Chapter Text
“What?” You say, fruit-juice dripping down your chin. The shock coursing through your body makes you lose control of the glass.
“The Mand'alor wants to marry you.” Leia repeats, gently wiping your face clean with a napkin. Sera, Senator Organa’s handmaiden, and Kip, her second-in-command security guard, stare at you in open disbelief. You take another sip of fruit-juice, trying to digest this new information. Luckily, you refrain from spilling anything this time.
“The king of Mandalore wants to marry a security guard?” You question, still unable to process the situation.
First off—marriage? You haven’t planned on doing that anytime soon, if ever. In your line of work, you are lucky to be alive for some morning fruit-juice, let alone settling down with someone.
Secondly, while you are aware of the peace talks occurring with the New Republic and Mandalore, you never pay much attention during the conferences. Usually, you are more focused on spotting any potential threat to Senator Organa—alas, you may have missed the part where they discussed the specifics of an arranged marriage.
Lastly—in what scenario are you the most desirable person in the room? Or, more specifically, in the New Republic? There are plenty of wealthy senators, or dukes and duchesses, with powerful families to choose from. You, on the other hand, were orphaned in the Coruscanti slums, and have no house, title, or any relevant ties.
While your upbringing was rather… unconventional, only Leia knows all the details, and thus, there is no way your past had any factor in the Mand'alor’s decision.
To sum up the situation: what the fuck?
“His right-hand informed me that he was impressed with your fighting prowess. They would like to meet again this afternoon to further discuss the proposed arrangement.” Leia explains, closely monitoring your expression—likely in an attempt to gauge your feelings. In your many years in the Senator’s service, she has gotten remarkably good at reading you.
The Mand'alor was impressed with your fighting prowess? You can count the interactions you’ve had with the man on one hand, since when has he witnessed you in action? Oh. Oh.
[FLASHBACK]
“An arranged marriage, while archaic, would be the first-stepping stone in an alliance between the New Republic and Mandalore.” Senator Korden stated evenly, her hands folded neatly on the conference table.
“How exactly would a loveless marriage benefit either of our nations? What you are proposing, Senator, is borderline laughable, if not insulting.” The Mand'alor’s right-hand, Bo-Katan Kryze, countered, her top lip twisting upwards in a sneer.
“I understand your concerns, Lady Bo-Katan, but please understand that this union does not have to be permanent. While partnered with one of our own, the New Republic would supply Mandalore with any necessary supplies your growing planet needs to prosper. In addition, for the period of your union, you would have full access to New Republic trade routes.” Senator Korden continued, remarkably smooth, as if she had rehearsed her selling spiel before-hand.
“Beautiful words, Senator, but what would your gracious New Republic expect in return, for this so called, temporary union?” Bo-Katan demanded, tilting her head in an obvious challenge.
In the corner of your eye, you spotted movement towards the back of the conference room, drawing your attention away from the growingly heated debate. You feigned a casual stretch, and glanced toward the door.
Senator Shesh’s personal bodyguard, Chief Kier—a human from Corellia—stood guard, and made direct eye contact with you, before quickly shifting his gaze elsewhere. Odd, as the two of you had shared a friendly drink or two before.
“... if nothing else, it would help foster a place of mutual trust—”
“... you mean ensure that we wouldn’t exploit the New Republic’s courteous aid—”
Following suit, you returned your attention to the conference table. You began to fiddle with one of your rings —a gift from an old friend—in an attempt to appear unbothered.
“... in agreement with Lady Bo-Katan… an arranged marriage is far too outdated, and the New Republic is meant to be an instrument of progress—” You heard Senator Organa begin to debate, when you saw it again. More movement from the corner of your eye.
Pretending to drop your ring, you discreetly leaned down to pick it up, with no one in the meeting paying you any mind.
Tilting your head slightly, you got another glimpse of Chief Kier. He appeared to be grasping something behind his leg, and with a simple shift in his weight, you spotted the unmistakable barrel of a blaster.
Once again feigning ignorance, you picked up your ring, and returned your gaze to the meeting at hand. At the moment, the Chief held you at a disadvantage. He was the one with a blaster on standby, and if you made any sudden movements, you had no doubt that the man would shoot you down in a panic.
Perhaps you could react in time, but you would rather not risk it. In addition, if his sights were set on Senator Organa, as you suspected, what was to stop him from redirecting his blaster-fire to her, once you attempted to disarm him?
Pretending to be indifferent was your best bet, as he likely was operating on the notion that he could catch you off-guard. Underneath the table, you rested a hand on your vambrace, ready to act the moment you spotted any movement from the man.
“... you call the New Republic an instrument of progress, but support your brother’s attempts to found a new Jedi academy. Is that outdated religion not better left in the past, as well?” Senator Shesh argued, her tone spiteful. You felt Leia tense beside you, in reaction to the irrelevant jab.
Leia had only gotten a few words in when you saw it. A sharp, deliberate movement from the corner of your eye. A second hardly passed, but you had already activated the forcefield from your vambrace and outstretched your arm, successfully blocking the blaster shot aimed at Leia. Several gasps filled the room, as Chief Kier’s gaze turned towards you in horror.
You stood up in a flash, blocking each shot the Chief hastily directed at you with your vambrace, and once you were close enough, you socked him in the jaw with a perfectly-executed uppercut.
As he was disorientated from the blow, you kicked the blaster out of his hand and brought both of your elbows down upon his skull, in one fluid movement. In a few seconds, the man was slumped on the floor. Unconscious.
However, his body began to morph—changing from Chief Kier, to someone reptilian in appearance.
“A changeling?” Someone asked, as you leaned down to inspect the body, after confirming that Leia was unharmed. You activated the comm on your wrist guard, as panicked chatter, and apologies directed towards the Mand’alor, ensued.
“Kip, I need you and Tol Dun to the conference room at once. We have a situation.” You ordered, rising to your feet after you found nothing of note on the assailant’s body.
“Roger that, boss.” Kip’s voice crackled through the comm, before you ended the line.
[END FLASHBACK]
Ah, so your response to an attempt on Leia’s life was the reason you were having this conversation. Everything happened so quickly, that you failed to notice that you had an audience. A Mandalorian audience, to be more specific.
After Kip and Tol Dun arrived to place the assailant in New Republic custody, Leia politely excused herself from the conference, and you escorted the Senator to her quarters. Sure, you remember feeling a lingering gaze on your back as you took your leave, but that could have been anyone.
“...boss? Hey, boss?” Kip’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You blink, snapping your attention back to your subordinate.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” You ask, shaking your head slightly to clear any lingering thoughts.
“Senator Organa asked you a question.” Kip informs you, before plopping a piece of fruit in his mouth. You turn to Leia, and raise a questioning eyebrow.
“I asked if you wanted to meet with the Mand'alor this afternoon.” She smiles, probably finding your disorientation amusing. You have a tendency to zone out when no one’s life is in danger.
“To discuss… marriage?” You question, still finding the situation absurd.
“Among other things, but for the most part, yes. I should inform you that this is not a necessary meeting, but merely an offer from the Mand'alor and his council. If you do not wish to go, we can have afternoon tea on the terrace instead.”
You smile. Afternoon tea is pretty tempting. “And the Senate would accept my decision?”
Leia’s expression brightens in mirth. “Oh, unlikely, however, I’m known to be quite persuasive.”
The Senator is right. When she wants something, she gets it. You think for a moment, before coming to a conclusion: what’s the worst that could happen?
“Well, I’ll save you the effort of defending my honor.”
Kip spits out his drink, in disbelief. To his right, Sera scowls in annoyance at the mess.
“You’re gonna go?” Kip demands, as if he misheard you.
You shrug. “I can think of worse ways to spend my afternoon.”
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