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Had the first tug on your pants leg been any lighter you would have thought it was the slight breeze of one of the cantina’s patrons rumbling by. The second was more insistent, indicating more.
Patuu!
The squeak pulled your attention down to the floor where the most curious of creatures stood at your feet. Pale green skin, comically large pointed ears and round brown eyes that could be mistaken for black if you weren’t looking close enough. Its head tilted to the side as it met your gaze, an ear gently flopping with the motion.
“Well, hello there, little one. Where did you come from?”
The warm smile you gave it was reciprocated with a toothy grin. It waved its arms above its head, making grabby hands at you. Bending down from your seat, you scooped it up and placed it on the bar in front of you, earning you a quick, happy squeal.
You had never seen anything like this creature before, but it was strangely adorable. Was it someone’s pet? No, that can’t be right. Its starlight filled eyes held a peculiar intelligence, an understanding as its gaze bored into you. Someone’s child maybe?
“Are you lost?”
It shook its head. Then, it pulled out something from underneath the oversized robes that swallowed its body and chewed on it.
“Okay… Are you here with anyone? Family?”
It nodded, holding out the object it previously had in its mouth to you and pointing to the door behind you. You let the creature place the metallic item in your palm. The shiny silver and black pendant took the shape of an animal-like skull.
A mythosaur? Haven’t seen that symbol in a while.
“A foundling, huh? Guess that will make it easier to find your caretaker. Just gotta find a Mandalorian,” you thought quietly out loud.
The youngling cooed as it took back the pendant, resuming it gnawing. After a final swig of your drink, you placed the money for your meal on the counter, offering a quick nod to the owner.
“Okay, kiddo,” you grinned and swaddled it to your chest. “Ready to go back to your family?”
It babbled and clung to your shirt with its tiny clawed hands. Hopping off the bar stool, you left the cantina.
Where to start the search…
The marketplace would probably be good. Mandalorians were not common, especially on this planet. Whoever they were would have had to travel. They’d need supplies. And the market wasn’t too far from the cantina. It was certainly closer than the hangars. It’d have been easy for the foundling to find its way to where you were.
Veering down a short alley, you hoofed it down the dusty path and in between a couple of stalls at the end. You groaned inwardly. Of course, it was the busiest time of the day. You weaved through the customers, sticking close to the stalls on the outer edges, a quick apology on your tongue for anyone you would inevitably bump into.
You had almost made a full lap around the ring when the hot sun began to descend overhead, but even the creeping, cool shadows didn’t do you many favors. The foundling was still clutched to you chest. The little thing was warmer than it had any right to be. It would have been perfect in a colder climate.
A handful of gasps murmured through the crowd near the middle of the marketplace, snatching the foundling’s attention away from some candied fruit nearby. Patrons were shuffling and scurrying to the edges and alleys. Sounds of scuffling and grunts were coming through clearer as people filtered out to create a ring around the opponents.
Great… Another fight…
You wanted to keep the little one safe, but in your experience, if a Mandalorian was in town, there was going to be a brawl. Too many people wanted to steal their beskar or try their hand at taking down an elite, heavily armored warrior. Might as well see if your theory held true.
Shifting the foundling to your side, you squeezed through the throng of people far enough to get a glimpse of the fight. Shining silver nearly blinded you when you stepped around the last person. And the theory was right.
“Where’s the kid, Mando?” one growled.
Think we found him, little one.
But who was this other guy looking for the child tucked firmly into your side? Not wanting to take any chances, you pulled your cloak so part of it hung over your shoulder and wrapped it over the foundling. It patuu’d in protest, having either wanted to see the fight or recognized its caretaker.
The Mandalorian in question remained silent as he slammed his vagrant-looking opponent into the ground. In the moment the Mandalorian took to whip out his blaster, a shot rang out from across the way and hit the unarmored part of his arm. He stumbled slightly from the impact but held a tight grip on his weapon. He swiftly took out the enemy on the ground before swinging around and firing at the top of a building behind him. A body tumbled from the roof to the dirt, a loud thud echoing off the buildings.
Silence turned to whispers in the crowd as the Mandalorian holstered his weapon and knealt down next to the first corpse. He rifled through the vest before pulling out a blinking tracker. Rising to his feet, he dropped the tracker and easily crushed it with his boot. The helmeted man looked up, his T-shaped visor challenging anyone in the crowd who might oppose him. Everyone looked away to slowly go about their own business. Everyone but you.
When his gaze met yours, it locked into place so hard you swear you could have heard gears clicking together. You knew he was looking at you and you alone. With a quick nod, you motioned for him to follow, the foundling still hidden under your cloak. It was halfway down a nearby alley that you felt the end of a blaster shoved against your spine.
“Where is he?” The modulated voice sent a shivering fear through your body.
Clearing your voice, you turned around slowly. “He’s right here,” you spoke calmly, hoping the slight waver of your voice wasn’t noticeable to anyone but yourself, and pulled your cloak back.
The Mandalorian’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly when he saw his foundling unharmed. It blinked up at him and squealed in delight, reaching out for him to take. Who were you to deny the child his caretaker? You held him out to the beskar-clad man who hesitantly replaced his blaster to take the little one in the safety of his arms.
“What were you doing with him?” the Mandalorian ground out.
You shifted awkwardly on your feet. “He found me… Actually. In the cantina… We came out here to find you.”
His helmet angled a tad as though he were saying an incredulous, “Really?”
Shrugging, you continued, “It’s not like you have to believe me. You’ve got your foundling back, right? That’s what matters.”
Silence.
You felt like you were being studied under a magnifying glass, your skin prickling under his stare. Not that you were surprised, though. All of your other Mandalorian encounters, as few as they were, went similarly, especially if a foundling was present. He was deciding if he could give you the smallest pinch of his trust. So, you stood there and let him continue his inspection.
And why not do one of your own? His armor was immaculate save for the dirt that had been kicked up in the brawl. You weren’t sure if it was the armor or just himself, but the man cut an intimidating figure. No matter how tall you were compared to him, he made you feel tiny. The way he stood exuded confidence and not the cocky kind either. He knew what he was capable of and what he was doing. How anyone thought they had a chance at beating him was beyond you.
Your eyes trailed over his body until you reached his arm, the arm that had been shot. You had expected to see some blood, but not that much. It did more than just graze him. It was soaking through his sleeve, darkening the already near-black material.
“May I?” You motioned to his wound.
He stiffened. Just as he was about to step back, his foundling whined and reached out for his injured arm, looking back between you and his helmet. With a defeated grunt, he raised his arm towards you.
A couple of gingered steps and you were at his side, inspecting the wound. You did your best not to touch him. He probably would not appreciate that. “Well, it doesn’t look like you hit a main artery… Although, it will need stitches. I can help with that, if you’d like.”
“I have a cauterizer on the ship. I’ll be fine.” Had you not been paying close attention, it would have sounded like he snapped at you. Even through the modulator, you could hear a hint of softness like deep down he appreciated that at least one person was willing to help him.
You scoffed out a laugh. “And how many times have you used it only to pass out?”
“I’m used to the pain,” he deadpanned.
Steeling yourself, you dared to place a gentle hand on his vambrace. “Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to go through it even for just one time?”
You were met with a stifling silence. Then, an audible sigh bled through the modulator.
Your lips curled into a smile. “I’ll get the extra stuff I’ll need. Which hangar?”
He grumbled out the location and left you to get what you needed. While you kept quite a bit of medical supplies on your person, some items took priority over others. You went back to the inn, grabbed your stitching materials and rushed back out to the hangars where you found an old, pre-empire ship. And there he was waiting at the top of the open ramp. You followed him inside and got to work.
Mando, the name he offered for you to use, sat atop a crate he had repurposed as a chair while his foundling was playing on the makeshift table next to him. You had cut through the sleeve of his shirt for better access and were currently cleaning up some of the dried blood to see what you were doing. Hints of various scars that lightened and littered his skin made themselves visible as you worked.
“Guessing you use that carterizer more often than you should,” you teasingly broke the quiet of the ship.
Nothing. Not a sound or motion that told you he registered what you were saying.
A sterilized needle later and you started on the stitching. You had to admit he held it together extremely well. Most people flinched the moment the needle punctured the skin. Mando was a statue. Only the tiniest flux of his chest signaled he was a breathing entity.
It didn’t take long to finish. With the stitching done, you gently applied bacta gel and wrapped his arm in gauze. By this point, the foundling had stopped playing and was sitting on the edge of the table, watching your every move with an inquisitive yet serious intensity.
“There. All set,” you concluded, beginning to pack up your supplies. “I’m assuming you know how and when to remove the stitches?”
“Yes.” The helmet bobbed.
“Good.” You were about to stow your last tool when you looked back up at him. “Are there any other injuries you want me to check while I’m here?”
This time he turned, visor pointed right at you. He was studying you, again. This time, the silence was suffocating. Even the little, green foundling seemed aware as he whined and reached for you. Of course, you obliged with a light chuckle, booping his nose before stroking his ear. You guessed that appeased him. It earned you a squeak of delight.
Mando’s shoulders relaxed as though he was finally comfortable with your presence. You pet the child’s ear one more time before gazing back at Mando expectantly. He just shook his head.
“Alright, then,” you said with a smile. Dropping the last tool in your bag, you deftly tied it off and threw it over your shoulder. “I’ll be off. Try not to get yourself too beat up.” You shot Mando a teasing grin.
Just as you were about to reach the ramp, he called out, “Wait. How much for your services?”
You faced him with a shrug. “For that? Don’t worry about it.”
He stalked towards you, boots thumping heavily on the metal floor. “I don’t like being in someone else’s debt.”
Is he trying to threaten me to take his money?
“There’s no debt to be paid,” you tried to wave him off.
He just took a step closer, hooking his thumbs onto his belt.
“Ugh,” you groaned dramatically. “How about this? If we meet again, you can buy me dinner or something. If not, no debt to be paid. Deal?”
“Deal,” he nodded.
Why did you always have to pick the most unbearably hot planets to spend the most time on? You had been in Mos Eisley for a couple of weeks when you had been called out to one of the hangars. One of the mechanics suffered from a serious electrical burn. So now you were attempting to stay in the waning shade as you patched her up. You couldn’t figure out which was worse: A tropical planet that was so humid the sweat poured off of you, or here on a desert planet that seemed to suck the liquid from your body before it had a chance to escape your pores.
“Jeez, Peli… You really did a number on yourself,” you scolded while applying some bacta to her hand and arm.
“Well, how was I supposed to know one of the droids took initiative and turned the power back on?” she vehemently defended. “They weren’t even supposed to be working on that project with me.”
You laughed as you wrapped gauze around her burns.
“You know, maybe I should follow Mando’s lead and go with no droids,” she yelled the last part out to where her metal minions were hiding.
“Mando? So you’ve met a Mandalorian?” You perked up. It had been months since you last saw Mando and his foundling. How are they doing?
“Oh yeah! But just this one. Adorable kid with him. Never seen anything like ’im before. Big eyes, pointy ears, green skin. Haven’t seen ‘em in a while though. Mando better be taking good care of him.”
She probably would have continued had the comm in her office not started beeping.
“One sec!” she hollered, dashing off to answer the call.
You took a look around and saw the three droids still shivering in a dark corner. Grinning and waving, they poked their heads out a little more out of curiosity. Once Peli started making her way back, they shrunk back out of sight.
“Well, you’ll never guess who’s stopping by for repairs!” She leaned on the wall next to you.
“No! Really?”
Was the Mando you knew really about to land in this hangar as if your conversation had summoned him?
A ship’s engines could be heard flying overhead, gearing down to land. Yup. That was the same ship, for sure.
You stood quickly, staying in the background as Peli rushed to meet the patrons. Mando clunked down the ramp with a brown satchel hanging behind him off his shoulder. You could see the familiar brown eyes peering out to take in the scenery. As the beskar-clad man reached Peli who was already giving him grief, those big eyes landed on you. The foundling popped its head out of the bag with a loud squeal. Mando’s visor went down to the child before snapping up to see you.
“Hey,” you waved awkwardly. “Long time no see.”
“Wait. You two know each other?” Peli’s gaze bounced between Mando and you rapidly.
Mando shrugged, so you left your spot, taking a place next to Peli, and answered for him. “We met once. Fixed up a blaster shot.”
“You got shot, Mando?” Peli threw her hands out. “Please tell me the little guy was safe when that went down!”
“Yes,” Mando huffed, not wanting to go into anymore detail. He swung the satchel around so she could see the child.
She immediately plucked him into her good arm. “There you are, kiddo! Has he been taking care of you?”
Peli wandered off to her office, now completely distracted with the foundling. That left you alone with Mando.
“So…” he spoke up. “I owe you dinner.”
You stifled a snicker. “I guess you do.”
Honestly, you weren’t really expecting this. You’d figured Mando would have forgotten the encounter. And yet, here he was, asking you where you wanted to go.
You both wound up at the cantina. You didn’t need much, and there was no way you were going ask him for an expensive meal, not that there was anything high quality around here. Settling in a booth across from each other, you placed your order. The meal was brought out quickly enough. Bar food never did take long.
The whole experience was strangely pleasant. Mando didn’t eat anything. He just kept his gaze on you without speaking much. Most people would have found this uncomfortable or intimidating. But this… It was hard to describe fully.
You felt open like the air. The lack of conversation was depressurizing in the sense that there was nothing to maintain. There was no obligation to be social, and you were okay with that. Over the years, your customer service self was always on. You always had to interact with someone, always called on for your medical know how. This was one of the few times you could turn it all off and just exist.
Mando did pipe up a little bit after you finished eating, asking about what led you to become a traveling healer.
“Well, I’ve always had a knack for it, and the learning opportunity was available. But I mostly wanted to travel, so I figured why not combine the two,” you replied simply.
He leaned forward on the table which whined under the extra weight. “You don’t want to settle down anywhere?”
“No… Not right now at least. When I can’t travel as much, sure. But not now. I enjoy roaming about.”
“You don’t get lonely traveling by yourself?”
“Sometimes. Everyone feels alone at some point in their lives. I’ve just gotten used to pushing past it.”
“Everyone? Does that include Mandalorian bounty hunters?” A teasing lilt snuck through the modulator.
You snickered, “Yes, I’m lumping you in everyone. But you do at least have your foundling. He’s probably as much of a handful as he is adorable.”
A sound you hadn’t heard blurted out the modulator. Did he just laugh?
“Yes, he is. He keeps me busy.”
The rest of the conversation turned towards Mando’s foundling, from chortling over how many amphibians he had managed to eat to pressing buttons he shouldn’t mess with. It was late by the time you left the cantina, prompting Mando to offer to walk you back to the inn you were staying at.
It wasn’t normal to run into the same person multiple occasions on different planets, and yet it happened for a third time. At this rate, Mando was going to think you were following him.
You had landed on Trask about a week prior. Between the various fishing boats on this ocean planet, you had your work cut out for you. Anything could go down when they were out of the port. Almost always, a crew member or two would come back with a poorly patched injury. It just seemed a part of the job.
Word had gotten around about a traveling healer, and you were approached by a frog-like man along with a translator. He had gotten word about his wife returning to him with their eggs. He asked for you to come check on their development once they were fertilized. It sounded more like something a midwife would do, but he had nowhere else to turn. Well, it’s not like you couldn’t help, so you agreed.
The Frog Man called for you a couple of days later. His wife welcomed you in after the first knock, motioning you towards the tall tank with her eggs. You didn’t know exactly what happened on her trip, but she had at least managed to convey she had been in colder temperatures that could have damaged them.
As you were running your check up, a secondary knock on the door resounded through the home. It opened revealing Mando holding his foundling in one arm. The frog couple greeted him ecstatically with open arms. You guessed he was taken back when he found standing in the middle of the room as he didn’t respond immediately. The child, however, was a different story. The moment he saw you, he made grabby hands in your direction.
“Well, hello again, little one,” you beamed.
In one swift motion, you skated around the frog couple and scooped the child into your arms, gifting you another infamous patuu. If Mando wasn’t stunned before, he certainly was now. Not many would make that bold of a move, especially with a Mandalorian.
He shook his head and turned back to the Frog Lady. An agreement was settled that she and her husband would watch over his foundling while he was out on a mission.
“How long will you be in town?” His visor pinned you down while you were letting the child play with your fingers.
“Mmm… Not sure yet. Part of it depends on how badly my services are needed,” you shrugged.
Mando’s shoulders slumped barely a centimeter. Was he disappointed?
Snorting a laugh, you added, “I’m not leaving tonight, if that makes you feel any better.”
A curt nod was his only response before heading out the door.
Either time flew by so quickly you didn’t register it or Mando finished his mission in no time at all. It felt like you had been in the frog couple’s home for maybe an hour or two, holding onto the child as you watched the eggs develop, one of which was getting big enough to break through its gooey barrier.
As much as Mando’s foundling wanted a closer look at the eggs, he whined every time you tried to set him down. Your arms pulsed with an ache you hadn’t known for quite a while when you were finally able to place him in front of a bowl holding the newly formed tadpole. He was finally enraptured enough to not fuss at you. The Frog Lady encouraged him to dip his hands in the water to play with their new offspring. You had to admit it was an adorable sight - The two parents fawning over their child while the foundling acted as a big brother seeing their newborn sibling for the first time. It was in this moment that Mando returned.
The door swooshed open, the air in its wake causing his cloak to billow out. He stood frozen in the doorway like when he first showed up before entering and gently coaxing his son away from the bowl.
“Thank you for watching him. We should be going. We don’t want to overstay our welcome,” he spoke curtly but not unkindly.
His visor set in your direction just as he turned to leave, giving you the slightest of nods.
Nevarro had certainly changed from the first time you were here. It used to be a haven for bounty hunters. Now? It looked like a legitimate, family-friendly town. Even children could be seen playing in the streets when they weren’t in school.
The new education system was the biggest surprise to you. That old cantina you had visited a few years back to meet with a bounty hunter whose partner had been injured became the school house. You took a peek inside after hours - Well-lit and clean. You’d say the cantina was a shell of its former self but that would make it sound like it used to be a good place. The school was a much needed improvement.
All in all, Nevarro felt safe. The need to keep a hand on your vibroblade while you slinked through the crowds seemed unwarranted. Now, that isn’t to say that all the riffraff had run off. There were still a few hiding in the alleys and underground tunnels, only coming out when the shadows grew long and they could keep their cover. They didn’t want to give up their home, but they also didn’t want to draw the attention of the new Marshal and her crew, the Marshal who was currently out. Magistrate Greef Karga was helping out in her stead.
Greef was the one who tracked you down at the inn you nestled yourself in. There had been a scuffle in the market, and the medical center was still being established. They needed someone to step in. You readily obliged.
As you were tending to a Mythrol’s shoulder, Greef disappeared to check a comm message. He returned when you had moved on to the bandaging.
“Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day!” He grinned, nudging your arm. “You’ll finally get to meet the Marshal. Cara should be here within a couple of hours.”
You scoffed a laugh. “Not much left here for me to do. Besides, I doubt she’d want to meet me right when she gets back from her trip.”
“Nonsense, friend!” He leaned on the desk behind him, a mock frown on his face. “Of course she would want to see the healer who helped us in our time of need.”
“A few lacerations, a bloody nose and some bruises don’t really count for an ‘our time of need’ scenario,” you smirked, standing after finishing the bandages.
“Maybe not in a dramatic sense, but it was still nice to have someone step up and help.”
“Alright, alright! I get it!” you laughed. “I’ll stay and meet with her since you want me to so badly.”
And with that he offered you a drink and conversation to pass the time. The Mythrol who you had tended to after the others timidly joined in. Turns out he was working off a debt owed to Greef and should have been in the very office you all were sitting in, not meandering the market. You swallowed down your giggle with a sip of spotchka, observing the squabble that inevitably ended with Greef’s victory.
Just as the pair was telling you about the recent changes to Nevarro - from Moff Gideon shooting up the cantina, the Mandalorian covert that had been living in the underground tunnels, Mando taking Gideon down and to finally rebuilding to a more savory setting - the Marshal stepped through the door. Trailing in her wake was a man dressed in imperial armor, cuffed and gagged. He was languidly entering the room when in a flash of silver, he lurched forward with a half-assed shove.
Mando…
Other than the helmet’s visor halting on you for a beat, he made no indication of your presence. Instead of strutting in with the grace of an apex predator, his boots lightly scraped the floor. His movement cleared the space for two more people to enter, partly making you feel like you should have left when you had the chance. The room wasn’t big enough for this many people. Another Mandalorian clad in green-painted armor and a woman in black with her hair braided in unrealistic perfection stopped near the entrance. They were an intimidating pair for sure.
The Mythrol, who had been next to you, half hid himself behind your form as though you could protect him. Did he not see what you were noticing? Exhaustion rolled off them in waves, Mando even more so. With him, there was something else there, something that wound its way past his impenetrable beskar armor and ate away at his soul.
Greef seemed to catch on. He looked his Mandalorian friend up and down, brows furrowed in concern. He parted his mouth to speak only to snap it shut when Mando whipped his head to stare him down. The Magistrate looked at the two who had yet to introduce themselves, receiving a head shake from the woman. That’s when it hit you.
Where was Mando’s foundling?
The silver Mandalorian directed the Imperial into the room the Marshal had opened, letting the door slide closed behind them. The silence burned your ears as it washed over the room. No one wanted to make eye contact, their gazes glued to the floor. You feared the worst. As much as you wanted to tear through this weighted blanket of silence to ask what happened, it didn’t feel appropriate. So, you swallowed back your concerned curiosity.
The office door swooshed again with Mando stepping out. He nodded at the other Mandalorian and woman who reciprocated in kind. Apparently, that was all they needed to communicate before disappearing outside into the street. Mando’s shoulders slumped, his gloved fingers curling and straightening at his sides. Greef kept glancing over at him. His mouth twitched like he wanted to say something but the words kept derailing, never reaching their destination.
Suddenly, Mando’s helmet snapped up to you, and he motioned for you to follow. As he made his way out, Greef shot you a confused look to which you just shrugged and sprinted after Mando. You could have traveled behind him, allowing him his space. However, something told you that wasn’t what he wanted. Walking at his side, he took you down through the maze of a market to an old building. Its only door consisted of a tattered cloth. He brushed past it, leading you to a nook tucked away in the back. Through it and down a set of spiraling stairs, you found yourself in the tunnels you had only known through word of mouth, the former home of Mando’s covert. He swiftly traversed the paths in a memorized stride.
So many questions addled your brain as you walked alongside him. What had happened to him since you last saw him? Where was he taking you? Why did he want you of all people to come with him?
You were so caught up with your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice Mando come to a grinding halt outside an open door. His helmet angled upwards at the overhang where the silhouette of a mythosaur skull branded the wall. He then trudged onward into the room he knew so well with you tepidly entering after him.
A certain sacredness still lingered, feeling strongest around the cryo-furnace centered in the space. Despite its obvious abandonment, it felt wrong to share the air of the pilfered armory. You awkwardly shifted the weight on your feet as Mando approached the centerpiece. A tentative hand rested on it before he finally spoke.
“He had been taken,” the modulator covered the waver in his voice that would have been present otherwise. “Moff Gideon took Grogu while I was searching for his people.”
You stared at Mando’s backside as he sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. “We came together and stormed his ship. Took out him and his army. Everything had been going according to plan. Grogu was safe. But…”
Gliding up beside him, you placed a gentle hand over his, urging him to continue. It was strange. Even in Mos Eisley he didn’t speak this much. Deep down, you knew he needed this.
“But… Not all of Gideon’s army was down. He had Dark Troopers. Had it not been for the Jedi who found us…” His hand tensed under yours as he gripped the edge of the cryo-furnace. If it weren’t for the gloves, you’d have seen his knuckles turn white. “The Jedi defeated the Dark Troopers like they were nothing. Grogu went with him… With his people.”
You laced your fingers between his, coaxing him to loosen his iron grip on the metal rim and focus on you instead.
“I don’t know what to do now… I knew this day would come, but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for anything on that ship.” He fiddled with something clipped to his belt before ripping it off and holding up for both of you to see. “I lost him and my ship, broke my creed and now after ‘winning’ this thing, I’m the Mand’alor, the leader of all Mandalorians.”
Your heart ached upon hearing his voice crack. This was too much for one person to have thrown at them all at once. Yet, at the same time, you admired his strength, the strength that held him together until now, the strength that let him confide in you.
“How do I move forward from here?” The modulator barely picked up his query.
“What is it you want?” you whispered to match him.
His helmet turned towards you. “I… To- to go back to how things were. When life was simple. But… After Grogu… How can I do that?”
The leather of his glove squealed quietly in protest against the grip on the object in his hand. His thumb glossed over a section of it, and the end burst to life with a black light that formed the shape of a blade. Although you had never seen a light saber before, you had at least heard of them. This one was different from the stories. The light… It was hauntingly beautiful. The reverberating sound echoed through your bones, whispered across your skin, raised the hair on the back of your neck - the telltale signs of danger.
Mando shut it off just as quickly as he had turned it off, retracting the energy that was seeping into you. “With this… This Dark Saber…I have more responsibility than I ever wanted.”
Worrying your bottom lip, you mulled over your next words. He didn’t want this thing or anything that came with it. “You said you won the saber, right?”
“Yes,” he nodded defeatedly. “When I fought Gideon. Apparently, it became mine when I defeated him.”
You finally met his gaze. “‘Apparently’? So you didn’t challenge him specifically for it?”
“No. I didn’t know it existed until after.”
“Then, it sounds like you have a choice.”
His helmet tilted. He wanted you to continue.
“The whole reason you were there was for Grogu, not this weapon. You didn’t challenge him for it. Therefore, it was not technically up for grabs. You’re not obligated to accept it.”
Mando turned his attention back to the saber. “And if I don’t… I don’t know if I can…”
You free hand toyed with the hem of your tunic. Maybe it was time…
“No one said you had to go it alone,” you murmured.
His visor snapped onto you. “You…”
“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “That is… If you want me to come with you.”
“I thought you had gotten used to traveling on your own?”
And there it was. He was starting to pull himself out of his pit of despair.
“Never said I enjoyed it,” you teased back.
A chuckle escaped his throat, and he placed the Dark Saber on the edge of the cryo-furnace. He then pulled away from your grip as he brought his hands to the sides of his helmet.
“Mando,” you protested. “What about-”
“Din. My name is Din.”
“D-Din, what about… what about your creed?” you stammered, panic bubbling in you. This wasn’t quite the turn you had expected.
“I broke it, remember? I showed my face… Twice… For Grogu.”
“But-”
“I want you to see.” He left no room for argument and began to slide his helmet up.
Your arms hung limply at your sides as you watched the reveal - the patchy stubble on his jawline, the hint of a mustache, the warm brown eyes, the messy dark brown hair. You hadn’t expected to see such a soft face on a Mandalorian, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You barely noticed when your lips unconsciously curled into a smile. You could get used to seeing this everyday.
He hooked the helmet under his arm, a bashful smile threatening his face when he saw how you were looking at him. “I guess you like what you see.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
His unoccupied hand reached up and ghosted your cheek. You found yourself leaning into the touch, an action that gifted you a full blown smile that reached his eyes. Stars, he was expressive.
He pulled back and grabbed hold of the Dark Saber. He leaned over the edge of the cryo-furnace, it innards long since cold. The way he placed the hilt in the middle held a certain reverence. Din still had respect for it, for what it represented, but it was for someone else to wield.
Stepping down and away from what you now considered a shrine for Mandalorian culture, Din held out his hand. You took it without hesitation.