings up the device blueprint and the code.
“It seems the device was supposed to be a remote deactivation. It was waiting for a series of command codes from an unknown source in order to deactivate part of The Cloak of Arkadia. However, it seems there was a bug in the code that conflicted with your source code of the terra holo projection. It didn’t deactivate part of The Cloak when commanded, rather it created an unstable glitch that had the projection drop in unpredictable intervals,” CHI’s lack of sarcasm let's Eziriel know how serious this is. They highlight the section of code that causes the conflict and she studies it in hopes that the mistake is something she recognizes.
“And that created the opportunity for offworlders to come in,” Eziriel clarifies while concluding that the problem is a simple syntax error.
“Precisely, but there was no discernible pattern to the glitch, the offworlder would have to be waiting at the right spot and the right time to take advantage of it,” CHI says. “Not only that but the glitch had been the reason for the odd signals you were getting the weeks prior.”
They bring up a diagram of The Cloak of Arkadia with a timeline progressing to show the sections of where it went down over the last few weeks. There was no discernible pattern at all, but it did only localize in the southeastern quadrant.
“So someone tried to do a controlled deactivation of The Cloak weeks ago by sending the command code, but accidentally caused an uncontrollable deactivation ‘cause they didn’t do a code review.”
“Seems that way.”
“Kriffing hell, thanks CHI,” Eziriel says, rubbing her face and grabbing the datapad she originally came in here for.
So the intent of the device was devious, but the outcome of the offworlders could still just be random. Who would want to drop the planetary shielding without authorities knowing? Why would they want to have the blame land back at her? Why were the Empire near here at the time?
Her HolOmni chirps with a notification, breaking her spiraling thoughts. CHI uploaded all her information to it and she thanks them. She activates her HolOmni and starts the transfer of the prefecture files that she preemptively filled out the night before onto the datapad. She grabs a spare handheld comm device and makes her way back into the living space.
Once she enters the space a shriek and a spike of joy comes from the toddler before he runs up to her from the scattered mess of the game they were playing yesterday. Eziriel’s heart fills with affection as she picks him up and sends him a wave of happiness back to him. He smiles and points to colorful cylinders that lay scattered and she Wills them into the stack he is asking for before setting him down. He scurries off to find the ball as she makes her way to the kitchen.
“I don’t stack them quick enough, apparently,” the Mandalorian says from his position leaning against the counter with a half-full mug of caf in his hand.
She chuckles at his grumpy voice before making her own cup. She notices two plates have already been used, washed and laid in the drying rack. She smiles at the picture of a fully armored Mandalorian washing dishes as she grabs the last plate for herself.
“It’s okay to be second best sometimes, my lovely Lori. Keeps the ego in check,” she says sweetly and with a smirk she hands him the datapad before he could retort. “Fill this out. I put in all the info as best as I could, but feel free to adjust accordingly.”
She digs into her sweetbread and fruit while periodically Willing the cylinders back into the pyramid each time the child asks. She hears the Mandaloiran sigh and feels the frustration radiate off him as he fills out the meticulous forms. She empathizes with him, while their planet is generous and prosperous, the bureaucracy it takes for it to stay that way is exhausting.
“This is ridiculous, why are there so many pages and why are they just rewording the same question multiple times?” The Mandalorian grouses and Eziriel smirks.
“You’re welcome that I filled out, like, half of those answers. Also you’ll notice at the end are the answers you gave me to some of the questions I've asked that they will be curious about,” she says and she taps his boot with her bare foot until he looks up from the datapad to her and she gives him a serious look. “Make sure you see what I did and did not include in the official document, there are things you’ve told me that the government has no business knowing. Amar also co-signed it with me so that will help your case immensely.” Amarian was always able to read people far better than Eziriel and the dinner last night helped verify the truth to the answers she originally got from the Mandalorian.
He skips to the end to see what she means and she gives him a few minutes to peruse. She made sure not to mention the personal quest he was on for his child or his avoidance of the question when she asked if they were of special interest to the Empire. She knows his mysterious ties to the Empire would raise giant red flags that could get them detained, but just stating that he crossed paths with the TIE fighter patrol unit and didn’t heed their demands was enough truth to acknowledge the danger.
“Why hold anything back?” He eventually asks.
“I don’t know,” she says sincerely. “I just have this… overwhelming bone-shaking feeling that you two are meant to be here right now, regardless of the sketchy circumstance. I don’t know if it’s the Will of Fate or if it’s my compulsion to help those I find endearing, but all I know is that you both need to be kept safe and the safest place in all the galaxy is here.”
Eziriel hides her face in her mug of caf by the end of her confession feeling very exposed by her inability to fully explain why she has such protective instincts in regards to the Mandalorian and his green son. She’s not one to hide about how she feels or her motives. Sure, she often wields bluster and charm to cushion the full scale of her true emotions, but the feeling to defend the pair has been particularly hard to find the source of and even harder to put it into words for the offworlder to understand.
The silence is measured by the two times Eziriel Wills the fallen cylinders back into formation before the Mandalorian finally breaks it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been described as ’endearing’ before,” he says with his raspy dry tone while hooking his free hand’s thumb into his belt and cocking his head at her, exuding a casual demeanor injected with a hint of arrogance and Eziriel feels her neck warm at the image.
“With your charismatic charm? I can’t imagine,” she responds with a shield of sarcastic levity to cover her momentary blush. The box in her mind that she shoved her attraction of the Mandalorian into in favor of focusing on his sponsorship and planetwide sabotage rattles.
After some time he hands her the datapad and she scrolls through it to make sure everything is filled out correctly.
“You just put fifty for ‘Adiik’s’ age,” she says his chosen name of the kid with as much of a verbal eye roll she can muster. “Is that in standard weeks or months?”
“Standard years,” he says with a shrug and she chokes on her final sip of caf.
“That little hobgoblin is fifty years old?!” She asks and Mando breathes out a throaty chuckle at her dramatically shocked expression.
Hearing his guardian chuckle, the kid runs over and makes the universal grabby-hands sign of wanting to be picked up and the Mandalorian obeys without hesitation. The child pats on the face of Mando’s helmet and smiles widely at him. He spends a few moments enjoying the kid’s attention while Eziriel cleans up breakfast and sputters about the fascination of aging among different species. When the sun’s golden rays finally peak over the mountain piercing through the blushing dawn they make their way down to the face off against a true enemy: bureaucracy.
Translations:
Adiik = child
<< Chapter Six
Chapter Eight >>
#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars au#fanfiction#fanfic#din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin x ofc#Din Djarin x Original Female Character#din djarin x original character#Mandalorian#the mandolarian#mandalorian fanfiction#mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian x reader#third person perspective#third person POV
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Man, I think fandoms are fucking great.
Because like, back in 2020, during the pandemic, I had to go back to my parent's home and this was one of the most depressing events that ever happened to me thus far, I was beaten down and all that. The situation was bad *bad*, on top of that, I didn't know who I was, or what I was anymore. Then I blinked and I found myself stumbling back into the Les Mis fandom, then a little bit deeper this time, because way back in 2012 I was still fairly a kid, right. So I got back to the Les Mis fandom, get myself a discord account and determined to learn how to use it this time, then joined a server.
It was wonderful, because honestly, at that point I identified myself as bisexual and genderfluid, despite that I was way more comfortable whenever someone addressed me as a dude, because you know, innerlised transphobia - and let me tell you, I've never interacted with so many queer people who are so proud of being themselves: trans people, genderfluid people, non-binary people, you name it. Which got me started questioning myself, y'know, as one would.
And then Elliot Page came out. I love T.U.A and Vanya at the moment was one of the characters I enjoyed dearly, and I adore Elliot Page, so when he came out, something in me cracked along with it the moment I saw him on Oprah and was beaming with genuine happiness and relief. That's when I know, so not long afterwards, I came out.
After that, I rejoined the Star Wars fandom. Well, I write, but at the time, I've basically swore off writing, because I found discontentment everytime words hit the paper. I couldn't write long because I couldn't stay focus, and I was too busy wallowing myself in what would people perceive of my writings, and whether the thing that I wrote entertain others or not; that I was in constant jealousy of friends who also write and have better view counts. So I decided to stop. Then I found love in Star Wars again with The Mandalorian and the odd pair of DinLuke, which was why I joined the big DL server back then.
This time I was greeted with a space full of - let's say - people who are ahead in life, people who are way older than me, basically internet grandparents etc. - and they're still here kicking in fandom space and write stories about characters they love. I looked at them and I thought, wow, I want to be like them when I grow up. I want to stop feeling miserable all the time and make it that far in life still being able to do what I love and enjoy like they do. So I started working on myself. I got myself to seek professional help. My therapist, though I was only able to did few sections with her, was extremely helpful. I started nudging myself towards the light, then I started writing again.
People in the server were so helpful. They gave me advices and tips, encouraged me endlessly, until finally, after years, I was able to write something that I found myself truthfully enjoy, not for the sake of anyone else.
Which then later lead me to the Top Gun fandom, which I was never able to imagine myself being interested, yet here we are. This fandom really is something, a celebration of creation if I may say so - I've lost count of the events currently hosted within the fandom space, but it's a joy knowing you can always jump into one anytime of the month - and once again I found myself surrounded by writers, who are cheerful and encouraging, which lead to me finally joining NaNoWriMo officially without bailing out for the first time ever. The joy of November, waking up to work then whenever I got to rest, I could always find people scattered from all over the globe to write with me, cheering each other. I was able to write 30k!!! Can you believe it! And now I can't wait for this year's NaNo, because this gave me the boost I need to start working on my original fiction idea.
So yeah. Fandoms are fucking great, and I love my amazing fandom friends that I've made along the way.
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dev writes {{masterlist}}
hello hello! this is all still so new to me, to be positng fic on tumblr. i’ve had an ao3 account for years so i figured why not migrate things over here as well! share it with more people c: these are the pieces i’ve been working on the last few months, i’m really excited to share them with y’all
they are self indulfgent to an extent, but that’s a part of life, no? i hope they bring something to you if you decide to check them out!
any and all likes, reblogs, comments, asks, shoutouts are so so greatly appreciated ♡ please feel free to reach out if you feel so inclined ♡ i’d be happy to chat with y’all
The Last of US (TLOU) - Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: You may have been young when the world fell, but you adapted with all the challenges that come with trying to survive. You spent your time doing runs out in the badlands beyond the QZ walls to ensure people had little pleasures to keep them going. You were dropping off some medical supplies that FEDRA was willing to pay big for when you got tangled up in a mission that involves a teenager with a mouth almost as smart as yours and gruff older man whose graying curls were his only redeeming quality. But the longer you traveled with them and the more that happened out in the open land of what once was, the more you find yourself connecting with them and wanting to protect them both at any cost.
ao3 link || masterlist
Summary: The longer, more dangerous patrol routes around Jackson are designated to you and one Joel Miller. You both have an understanding with each other, talking wasn’t the biggest concern for either of you, but being confident in each other was. He wasn’t a bad friend in your scavenged life, but then again you were beginning to think you didn’t want to be just his friend…and that’s got you more than a little sexually frustrated.
ao3 link || direct link
Summary: You were the supervising bartender that happened to be the only person brave enough to offer help in the kitchen when they find themselves short staffed with some no call, no shows. But Joel Miller doesn’t want some floozy who doesn’t know the first thing about food in his kitchen. He makes it clear, but the tension between you two only heightens when you show him up and he realized that you do know what you’re doing. It’s driving him up the wall to see you in his kitchen, in his space day in and day out. But he needs the help and you’re so willing to give it to him.
sneakie peek || sneakie peek 2
Triple Frontier - Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! reader)
Summary: Running from the past to a new city gave you the perfect opportunity to open your own bakery. You're a regular at Brass Knuckles, and the owner is the right type of friendly you need in your life. Along with him, comes his group of friends, one Frankie Morales. You develop a crush on him nearly instantly. Can you manage to get your head above water long enough to tell him he's the most gorgeous man you've ever met?
ao3 link || masterlist
The Mandalorian - Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader
Summary: You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated?
ao3 link || masterlist
rough summary || sneakie peek || sneakie peek no. 2 || sneakie peek no. 3
Narcos - Javier Peña x DEA Agent! Reader
summary: You’ve been in Columbia for a few years, having family ties that allowed for the trasnfer from CA to be easier to leave your old life behind. You’ve kept your head down and your plate full until you get paired with Steve and his partner to help tag an elusive informant. That’s when things get complicated both at work and in your personal life. But you’ll be the first to admit that the notorious pair don’t have any power over you, until you’re actually faced with seeing them day to day.
sneakie peek
#dev writes#dev writes smut#dev writes masterlist#tlou fic#tlou fanfic#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfic#pedro pascal movie#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#triple frontier#frankie morales#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#javier pena x you#javier pena x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader
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Moonrise Legacy on twitter/socmed
oh god what have I done
Imperial side first!
Elennye Trizz: Social media ghost. She doesn't have any social media that anyone knows about and people are always wondering how the hell she understands any internet memes. (little do they know she makes all the internet memes. she is the origin point. she has 800 gimmick blogs all spouting vaguely republic-critical noise and cat pics. she's a psyop and a half)
Astayr Caleo: surprisingly domestic. Xey have a cooking space-instagram where xey document hir disasters in the kitchen trying to replicate Mandalorian dishes. Torian and Mako feature in some of them as damage control or taste testers. people love how ridiculous it is and cheer when xey manage to make something yummy. Xey never post anything work related and actively block people that try to ask about it.
Sekulyn'torr: before her rise to the Dark Council she mostly just used her social media to troll and annoy other Sith - she's proud to admit she's been suspended from all social media platforms at least three times for threats of violence that offended even the Hutts. (Especially aimed at Thanaton) After their rise to the Dark Council however, they use social media mostly for policy updates and to bait their political opponents into saying some Dumb Shit that they can then use to attack or arrest them. They also occasionally get into twitter-fights with certain ex-Jedi Alliance Commanders.
Republic-side now!
Deitente Verrni: the only completely normal one of the bunch. She uses socmed for life updates and posting cute pictures of her and Aric when they're on dates off duty. She also runs a memorial page for SpecOps soldiers who fell in battle and posts obituaries upon family request.
Kessin Meyka: incendiary radical but also memer. Kessin is *always* in politicians' comment sections aggressively pointing out hypocrisy and claiming wild shit like "uh huh remember the time you tried to pay me to smuggle spice? bitch" which is usually actually true and people hate them for that. They have a library of political memes to put the Jedi archives to shame and always have at least two snappy comebacks ready on demand. their fatal flaw is that they're always commenting on random people's posts like "oh you're cute :) hmu if you need anything...discreet" and it's simultaneously a hilarious business strategy and also really cringe.
Kalvonut: Basically just one of those Inspirational Christian Instagrams, but the Jedi version. it's lowkey tacky but he thinks it's funny and nobody on the council wants to burst his bubble so they just smile and nod. he also gives out pretty decent life advice too though, so while his socmed is THAT his DMs and askboxes and comments are always filled with really sincere advice and well wishes. he's wholesome cringe, basically.
and Zakuulan SocMed (aka Greine family)
Corrain Gealai: While he was a Padawan and Jedi Knight prior to his capture, his social media presence mostly consisted of retweeting/reblogging cool art and occasionally yelling at nuclear-waste-bad takes from some Republic senators - nothing too odd. But after his stint as Lord Lune under Vitiate's control, he doesn't return to social media...until he's unfrozen from carbonite during KOTXX. He immediately starts using his old accounts to post stuff promoting galactic unity against Zakuul. He also does 'blooper reels' where silly Alliance moments that Lana and Theron declassify can be posted - mostly featuring Imperial and Republic troops coexisting or getting into stupid mischief (ex: a video of a food fight where some uppity Sith lord threw applesauce and before long there were nineteen Sith and Jedi just. dripping gravy and being lectured by Sana-rae and Bey'wan while Corrain's in the corner laughing his ass off). His socmed presence is essentially a combination political and PR account that communicates in memes and sass. After he takes Zakuul's throne however, Indo Zal jumps in to manage his public persona. This mostly consists of "please stop telling Saresh's allies and Malgus to go 'karking jump in the interstellar void,' it's bad form" so there's a notable drop in fiery internet debates after this point.
Eiri Greine: pre-KOTXX he has Generic Badguy SocMed just to keep up appearances and occasionally bitch about other Sith Lords. he rarely uses them. Post-KOTXX and his return to Zakuul he deletes everything and starts running a "shit my nephew says" account where he details all of Corrain's shenanigans and other random Eternal Family buffoonery. Iomlan features a lot just with her head in her hands. it's got several billion followers and Corrain is constantly trying to get Eiri to delete that one post about the lightsaber cheese baking incident. Eiri posts updates about Corrain's saga to delete that post. This is a Viral Meme and Eiri is constantly tagging verified accounts in the dumbest shit just to fuck with them.
Iomlan Greine: She doesn't use socmed at all until Corrain's coronation, at which point she develops a very mild case of Cat/Nexu Pic Addiction. Her socmed accounts are all just cute pictures of animals and publicly scolding her son for being an ass, or on occasion tag-teaming with Lana and Theron to publicly shame Corrain into self-care. It works pretty well, and she's confused by the number of people who follow her for cute animal pictures, but she's having fun with it.
#swtor#swtor ocs#swtor oc#swtor headcanons#moonrise legacy#corrain gealai#elennye trizz#eiri greine#kalvonut#sekulyn'torr#deitente verrni#kessin meyka#astayr caleo#corrain#eiri#elennye#deitente#astayr#sekulyn#kessin#the moonrise legacy on swtor#they're terrible
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Just Before - Din's POV
Hi, all. Thank you for loving the Just Right universe and our beloveds like you have. I think there's more to be told for these two, so I am expanding their little universe and adding more. We are starting with this little fic here, which is told from Din's POV. It gives us a bit more information about their history and leads up to the events in Just Right Part 1. Thank you to @ezrasbirdie who told me I was allowed to bring the pain a little bit.
Just Before
Pairing: Din Djarin x curvy f!reader (eventually); 1.1k words
Warnings: Yearning. Angst. Takes place after Grogu goes with Luke. Leads right up to Just Right Part 1.
**
Din’s sleepless night had slipped into a sleepless morning. It was her fault.
She didn’t do it on purpose, of course. She would never do anything to hurt him. But the kid was gone, handed off to Luke weeks ago, leaving both of them on unsteady ground. The credits from Moff Gideon’s capture had been transferred to him and were burning a hole in his account until it had come time to pick out a ship. She had looked confused when Din asked which room she wanted on the ship, and had to explain in a quiet voice that she didn’t think she would be staying now that Grogu was gone. Looking after him had been her job, after all.
She had panicked, thinking that Din wouldn’t need her anymore. Din had panicked, thinking that she might ever leave.
He decided to transfer the credits for this new ship the second she smiled and pointed to the smallest room at the front of the hall, indicating that she wanted that one to be hers. She could have anything she wanted as far as he was concerned, especially anything that made her smile at him like that. Din quickly made up an excuse that he needed her help keeping up with the ship and the cooking, which was something she loved to do.
The reality was that Din had loved her for a long time. It didn’t start out that way, though, because Din was always just focused on the task at hand. He needed someone to watch Grogu when he absolutely couldn’t go with him, so he found her. Problem solved.
What he didn’t expect was how she would slowly work her way into his heart, with her bright eyes and soft curves. At first, it was thoughtful things like learning what foods he liked to eat. Something no one had ever bothered to do. He thought he knew how much he care for her when he caught her singing to the kid one day, but then something happened that made him realize just how deeply he loved her.
She was there for him when Grogu had to leave in a way he didn’t even realize he needed. He wanted to push on, as a good Mandalorian would. Don’t stop to feel or acknowledge how much it hurts. Ke ne'kar'tayli. Don’t take it to heart.
But she took his hand, with tears in her eyes, and said, “We love him so much. It’s okay to miss him.”
He begged the gods never to take her from him.
He always yearned to get closer to her, aching to reach out and run his fingers through her hair or turn off all the lights and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe. He would even settle for just holding her hand if it meant that she would be safe and happy with him.
But where would he even begin? She probably didn’t even like him that way.
At least she was still with him. That was enough. Right?
Tonight was the first real night on the ship, everything loaded up and ready to leave the planet in the morning. She was busying herself with some tidying while dinner simmered away on the small burner in the tiny galley when Din walks in.
“Smells good,” he says from the doorway. “What can I do to help?” He always asked.
“Nothing, just come sit and enjoy,” she chirps. She always responded this way.
She serves Din first before getting a bowl for herself and sitting with her chair turned away from him, each taking up their familiar posts so that they can eat without her seeing his face. Din takes off his helmet and sets it down on the table beside him but doesn’t reach for his food. Instead, he stares at her back and thinks about how he could reach out and trail a hand across her shoulders.
She’s so close. She’s right there.
This is how it always feels to him, as though he is starving but he can’t quite reach the last fruit on the highest branch. It’s killing him to go another second without at least trying something, anything. He just needs her so much he thinks his heart might burst in his chest.
Please turn around. Please look at me. Please see me like I see you. He opens his mouth to speak and -
“Have you heard anything from Luke?” she asks, interrupting the words that were about to pour out from his soul.
He stuffs the words back inside, as quickly as possible, and curses the way his courage has disappeared like a whisper in a windstorm. “No, nothing,” he responds, and she mistakes the sadness in his voice to be only about Grogu.
“Well, I made up a bed for him for when he does come back. He’ll come back, Din, when he’s ready. I know he will.”
Din doesn’t make a sound.
After a few minutes, she sets her empty bowl down but doesn’t turn around, waiting for the sound of Din’s helmet to be put back on before getting up to clean.
“Oh, do you think we could stop at the market in town before we leave? I want to go get some of that yummy fruit we like,” she inquires as Din moves for the door. He’s never had the heart to tell her that he doesn’t actually like the fruit very much, but would buy crate after crate of it because she loves it.
“Sure,” he says. “Gonna turn in early, I’ll see you in the morning.” He doesn’t stop his march to his bedroom when he hears her confused “Oh, alright” float down the hallway.
He didn’t sleep at all. It was her fault.
But not really. How could she have known how much it’s killing him to love her from afar like this.
After a quick walk into town in the morning, she veers off to the produce booth while Din goes to see about trading some old tools for newer ones. Din is haggling with the mechanic in his hangar when he hears blaster fire and panics, running out into the bright sunlight.
His eyes scan the market that is erupting in chaos, looking for her by the fruit stand but not finding her. Kriff, where else would she go? After a few seconds, he sees her terrified face in the crowd scanning wildly, looking for him. He can tell the moment that her eyes lock onto his helmet by the relief that washes over her face. Din takes one step forward just as she does, but then an explosion rocks the market.
She’s gone.
No, please, no.
She’s gone.
**
Next: Just Right Part 1
#just right#din pov#din djarin#din djarin x female reader#din x plus size reader#i love them and i'm so excited to share more of their story#sorry for the pain in this one#the mandolarian#din djarin x reader#din x you
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Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)
The counterpart to Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Original Post, Chrono)
Listen. You all knew this was coming.
This got... very long and detailed and I’m going to have to clean it up and post to AO3. As in, this was supposed to be 2-3k and is literally ten times that long. It crossed 25k. And the initial section actually glosses over a bunch, actual fic-style writing starts at “That, of course, is when things get interesting.”
Warnings: discussion of various canon traumas (most relating to being child soldiers), general PTSD, several scenes featuring dissociation or panic attacks upon being triggered, and canon-typical violence.
Rated T, gen.
I still want there to be de-aging nonsense involved so Ahsoka is physically a late teenager despite having a solid two decades of field experience behind her (we’re pulling her from Malachor).
Leia, much like Luke, is now six. She just came from being a rebellion general. She is not happy about being a child. She was already short, this is just mean. She’s a human espresso.
UNLIKE BEN, Ahsoka is not happy about this turn of events. Being seventeen-ish is not helpful in the outer rim. She’s a female togruta, young and healthy, and in the Outer Rim, caring for a small human child. Sure, she has her lightsabers and plenty of combat experience, and she can keep them safe, but she’s just one person, and a major target for those looking to make some quick cash. It doesn’t matter how good she is; she needs sleep at some point.
It makes my heart happy to treat Ahsoka and Rex as two halves of the same black ops specialist so you know what, he’s there too! He’s physically like... 10-12 in natborn, maybe. They’re not sure, because clones age weird. He’s moderately more useful than Leia (who is very competent but also physically six, and short for that age), but he’s still... very small.
Reminder that none of them have been born yet.
Ahsoka has a harder time explaining WHY she has children with her, since she's barely more than a kid herself, and clearly unrelated by species. She sometimes just says “Oh, my adoptive brother’s kids” since it’s kind of the truth for Leia and she’s not touching the actual truth about Rex with a ten foot pole.
Ahsoka definitely knows about Leia being a Skywalker, or at least has suspicions that Bail never outright confirmed but was conspicuously quiet about. She does tell Leia about it, but it’s not like that means anything, right? Just, you know, your dad was my teacher! I don’t have to tell you he became Va--oh shit, you already knew that part. Well, fuck. What do you mean he had a son? OH SHIT, PADME HAD TWINS.
Alt take for explaining why she’s got kids: She’s my foundling, I know her name as my child (Leia shut up!!!)
(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)
That said, there is... significantly less gambling and significantly more theft to get to Coruscant.
As previously stated, Ahsoka is a black ops kinda gal, and more importantly, she looks like a fairly attractive young woman in the Outer Rim, with two children in good health. She’s a target, and also not the kind of person one generally gambles with. If she does gamble, people get upset when she doesn’t lose, in ways they don’t get upset about Ben doing the same, because she’s, again, a cute teenage girl. It’s exhausting.
As things go, she largely ends up stealing from people who deserve it and/or smuggling herself and her charges into someone else’s ship. They’re small, they can hide. Sometimes she can get them all passage by working as a mechanic, she’s good at that.
Once they’ve got a handle on when they are, they have to decide on Names. None of them have been born yet, so technically they could use their own names without anyone Knowing. Rex and Leia might not even be born, depending on how successful they are at, you know, stopping the war and everything. Ahsoka, though, she’s going be born in two years, and there’s no reason to prevent it, so... she doesn’t want to steal baby-her’s name. That would be mean.
Leia is already calling her “Auntie ‘Soka” when she can for reasons like “selling the bit” and “manipulating adults” and “making us both feel better after we had a mutual breakdown about Anakin being Vader.” Ergo, she decides that whatever new name she picks better include that in some way, and decides on “Sokari” because it sounds pretty.
Overall, they don’t... they don’t actually make it very far before there’s an Incident. Again, teenager with small children. They spend a lot of time hiding out in space ports looking for an opportunity.
That, of course, is when things get interesting.
Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.
She doesn’t recognize the armor. She does recognize the sigil, and thinks ‘well, they’re more likely to help than some,’ because from what she’s heard, the Haat Mando’ade are Decent People Overall. Her view is a little biased, mostly on account of the sheer level of grudge she has against Kyr’tsad. It’s fine! The True Mandalorians have the same grudge, right? And Mandalorians like kids and Ahsoka hasn’t slept in five days and it’s fine. It’s fine! IT’S FINE.
“Oh shit,” Rex whispers, before she can suggest anything. “Oh fuck.”
“Stop cursing,” Leia hisses, elbowing him. “People are going to notice.”
“That’s the Prime,” Rex panics, mostly quiet. Ahsoka’s heart drops, because fuck is right. “That’s Fett.”
Leia isn’t impressed. Ahsoka just angles herself between Fett and Rex and hopes that he doesn’t see them. That’s just asking for trouble.
Unfortunately, Ahsoka is in fact running on none sleep with left trauma, and doesn’t notice Fett walking up and dropping into a seat across from them until he’s actually done so, removing his helmet to glare a little more efficiently.
“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”
Ahsoka later tells herself that he’s killed Jedi and that’s why he can sneak up on her, and that she can be forgiven some slip-ups with the exhaustion being what it is, and that she’s obviously going to be dealing with some emotional instability in light of the sudden return of teenage hormones and new forms of anxiety that are markedly different from those she was dealing with a few weeks ago.
What Ahsoka wants to say is “that’s kind of a long story,” or “maybe he’s a cousin,” or “kriff off, I don’t know you,” or maybe even “he’s a clone.”
What Ahsoka actually does is burst into tears, which is embarrassing for her, for Fett, for the kids, and for the entire rest of the bar.
It really is the straw that broke the eopie’s back. Even when she was actually this age, she didn’t exactly cry much. Objectively, Fett quasi-aggressively asking a valid question shouldn’t send her into a panic. She’s been through torture and worse. She shouldn’t be crying.
But she is, sobbing her eyes out with no control, and he’s just sitting across from her and looking uncomfortable while Rex wraps his little arms--oh Force he’s so small--around her, and both ‘children’ glare at Fett.
“So, I’m going to take it she didn’t kidnap you from a loving family or do something illicit with a blood sample,” Fett says, after it becomes obvious that Ahsoka’s not going to be ready to talk any time soon.
“She didn’t,” Rex says stiffly, with just the right emphasis for Fett to catch what’s implied. Ahsoka just keeps her head down, eyes pressed against the heels of her palms, trying to get her body to stop rebelling against her.
Fett’s eyes dart to Leia, who folds her arms and draws herself up, every bit the unimpressed princess. “My father claimed her as a sister, so she’s my Auntie ‘Soka.”
The man dithers a bit, the conversation clearly not going where he’d expected. “Right,” he says. “You--you’re all kids. I thought she was a little older, at least, but I didn’t have a good look at her face before.”
She is older, but actually admitting that is only going to make this worse, both for her pride and for her chances of making it out alive.
“Where are you staying?”
“What?” Leia bites out.
“You’re kids, you’re alone, and you’re clearly not okay if you were trying to hide the one with my face as blatantly as you did, and then... whatever this is, when I confronted you,” Fett explains. Ahsoka lifts her head to glare at him, but it’s probably not doing much with the way her eyes are rimmed with red and still wet. “Don’t give me that look, ad’ika, your kids looked as confused and horrified by that as the bartender did. They obviously didn’t think it was normal either.”
Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.
“And what do you mean by ‘blatantly,’ here?” Leia challenges. It’s adorable, but Ahsoka watched this tiny girl shoot a man last week, and wonders when people are going to start taking that seriously.
“There’s a lot of people in this galaxy, and I don’t exactly have the clearest memory of what I looked like at that age,” Fett says, slow and careful like he thinks they’re dumb. Ahsoka decides to chalk it up as being because Leia’s visibly six. “I would have thought it was just a coincidence if you hadn’t put in effort to hide him.”
Leia huffs, and Rex glares harder. Fett just sighs, like they’re all going to give him grey hairs.
“You can explain whatever the hell’s going on,” Fett says. “I’ll let you stay on my ship, there’s a spare bunk and you’re small.”
“For free?” Rex demands.
“A night on a bunk in exchange for information,” Fett clarifies. “We can negotiate from there.”
Ahsoka takes a few moments, notes that both of the others are waiting on her for the decision, and cringes. She doesn’t feel steady enough to carry that. She has to anyway.
“Rex?” she asks, voice rasping after the breakdown of the past few minutes.
“Yeah?”
“How much?”
He looks up at her, eyes calculating, and grimaces. “We don’t want Order 66. A warning is better, even if we... share information.”
She nods, and turns to Leia. “Any premonitions, princess?”
Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”
“No, don’t tell, or no, you aren’t getting any vibes about sharing info one way or the other?”
“The latter,” Leia clarifies, huffy to the last.
“Right,” Ahsoka says, and then just... hesitates. “Fett...”
“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.
She bares her teeth in what could have, through a squint and perhaps a few drinks, been called an apologetic smile. “Just one, really.”
“Yeah?”
“No hurting, killing, or turning us in for bounties,” she says. “Any of us.”
“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”
She blinks at him, slow and careful. She hesitates. She reaches down, out of sight, sees him stiffen.
She unclips her sabers from her belt and puts them on the table.
His eyes are fixed on the weapons the second they enter his line of sight, and don’t move as he clearly realizes why she made the condition she did.
“I left years ago, because I couldn’t stay without it ruining me,” she says. Still slow. Still careful. She’s so tired. “But if I want to keep Leia safe, I have to get back to Coruscant.”
His eyes finally lift from the sabers, expression blank. “Just her?”
“Rex doesn’t have the same monsters coming after him,” she says. “If it were just me and him, I’d worry less. Leia’s a different kind of target.”
“You’re putting a lot of faith on the table by telling me that,” Fett says, voice flat and toneless. “Considering my occupation.”
“She’s a child,” Ahsoka says, feeling heavy and boneless. “Even with what I was and will be, even with what money you would get from the right buyer, you wouldn’t.”
“There are other risks.”
“There are.”
They stare at each other for too long, probably, and then Fett jerks as Rex kicks him under the table. The boys glare for a moment, and then Rex says, “If she weren’t good, I’d still be a slave to those who grew me.”
Fett blinks, and then nearly growls the word, “What?”
“She freed me,” Rex reiterates. “While I was trying to shoot her.”
Ahsoka lifts a hand and puts it on his far shoulder, pulling him into her side. She doesn’t meet Fett’s eyes again, because part of her is back on Mandalore, dodging her own soldiers and crying out as her family dies across the galaxy.
Fett breathes in. Breathes out. He puts a hand to his head, visibly frustrated. “Fine. A good Jedi kid, and two smaller kids, one of which is apparently in some way mine.”
Rex makes a face, which is fair, but also not helping.
“To the ship,” Ahsoka says, putting her sabers back on her belt and sliding out of the seat. “I’m... I’m Sokari.”
“You already know my name.”
“I do.”
---------------------------
Fett watches her like she’s a predator, which has the benefit of being accurate and slightly flattering. She lets other two take care of most of talking, and then Fett tells her to sleep first, and talk in the morning.
“You’re dead on your feet, jetii,” he snorts. “And that crying jag didn’t do you any favors. Sleep.”
So she does, and Fett doesn’t even wake her. He just lets her sleep. He watches her in the way of a guard. She sees him when she gets up to use the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even comment when she collapses right back into the mediocre cot she’s borrowed for the cycle.
Rex and Leia are safe, her hindbrain tells her, even in the depths of sleep. Her mind curls around theirs in the Force, and she trusts that they are here. They are not happy, but they are alive and unharmed, and that has to be enough.
When she stumbles her way to true wakefulness, groggy and loose-limbed, Fett greets her with caf.
“The kids wouldn’t let me near you,” he tells her.
“They’re good,” she says, cupping her hands around the mug. She feels wobbly, in every sense. Her body, her mind, her emotions, her connection to the Force. Nothing is on-kilter right now. “Did they tell you anything?”
“They waited for you,” he says. “But the little miss needed a nap of her own. They’re down in the other bunk.”
“I didn’t notice,” she admits. She should have. She’s Fulcrum. She’s a veteran of the Clone Wars. She’s... she’s supposed to be better than this.
“How long?” he asks, and then when she squints up at him, he clarifies. “How long did you fight?”
“My last fight--”
“No, whatever war you came out of,” he says. Her chest twists cold. “I don’t know if the Jedi sent you into it or if you waded in yourself once you left, but you move like a soldier.”
“I was,” she confirms. “But... but I don’t want to talk about the details. Not until the other two are here.”
He frowns at her. “Is there anything you can talk about?”
She shrugs and looks away, trying to take solace in the warmth of the caff she holds above the table, as if it can hide her, guard her, from the disgraced Mand’alor across the table.
“Jedi?”
“I’m not officially a Jedi,” she says, voice quiet. “Not anymore.”
“Then what do I call you?” he asks. “We’re not exactly close enough for names.”
“Torrent,” she says. “It’s not--I can’t claim my family name anymore. But I can claim Torrent, so I will. And if you want a title, I was a commander.”
“Bit young for that.”
“I got the rank when I was fourteen,” she says, and watches his face do something complicated and unpleasant. “Don’t. I know your own culture puts children on the field that young.”
“Not in command.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, well... the soldiers were technically younger. Adults, but...”
Ahsoka can see the way he casts about to figure out what species grows at that rate. He guesses a few, and she shoots all of it down.
She won’t tell him. Not until Rex is awake.
This part of the story is his.
--------------------------
When Leia tries to sit alone, a foot away on the bench like a proper adult, Ahsoka refuses to let it happen. She pulls the younger girl to her side and quells protests with a glance. It’s a decent skill, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to work on her niece-in-spirit.
“Your body needs the chemical release of skinship,” she says, and Leia glares at her. “I spent way too much time with the boys to not know about this. Deal.”
Rex sits close enough to knock their knees together under the table, and his warmth is the old comfort she needs.
“Do you want the story you’ll believe, or the truth?” Ahsoka asks.
“What’s the difference?”
“One of them involves something so impossible that even most Jedi wouldn’t believe it,” she tells him.
Fett folds his arms and leans forward to rest them on the table, challenging but oddly open. “Try me.”
“Time travel.”
He blinks, just once, fully controlled. “That’s a tough one.”
“There were only three Jedi left alive when I died,” she says. “Or... whatever it is that happened to me. I think I died. All I know is that one moment, I was thirty-two and dying, and the next, I was... seventeen again, and had these two with me. All of us younger than we were. None of us have even been born yet.”
She refuses to look him in the eye. “They both outlived me by... six years, maybe. Got caught up while traveling instead of dying. Leia was twenty-two. Rex was thirty-five. I’m not technically the oldest anymore. I mean, physically I am, but that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not exactly doing us any good, and--”
Rex bumps his shoulder to her arm. “I dunno, Commander. I’ve spent a long time looking older than I should. Nice to look younger for once.”
She shoots him a small, pained grin. “Could be worse, yeah.”
“Let’s say I believe you.”
Her attention snaps back to Fett, who’s looking damnably blank, and is showing even less in the Force.
He waits a second for her to relax back into her seat.
“Let’s say I believe you,” he repeats. “How’s ‘Rex’ connected to me? What’s so special about Leia there? And what war did you fight in that has you acting like a veteran?”
“Three years in the clone wars,” she whispers, glancing to Rex and forcing herself to not go for her sabers to defend against an attack that her paranoia says is coming and the Force says is not. “Then almost all the Jedi were wiped out at once, and I spent a year... drifting. Then black ops for the next fifteen.”
“Black ops,” he repeats, still damnably flat.
“There was a Sith Empire,” she says, and she can hear her own tone growing somehow emptier. “Glassing planets. Enslaving entire species. Committing genocides all over. Of course, there was a rebellion, and of course I joined it. I was one of the only people left with Jedi training. For all that I’d left the Order, I still had a duty to the universe.”
His eyes flit to Leia, who shrugs and tries to look prim. “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”
“That why you’re special?”
Leia smiles, thin and patronizing. It doesn’t fit on her little face. “I’m special because my biological father was one of the most powerful Force users in history, and his Fall to the dark side and choice to become a Sith is why the Emperor’s rise was nearly uncontested. I do not like power, but it’s in my veins and I can’t change that. Force users are... a lucrative trade, and I’m still the size of a child, so I can’t fight back. I’ll be safer in the Jedi Temple, even if I don’t want to be a Jedi.”
Fett looks to Ahsoka, makes to ask a question, and then shakes his head. Not the time, maybe.
“So, that’s all... very complicated and I don’t know how much of it I believe, but it doesn’t explain...” he trails off, and sighs. “My kid, or whatever you are. I heard you mention clones.”
Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.
“Let me tell you about Kamino.”
---------------------------
Ahsoka has no idea if Fett believes them. Either he thinks they’re telling the truth, or he thinks their delusional kids. Whatever the case, he offers to take them closer to the Core. Ahsoka quietly offers to take a look at his engine in return, and then pretends not to notice when Fett awkwardly drifts to and away from Rex.
“They put chips in our brains to make us kill the Jedi we respected, cared for, even loved. I tried to shoot ‘Soka, Fett. She was seventeen and risked her life to get that chip out of my head while I was trying to kill her. I have never hated myself more than when I woke up and realized what I’d almost done, and I was one of the few that were able to fight it. I heard the stories of dozens of brothers who woke with their chips having degraded and chose to eat their blaster rather than live with the guilt of the orders they’d followed without question because of a thrice-damned Sith slave chip in their head.”
“So no, I won’t call you father or acknowledge you as clan until you do something to prove you’re worth it, shared blood or not.”
What Ahsoka does get out of the arrangement, for all that Fett’s route mostly takes them on a meandering path that isn’t faster than their previous system, is sleep. She gets to rest. She gets to trust that Fett won’t kill Rex, out of guilt for something he hasn’t done, that he won’t kill Leia out of a worry that she’s just a delusional child, a real child, that he won’t kill ‘Sokari’ because it would ruin any chance of gaining Rex’s favor, ever.
She’s not safe, won’t believe she can be until she’s in the Temple and Sidious is dead dead dead, but she’s safer than she’s been in a long time.
Every night, Ahsoka wakes up and stumbles to the little galley, deaths and torture sparkling behind her eyes with the energy of a thousand lost Jedi, ten thousand mourned brothers and sisters.
She is not the only one of their little group to be a survivor of a near-total genocide, but Rex could not feel his brothers die in the Force, even if his nightmares featured what they heard of suicide missions by the emperor’s favored shock troopers, and Leia had... Alderaan had more off-world survivors than there had been Jedi at all.
It’s not worth comparing their pain. It’s stupid to even think it. Part of her can’t help but do it anyway.
“Caf?”
She feels a lek twitch in response to the voice of the only other person on board who can reach the top shelf. “I probably shouldn’t.”
“Whiskey?”
“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”
“Hoth chocolate?”
“...please.”
She doesn���t lift her head from her arms until the mug clicks down in front of her, ceramic on plastisteel.
“Do I ask what it was this time?”
She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain to non-sensitives.”
“Try me anyway.”
Ahsoka twists the Hoth chocolate in her hands, takes a sip as she thinks. “The Force isn’t just one thing. It’s... energy and philosophy and spirit, a sense of being that ties the entire universe together. Sentient and inanimate and living and dead, empty space and lush forests and stifled cities. For those of us who are sensitive to it, it’s possible to feel the life of everyone around you, theoretically possible to feel entire systems. If you have a Force bond, like a master and padawan, that can stretch across planets, even systems if one or both are particularly powerful.
“So just... just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like to feel the screaming of all those Jedi in the Force as their trusted men shot them down.
“Some of them were close enough that I could feel them die,” she manages. “I... it’s horrible. It’s horrific. It’s not something I can ever forget, and I want to. I want to forget what that moment was like. Not that it happened, but...”
She can feel the tears. Fuck..
“You want to dull the edges.”
“Don’t we all?” she asks, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Leia lost her entire planet, billions of people, and she was forced to watch. Rex... Force, I can barely imagine, and I was there for most of it.”
Fett watches her, measuring. “From what he said, they were as much your brothers as his, by the end.”
“No,” she immediately denies. “They could have been, maybe, but the ones I was closest to died earlier, and then I left, and by the time the Empire rose, all but a handful were... no. Rex, I will claim as a brother in all the ways that matter, but I don’t get to do that with the rest. I don’t have the right.”
“You’re hard on yourself.”
“Fate of the galaxy, my good bitch. Guess who’s got it on her shoulders.”
He snorts at her, and nods at the mug. “Drink your Hoth chocolate. We’re landing in eight hours, and you’ve got kids to look out for.”
---------------------------
There’s a twitch in the Force when they land, something pulling at her in a way she barely feels. She’s had her shields up so fully for so long that it’s natural to hide away what she is to the point where she can hardly tell what anyone else is, either. It takes more than a moment to remember how to let herself spread out across the world.
“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”
She doesn’t have an answer to Leia’s prodding question. “I don’t know.”
It’s almost familiar. Old and half-forgotten, not the same as what she remembers, but--
“This way,” she says, and wanders off into the crowd. Leia and Rex follow without question. Fett curses and rushes through the rest of his transaction with the docking attendant. The sound of him jogging after them is almost funny, with the armor, but she can’t focus on that.
Ahsoka slips between people with the ease of a career built on such a habit, children trailing like ducklings. She knows this feeling, she knows this person, what is she missi--
“Oh,” she breathes, going stock still. She knows that face. She knows those braids. She even knows the presence.
Younger than Ahsoka had ever seen her, but unmistakably Master Billaba.
“Torrent, what the hell?” Fett demands, finally catching up. “You can’t just run off like that!”
“It’s Depa,” she says, eyes still fixed on the woman parsing through a datapad with an irritated vendor. She has a padawan braid. It doesn’t feel like Master Windu is on-planet, so this might be a solo mission, a... oh. Senior Padawan, Knight Elect. This is the kind of mission taken to test if she’s ready to be promoted.
Ahsoka feels light-headed.
Fett waits for her to elaborate, but she can’t. This was Kanan’s master. This was a member of the High Council. This was a woman who died and--
“You need to sit down,” Fett says, not a touch gruff. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her off the main walkway. “I’m... going to talk to the woman in the Jedi robes. You three just stay there and don’t get kidnapped.”
Ahsoka nods, feeling like she’s not quite inhabiting her own body.
It’s Depa.
Her eyes track Fett without conscious control, and her montrals pick up the sound.
Depa looks up when the armor comes close enough, free hand tensed in a way that says she’s preventing herself from reaching for a saber in reaction to the heavily-armored individual standing several feet away.
“Mando,” the woman says. “May I help you?”
“Are you Depa?”
Depa doesn’t do anything so dramatic as gape or step back, but she does blink rapidly for a moment. She then folds her hands down in front of her, drawing her spine up ramrod straight. “I am Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, yes. May I ask why it is that you need to know?”
Ahsoka imagines Fett grimacing, or rolling his eyes, or maybe dithering. She can’t tell from this angle, and he has a helmet on besides. It turns his awkward silences into judgmental ones.
“I’ve had some Jedi kids on my ship, hitching a ride,” he says at length. “One of them recognized you and then just... froze.”
“You have our younglings in your care,” Depa says, carefully not accusatory, but close enough to be a warning.
“Not quite,” he says. “The one that actually came from the temple is seventeen. One of ‘em isn’t Force Sensitive, and the last one is but hasn’t been to Coruscant before. They’re trying to get the little one to the Temple for her own safety.”
Depa considers that, and then passes the datapad to the vendor. “Lead on.”
It’s surprisingly simple, really. Fett did all the talking.
And then Depa is standing right in front of her.
“Like I said,” Fett sighs. “She froze up.”
“Hello,” Depa says, hands laced together inside her sleeves. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Ahsoka shakes her head. “I know of you. I’ve seen you spar. You’ve never spoken to me.”
All true. A little misleading, but it’s fine, it’s all fine.
Depa waits a moment, and then says, “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Sokari T-Torrent,” she manages. The words feel clunky in her mouth, the sound abrasive for all that it’s just her own voice, no different from usual. A little shaky, maybe. She can feel a cool breeze on her upper arms. Shouldn’t she have armor? She should have armor. “It... it’s been a long time since I’ve seen another Jedi. I’m having a hard time believing you’re real.”
“I see,” Depa says. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private? You seem a little unsteady.”
Ahsoka lets herself be led back to the ship, in the company of Mand’alor Jango Fett, Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, Princess-General Leia Organa, and good old Captain Rex.
It’s like the start of a sick joke.
---------------------------
Fett and Depa talk where she can hear, but they rarely address her directly. Both seem to realize that she’s not particularly useful right now. Leia and Rex are pressing up against her at the little table in the galley, and Ahsoka lets them.
This is real. She can feel Depa in the Force, recognizes her energy even if it’s not quite what it will-was-could-have-been. This is happening.
It’s a textbook Traumatic Stress Response case, one of them says.
Fett has his helmet off. Ahsoka’s sure that’s wrong for some reason. She thinks he might already be on wanted lists. Should she worry about Depa trying to arrest him?
Depa asks about Rex at one point. Fett tells her that someone cloned him without his knowing, but the kid is more comfortable with Ahsoka so they’re still working on what that means for him.
It’s more or less true. Rex squeezes her hand the one time someone suggests separating them. She’s not letting that happen unless Rex wants to leave for whatever reason. They’ve worked apart before. They can do it again.
“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”
Is she?
Leia cuddles in closer, and Ahsoka runs a hand over her hair. It’s an absentminded motion, and for all that she knows Leia’s hair is fine as silk, it feels like plastic in the moment.
“I don’t think I’m okay,” Ahsoka announces. The words hang in the air like lead balloons, and she can feel Depa staring at her. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”
“Yeah, we noticed,” Fett says. “Do you need to lay down, Torrent?”
Does she?
“No,” she says. “I... I don’t know what I need.”
“The spicy drink,” Rex tells them. “It’s grounding.”
Right. That.
Fett goes to grab it, and Depa continues to watch.
“How long ago did you leave your master?” Depa asks. “Or... did he die?”
Ahsoka closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can feel the shivers now, tremors in her biceps and a shudder she can’t control in the height of her ribcage. Her teeth grind together, jaw like stone.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Depa assures her. “I’m... going to recommend you see a mind healer on Coruscant.”
That was a forgone conclusion.
A cup clinks onto the table. Fett’s back. “Drink.”
She does.
Depa and Fett continue discussing it as “the adults” at the table. She’s older than both of them. Rex is older than all of them. Ahsoka follows about half of what they say. She agrees with most of it. Rex bullies his way into speaking when she doesn’t, without her even asking, because he knows her mind as well as she does. Fett rolls with it. Depa lets him.
She’s going to reach out to the Temple and see about getting them a ride back to Imperial Center Coruscant.
Fett makes Soka go to bed, taking Leia with her.
---------------------------
She feels more like a person come morning.
Depa’s sitting at the table, datapad in her hands and caff on the table in front of her.
“Good morning,” Ahsoka says, rough and croaking, and Depa’s eyes flick up to meet hers. She nods a shallow hello.
“Feeling better?”
“Much,” Ahsoka says, and goes about gathering a breakfast. There’s definitely some dried meat in here. She can get something fresh when they stop by the market later.
“I was hoping to speak with you about your options,” Depa tells her, once she’s sat at the table. “Fett and your friend Rex took care of most of the negotiation, and I feel like I have an idea of what would work best for you.”
Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”
“There is a Master-Padawan pair a few planets away,” Depa says. “The Council informed me when I spoke with them about you and your wards. They’d be headed back to the Temple in a few days anyway, and the Council has agreed to extend an offer to Fett to handle the transportation. The presence of a Jedi Master on board will allow for him to get in and out of the Core unmolested, and we’d like for you and yours to have a Jedi escort, given what happened yesterday afternoon.”
Her complete spiral into nonbeing?
“I understand,” she says instead. “I suppose Fett agreed because he’s still trying to get Rex to like him?”
Depa shrugs. “That part isn’t my business.”
Of course it isn’t.
“Rex can stay with me for a while, right?” Ahsoka finally asks. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but I’m...”
“In need of a support system until you’ve seen a mind healer, and against all odds, the child is part of it,” Depa summarizes. “Yes, I recognized as much. I think the Council will be able to allow some leeway there. I don’t know if he’ll enjoy it, given that all the others his age are Initiates, but we can adjust as necessary. On that note... Do you know Leia’s midichlorian count?”
“No,” Ahsoka says, and hesitantly adds, “But her biological father was my Jedi Master, and I’m told his count broke records even as a child. Given what Leia’s shown so far... it’s why I’ve been in a hurry to get her to the Temple.”
Depa frowns at her, clearly working through the implications of a Jedi having a daughter and still teaching... and then visibly dismisses the situation, eyes closing to breathe in the steam of her caff.
Biological father certainly implies a child that was raised by her mother or adopted out so the Jedi father could remain in their chosen career without a conflict of interest or duty.
She’ll tell the council the truth, or... at least Master Koon. Master Kenobi is still a padawan, but she can tell Master Koon.
She already told Jango Fett, of all people.
“Padawan Torrent?”
Her head snaps up. She hasn’t been a padawan in over fifteen years. It’s weird to hear. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if you wanted some time to think it over before I presented the offer to Fett,” Depa says.
Ahsoka gets the distinct feeling that Depa is planning a report to the Council that has ‘needs a mind healer’ underlined at least three times.
“No, I’m--I’m fine. That sounds like a good plan.”
“I’ll speak with him, then. Would you like to come with?”
"No, thank you.”
---------------------------
Fett agrees. Ahsoka’s pretty sure it’s all to do with Rex and maybe Leia. It’s probably nothing to do with ‘Sokari.’ She’s a Jedi, an adult in mind and in body, or at least close enough to count. She’s a damn sight more ‘enemy’ to Fett than the other two are. Not as much as Depa, maybe, but Fett’s been playing nice with her for Leia’s sake.
He plays nice with Ahsoka for Rex’s. That’s all.
They’re only a few planets over from the meeting point, and they have a few days to hang around before the escort meets them. Depa hadn’t given them a name--apparently it could have compromised the opsec for the Jedi team--but Ahsoka’s pretty sure she’ll be able to identify almost anyone. She gets the feeling that the Force is going to send her a familiar face, just as it did Master Padawan Billaba.
Ahsoka lets herself feel the world around her. It’s dark and dreary, in the sense that the beaten-down port is full of petty crimes and less petty horrors, but it’s still lighter than most of the Empire had been. She sneaks away from the ship at night, ignoring Fett at her back, and performs a bit of vigilante justice while she can. She’ll be banned from doing so as soon as she’s reinstated as a Jedi, probably, but for now... for now, she can look at the drug cartels and ‘they’re not slaves, really’ workers and do something to help.
She doesn’t use her sabers. She doesn’t need to. It’s been a long time since she has, for small fry like these.
“What are you doing?” Fett asks her, landing heavily behind her back.
“Chip removal,” she says, hand pressed to the slave’s leg. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear him shifting. “Let me concentrate, I don’t have a meddroid for this.”
He’s silent until she finishes, and waits until the people she’s helped are on their way to the planet’s freedom routes. He doesn’t ask what she did with the owners.
“You’ve done this before.”
“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”
He doesn’t answer that, just ambles over to the the chains and stares down at them.
“Fett?”
“You go through this like it’s as easy as breathing,” he says. “It’s... impressive.”
“I guess?” she hesitates to continue. “I’m... I don’t think of it that way. This is the easy stuff. A time-waster that helps people. If I wanted to help for real, I’d been going after Jabba or Sidious or--”
“How old were you?” he asks, turning on his heel to face her dead-on. The vocoder of his helmet pulls the emotion from his voice. “When did this... these missions, the slavery battles, when did that start for you?”
“Fourteen,” she says. She’s not entirely sure, really, what counted as a mission for ending slavery and what counted as just a part of war, but she can round down. “Maybe fifteen. It’s a bit of a blur.”
“And you just kept doing it.”
“Of course,” she says. “If I have the time and the energy, if I need to do something and there’s nothing official on my hands, why not?”
He doesn’t answer her.
---------------------------
Rex greets them before she does.
Ahsoka, in her defense, is asleep at the time. It’s a restless sleep, but it’s enough that she doesn’t sense the nearing Force signatures until they’re almost at the ship.
She recognizes one of them.
“Auntie ‘Soka?” Leia questions, when she lurches to her feet and starts pulling on her boots with all the energy of a zombie. “Where are you going?”
“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”
“I see.”
Leia dresses to follow her, in a little coat that’ll withstand the chill of the outside air, and Ahsoka makes it to the cargo hold just in time to hear Rex saying, “I’m not shaking your hand until you put your gloves on, Vos.”
She laughs to herself, breathless with the knowledge of what she’s about to find. She jumps the railing of the upper walkway, drops down just in front of the Master-Padawan team, and keeps her back to Fett and Rex. “Hello, there.”
One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.
“Would you be Sokari Torrent?” the Master asks.
“I am,” she says, with a slight bow. She can tell there’s a bit of judgement for how she’s dressed, but they’re covering it well. A Shadow and his trainee know the value of armor better than most Jedi bother with. “I’m afraid Padawan Billaba didn’t inform me of your names before we met.”
“And yet your friend knew my padawan,” the Master says.
“By reputation,” she says, as smoothly as she can. “I’ve encountered Quinlan Vos before, though I doubt he remembers--”
“I’d remember someone like you,” Quinlan interrupts, with a grin she’s sure is meant to be charming and rogueish.
He’s... very young for her, and not her type. Mostly, she wants to pat him on the head, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well. She still looks like she’s younger than him.
“Anyway,” she says, turning back to the master, “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, Master.”
“I am Tholme,” he says, with the bow that a Master gives a Padawan. She feels a little slighted, but it’s fine. She looks the right age, it’s fine.
It’s not like they know.
“It’s nice to meet you, Master Tholme,” she says. “My charges are Rex Torrent, the young man behind me, and currently coming down the ladder is Leia Antilles. I’m sure you’re aware of Jango Fett.”
“The Mand’alor,” Quinlan volunteers, and Ahsoka can almost hear Fett’s teeth grinding.
“Don’t call me that,” he says. She’s sure he’s got a hand drifting for his blaster.
“There isn’t a whole lot of room on the ship,” she says before the men can get into whatever weird contest she’s sure someone might start. Her bet’s on Fett. “But Leia and Rex are small enough to share with me, so I’m sure we can make it work.”
“There’s spare rolls for anyone comfortable with sleeping in the hold,” Fett grunts. “Or on the floor in the passenger room.”
“Well, I guess I could ask for a little help fi--”
“Vos,” Ahsoka snaps, letting her voice take on the kind of ‘obey me or get fresher duty’ irritation that she’d perfected back when the rebellion still had her managing people, before they’d realized she was more use in the field. “Do not.”
There’s a moment’s pause, and Tholme looks unimpressed with that raised eyebrow, but the kind of unimpressed that’s split between his own padawan and the stranger before him.
“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”
“No,” she cuts him off. “No flirting.”
It’s weird and uncomfortable and she’d have maybe been okay with it if she was actually the seventeen-or-eighteen-ish(?) that she looked, but she’s not. She’s in her thirties and Vos is... what, twenty? Twenty-one? No.
He stares at her, and she wonders momentarily if she’d gone too far in the direction of judging his intentions in the Force and preempted actual flirtations.
“I’m sorry?” He offers, looking confused, but ashamed. “I, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”
She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.
Fuck.
Ahsoka closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Opens her eyes. “Right. That was... I’m not sure how much Padawan Billaba told you about me.”
“Enough,” Tholme says. He moves forward and puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. Ahsoka has no idea if it’s to comfort him or hold him back. “I didn’t share most of it with my padawan, but I have a general understanding of what’s going on.”
Quinlan darts a look at his teacher, but Ahsoka doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
“Thank you for your understanding,” she says, and bows, and stiffly turns away to walk to the galley.
---------------------------
Leia squirms into the bench seat, shoving her way under Ahsoka’s arm like a particularly wriggly tooka.
“What was that?” Leia demands, the authority of a rebellion general rather useless in the squeaky voice of a child.
“What was what?”
“The whole thing with Padawan Vos,” Leia says. “You blew up at him before he even did anything.”
That’s pretty true.
“I felt the flirtation coming before it happened and reacted inappropriately because I panicked. I’m significantly older than him, but I can’t tell him that, so it’s just awkward and uncomfortable and... I’m not okay, Princess. I haven’t been for a long time.”
“Yeah, we can tell.”
“Leia.”
“What? I need therapy too! Captain Rex needs therapy! I’m pretty sure Fett needs therapy! You, Fulcrum, you really need therapy. None of us are okay.” She huffs, wiggling impossibly closer. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”
“I know,” Ahsoka groans. “I just... I just need to hold out until the Temple.”
“Will you be able to hold it together if you see someone you actually care about?” Leia demands. “What are you going to do when you see Kenobi?”
“Stop.”
“I’m serious, you--”
“Leia, that’s enough,” she snaps. “I was fighting that war before you were even born, and I’ve dealt with the consequences since. I know the risks and I’ll thank you to remember who taught you to control your own mind.”
Leia stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. “That was uncalled for.”
“You’re not the child you appear to be,” Ahsoka reminds her, not a little sharply. “You want to dish it out, be ready to take it. What will you do when we see Bail Organa? When we see the toddler that is Anakin Skywalker?”
“I get it.”
“I’m not sure you do,” Ahsoka mutters. She isn’t surprised when Leia ducks out of the embrace and leaves the galley. She lets the girl go, guilt warring with the memory of how Master Kenobi had more than once spoken that way to Anakin at the height of the war. The fact that she’s an adult in the body of a child isn’t an excuse for poking at Ahsoka’s open wounds. It was cruel and unnecessary, and unbecoming of a... not a Jedi. A princess. A politician.
She rests her head on her arms and zones out. She should meditate, but that seems like... too much effort.
She can feel Vos and Tholme setting up in the room they’ve been assigned. Neither seems particularly angry. Most likely, Tholme’s given the absolute shortest explanation of ‘child soldier, dead master, highly traumatized and emotionally unstable’ to Vos to smooth over the incident in the cargo hold. Rex is with Leia; he’s agitated, but less so than Leia herself. Fett’s annoyed, in the cockpit, but he seems annoyed as often as not. There’s a shudder at lift-off, and a few minutes later, they’re in hyperspace, headed for the Core.
Fett finds her, falls into the other bench in full armor, and drops his elbows onto the table. The helmet clunks down a moment later.
She doesn’t lift her head. “What do you want?”
“Do I need to keep Vos away from you?”
“What?”
“Vos. He made you uncomfortable. Was that him being someone that hurt you in the future, or just the interaction being awkward?”
She lifts her head. She stares at him. “What?”
He leans back and crosses his arms. “Do you need me to tell Vos to stay the hell away from you?”
She’s gaping. “You realize I’m thirty-two, right? I can handle my own battles.”
“You’re also traumatized as hell and everyone can see it,” Fett argues back. “If Vos himself is a trigger, I can handle it.”
“He’s not,” she tells him. This is strange. Fett’s being strange. “He was actually a friend of my grandmaster’s. I’m just uncomfortable with the flirting because I’m a lot older than he realizes, and I can’t tell him that.”
He nods sharply, and then looks away. The silence sits.
“Thanks for asking?” Ahsoka says, well aware of how her confusion over the offer turns it into a question. “I mean, thank you for... caring.”
I guess, she finishes in the privacy of her own head. Or at least pretending to.
Fett makes a face, still not facing her. He eyes the galley instead. She can guess where his thoughts are going. The galley is... not very big, especially with six people on board instead of one, but she’s sure they’ve stocked up enough. On the off chance they do go through more than expected, because of how many growing bodies are in residence, they can stop off and buy more. They have those resources now.
Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.
“Who’s going to cry if I spice things properly?” he asks.
“Probably Leia,” she says immediately. “Vos will try to power through it even though he’s going to be overwhelmed. No idea about Tholme, but I think he’ll keep a straight face whether he likes it or not. Rex and I are fine, ‘hot’ was pretty much the only flavor of seasoning the GAR had.”
“GAR?”
“Grand Army of the Republic.”
He finally looks at her.
“You already knew I was a child soldier, Fett; don’t act surprised.”
“That doesn’t mean I like hearing about it.”
“I was fourteen. That’s old enough by Mando standards, Fett. Just think back, when did you get on the battlefield?”
“I take your point,” he says, lip curling unpleasantly. “It just hits different now that I’m old enough to look back and think of how damned young fourteen really is.”
Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”
“You said the clones were ten.”
There’s the rub, isn’t it?
Of course it was about the clones.
“...closer to seven, by the end. Kamino was just making speedies at that point. Triple growth on the average instead of double, but averages in that case meant they’d been growing at double rates for six years and then got forced through four growth cycles in a single year to beef up the army when we kept losing men.” She looks down at the table, picking at a scratch in the plastipaint with her nail. “Rex and the rest of the ones from the beginning were basically twenty in mind and body, even if they’d only been decanted ten years earlier. The speedies... I always wondered. They’d gone from functionally twelve to functionally twenty in a year. That’s not... even in Kamino, that can’t have been normal. They didn’t act like adults, not the way the originals did.”
Fett rubs at his face, groaning. He swears under his breath in three different languages.
She pities him, if only because he hasn’t actually done any of this yet. He’s paying for the crimes of a man he likely won’t ever become.
She kicks him under the table. “Wanna make tiingilar and see how long it takes Vos to start crying while he insists it’s fine?”
---------------------------
Dinner is when the questions start. Some are relatively easy. Others, not so much.
“My Master was Leia’s biological father,” is an easy truth to share. “She inherited his power, so I need to get her to the temple for her own safety, because home no longer is.”
“Yes, her adoptive parents were unfortunately killed rather recently. We’d prefer not to talk about it.”
“Rex is with me. Where he goes, I go, and vice versa.”
That one gets her an odd look.
“I thought...” Quinlan trails off, gesturing between Rex and Fett.
Fett keeps his face impassive, but his discomfort and guilt leak into the Force. “I didn’t know Rex existed until I ran into these three in a spaceport cantina a few weeks ago.”
Quinlan blinks at him, looks at Rex again, and then turns back to Fett with a grin that might have been described as ‘saucy’ if he were less smug about it. “Wild oats, huh?”
“Are you shitting me right now,” Leia whispers, and Ahsoka elbows her.
“That was inappropriate, padawan.”
Quinlan’s grin fades as Fett just continues to eye him.
“Um, so--”
“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.
Darting eyes answer him, as Quinlan tries to gauge Rex. “Ten? Maybe twelve?”
“And how old am I?”
“...early thirties?”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
Quinlan’s grin fades further as he does the math.
“I’d have been between fifteen and seventeen when he was born,” Fett says, tone flat. “Between fourteen and sixteen at conception. I know damn well I wasn’t doing anything that could have resulted in a kid at that age.”
Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”
Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.
“I’m a clone,” Rex says, and Ahsoka can feel the amusement he gets out of Quinlan’s confused shock. They’d both had plenty of respect for Master Vos, but Padawan Vos was nothing but trouble. “Harvested genetic material, grown in a tube, inconsistent aging meaning I don’t even know how old I am for sure.”
“I broke him out,” Ahsoka adds, which is half true.
“There was a chip in my head,” Rex adds, with a bright smile. Quinlan’s discomfort grows. “She got it out. Also, lots of brothers. None of them are... around anymore. The creators were trying to make an army.”
Vos and Tholme have no response. Fett looks like he’s been carved out of stone. Leia’s just ignoring them and picking at her food.
Ahsoka lifts a hand and, without looking, Rex high-fives her.
---------------------------
“Drop your elbow.”
Ahsoka tries to cover her smile at the dirty look that Leia shoots Fett. Fett remains unimpressed by the glare of royalty, just gestures for the girl to do as he said.
“I know how to fight,” Leia grumbles. “I took lessons. I was good at them.”
“And I’m better,” Fett says, leaving no room for argument. “You want the Torrents to take over?”
The Torrents. Rex and Soka. She likes being referred to that way. Like they’re a team that never got split up.
Force, she wished they’d never gotten split up.
“Again,” Fett orders, and Leia moves through the Mandalorian kata with ill grace in her emotions and all grace in her sweeping limbs.
Well, as much grace as an undersized six-year-old can, at any rate.
“Think he’ll ask me to spar her again?” Rex asks, dropping down into the seat next to Ahsoka and passing her a drink.
“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think he’s wondering if it’s worth asking Vos to spar with her, so she gets more experience with size differences.”
“Hm?”
“She flinched at his face again,” she tells him. “The whole... thing with Boba, I guess. She still won’t tell me why Fett triggers her sometimes, but he’s not pressing her to spar with him, and there’s only so much she can get out of fighting me. Asking Tholme would be presumptuous, but Vos is just a padawan. I think it’d work out.”
“And you?”
She looks at him, already feeling a cresting wave of bullshit she doesn’t want to deal with. “What about me?”
“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”
She should. She hasn’t sparred with a saber since she got tossed back into a body only half-familiar to her. She’s let Leia borrow the shorter one to learn some basic blocking moves, Shii-Cho and then, with hesitance, the first Soresu form. Another time, she loaned it to Rex to practice some attacks; they both know that the next time he picks up her saber in battle, having lost his weapons or she her grip, it will be neither the first or last time he wields a sword of light. None of that, however, is... sparring.
None of that is against someone who knows what they’re doing.
How long has it been since she sparred with anyone other than Kanan and Ezra?
How long has it been since she sparred without the looming specter of Darth Vader in the back of her mind, without fear of the Inquisitors, without the knowledge that any saber held by someone other than her two friends would be red as blood and twice as drenched.
Would she be able to hold back as she fought?
“I should,” she acknowledges, eyes on where Fett is nudging Leia’s feet into position for some kind of leveraging flip. She’s so small. “It would probably be a good idea to spar against a master at some point.”
“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.
“I never knew him,” she says. “And he isn’t Dark. It should be fine.”
Rex nods, taking her word for it. They watch as Leia stumbles on a final move, and Fett gestures for her to sit down and get a drink.
“That man is a terror,” she informs them.
(She’d once described him as a slave-driver. She had not made that mistake twice.)
“Least it’s not Kamino!” Rex tells her cheerfully. When Leia refuses to look impressed, he laughs at her.
Ahsoka has a half-second’s warning before heavy boots thud to the ground next to her. “What’s Kamino?”
“Hello, Vos, it’s nice to see you too,” she drawls. “I’m good, thanks for asking, and yourself?”
The boy-not-quite-man rolls his eyes. “Hi, Torrents; hi, tiny one.”
Leia glares at him next.
“So, Kamino?”
“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.
“Why were you there?”
“They specialize in cloning.”
Ahsoka covers her mouth as the conversation drops into the same awkward gap that always happens when Quinlan stumbles into a subject he didn’t know to avoid.
“Like... you were made there, or you were researching how it works for your own--”
Ahsoka slaps a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a great time to stop talking.”
He licks her palm.
She bares her teeth and arches her fingers just enough to press nails into his cheek.
He bites at her palm, and she yanks her hand away.
“You’re all children,” Leia accuses, conveniently forgetting that Ahsoka and Rex are both over a decade older than her.
“I can throw you the length of a swimming pool,” Ahsoka tells her. “One of the fancy competition-ready ones that would make a Tatooinian cry. You are absolutely the child here.”
“Using the Force is cheating, sir,” Rex informs her.
“Only if there’s a competition,” Ahsoka shoots back. “And proving that a certain princess is a small child is not a competition. It’s a declarative fact.”
“I’m going to rip open the seams on all your tops except the ugliest one,” Leia decides.
“Try me,” Ahsoka challenges. “Adi’ka.”
A low, rough cough interrupts them. “Are you done?”
Fett has his arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. He knows they’re all adults here, and is entirely unamused. As the silence drags, the eyebrow climbs a little higher.
“Done with what?” Quinlan finally asks, thereby volunteering himself to spar in hand-to-hand with Jango Fett, as one does.
“Poor, poor Vos,” Rex laughs, watching as Fett barks out orders at Quinlan every five seconds to fix his footwork, to stop dropping his guard, to stop wasting energy on flips instead of just dodging the easy way.
“Throw him!” Ahsoka calls. To her delight, Fett obliges.
The thing is, Quinlan isn’t bad at brawling. He’s got training, endurance, skill. The man knows what he’s doing, objectively. He’s just not a match for Fett, and is used enough to relying on his saber that his hand-to-hand skills are rusty. They are perhaps less rusty than those Jedi who don’t take questionable jobs in the Mid-Outer Rim, and Ahsoka’s got a suspicion that Vos regularly gets into bar fights in his downtime, but none of that is enough for him to actually do more than survive against Fett without his saber.
Even the saber wouldn’t help, if Fett had his armor.
“Whose idea was this?”
Ahsoka cranes her head back and smiles. “Hello, Master Tholme. Vos... volunteered.”
“Did he know he was volunteering?”
“No comment.”
Tholme snorts, crossing his arms and eyeing the spar in front of him. “I thought Fett hated Jedi. Giving us a ride for the sake of you three is one thing, but why is he teaching my padawan?”
Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”
There’s a small twitch of a smile, quickly gone. “He said something wrong, I’m guessing?”
“There was no way he could have known,” she dismisses. “We’re just, like, ninety-percent tragic backstories.”
“You’d think the Force would warn him,” Rex notes.
“That’s not how the Force works,” Leia chides.
“No, no, he’s right,” Ahsoka corrects. “The Force does sometimes step in to stop a person from saying something stupid. However, Padawan Vos is at an age where people think they are very rational while being more irrational than they likely ever will be again.”
“Do I want to ask what you were doing at that age?” Tholme asks.
“Running bla...” she trails off, then whips around to gape at him.
He smiles, bland and unassuming. “Does Fett know?”
“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.
“That you’re significantly older than you look,” he says, voice just low enough that the sparring duo can’t hear him. “All three of you.”
Ahsoka turns back to the spar, only catching Tholme out of the corner of her eye. “He knows.”
“Mm. Were you planning on telling the Council?”
“Yes.” That part was never in question. “How did you figure it out?”
“I am a good investigator,” he says. “And you rely a little too heavily on your physical forms to obfuscate. Were it just one of you, that wouldn’t be a problem, but the pattern repeated across three is a little easier to discern.”
“I hoped the whole ‘child soldiers’ thing would be a bigger distraction,” Ahsoka mutters. She glances at Leia and Rex. Both of them are used to being in charge to some degree, giving orders and making contingency plans, but in this... in this, Ahsoka is in charge. They’d decided that at the very start. It didn’t matter that Rex had lived longer and had more experience, or that Leia had held the highest Rebellion rank of the three of them. Ahsoka had been agreed as leader, and they were relying on her.
They’re waiting on her orders. Stiff and unhappy, in Leia’s case, but they trust her.
“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.
“No,” Tholme says. “Your secrets remain your own unless they endanger us, and I’ve a feeling they won’t be.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Rex jokes, smile not reaching his eyes. “I’ve been working with this family for too long to trust that trouble won’t find them around the next corner.”
“This family?” Tholme repeats.
“Sokari was telling the truth about her master being Leia’s biological father,” Rex says. He shrugs. “I worked with him, with his wife, with both of his kids, with his master and his padawan. All of them, to a one, are trouble magnets.”
“Ah, but that’s not the secret that’s putting us in danger,” Tholme points out. “Simply existence as a Jedi.”
Rex shrugs. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”
Ahsoka lurches to her feet, turning with a smile and dancing backward into the the stretch of empty cargo hold they used for such things. “A spar, Master Tholme?”
He looks past her, to Quinlan, and raises a brow. “Would you not prefer to spar with someone a little closer to your level first?”
She barks out a laugh. “Master Tholme, I’m afraid I’ve spent more of my life fighting to survive than having normal friendly spars. My style is more lethal than the average, and you’ve already seen what war’s done to my mind. I ask to spar with you because, if I lose control, if I slip in time or react on an instinct that isn’t appropriate, I trust that you’ll be more able to stop me than a senior padawan.”
He smiles. “Yes, I gathered as much. Still, better to ask. Shall we wait for them to finish up?”
Ahsoka shrugs, turns, and yells. “Clear the deck!”
Rex snorts behind her, and lowly mutters, “Sir, yes, sir.”
She smirks at him over her shoulder. “At ease, Captain.”
“That’s ‘Commander’ to you, I got promoted,” he sniffs, chin held high.
Heavy steps herald Fett’s arrival at their little group. “The hells are you doing?”
“I’m going to have a spar with a Jedi Master, and I want you and Vos to not get stabbed.”
“I’m not that easy to injure in an actual fight, let alone by accident,” Fett grouses. He looks up and over at Vos, who is already significantly taller, if a fair shot less built. “This one, on the other hand...”
“Hey!”
Ahsoka laughs and backs into the center of the cargo hold, drawing her sabers. “Don’t worry, Vos, I won’t play dirty. You’ll probably get your master back in one piece.”
He wrinkles his nose at her. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? He’s a Jedi Master and former Watchman. You’re... what, eighteen?”
Ahsoka raises a brow and activates her sabers, tapping the blades together and watching as more than one person winces. “Wanna bet on how long I last?”
“No,” he says immediately, stepping back to join Rex on the bench. “You’ve already blindsided me enough. I’m not dumb enough to fall for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.”
“I don’t have sleeves.”
“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”
“Greaves go on the legs, these are vambraces.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “I’m just going to stop talking now!”
“Good plan,” Leia snarks, and then literally hisses when Rex ruffles her hair.
Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.
Ahsoka mirrors him.
---------------------------
She wins, but barely. She's had a few weeks to practice her forms, has sparred hands-only with Rex and Fett, but this is her first real try at using her sabers against a person, instead of a blaster or thin air, since she arrived in the past. She’s only mostly adjusted to her body.
But Tholme is a healer and a watchman, not a duelist. Ahsoka held her own against Ventress, against Grievous, against Maul when she was this age. Still adjusting to her body or not, her lineage is one of battle, and it bled true.
“You’re terrifying,” Quinlan tells her after they’re done, smiling like the sun as he hands her a towel. “Please never turn that on me.”
She laughs at him. “Would you believe that I’m out of practice?”
“Out of practice with what?” he asks, horrified and fascinated. “Fighting Sith Lords?”
“Among other things,” she says, and smirks when he chokes on his drink. “Multiple darkside users who claimed to be Sith, at least. One being a full Lord, one that was disowned by his master, and one that was apprenticed to a Banite apprentice, so she wasn’t technically allowed to be a Darth because of the rule of two.”
Tholme meets her eyes past Quinlan’s shoulder, head tilted and eyes half-shut in consideration. He’s taking her seriously. He knows what she’s not saying.
“How...” Quinlan trails off and shakes his head. “You know what, no. Asking you people questions never ends well.”
“Good plan,” Ahsoka says, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Also, you need to spar with Fett more. Your footwork is shit.”
“It is not,” Quinlan gripes. “You’re all just scary good at this stuff.”
“You mean surviving?” Leia pipes up, and smiles innocently when Quinlan turns to pout at her.
“You’re getting bullied by a six-year-old,” Rex informs him.
“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”
Ahsoka laughs, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. For a week, everything is honestly great. She trains, she laughs, she works through the nightmares.
Then fucking Denon happens.
---------------------------
Denon is a city-planet on the intersection of two major hyperlanes. It’s the kind of place where they stop for two things:
Fuel.
Paperwork.
Technically, there’s a whole mess of paperwork they have to fill out to continue along this specific hyperlane, since they aren’t official Republic ships, and don’t have the licenses to just pass along like ships that are pre-registered to the Trade Federation or the like. They could sneak past--literally all of them know smuggler’s routes--but it’s honestly less of a pain to do things legally. They have a Jedi Master. They have cash. Some of that cash wasn’t quite legally acquired, but nobody needs to know that.
It’s supposed to be a pit stop. That’s all.
It’s just a pit stop.
But no, the galaxy isn’t that kind and Ahsoka’s luck is currently being compounded with a Skywalker, two Fetts, and Vos, which means that of course they run into trouble. Of course they do. There was never any other option, was there?
“Motherfucker,” Ahsoka snaps, lifting her head up and slamming her drink on the table.
The glass is empty. That’s good. They’re in a restaurant right now, a little splurging after weeks with only each others’ company, and spilling the sugary child-friendly juice with that move would have drawn way too much attention from the servers.
“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.
“Sir?” Rex asks, kicking Ahsoka under the table. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wr--that jackass,” she hisses, getting to her feet. “Rex, grab a blaster, I’ve got shebs to kick.”
“Okay,” Rex says, grabbing one out of Fett’s holster and scooting out of the booth before anyone can tell him not to. “Whose?”
“I didn’t even know that he was... osik, I don’t have jurisdiction,” she realizes. “I don’t have any record of wrongdoing. I can’t arrest him since we don’t have evidence of criminal wrongdoing...”
“Are you two going to explain what’s going on?” Vos asks. “Or sit down, maybe?”
Ahsoka makes her decision. She eyes the window--the restaurant in question is a little dingy, but it’s also several dozen stories in the air. “Rex, remember the thing we did on Geonosis that you hated?”
He pauses, and then sighs heavily. “Yes, sir. I remember the... yeeting.”
Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.
“Great. With me!”
It’s a good thing the windows are forcefields instead of transparisteel. A bit of a twist to the energy and they’re gone.
She only hears a little screaming before the wind tears all noises away while they plummet.
They land lightly--of course--and Ahsoka wraps them both in a don’t notice me aura. Nobody even notices that they’ve just come from above. It’s great that she can just Do These Things again, and get brushed off as Weird Jedi Shit, instead of worrying about the Empire. She’s missed being able to jump out of windows without fear.
Rex follows her as she starts running through the city. They don’t have comms, and he’s still so small, which means he can’t keep up with her even if she runs at normal speeds without Force enhancement.
“Should you carry me?” he asks, before she can figure out if it’s worth suggesting. She did it a few times before they joined up with Jango.
“It’s not... urgent, I think,” she says. She hesitates to speak, even as she keeps jogging with Rex at her heels. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can ding him for so we can attack him. It’s all well and good that I can beat him right now, but all the crimes I know about haven’t happened yet, so it wouldn’t be legal...”
“Commander?”
“Hm?”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
She scrolls the conversation back mentally, considers, and says, “Oh.”
“Who’s getting steamrolled?”
“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.
“Ah,” Rex says. He makes a face. “I understand the desire to jump out a window, now. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”
Ahsoka laughs. “I mean, I just... every time I’ve seen him for almost twenty years, it’s been like... on sight, you know? We’ve never not attacked each other, except when I needed him to cause problems on Mandalore. But I always knew I was in the right, then.”
“So... what do we arrest him for?” Rex prompts.
“Um... carrying a lightsaber without a license?” she hazards. “We’ll need Tholme there. Hopefully I can just shout at him and he’ll attack me, but I think he only went full nutjob after Master Kenobi cut his legs off. He might be too controlled to try to kill me just for yelling at him.”
“...do we have to stalk him?” Rex asks, sounding like he’d most likely sigh if he weren’t mid-run.
She scoops him up and swings him around onto her back before she answers. “I think we have to stalk him, Rex’ika.”
“Don’t call me that.”
---------------------------
Maul is... exceptionally sneaky, actually. Either that, or he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Ahsoka’s betting on the former, because she’s seen this particular skocha kung take over a planet before anyone realized he was the most dangerous person around.
Or maybe he’s just not committing crimes, and is in fact just here to buy groceries.
He’s examining a papaya.
She fantasizes about jumping across the market and greeting him with a heel to the cheekbone.
“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”
“Yeah...”
“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”
“I know...”
“Does he know we’re here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? Do you think I should go hit him?”
“No.”
“Should I hit on him?”
“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”
“He’s looking at the neloms.”
“I can see that.”
“Why does he have to be so bo--did he just fucking bite a nelom?”
“It appears so, Sir.”
“Like... like rind and all. Just bit the little fucker.”
“Seems it.”
A scuff of metal. “What the fuck are you two doing?”
Ahsoka tips her head around to peer through the grate. “We’re spying, Fett, what does it look like we’re doing?”
Rex cranes his head. “We’re hanging upside-down from a fire escape to get a look at a suspected Sith Apprentice that is currently shopping for various fruits, Mand’alor.”
Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”
“Sokari,” the master greets. “This seems a very conspicuous way to spy.”
She shrugs as well as she can from this angle. “Yes, but you see, this way’s more fun.”
“Is it now.”
Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”
“To kill someone?!”
“No, to the deli meats.”
“Kriff.”
---------------------------
Apparently, Tholme and Fett had told Quinlan to take care of Leia, as Leia had wanted to finish her juice and refused to get involved in the Torrents’ nonsense. According to her, if they couldn’t be bothered to explain the nonsense, they didn’t need her.
This was true and accurate.
Quinlan shows up while they’re still stalking Maul, having moved to a low rooftop for a decent vantage point with less likelihood of being spotted. He’s giving Leia an eopie-back ride, and the pout on her face at needing it is adorable. She pouts harder when she sees them.
“Are you even trying to hide?” Leia scoffs.
“Not really,” Ahsoka admits. She’s got Fett’s binoculars out. “I’m not sure he’s caught wind of the fact that we’re here yet.”
“Or he has and he’s just biding his time to escape while we’re distracted,” Tholme points out.
“Meh,” Ahsoka says, avidly devouring the visual that is a teenage Maul glaring at leafy vegetables. “I just want him to do something so I have an excuse to beat his ass.”
“Do I get to know who?” Quinlan asks, setting Leia down on the roof. “Or are we going to keep being completely unwilling to share information?”
“Baby Sith Lord,” Ahsoka says. “He’s fifteen. A child.”
“A baby,” Rex agrees.
“You’re... that’s... ugh,” Quinlan groans as loudly and as dramatically as he dares, flopping down to the rooftop. “Master Tholme, please tell me this isn’t a real Sith.”
“He’s Dark,” Tholme confirms. “Sith is... up for debate until we have evidence.”
“He’s a bitch is what he is,” Ahsoka mutters. She observes the teenager in question stop to poke at some pink tomatoes. “E chu ta, break the law, already!”
“Does he have a lightsaber?” Quinlan asks. “If he has a lightsaber and no Jedi ID or specialty license, we can probably arrest him.”
“Auntie Soka doesn’t have a license or ID,” Leia points out.
“She’s got a Jedi escort,” Tholme says. “And if our supposed Sith is polite and plays nice, we can probably escort him to the Temple as well.”
Rex snorts derisively.
“Do you know why he’s on Denon?” Fett asks.
“No clue,” Ahsoka admits. “Evil reasons, probably.”
“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.
“Thanks, princess, how’s that attempt to open the jam jar by yourself coming?”
Leia says something very inappropriate for a princess, for a child, and for a lady. It’s fairly appropriate for a soldier, which is admittedly what she’s been for a few years now. Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at the girl like the mature operative she is.
“I wish we could still get him to lose his osik by just showing up and insulting him,” Rex mutters, low enough that Quinlan probably can’t hear.
“I wanna punch him in the face,” Ahsoka confesses. “I want him to try to punch me in the face, and fail.”
“Don’t bully the baby Sith,” Rex admonishes.
“He’s a Sith.”
“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”
“But it’s Maul.”
“I know, but you’re tw--significantly older than him.”
“But... but it’s the motherfucker himself.”
“...you can bully him a little, but only because he’s a Sith.”
Fett steals the binoculars. “You can borrow them again when you stop acting like children.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Rex says, dry as Ryloth. “I’m ten.”
“Pretty tall for your age,” Ahsoka mutters, and then giggles.
“Don’t steal my jokes,” Rex says. He elbows her, hard.
“You know,” Quinlan says, slow and tired. “Master Tholme and I are trained investigators.”
Ahsoka and Rex look at each other, and then up at him.
“Okay?”
“...do you want me to find actual evidence of this guy doing something criminal?”
“Oh, yes please.”
---------------------------
Quinlan, as it turns out, is not overselling his skills. He does catch Maul doing something illegal later that day. It’s a little more ‘stealing corporate secrets in the dead of night’ and less ‘torturing people for kicks,’ but it’s still enough to legally arrest him. Quinlan attempts to do so.
Quinlan does not succeed, and is forced to jump out a window to avoid getting cut in half. Maul follows, steals a passing speeder by throwing out the driver, and takes off. Someone--looks like Tholme--drops back to save the driver, but the rest of them give chase. Ahsoka gleefully takes point on that, of course. She’s the best pilot.
(Rex looks bored, but someone is likely to puke by the end of the night. She hopes it’s not Leia, who insisted on coming for some fucking reason.)
“How the kriff is a teenager that good?!” Quinlan yells, clinging to the edge of the speeder to avoid getting tipped out as Ahsoka swerves around a corner with a wild laugh.
“He’s a Sith!” Leia shouts over the wind. “What do you think?”
Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.
Ahsoka screeches as she drifts across four lanes of traffic and into an alleyway to pursue Maul. He’s pretty good at dodging cross-building walkways, but she’s better. She bares her teeth, hissing, and tries to pick a plan.
“Vos, how’s your aim with Force throws?” She calls to the backseat.
“Uh, decent?”
“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”
Vos takes a second longer to process that than Jango does.
“I’m wh--”
He cuts off, screaming, and is flung forward by Quinlan to crash headfirst into a teenage Sith.
“Take the wheel!” Ahsoka commands, not waiting to see who follows the order, because Fett and Maul are both getting to their feet, the other speeder is about to crash, and she’s not sure who’s going to win that fight.
She jumps from the speeder they’ve been violently dragging around Denon, and lands feet-first on Maul’s... shoulder.
Hm.
That definitely dislocated something.
“You should wear armor!” she chirps at him, drawing both sabers and grinning as he whirls to face her, eyes wide with hate.
He’s utterly silent.
That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.
“Did you just throw me?” Fett demands, higher pitched than she’d normally expect.
“No, Vos threw you.”
“Because you told him to!”
“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”
“It is not!”
“Why not? Throwing people was standard practice in the GAR.”
She can’t see his face, but she’s pretty sure he’s about ready to strangle her.
Ahsoka cannot, at that point, continue snarking with the father of her best friend, because there’s a red lightsaber coming for her throat, and she should probably worry about that. Maul’s very good at killing people and she’d like to avoid becoming part of that statistic.
As she is quickly reminded, he is... fifteen. And shorter than she’s used to. And already injured.
It’s really, really easy to take him out, actually.
At some point, the other speeder was safely recovered before it caused property damage, and their own is landing a few meters away with Vos and the kids.
“You have Force-negating cuffs, right?” Ahsoka asks.
“No, Master Tholme has them.”
“Oh,” she says, and grimaces. “I guess I’ll just... keep sitting on him then.”
Maul snarls, and she raps him on the skull. “Stop that, it’s uncivilized.”
Rex snorts.
Jango makes a noise that is incredibly frustrated with the lot of them, and turns on Rex. “Was she telling the truth?”
“About?”
“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”
Rex’s face goes pained. “It was in the five-oh-first. And a few others.”
“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.
“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.
Quinlan throws his hands up in the air again. “Come on! I just proved I know what I’m doing!”
“And their tragic backstory is none of your business, prudii!”
Quinlan blinks at him, and then glances at Ahsoka. “Um.”
“He called you a shadow since your training, um, seems to be pointing in that direction,” she says as carefully as she can. “We were theorizing.”
“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”
Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”
She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.
Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...
Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”
“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”
Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”
The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.
“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”
“I am not a child!” Maul spits.
“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”
“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”
“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”
“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”
“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”
“I--what? No, that’s--what?”
Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”
Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.
---------------------------
“You should eat something.”
He glares at her.
“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”
He keeps glaring at her.
“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”
He bares his teeth.
“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”
Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”
“Not to.”
“And what are you doing?”
“Making him eat his vegetables.”
“Soka.”
“Rex’ika.”
He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”
“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”
Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”
“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”
“He’s going to bite you.”
“I’ll bite back.”
Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”
“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.
She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.
“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”
“A girl’s gotta eat.”
“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”
Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”
“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”
“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.
Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.
“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”
His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.
“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”
Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”
“Now listen here, jetiika--”
“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”
“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”
Well, then.
She smiles thinly. “Of course.”
He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.
“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”
He sidles out.
Tholme doesn’t.
Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”
“I’d prefer not to.”
He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”
She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.
Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.
“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”
She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.
The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”
There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.
“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”
There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.
She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.
Their accusations aren’t unfounded.
They deserve an apology.
She is in the wrong.
She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.
“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”
At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.
She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”
“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”
Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”
“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”
“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.
Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”
She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her mistake.
She goes to the cargo hold.
---------------------------
Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.
She’s fine.
It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.
‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.
“Um.”
She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.
“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”
“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”
Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.
“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”
“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”
“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”
She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.
There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.
“Want to spar?”
She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.
He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”
“You’re serious.”
“No, I’m Quinlan.”
She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”
“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”
She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”
“...yes?”
“Was it cuffs?”
“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”
She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”
“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”
“No, you don’t.”
When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.
She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.
So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.
(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)
“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.
“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.
“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.
But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.
She doesn’t break right away.
She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--
She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.
“Sokari?”
She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.
Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner
Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.
She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.
She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.
Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--
“COMMANDER!”
Rex.
Rex is here.
Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.
Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.
“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--
“Commander.”
No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.
“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”
Right, sparring.
“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.
“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”
She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.
“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”
“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.
“And where were you?”
His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...
“Soka.”
Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.
Her breath hitches, and she wails.
“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.
Our long awaited meeting.
I destroyed him.
Then you will die.
She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--
“Soka?”
“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”
“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.
“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”
“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”
“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”
“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”
“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”
“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”
Of course he does.
---------------------------
“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.
“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.
“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”
“He’s--”
“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”
Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.
Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.
“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...
She’s in need of a lot of therapy.
“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”
Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”
There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.
“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”
They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.
“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.
“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.
She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.
“Thank you, Princess.”
She sips.
She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.
I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...
She shivers.
“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”
She probably should.
She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.
“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.
“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.
She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”
“Of course.”
---------------------------
Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.
She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.
Again. Again. Again.
She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.
Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.
Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.
Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.
“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”
She just stares at him.
He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”
She can’t.
Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--
Then you will die, her memory growls.
She flinches.
“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”
She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.
---------------------------
“Tell me something good.”
Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.
Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.
The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”
Good things.
About Anakin.
“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”
Did they?
Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...
Wait.
“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”
Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”
“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”
Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)
Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”
He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.
“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”
“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”
“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”
She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.
She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.
“Soka.” Rex.
“Hm?”
“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”
She does.
He’s right, that’s a good story.
“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”
---------------------------
“Tholme’s hiding something.”
Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.
“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”
“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”
The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.
“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”
“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”
“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”
“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”
Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”
“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”
“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”
Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.
“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”
“You... want to be sedated?”
“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”
“So he should tell me or Rex.”
“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”
“You don’t know that.”
Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”
Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.
She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.
It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”
She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”
“Yes.”
“...why?”
“Viszla.”
“I see.”
She does.
Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.
“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”
“You’ll help me achieve it.”
“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”
“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”
“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”
“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”
She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.
“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.
“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”
He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”
“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”
“Not the beskad?”
She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”
He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.
(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)
(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)
(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)
---------------------------
Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.
Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.
Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.
“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”
Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.
Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.
They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.
“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”
“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”
“He’s not even trying!”
“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”
“I’m not a--”
“Teeth.”
It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.
Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.
Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...
Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.
It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.
“Do Jedi believe in souls?”
His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.
“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”
“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”
“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“What about those not yet born?”
Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.
“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”
It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”
“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”
There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.
“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.
“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”
“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”
“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”
Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”
“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”
“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”
“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”
He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.
A Jedi does not hate.
I am no Jedi.
“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”
“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”
“You’d build an army of slaves.”
“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”
She holds his gaze. She looks away first.
“Torrent?”
“I’m thinking.”
He lets her.
“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”
“Understandable.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”
“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”
“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”
She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.
Great. Just what she needed.
---------------------------
Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”
“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”
“I don’t care.”
“What did Fett say?”
“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”
“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”
He knows all of this.
“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”
“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”
He clings to her and shudders.
“Rex?”
“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”
“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”
“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”
She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.
“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”
“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”
“He’s not vod.”
“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”
Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”
“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”
He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”
“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”
“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”
“Bantha poodoo.”
Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”
“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”
“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”
“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”
“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”
She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.
“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”
“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”
“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”
“That’s what makes the decision for you?”
“Well something had to!”
They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.
He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.
(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)
(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)
(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)
---------------------------
“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”
The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.
“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.
“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.
“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”
“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.
“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”
She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.
“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”
“Good enough,” he’d sighed.
What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.
For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.
And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.
A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.
“Stable?” Fett grunts.
“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.
“I meant you.”
Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”
She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”
“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”
“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”
“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”
She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.
Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”
“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.
“Leia’s crying.”
Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”
Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.
“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”
Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.
“What name.”
“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”
Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.
This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.
“Captain, sitrep.”
“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”
“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”
“Torre--”
“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.
“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”
“Luke.”
From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.
“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”
Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.
Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.
He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.
Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.
Why would Luke?
Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.
“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”
Rex steps closer. “Commander?”
“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”
He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”
“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.
“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.
“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.
Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.
“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”
“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.
“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”
“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”
“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”
“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”
Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”
We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.
“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”
He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.
“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”
“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”
“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”
Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.
She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.
Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.
There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.
Attachment, they’ll say.
What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’
They won’t be entirely wrong.
She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.
This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.
---------------------------
The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.
Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.
Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.
It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.
It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.
“The hell’s wrong with you?”
Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.
She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.
She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--
The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.
He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.
And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.
She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.
“Master!”
She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.
It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.
“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.
(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)
(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)
(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)
(“You could have just warned me.”)
(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)
(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)
She ignores everything.
“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”
He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.
“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”
She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.
He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.
“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”
She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.
Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...
“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”
He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.
There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.
Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.
She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.
They can save the galaxy this time.
She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.
She’s okay.
Everything’s going to be okay.
#Ahsoka Tano#Captain Rex#Leia Organa#Jango Fett#rex and ahsoka#Quinlan Vos#Tholme#Depa Billaba#Obi Wan Kenobi#Ben Kenobi#Maul#Darth Maul#time travel#de aging#ptsd#trauma#child soldiers#Phoenix Files#Uncle Ben and Little Luke#Auntie Soka and Little Leia#disaster lineage
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Thursday Thoughts: Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox Mandalorians
Spoilers for season two of The Mandalorian below the cut.
I’m relatively new to the world of Star Wars. My parents had a strict “no violent media” policy when I was a kid, so that kept lightsabers and blasters out of my life until high school. I’ve seen the movies, I’ve read a couple novels, and I’ve watched the Jedi Training Academy at Disney’s Hollywood Studios many, many times, but that’s about it.
The first time I ever heard of a Mandalorian was while watching the show on Disney+ a year ago. I’m a sucker for worldbuilding, and Mandalorian culture fascinated me, presented here as a strict code which includes, among other things, never taking off one’s helmet. What especially interested me was how matter-of-factly the tradition is portrayed. It’s what Mando does; it’s what his people do. The viewer is put in the clear position of empathizing with him and condoning his behavior. This caught my interest because, in real life, in the Western world, people who adhere to such traditions are usually given a hard time or viewed with suspicion, especially if that tradition includes hiding one’s face.
This was pre-pandemic, of course. Then the pandemic hit, and I found myself furloughed, with so many empty hours on my hands and a Disney+ account still at my fingertips. I ended up watching all of Clone Wars and Rebels over the course of a few weeks, greatly expanding my Star Wars exposure.
“Huh,” I found myself thinking more than once, “there’s a lot of Mandalorians in these shows. And they keep taking their helmets off! What’s up with that?
“You know what,” I joked in a text to a friend, “I bet they’re all Reform Mandalorians, and our buddy Mando is Orthodox.”
My friend wasn’t Jewish, though, so she didn’t really get it, and I didn’t think it was that good of a joke anyway, so I ended up forgetting about it.
And then they released season two of The Mandalorian.
When Din Djarin meets Bo Katan Kryze, he is shocked to see her take off her helmet. She cannot possibly be a Mandalorian, he says – there is only one way to be a Mandalorian, and it’s his way!
Bo Katan all but rolls her eyes as she reveals that Din belongs to a specific sect of Mandalorians who are all about enforcing ancient laws.
At that, I burst out laughing. Turns out my bad joke was right on target. Bo Katan is absolutely a Mandalorian – she’s just less frum than Din!
Later, Din meets Boba Fett, and things got even more interesting for me. Again, Din insists that this person is not a Mandalorian. Boba maintains that he still has a right to the beskar armor, because it was his father’s armor, and his father was a Mandalorian. When Din brings Boba to meet Bo Katan, she also scoffs at Boba’s claim to Mandalorian armor, because he’s a clone.
Boba, Bo Katan, and Din – representatives of three distinct branches within Mandalorian culture – end up arguing with each other in a scene which boils down to a powerful message. If all Mandalorians had defended themselves with as much spirit as they each in this moment are defending their individual right to be called a Mandalorian, then they might not have lost their homeworld.
Mandalorians are a diasporic people. Their homeworld was taken from them, and they were dispersed throughout the galaxy. And while most of them were once native to that planet, many of them are not. Mandalore is not a race, but a creed – a way of life. It already all felt very Jewish to me, even before I started drawing parallels to different groups within Judaism. I also started to notice something beautiful in how these groups are portrayed.
Boba Fett is Reform Mandalorian. He has patrilineal descent, and according to other Mandalorians, that isn’t enough for him to be considered truly Mandalorian. Of all the Mandalorians we see, he seems to be the most comfortable walking around in the non-Mandalorian world. He doesn’t seem to have much if any interest in Mandalorian traditions or community, and he’s not invested at all in reclaiming the homeland – but he still claims a right to the culture. And the show makes it clear that he has a right to do so.
Bo Katan Kryze is Conservative Mandalorian. She’s the middle ground of traditional behavior. She has traditions she cares about with a burning passion, like the rules about who can claim the darksaber, but she’s also okay with showing her face. She considers Din her “brother,” but she doesn’t agree with all the rules he follows. She’s also a Zionist Mandalorian, focused on reclaiming her stolen world. Like Boba, she’s able to blend in with the non-Mandalorian world if she wants to – but she wants the old world back for her people, and she wants to be an integral part of Mandalorian culture. Again, the show sets her choices in a positive light; she has a right to behave as she does.
Din Djarin is Orthodox Mandalorian. He’s the most steeped in tradition, to the point of not even knowing that other branches of Mandalorian culture exist. He also makes no effort to blend in with the world around him, until he’s forced to do so for the sake of his child. In season two, for the first time in his life, Din is learning that “the way” is not “the only way” to be a Mandalorian. But still, the show never scolds him for wanting to keep his way. He has a right to choose for himself the best way to be a Mandalorian.
And there’s something truly beautiful in that repeated validation of the individuals’ right to choose. The Mandalorian portrays the diversity of a culture in a way I’ve only ever seen before in real-world Judaism. I am a Conservative Jew, and I grew up in an area with a small Reform synagogue and an even smaller frum Orthodox community. My family spent more time interacting with the Reform Jews than the Orthodox Jews, because the local Orthodox rabbi did not consider us Jewish enough and my mom refused to go along with his demands – she refused to see his way as the only way. While I was one of the few kids in my youth group who kept kosher, I knew that we were all Jewish. We all belonged to the same diasporic culture; we all had the same long-lost homeland across the Atlantic Ocean. And I understood from a very young age that we all get to choose what parts of our culture to focus on.
I went to high school in a town which had a church on every street corner, and each one believed that they were the only ones going to Heaven. This always confused me, because I knew from experience that there were many different ways to be Jewish, and it logically followed that there must be many ways to be any religion or culture. But each of those churches were stuck as Din was stuck, believing that there was a single “way” and that anyone who behaves differently must not be a part of his people.
But now, Din’s world has grown. He knows more than he used to; he cares about different things than he used to. There’s no going back from that. I’m eager to see what choices Din makes in the future, and how he forges his own individual identity as a Mandalorian. However frum he is at the end of The Mandalorian, it will be his choice, and it will be his way.
#the mandalorian#mandalorians#mandalorian season 2#din djarin#bo katan kryze#boba fett#judaism#media analysis#religion#reform judaism#conservative judaism#orthodox judaism#diversity#star wars#thursday thoughts#clone wars#star wars rebels#frum#zionism#this is the way
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Grogu didn’t understand why the Mandalorian cared about the woman he saw in the tavern. There were plenty of other men and women there. Grogu had been kind of surprised at that to be honest. Sorgan didn’t look like a planet that had much organized anything on it.
But they had a tavern and taverns were often filled with people in his experience. So why was that person of special interest? It didn’t make sense to him. Sure she looked tough. She was wearing some armor. No one else in the tavern was. Did that make her special? Was it Mandalorian armor? Grogu didn’t think so.
She also had unique skin markings. He expected that they were symbols of something, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t think the Mandalorian cared about that. Unless she had a bounty out on her head and they were identification markings?
But Grogu didn’t think she was the type of person who would use Sorgan to hide out on. It had been his personal experience that it was much easier to hide in places that had lots of people. They all blended in and no remembered anything because to get along with each other they obeyed a silent agreement to not notice each other.
When you were on a sparsely populated planet you were forced, no pun intended, to notice the other people when you met them because it was such a novelty.
Grogu then wondered if instead of being a bounty, she was actually a bounty hunter? That made more sense. They’d already been chased by a bunch of different bounty hunters. Why someone would be waiting on Sorgan to find them didn’t make sense, but maybe it wouldn’t be a problem until it was a problem.
Either way the Mandalorian took an interest and asked the tavern keeper about the woman with the skin markings. By the time her briefing was done, Din had ordered a cup of broth for Grogu to drink and the tavern keeper had a crush on the Mandalorian. Grogu knew that because of how the human female had smiled him and rushed off to help in any way she could. He’d been to a lot places where tavern keepers took their time and kept their mouths in a firm, silent line. This was different.
When the tavern keeper walked away the woman with the skin markings was gone and the Mandalorian seemed alarmed by that. He flipped the tavern keeper a credit bar and left the tavern. Grogu found that all fascinating. Humans were strange. He could have just stayed and talked to the perfectly nice person, but no, he had to go investigate the other one. There was no accounting for taste.
The nice person brought him a cup of bone broth and Grogu was glad to see it. He was hungry. He would have liked to have had some frogs or gorgs or even dung worms to go with it. But the broth was tasty and he liked it.
But he didn’t like that the Mandalorian wasn’t back yet. What if he got lost? Or hurt? Or kidnapped! That wouldn’t be good. Grogu carefully climbed down from his seat and when no one was looking, used the Force to retrieve his cup of broth. He didn’t want to not eat just because he was on the hunt for the Mandalorian. Never give up an opportunity to eat or sleep. Grogu didn’t remember which Jedi master had told him that, but he knew it had been good advice.
He left the tavern, having avoided the obnoxious Loth-cat, and went outside to find the Mandalorian. He didn’t have to go very far. There they were, the Mandalorian and the woman with the skin markings, laying on the ground with their weapons pointed at each other. He took a sip of his bone broth.
He was glad that nothing bad had happened to his guardian and it didn’t seem like he needed any healing. He wondered briefly if this was a strange Mandalorian custom. It seemed likely. Grogu preferred the Jedi method of meeting new people. It started with saying, ‘Hello there’.
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