A/N: Part 3 is here lovlies! I’m sorry it took a while but there has been a lot going on in my life as of currently but I still wanted to make time for you guys so I hope you enjoy!
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
Warnings: violence and language
The sun was starting to set on the planet casting a glow across the landscape. And what usually would have been a warm sight for you to gaze upon like the brushstrokes of a painting, was now cold and even hostile. You found yourself in a large spacious room, darkened by the night sky that could be seen from the large glass windows. Looking around, you had recognized the room from the few details that you could make out. You had been here before. There were only a few sounds that could be heard within your ability, divided between your breathing and the beating of your heart, and the sound of blasters going off in the distance. But as you listened closely, you heard the soft whimpers of children hidden in the shadows of the room, their voices laced with fear.
“Hello?” You called out, your eyes scanning over the direction from where those voices came. “Is anyone there? It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” You held your hands out before you, desperate to reach for something in the hidden depths of the room in an attempt to find and help those frightful children, yet all you could feel was air between your fingers. The more your searched, the more you came to find nothing, just the stillness of the room and the contours hidden in it. You felt a sudden shift in the space behind you and in the air that hovered there, the appearance of a shadowed figure. You had sensed their presence the moment they stepped into the room, and it was someone that you were familiar with, someone you knew well. Turning around, you looked towards the little light that had slipped through the entrance of the area, noticing a cloaked figure standing at the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow upon the floor.
“Y-you?” You squinted your eyes, making out what you could of the details of their face that was hidden underneath their hood. “Thank goodness you’re here.” You stepped up to them with a relieved expression, the small smile that had been on your lips shifting into a frown once you received a closer look at them. Their face had lost that kindness that you had once knew, and their eyes, you couldn’t seem to forget the appearance of their eyes. The warmth that was once filled within those orbs was now filled with something much more, a fire that was devoid of any form of comfort. You called out their name with furrowed brows, your voice laced with concern, but they did not mutter a single word in response. You knew the signs, yet you couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it. And then came that sharp sound you were much too familiar with as the glow of an object other than the dim lights outside casted the room in this haunting glow.
“So this is it then?” You shook your head at the figure with tears threatening to spill in your eyes. “Is this what it has come too?” You looked into their eyes, searching their depths for any sign of hope, only to see there wasn’t a single ounce of empathy in them. There was a pain slowly building in your chest, the feeling of every fiber in your being being ripped apart from the heartbreak. “Don’t make me do this. Please.” But the figure only moved towards you menacingly, holding their weapon out before them in an attempt to strike you down. And as you slowly reached towards your hip, that’s when you felt it, that searing hot pain that filled your side as a choked gasp escaped your throat. With widened eyes and gradual loss of feeling in your limbs, you looked up to your attacker with betrayal and written across your features, desperate to see anything, anything that could be a reminder of who they used to be. But you were met with none of that, only to see that there was not a single ounce of remorse behind their eyes. With choked gasps as you struggled to breathe, your eyes darted across their face before noticing a lone tear escape from their eye, slowly trailing down their cheek. And as you reached a hand out to wipe away their tear, as you had done many times before, the world around you blackened as you collapsed to the floor.
You jolted awake from your dream, the crying of the children and the sound of the weapon that had struck you echoing in your ears. Your face was wet with tears underneath your helmet as you breathed out in small pants, finding yourself back in the Mandalorian’s ship instead of the place of your nightmare. The pain was still there, that burning sensation that you had felt that exact night, as if you had been impaled just now. You squeezed your eyes shut against the feeling, concentrating on anything but it and forcing it to die down. To this day, you had no idea why it still flared up whenever you had that particular dream.
You glanced towards the Mandalorian, glaring at the back of his shiny ass helmet. “So. You gonna tell me who you’re taking me to or am I gonna find out when I get there.” You sighed, throwing your head back at the silence from the lack of his response and complete ignorance to your existence. “Right, I forgot. You don’t know how to formulate sentences, or words for that matter. I wonder how many of your bounties had died on the journey of their transportation just by being stuck with your very….lively presence. Bored to death, quite literally.”
You craned your head back, looking back to find the child and seeing him cuddled up in a makeshift bed, fast asleep. Pursing your lips in thought, you turned your head back around. You still pondered why a Mandalorian bounty hunter such as him would be in possession of a child, especially a child that was sensitive to the one thing you had come to forget. It had been so long since you had felt anything like that and you thought you would never come across it ever again. And the more you thought about it, the more you came to speculate that the only reason the bounty hunter had him would be that the child held value, value that would be sought out by those that had an agenda. One thing was for certain, you needed to find out more. Turning your head back around, you stared at the sleeping form of the youngling, quietly calling out to him. “Psst. Psst.”
The small green child sleepily opened his eyes, staring back at you with big brown orbs, muttering out a small blabber while tilting his head at you.
“Hello there little one.” You whispered with a kind smile.
“Hey.” The Mandalorian spoke up upon hearing your voice. “I thought I told you-”
“I’m not talking to you.” You cut him off before focusing on the child. “What does this pile of junk want with you? Is he selling you?”
“I said-wait what?”
The child muttered out a few noises that you could make out.
“Friend?” You quirked a brow. “Is he-is he your protector?”
Another babble of noncoherent words.
So the Mandalorian was protecting him. It had to be against those who were attempting to rebuild the empire, right?
“Wait, so the child is under your care?” You turned back to the Mandalorian to see him stare at you through his helmet briefly before speaking up.
“What business is it to you?”
“What business it is to me is frankly none of your business.” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have to see his eyes to feel his glare. “Listen, tin man, I’m not going to hurt him if that’s what you’re thinking. You can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me, pretty sure the kid knows the difference between the good guys from the bad guys.”
The bounty hunter stared a moment longer in your direction before turning back around, focusing his attention on the controls in front of him and attempting to land the ship. Wait, had you already reached your destination? You watched as the Mandalorian got up from his seat and walked over to where you sat, crouching down to unshackle your ankles from the chair. “Whatever they are offering you, I’ll pay double.”
Silence.
“What is it that you want? Name your price and I can offer it to you, I have some influential friends. I can get you a much better ship if that’s what you are looking for. Hell, you could use a better ship.” You scoffed before letting out a wince from the way the Mandalorian grabbed you roughly by your arm and pulled you up. “Ow. Watch your grip will ya. Please tell me you don’t handle the poor child like he’s some sort of stuffed animal. Cause if you do, I feel sorry for him.”
“Walk.” The Mandalorian pushed you forward with his blaster pointed at your back.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Move.”
“Alright. Geez.” You rolled your eyes. You had half a mind to disarm him right then and there and flee for your life, but something told you that now was not the right time, that by fighting him once more would only give him more reason to go after you. With your eyes lowered in thought and your hands cuffed in front of you, you walked out the exit of his ship to find yourself in a familiar place, recognizing the same metallic buildings surrounded you. It was a place that you had seen many times before but had not visited in a long time. “Seriously? Coruscant? I’m guessing you want me to walk into that building there?” You turned around to face the bounty hunter with a raised brow, not knowing why you even bothered to talk to him at this point, as if he had anything to say to you.
The Mandalorian stared at you, his expression most likely identical to the helmet he wore. Blank. And for a moment you found yourself wondering what he looked like under that shiny bucket of his. “Move.” He spoke more firmly, using his blaster to push you forward.
“You really need to develop some social skills.”
The streets of Coruscant were bustling with life, with movement in every direction you looked. Speeders zoomed far over your head with a large whistling sound as you glanced around at the area before landing your eyes on a particular spot in the distance, a place that once held a large building of a great importance to you and many others before being burned down. The ends of your lips dropped at the sight, a heavy feeling now settling in your chest as you found yourself yearning for the time you once knew along with the faces that once warmed your every day each time you strolled those halls. You tore your eyes away from the skeleton of the place, returning your eyes to the front as the two of you headed over to the entrance of the building where two guards who stood at front blocked you from entering.
“What business do you have here?” One of the guards asked you, squinting his eyes at you and the Mandalorian in a poor attempt to see through the visors of your helmet.
“Tell the mayor I have his bounty.” The Mandalorian gestured to you with his gun.
Mayor? You scrunched your nose at the thought. What would a mayor have to do with you? You began to think back on when you might have upset a local mayor on one of your many little missions, but none came to mind. Your reputation was well known here, especially in the years before, and the more you thought about it, the more you hoped that you would not be recognized.
The guard gave the Mandalorian a look of consideration before finally stepping aside to let the two of you enter. “Follow me.”
You watched quietly as the metal doors slid open to reveal a decent sized and fashionable lounge, and immediately you were met with the cool air of the conditioned room and the sound of the soft jazz-like music playing in the background to liven up the area. The place was filled with a few local officials including a couple of security standing nearby to scan the area for any nearby threats. Great, this would be a bit of a hassle to get out of, you thought to yourself as you surveyed the area including all the exits. And it didn’t help that the Mandalorian had confiscated your blasters and your knives.
You could feel the gaze of those around you, their pupils tracing your armor as they stared curiously as to who the two new armored strangers could be, though their gaze lingered on the glint of the Mandalorian’s armor. The guard led the two of you into a separate room where in the center lay a boxy cushioned chair where a Rodian sat on top it, chatting away with another individual to his right.
“Ahem.” The guard cleared his throat, positioning himself upright at the mayor’s presence. “Sir. The Mandalorian has your bounty as requested.”
The Rodian stopped at the words of the guard, turning his head to face you with an amused sneer as he straightened out his robes, placing his teal fingers on the armrests of his chair while he leaned back.
“I see you have captured my bounty Mandalorian. I thank you.” The Rodian nodded his head in thanks before turning to one of his advisors, “Give him his credits.”
You slyly twisted your hand together uncomfortably, feeling the cool metal sliding around the skin of your wrists as you tried to break out of your cuffs in a poor and useless attempt, as if you could in any way tear through the metal. You let out a huff of irritation, your eyes following the other Rodian who was most likely his advisor, pull out a pouch of credits from his pocket before handing it over to the Mandalorian.
“You can count it to make sure.” The mayor gestured to the credits. “I assure you it’s all there.”
“So are you just gonna have me stand here or…” You cleared your throat, staring straight into the puzzled expression of the mayor.
“You’re a-you’re a girl?”
“Surprise.” You let out in a mocking tone.
“Impossible. You, mandalorian, you’ve brought me the wrong person.”
“Oh no,” You shook your head, “you’ve got the right person alright. Crik Madon is it? Yeah, I think I remember you now. I ran into your little "organization” back on Tatooine.“
The Rodian who you know came to recognize as Crik Madon, a small mayor of a small sector of Tatooine, sneered at your attitude. His tendril like green fingers clutched the arm rests of his chair before nodding to one of his guards who in turn jabbed you in the back of your knees, the force causing you to fall down to your knees. "Guard, remove her helmet. I want to see the face of the person that behind all this trouble.”
Your eyes widened, your breath trapped in your throat as the guard approached you, his gnarly hands reaching for your helmet in an impending manner. You tried to squirm away, refusing to let your identity be revealed, but the other guards held you back with their claws digging into your arms. The loose strands of your hair fell down to the front of your face from the bun you had put up and the darkness of the inside of your helmet was replaced with the lights of the room as you now found yourself squinting against them.
The Mandalorian had tilted his head ever so slightly at your appearance, his helmet masking the look of surprise that now sat on his face. You definitely weren’t what he had pictured. You were much more prettier than he had imagined, and something about you had set off this suspicion that you were a woman born into a high class.
“Impossible. You.” Crik pointed his finger at you, his large black eyes lost in thought. “I’ve seen you before.”
“I highly doubt that.” You gave a forced smile, yanking your arms away from the harsh grip of the guards.
“No. I know that face. You’re………y/n, you’re from Naboo aren’t you. Yes, and I believe you’re someone of importance. You’ve made quite the enemies with your little diplomatic missions. I wonder how much they’re willing to pay for you.”
Shit. You thought. Him knowing who you were was not a good thing.
“You gonna sell me off like one of your many slaves?” You spat, smirking at the look that he gave you. “Oh I know everything about your little trade. You know, I wonder what’ll happen if I make word of it. Like you said, I’m someone of importance.”
Crik sprung towards you in a fury, striking you across the face with the back of his hand. “You’ve got quite the tongue, though I must say I’m not surprised. I’m sure you’ve done many speeches in the past, senator.”
Senator? The mandalorian looked up at you from under his helmet, a quizzical look on his brow as he was questioning whether he heard that correctly. You, a senator of Naboo? Impossible. What in the worlds was a senator doing out being a bounty hunter?
“You won’t get away with this.” You spat out the blood from your mouth, the crimson color staining your lips.
“Oh?” Crik turned to face you after pacing about the room. “Last I heard. Your duties as senator have long been neglected. And besides,” he stepped closer to you, placing his slimy fingers under your chin to force your face towards him. “Pretty face like yours, I’m sure I can make quite the fortune off you.”
You clenched your jaw at his words, your nostrils flaring as you glared right into his insect-like eyes. “If you value your life, I suggest killing me off right now.”
Crik stared at you in anger for a moment longer, his eye twitching before nodding at one his guards and walking back to his seat. The guard who had led you into the room lifted up his baton before jabbing you violently in the ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs as you collapsed. You laid on your side in a pained mess, your hair matted against your face while every intake of air felt like knives slicing through your chest as your struggled to breathe.
“If you’re done counting your credits Mandalorian, you’re good to go.” Crik sat back in his chair, pleased with himself at seeing you in pain.
The Mandalorian had lifted his gaze from where you writhed on the floor, his hands just barely tightening around the pouch of credits that sat in his palm. “What’s gonna happen to her?”
“You know, it’s unlike a bounty hunter to ask questions.” Crik turned towards him. “But don’t worry. She’s in good hands. You can leave now.”
The Mandoalorian glanced once more in your direction before walking himself out, the sliding doors shutting behind him in a sharp low whistle.
You let out a choked cough, finally regaining your breath as you struggled to push yourself up despite having your hands bound together. You had to find a way to escape. It was now or never.
“Follow the Mandalorian.” Crik leaned over to whisper to one of his guards, his voice reaching your ears as you brought yourself up to a seated position. “Kill him and make sure no one else is on that ship and then destroy it.”
Your eyes widened at his orders, your thoughts now focused on the child as you watched the appointed guard leave the room with a blaster in hand. It was now or never y/n. You could take them all out now with brute force, but it would not be easy. And who’s to say you would succeed in time. You knew what you had to do. Squeezing your eyes shut in concentration, you focused on the one thing that you once knew, the one thing that was your life and purpose of being, the only thing that you had been out of touch with after the events. With your jaw clenched against the strain you were putting yourself through, a ringing started to form in your ears, a ringing that gradually started to form into vibrations that you were able to sense around you. Then there came the sound of the unclicking of a clasp and suddenly your hands were met with a solid cold metal object. Snapping your eyes open from the sensation, your looked down at your hands with relief to see the blaster that you had focused all your attention on, sitting perfectly between your palms. Huh, so you still got it.
“What the-” Crik looked at you in bewilderment, staring at the blaster that was now in your hands before turning to his guards to stop you only to be silenced with your blaster shooting straight through his chest.
The guards stared at their dead mayor in shock before taking out their weapons and pointing them at you with their teeth bared in anger. You dodged the red lasers of their blasters, rolling over to duck behind a pillar as their blasters went off, hitting the wall in front of you. You winced, hissing between your clenched teeth as one of the lasers had managed to graze your shoulder, leaving a tear in the fabric of your sleeve and a burned wound in it’s place. You pressed your back against the pillar, the blaster clenched firmly in your hands as you held it up to you, breathing in a deep breath before turning around just enough to get a good angle. With a few precise and quick pulls of the trigger, you killed off the rest of the guards. Scanning the room to make sure there was no one else of threat, you got up from your position before hurrying out the door.
Panting, you searched around for the Mandalorian only to see him turn the corner with the guard following close behind. Carefully, you sprinted up to them, lifting the blaster in your hands and shooting the guard right in the back. The Mandalorian swiftly turned at the sound of firing, his hand on his blaster as he watched the former guard fall limply to the floor only to reveal you standing right on the other side.
“Relax.” You stopped the man right as you caught him trying to slip his blaster out from its holster. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
“Did you….”
“Did I just save your ass? Yes.” You stepped over the dead guard to walk up to him, blowing the loose strands of your hair out of your face.
“That’s not what I-”
“Yeah sure. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the kid.” You rolled your eyes before holding up your cuffed wrists. “Now would you mind returning the favor and getting these pesky things off?”
The Mandalorian stared blankly at you, and though you could not see his face beneath that obnoxious helmet of his, you knew exactly what was going through his thoughts.
“Look. If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead with your buddy there.”
You watched with a smirk on your blood coated lips as the Mandalorian pulled out the key from his pocket before unlocking the metal cuffs around your wrists.
You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, rubbing your wrists to relieve them after being restrained for so long. “Thanks.”
“How did you-” the helmeted man eyed the blaster in your hands that he was sure about not being on you since he had removed all your weapons before looking up towards where you had come from.
“Doesn’t matter.” You stretched out your arms before pressing the button on the wall to open the doors that led into the main room. “Now can we please go before someone notices the mess I left behind?”
You walked past the stunned Mandalorian with a scoff, throwing the blaster down near the dead guard before leaving the hallway. The Mandalorian stared at the corner that led into the room in which you were just held and down at the dead guard before following you out into the main room. To your luck, everyone was much too preoccupied at the moment with their drinks and the jazz band that had now played a newer and more upbeat tone, allowing the two of you to escape the premises without drawing much attention to yourselves. Once outside, you squinted your eyes against the sunlight after having spent your days under a helmet, bringing your hand up to block the sun’s rays from your face. You stopped for a second, turning around to stare back at the same place that had caught your attention not too long ago, that same heavy feeling creeping in your chest before you returned your thoughts to the events of the present as you followed the Mandalorian back to his ship, back to who knows what else would be in store for you.
A/N: Part 2 is here lovelies! I hope you all enjoy, and as always feedback and reblogs are much appreciated! Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Have a beautiful day!
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
You had just left the cantina much quicker than you had wanted and your mind was racing with the thoughts of what had gone down just inside. Right when you had arrived on this planet in hopes of keeping low and staying away from the eyes of those who wanted your head, those thugs had managed to ruin your plans and exposed not only your presence but also what you were capable of, which caused your stay here to be at risk. You just hoped that your little fight didn’t reach anyone outside the cantina.
It was a hot day and the air was dry, and the aroma of spices, sweet fruits, and roasted nuts from the street vendors filled the air, perfect for the desert-like climate. You wished you could rip your helmet off, indulge in the exotic smells this market had to offer and enjoy some sunlight and breeze on your skin for once. But you had your regular getup on, or your bounty hunter uniform, as you like to call it. And though the pieces of armor provided you with secrecy and protection, adding some bulk to your frame to make yourself look more masculine to conceal your feminine features, it was also a bit of a cage, confining you from the natural perception of the world. The dusty wind blew against your frame when you had stepped out on the street, making you clutch your cloak closer to you and pray that the wind didn’t pick up on speed in fear of it snatching away the helmet and revealing your face for the whole town to see. You were making your way to the edge of the town where you had parked your ship on the outskirts, your boots kicking up the sand around you with each step you took while the hem of your cloak blew behind you. A few of the townsfolk had glanced in your direction, paying no mind before going back to their business. Their town always had outsiders crossing through to the point they had become accustomed to seeing a new face or a new helmet. And as long as you weren’t causing any trouble, they did not seem to pay much mind, if anything it was more curiosity towards the travelers.
You had been focused on the path in front of you, your back straight and your head held straight forward and avoiding any type of eye contact with anyone until this uneasy sense came that someone was following you. To avoid making it known, you stopped by the nearest vendor, glancing down at the fruit laid out on the table before ever so slightly turning your head to see a glint of metal shrouded just barely behind the mass of people that walked the streets. Your eyes widened behind your helmet. You could recognize that armor from anywhere. What was a Mandalorian doing all the way here? More importantly, why was he following you and who sent him?
You cursed under your breath at the sight, turning around and thinking of the different possible strategies. You couldn’t outrun him no, as much as you would like to avoid tangling with a Mandalorian you had heard so much about, you couldn’t just run away, he’d catch up with you somehow. No. You would have to fight him, at least keep him held back while you revised a new escape plan and disappeared into a new planet. You continued to mutter fowl words under your breath, your eyes darting around trying to search for an alleyway to disappear into. You finally caught sight of one just a couple feet away, gradually picking up your pace as you headed straight towards it, sensing the Mandalorian doing the same. Some muttering of the locals had erupted around you as you pushed past them before reaching the alley. With the sound of the sand crunching beneath the soles of your feet, you made a sharp turn right around the corner, pressing on the cloaking button on your belt that made your cloak camouflage with your surroundings. Your appearance shifted in a flurry of pixelated tones before matching the colors around you, allowing you to disappear into your background. You jumped up and grabbed the nearest ledge on the wall, using a window frame to hoist yourself up on it, pressing your back flat against the wall while your feet barely balanced on the beam.
The Mandalorian had turned the corner not long after before stopping abruptly at the emptiness of the area, the positioning of the buildings blocking some of the sun’s rays and casting a shadow over him. Your eyes caught the glint of his blaster held tightly in his hand as he edged closer with careful steps, staring out at the dead end of the alley. A small curse escaped under his breath through the helmet as he scanned over the area to figure where you might’ve gone. You followed the darkness of his visor right as it passed right over you, the action making your breath hitch in your throat. You knew your cloaking device made you invisible, but for a moment you swore you felt his helmet burning right through you. Your heart was pounding in your chest from what felt to be hours as he went further into the alley, looking out for any possible place you might be hiding. From how hard your heart was beating in your chest, you feared he would hear it as he passed by in front of you.
Oh come on. Now is no time to be a coward. Fry him. You thought with your eyes closed shut as you desperately struggled to grip the sandy wall behind you in order to keep yourself from falling over.
Carefully keeping your balance, you slipped your revolver blaster out of your holster, your palms sweating beneath the leather fabric that covered them as your fingers closed tightly around the grip, making sure to be as silent as possible as you pointed it at the back of his head. You could taste the salt on your lips from the few drops of sweat that fell down from your forehead as you lowered your aim to the small opening just below his helmet where the fabric of his cloak covered the back area of his neck. Just one shot. It would be simple. Just one shot and he would no longer be a problem for you to worry about.
No, this wasn’t right. You still had some dignity left in you and shooting a Mandalorian in the back would be a cowardly move. If anything, he deserved a fair fight. But despite that, deep down, a part of you was convinced to let him go free. He was a bounty hunter, doing his job just as you were. And from the stories you heard, sure he was merciless towards his enemies and an excellent fighter at that, but he never harmed those that were innocent.
With a clenched jaw, you slipped your blaster back in your holster. You didn’t have to heart to kill him. Damn your sentiment, it was the one thing that always kept you from achieving whatever it is you could want. Sure, you weren’t going to kill him, but you were willing to knock him out, maybe even tie him down somewhere and threaten him a little to get him to back off your trail. Taking in a deep and steady breath, you jumped off the ledge and tackled the Mandalorian from behind, knocking him down to the dirt before standing back up on your feet. Luckily, you managed to catch him off guard and from the way he reacted, you could tell he was trying to figure out what the hell had just happened as he scrambled back to his feet. You watched him hold his blaster straight out, twisting his body around and pointing it at every direction but you. If this situation wasn’t threatening on your safety, you would have found this to be quite amusing and your snicker would’ve gave you away and gotten you shot on the spot. You’d bet your credits he was confused as shit under that bucket.
You could just walk away and leave, get yourself a new disguise and he would never be able to find you. But a part of you deep down wanted to fight him, test his abilities even. A part of you even found this entertaining, an amusement that you had once been told would one day get you killed.
There was an uneasy silence amongst the bustle of the town, the breeze blowing through the crevices in the building in low whistles until you felt the heat of the sun’s rays against your back, lighting up the alleyway that was once in hidden in shadow.
Oh no.
Your skin went cold as you caught sight of the Mandalorian looking down at the sand, following his gaze to find your shadow on full display at your feet. Shit. You had forgotten that the cloak was only able to camouflage instead of wiping out your solid form and making you entirely invisible, thus making you susceptible to certain factors that gave you away, like light hitting against you or dust being thrown at you.
The Mandalorian stalled for a moment, processing what he was seeing before lifting his blaster and shooting straight at you. You had managed to jump out of the way just barely in time, but not soon enough as a sharp burning sensation cut through the side of your arm. You swung your fist at him, making sure to aim under his ribs and avoid his chestplate in order to hit soft tissue instead of solid Beskar. Your opponent let out a grunt in response much to your satisfaction, but it seemed as if luck was on his side as he grabbed your outstretched arm just in time before slamming you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you. You laid there on your back for a quick second, stunned and coughing from the twisting pain in your chest until a slight static sound caught your attention, looking down to see that your cloaking device was malfunctioning, leaving you entirely visible after a short series of pixelated glitches. Not only that, but the force in which he slammed you had managed to detach your chestplate, the piece of olive green painted metal now lying a few feet away from you, leaving you in just your tunic and the soft padded vest you had on top to separate the roughness of the metal from your clothes.
You muttered a small curse under your breath, pressing a firm hand to your torso as you tried to regain your breath, twisting your body around with a grunt in a struggle to get yourself up until a pair of brown leather boots placed themselves right beside your head. Turning your head towards the sky, you were met with his blaster pointed right at you, the dark hole of the barrel staring right into your soul
“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”
“How about neither.” You snarked, your voice coming out in a low tone through your helmet’s speaker before swiftly propping up on your elbows and twisting yourself against the dirt, kicking his legs out from underneath him and making him fall. You tried to get up but failed as you were once again met with the rough sand as he grabbed the fabric of your tunic and slammed you down on the ground again, pressing his forearm against your chest in order to get you to stay down. The latter action made you widen your eyes in horror. You didn’t have your chestplate on and now there was nothing to conceal the flesh there. You noticed that this had confused the Mandalorian as well from the way he sat back for a moment and tilted his head.
“What the-you’re a-” He breathed out before getting cut off by the bottom of your boot slamming into his head and knocking him back.
You took this chance as a means to escape, twisting yourself around and pushing yourself up with your hands until another pair of hands yanked at your ankles, causing you to fall face first into the dirt. “Ow! son of a-” A pained grunt escaped your lips and you almost could’ve sworn your nose had been broken from the sharp pain that spread through the center of your face. The Mandalorian pulled at your legs, dragging you across the dirt while you thrashed around, feeling his knee press down on your back. Another grunt escaped between your clenched teeth, your breaths coming out in aggravated huffs as you tried to break yourself from his hold once you felt his hands wrap around your wrists and pull your arms back behind you. There was the sound of a click and a small beep, and the skin left exposed on your wrists underneath your sleeves were met with the feeling of cold metal as a pair of handcuffs locked itself around them.
Great, just great.
You rolled your eyes from underneath your helmet as you felt him grab you by your bicep and pull you up to your feet.
“Let go of me!” You huffed as he pushed you, squirming around in his grip while he refused to let go of your arm after the resistance you put up. You noticed that your voice was no longer distorted into a lower tone, which meant that the fall had somehow damaged the distorter you had set up in there, now causing you to sound like your normal self. Could your day get any worse?
“Cut it out.” You heard him order from behind you.
A scowl appeared on your lips as his grip around your bicep tightened, your eyes drifting to the ground and spotting your chestplate laying on the side up ahead. “Can I at least get my chestplate?” You let out a huff as you were only met with silence. “Oh come on. It took me a while to make that you know. Besides, I’m kinda bare right now and I feel naked without it so I really need it. I don’t know if you noticed back there but-”
“Quiet.” He cut you off, causing your nostrils to flare until you noticed him pick your chest armor off the ground, the slight action making a small smirk appear on your lips despite being handcuffed and taken in for your bounty. Of course, you weren’t to going to accept defeat that quick. You had to devise an escape plan quick and wait for the right opportune moment. Though now wasn’t it.
The watchful eyes of the locals were now trained on the shiny armor of your captor, their eyes following the two of you curiously as you went, the Mandalorian and his freshly caught bounty. You were glad you wore a helmet, relieved they couldn’t see the look of embarrassment written across your features.
It wasn’t long before you arrived at a vessel that was parked on the outskirts of town, what seemed to be most likely his ship.
“Wow. What a piece of junk.” You made a snide comment, looking up at the big junk of metal as he as opened the entrance to his ship before shoving you inside, causing you to glare at him through the visor of your helmet. “Hey, don’t manhandle me alright.”
“Keep moving.” You felt him push you forward with his hand on your back.
You took in your new surroundings, glancing around at the dullness of the interior with a distasteful look on your face. “Yikes. You could use some major redecorating, liven the place up a bit. No wonder you’re so grim.”
Silence.
“My point exactly.” You muttered under your breath.
“Sit down.” You felt him place his hand on your shoulder to try to push you down on the chair in his cockpit but you refused to budge.
“Can I at least put my armor back on?”
The Mandalorian stood quiet for a moment and you could almost feel him glaring at you through the slit in his helmet before turning you around and shoving you against the wall with your back facing him.
“Easy there will ya.” You hissed as he fumbled with the lock on the handcuffs. “Geez, is this how you treat all the ladies you bring in here?” A short second later, you felt the handcuffs around your wrist loosen up with a click after the sound of the beep went off.
“Any sudden moves and I shoot.” You heard him say beside your ear before stepping back
“Alright.” You lifted your hands up to your head, slowly turning around to see him standing a few feet away from you with his blaster pointed at you. “No need to be hasty, I’m just going to strap on my armor and that’s it.” You grabbed your chestplate that had been lying on the back of the chair before slinging the leather straps over your shoulder and fastening them, making sure that the metal covered the areas that needed protection. “Before you uh, handcuff me back up, would you mind letting me keep my arms in front of me. It’s kinda you know, uncomfortable having your hands tied behind you while you’re sitting in a chair.
There was another moment of silence, the lack of reply from the Mandalorian causing you to unconsciously shift on your feet before he finally stepped up to you and handcuffed your arms in front of you.
"Thank you for your consideration.” You smiled sarcastically even though he could not see a single inch of your expression.
“Sit down.” He directed in a monotone voice with his blaster still pointed at you, to which you plopped down on the seat in exaggeration.
You let out a scoff and a roll of your eyes as the Mandalorian lowered himself to the ground to tie your ankles to the bottom of the chair so you wouldn’t try to pull anything else. “You distrust me that much huh. Fair enough.” You leaned back in your set, twisting your body around and adjusting to make yourself comfortable as you watched him go over to his seat and start up the aircraft before taking off. You sniffled through the stuffiness in your nose, scrunching up your face from the smell of the blood that had dried up inside. Well it didn’t feel broken, and you have had broken noses before, though your body ached from your fight with the Mandalorian and the quarrel you had with the previous bounty you were after who just happened to be 8 feet tall and full of muscle. Let’s just say you didn’t like being tossed around like you were some stuffed animal. You were positive you had formed new bruises and reopened up the wounds you had just stitched earlier today from the way that some areas felt sore and tender.
“So uh….” You tried to make conversation while looking around for anything that just might help you break free and escape. You had to find a way out, one way or another, and it didn’t help that you were leaving the planet and your own ship behind. “Where we heading?” No answer. “You know, I’d like to know where I’m being sent and just who it is I am being sent off to.” Still no answer. Maybe, just maybe, if you annoyed him enough he might give up and set you free, that trick had worked once a long time ago. But sweet talking would definitely not work on him. “That’s some uh, pretty neat armor you got there. What is it, Beskar? So like how many hours do you spend polishing it?……………………….Okaayyyy then. I see you’re not much of a talker.” You nodded your head awkwardly before looking around again, edging a bit off your seat to get a better look at things.
“Quit moving around back there.”
“Oh. So you do talk, not much I presume. But you talk. I mean, you’ve gotta have said more than a few words in your lifetime, otherwise……….my goodness. Oh and by the way, you kinda messed up my gear, my voice distorter and my cloaking device are broken because of you and I believe I should receive some kind of compensation.” Ah yes more silence. You hated him already. I mean, you respected him, you’ll give him that. You just hated being with him, tied down to a chair with nothing but the sound of the aircraft and your own voice. A part of you even prayed that you would reach your destination quicker just so that you would not have to be stuck with him for who knows how long. And the fact that he wasn’t budging was pissing you off. There was one last thing you could do, one last trick. “Well then! If you don’t mind, I’d like to liven up this extremely dreadful atmosphere by singing some tunes. Maybe it’ll…..I don’t know……lift your spirits.” You cleared your throat before singing a tune you had once heard, making sure to be as exaggerated as possible.
“Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go Oh I want to take you down to Kokomo, we’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow That’s where we want to go, way down in Kokomo……………
Tell everybody, I’m on my way! New friends and new places to see! With blue skies ahead, yes I’m on my way! And there’s nowhere else that I’d rather be!!!” You belted out before stopping at the sudden feeling of something touching your leg. “AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!” You jumped in your seat, your scream even startling the Mandalorian himself. “Yo! What the-” You looked down at your feet with a pale face to see what had grabbed you and being met with a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you, eyes belonging to a small green child with large pointy ears that reminded you of someone you once knew long before. “Oh. Hello there.”
“Grogu?” You heard the Mandalorian speak before turning his head around to face the small child that stood by your feet. “What are you doing there? Stay away from her. Go back to bed.”
The child tiled his head and let out a small blabber, his tiny fingers clutching around the fabric of your pants.
“He uh……he likes my singing.” You muttered out in sheer disbelief of there being a youngling aboard the ship, and not just any youngling. Something about him felt different, but you couldn’t quite figure it out.
“He what?” The Mandalorian now looked up to you. “You……understand him?”
“………Kind of?”
“Grogu. She’s dangerous. Go back to bed okay?”
The small child lowered his head in disappointment before waddling off as you watched him go with a softened and thoughtful look in your eyes. You tried to remember where you had seen him, if you had anyways. He reminded you so much of a mentor you once had, and you were saddened by the thought.
“What is he doing here?” You questioned before turning to stare at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet, your reflection only staring back at you. “What purpose do you have with a youngling?” You leaned back in your seat when he provided no answer, the frown on your lips only deepening as you stared out at the stars that blanketed all around from the view outside the window. You had to find out why he had the child with him, whether it was for a bounty or whether he was just under his care, you did not know. And when you do, once you found an escape, you’d take him with you.
A/N: I was working on this story a long time ago and thought I’d start on it again. Hope y’all enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
You were always the lone wolf, a ranger who wandered planets, a person without a destination. Your occupation was your own, you worked for yourself and no one else, and you preferred it that way. Due to your line of work, you lived plentiful off of bounties and even some quests that were offered to you. But most of it came from assassinations, which was one thing you never admitted to being proud of. You were an excellent marksman, if not one of the best, but your morals meant more than the money and caused you to be very selective over what hits you were willing to take, choosing to only go after the truly guilty ones. Because of this, you refused to be part of the Guild and turned down many requests in the past offering a great sum of money. You weren’t exactly very popular with the Guild since they considered you to be an undisciplined rogue who ignored the rules and had no right doing what you did, so you stayed on the low and made an effort to avoid running into any of their members.
Due to your distant past, you’ve felt that being invisible was better than being seen. Which is another reason why you did what you did and avoided as much interactions as possible. Knowing people and forming relationships was just a way to tie you down and keep you in a cage, an obligation and somewhat a burden. Acquaintances were fine but heavens forbid that formed into an actual relationship. People have expectations and you wanted none of it, not again at least. Not to mention you were severely betrayed by people you were supposed to trust. If there was another thing you were known for, it was for being a charmer, you knew just what words and tone to use to get yourself out of any situation. But you were also known for your ruthlessness. And if the time came where words did not work, your blasters did most of the talking. But ever since being on the run and escaping the planet you once called home, your life drastically changed and it had never been the same since.
You were sitting by yourself at a local cantina, at a table in the farthest and darkest corner of the tasteless place, away from the rest of its occupants. You had just finished tackling a bounty and it wasn’t an easy one, the bastard had left a few bruises and scrapes so you felt like winding down. Thankfully, you were lucky enough to come at a time where the place wasn’t so rowdy and filled with egotistical idiots making a mess and fighting each other for petty and immature reasons.
You had your head propped up lazily by your gloved hand as you stared down at your glass of liquor, swirling it around and watching the ice mix with the contents and clinking every time it hit the edge. You were starting to wonder why you even came here in the first place. You weren’t much of a drinker and you never liked the bitter taste but something about it made you always reach for a glass. In all honesty, you were just ready to go back to your ship and pass out on your bed. One thing was for certain and it was the fact that you were bored and exhausted beyond your mind. You tried to focus on the cantina music in the background, hoping it would help keep you awake while forcing to keep your eyes open. But the warmth of the cantina and your cloak that was draped around your shoulders, falling over your arms and torso to provide extra comfort, was not helping.
You rarely ever let your guard down like this and this was not a good thing. The place was already sketchy as it was with all the bandits and thugs that would come through.
A group of footsteps were heard approaching your table, each one in a different tempo than the rest, the sound making you snap yourself back into a conscious state. You straightened up against the leather seat once you caught sight of a thug walking up to you, followed by his pathetic little gang of 4.
Ugh, what now? You thought to yourself, rolling your eyes behind your helmet.
You watched carefully for a moment as one of his men made an unwanted advance towards one of the waitresses, grabbing her bottom and turning her around to try and force a kiss on her. The waitress shrieked at the act and squirmed in his grip, pushing away at his chest to escape. The thug laughed at her before loosening his grip, his reptile-like eyes following her as she freed herself from him with tears in her eyes, humiliated, before rushing off to the side in fear where the other workers were.
Why that little shit. You just got to this planet and you already had to deal with assholes.
The leader stopped at the edge of your table, glaring at you while his goons surrounded your booth, blocking off all forms of an exit. Slyly, you slipped your hand down underneath the table, gripping your blaster that sat at your hip with your finger hovering over the trigger, ready for any sign of attack.
“You’re in my seat.” The leader grunted at you with his burly arms crossed across his chest, a scowl on his face as he bared his yellowed, troll like teeth against his grimy scaley green skin.
During this exact moment, you thanked the maker you were wearing a mask so you wouldn’t have to smell the rancid stench coming off from him. The last thing you wanted was to puke in your own helmet. Who knows who long it had been since the asshole and his goons had bathed.
“Really?” You snarked, your voice distorted through your modulator to make you sound like a man, your voice low and gruff. You adjusted your cape so that it was not covering your arms anymore as you leaned back in the leather cushion, putting your free arm up on the back of the seat while kicking your feet up on the table. “I don’t see your name on it.”
The thug eyed your boots, his eye twitching as he watched the caked up dirt from your soles fall onto the table, the small action infuriating him even more. You were slightly amused at his reaction despite being irritated that he had disturbed your space. Who knew dirt on a table would so much as upset someone that probably hadn’t bathed in moons.
“Listen here you little brat.” The man slammed his clawed hands down on the table, causing everyone in the cantina to look over to see what was causing all the ruckus. “Move, or else I’ll break every little bone in your bounty hunter body before picking my teeth with it.”
His goons laughed at the statement, their laughs echoed against the stilled silence of the cantina as they enjoyed the opportunity to bully yet another person around, reveling in the moment and obviously getting off on this sort of attention. The ring leader stared you down with a smug smirk on his face, thinking he scared you shitless and that you might succumb to this sort of threat.
“………..no.” You let out, your voice matching the same stoicism in the details of your helmet.
The goons’ laughter died down from hearing your answer, each of them intently watching their boss’s face contort into anger and anticipating what his next move will be.
“That’s it!” The leader growled between gritted teeth before lunging out at you.
Swiftly, you grabbed his bulky arm with your left hand, twisting it to a certain angle and breaking his elbow, the move making him let out a pained scream. With your right hand you grabbed your blaster and shot him in the head in a quick blast of orange before tossing him to the floor. You glanced over to see that one of the goons had pulled out his blaster and blasted him before he could even pull the trigger at you. After watching their members fall down dead, the rest of the gang tried to charge you, their eyes flared and their teeth gritted in rage. You kicked the table over, making them back up while you jumped over it. One of the goons tried to grab you so you kneed him in the groin before grabbing his head and snapping it. You shot another one and while the last remaining one tried to run away you used your free hand to pull out your knife from your thigh strap and throw it at him, lodging it right in his knee and making him fall to the floor.
All eyes of the local civilians in the cantina were glued to you as you stepped over the bodies, casually walking over to the goon you threw your knife at. You stood there and tilted your head at him, recognizing him as the one who assaulted the woman while you watched him crawling on the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the floor from his wound as he went, unaware of your presence.
Pathetic.
A sigh escaped your lips as you crouched down next to him to grab his attention. The man took one look at you being so close and gasped in fear before struggling to move faster.
You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of your knife, twisting it in the flesh of his knee before yanking it out. The goon screamed at your action before his limbs finally gave away, laying there, trembling in pain.
No one dared to interfere you now. Not when you had taken out 4, soon to be 5 men twice your size.
“You shouldn’t have done that to the poor woman.” You spoke, now you were the one looking down at him.
The man turned to look at you, laughing while he did it and flashed his blood stained teeth. He glared up at you with a disgusting grin that made your stomach turn. “Aye, and I enjoyed every second of it.”
Your blood boiled at his remark, your knuckles turning white underneath your glove from gripping your blade.
How dare he.
He laughed again, knowing he got under your skin from the way you clenched your weapon and started breathing. The air around you at the moment was visibly tense as everyone lingered quietly in their seats, waiting to see what you would do next. You’ve had enough of him.
The man let out a hiss as you grabbed a fistful of his hair between your gloved fingers, lifting his head up so you could speak to him in his ear.
“And now you’ll die for it.” You whispered through clenched teeth before shoving your knife in his head.
Taking your knife back out of his skull, you wiped the blood off on his clothes before sticking it back in your strap while standing back up.
The occupants of the cantina looked away and returned to their food and conversations, not wanting to meet the visor of your helmet as if you could shoot lasers through it. They thought that the simple act of even looking in the direction of this strange outsider would be considered an offense after the way you took care of the local gang. Some of them even had disgust written on their faces from the way you handled the thugs while others had a faint hint of a smile that exhibited their relief.
You walked over to the owner of the cantina who stood behind the counter, his eyes glued to the glass he was wiping in his hands.
“You uh, you handled yourself pretty well over there.” The old man laughed uneasily, not seeming to meet your eyes as if he were afraid to offend you while he followed your movements, wondering what in the worlds you were about to do.
You didn’t respond to the statement as you fished into the pocket of your pants, pulling out some credits from the small suede pouch you had and placing them in front of him.
The owner looked at the credits laid out on the table for him, obviously confused from the way his brows knit together before looking up at you.
“But, but you already paid for your drink.”
“I know. It’s for the mess I made.” You gestured to the dead bodies that were still spread out on the ground.
The owner followed your gesture before looking back up you, relief painting his features once he realized you meant no harm. “Oh. But please sir, it’s not necessary. In fact, I should be the one thanking you. Ever since that gang showed up here in our small town, it’s been near chaos. Please, keep your credits. In fact…”
You watched him with a raised brow as he grabbed a pouch from his pocket and tried to hand you some credits. “Take this as well.”
You eyed the credits in his outstretched palm, pursing your lips before letting out a sigh. “I can’t take this. You didn’t hire me.”
“Please sir, take it. As a token of our gratitude. You saved our little town that I’m afraid no one cares about.”
“Yeah well you need it more than me.” You expressed. “I only accept credits for jobs I am hired to do.”
You kept your own pouch in your hand, nodding a farewell at the old man before making your way over to the waitress who was assaulted. You saw her hiding away in a corner, her small frame held in the arms of her friend as tears ran down her cheeks while her coworkers tried to comfort her.
The workers glanced up at you standing nearby before moving away, allowing you to approach closer. You stood there carefully, looking down at her fragile frame and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. The poor woman jerked in reaction before looking up you, her teary eyed filled with confusion.
“It’s okay.” You tried to say softly, hoping it would come out sounding compassionate but your helmet didn’t help much with how you conveyed your tone. Instead, your voice came out sounding less loud. “It’s alright.”
The young woman looked behind you, her eyes glancing at her attacker that was now dead before looking up at you with a weak smile. “Thank you.” She sniffled as she wiped her nose with a handkerchief. “Thank you for getting rid of them.”
“Here.” You held your hand out to her and placed some of your credits in her palm. “Take this. Buy yourself something, food or anything. Preferably something to protect yourself with…..and uh…..learn how to use it.”
The woman stood there in shock, staring down at the credits that now sat on the blue skin of her palm. She cracked a small smile, holding back more tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Keep your chin up.” You muttered, pressing your fingers delicately under her chin before she caught you by surprise by wrapping her arms around your torso. Your body tensed up at her reaction as you stood there, not really knowing how to react before giving her an awkward pat on the back. She pulled away from the hug and smiled timidly at you, her cheeks tinted as she placed a tender kiss to the side of your helmet. The action made you widen your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up inside your helmet to the point where you swore they would melt through the metal.
You shook off the feeling and the nerves, nodding at her and saying a polite goodbye before walking out of the cantina, ready to go back to your ship and wash the sweat off your face and escape the presence of everyone. Due to your quick haste to get out, you failed to notice a shadow, a silhouette of a person hidden behind a suit of armor that sat at the back of the cantina tucked away in the other corner. Nor did you catch the glint of the metal helmet that sat on his head, of the Mandalorian that had been watching your every move ever since you stepped foot into the building.
It had been almost a year to the day since you had last laid eyes on Din Djarin and not a single day had gone by where you didn’t think of him.
For the most part you were left with the last memory you had of him - the pain that seeped through his words after you had all but questioned why he had helped you before he stormed off your ship never to be seen again. When you finally found the energy to make your way to the cockpit - around an hour after you had silently watched the Crest crash through the tops of the trees and bolt into hyperspace - you flew back to the Covert, truly believing that Din would already be there.
You fought off the unnerving feeling in the pit of your stomach as you brought your ship in to land with no sight of the Crest below, convincing yourself that Din needed to blow off some steam and had gone on another bounty. When you walked through the tunnels towards your room you never thought he would be gone longer than a few days, a week at most, and that this was just another argument that had gone too far and would be resolved by an apology before you went back to your usual teasing and taunting.
But then a week passed, and another, before it was coming up for a month and you began to panic. You had gathered your weapons and spent the following weeks searching every corner of the galaxy for a rogue Mandalorian, asking everyone if he had been seen or heard. It didn’t take long before you were begged by your parents and Adrean, the Armorer, and even your own heart that was growing exhausted from how desperately you had been searching for him, to stop.
When you returned to the Covert, empty handed and broken hearted, you threw yourself into bounty hunting and were only returning to the Covert to sleep and eat between bounties in the hope that you would have no time to think of Din… but that never worked.
Most of the time your mind went to the memory of watching him storm off your ship, his helmet refusing to turn back no matter how many times you shouted after him. Every time you thought of this moment you played out what would have happened if it had gone differently - if you had thanked him and asked him to stay with you until you had enough energy to fly home. You would have sat by side, a comfortable silence covering you both - perhaps some pleasant teasing rather the kind that left you feeling empty - and you would share out your energy bars until wishing each other a safe journey home before your ships landed side by side back on Nevarro.
Times you weren’t stuck replaying, or reimagining, this moment were filled with emotions just as painful as regret: anguish at the thought that perhaps something had gone wrong and his body was abandoned on a planet somewhere; grief at the thought of never seeing him again; and anger whenever you were having a particularly low day and let the thought pass through your mind that Din had just… ran.
Today when you looked in the mirror you no longer recognised the reflection, a once strong and powerful Mandalorian reduced to a shell of her former self after forcing your body to work to exhaustion each day in hope of going five minutes without being tormented by thoughts of him.
Even if you could go a day with your mind too distracted by a bounty to think of him - which was rare - every night when you went to sleep he was there waiting for you. Some nights you dreamt of the both of you living side by side in the Covert, sitting beside one another with pinkies brushing by each other as the Armorer spoke out to the crowd before you were both placed on armory duty together and you would silently clean the weapons, stolen glances shared. Other nights you dreamt of his first night in the Covert, the memory of sadness that had given way to a soft smile for a moment as you waved over your Father’s shoulder at him. There had even been a few dreams where you were with him free of your helmets, an image drawn up of what he could look like now - the same dark brown eyes he had as an ade and messy, dark hair with a smirk that never left his face. It didn’t matter what you dreamt of - happy or sad, simple or complex - you woke each morning in bed by yourself, a second of peace passing where you forgot that Din wasn’t here before it hit you and you had to drag your body from bed.
Last night’s dream had been a memory, a time you were injured in training and placed on armory duty until you were better. Din’s armory duty just so happened to coincide with yours for the next few weeks, your bodies that were still growing into their armor standing side by side in silence every evening for three weeks.
It was the knowledge that you wouldn’t have any more memories that made it so hard to get up from bed; that, and your aching limbs from returning after midnight after dropping your latest bounty off at the Cantina. You knew your parents and Adrean would try to dissuade you from going out again today and so you quickly washed, sneaking back out through the tunnels towards the Cantina with the sun already so high in the sky.
It was too late in the day for a decent bounty and the only ones that would be left now really wouldn’t be worth the hassle but hopefully enough to take you off planet for a few days including travel to some backwater planet.
You could feel Karga’s gaze on you from the second you stepped into the Cantina, his eyes following you carefully as you tried not to limp too much from the pain in your side after yesterday’s bounty had thrown one hell of a punch against you. You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle the pained groan as you slipped into the booth across from him, his hand hesitantly reaching for a puck.
“When was the last time you slept?”
You didn’t answer, your hands resting on your thigh and your helmet tilting back to rest against the booth as he stared into your visor. Some days Karga played this game, concern etched into his words before he finally gave in and handed you the puck. Other days he didn’t bring the subject up at all, his eyes avoiding the shawdy patched up armor that covered your body after a particularly nasty run in with a bounty.
Today was apparently the former and you stared back at him until he spoke again.
“I heard you dropped off a bounty this morning before I got here… and you’re already back for another?”
“And?”
Your word hung in the air, Karga raising an eyebrow across at you as he made a point to let his eyes drag down the armor covered in a ridiculous number of dents and scratches. With your mind almost always elsewhere - stranded wherever Din was - you had grown careless and had more close calls in the last year than ever before.
Sometimes you could convince yourself that Karga was doing this because he cared - he questioned your suitability to be taking another bounty because it could always be your last - but other days when you were particularly moody you took it as an act; he had already lost his top bounty hunter and now he could only watch as he was close to losing his second to carelessness.
Eventually Karga relented, sighing and pushing the puck the rest of the way across the table and into your hand. Your palm settled over it, scratching it along towards the edge of the table as you stood up. When you looked back down Karga was shaking his head and your hands were fidgeting with your rifle strap as you fought whether or not to ask the question that was on the tip of your tongue.
“Have you-” you cleared your throat, tapping the puck nervously on the edge of the table. “Have you heard anything?”
It had been weeks since you last asked. You knew that other than you, Karga was the next person who would have heard news of Din being back in the bounty hunting game. At first you would ask Karga on every visit but as disappointment gave way to embarrassment each time you asked you did so less and less, only bringing it up every so often.
Karga looked back at you, shaking his head with a sympathetic look in his eyes. You nodded once, turning back to the door before he could speak.
“Sorry, Kid,” he said and you shrugged, already heading for the exit before he could say any more.
The second you were on the ship you set course for Vandor - the last planet the bounty had been spotted on - before staring out of the window for the whole flight there. You didn’t even take your helmet off, the hard beskar resting back against the soft headrest as your mind was lost in the lights of time and space that whizzed by until your ship zoomed out of hyperspace and you took over the controls while bringing her in to land.
Vandor was a cold planet, even more so at this time of the cycle when the snow was starting to freeze over, and by the time you jumped down from the cockpit the cold air was already seeping through the scruffy metal of your ship. After opening and closing almost every drawer you finally found an old cloak, tying it around your neck and letting it hang over your shoulders to drape down to your calves. The hood and rim was lined with fur, stopping any heat from escaping beneath your helmet as you stepped off your ship and buried deeper into the thick material as you walked through the small forest at the edge of the city.
This part of bounty hunting had always been monotonous work but it kept your mind busy; asking for information on the bounty until you were finally led to the dark corners of the city. You had almost done a full circle, ending not far from where you had first entered the city through the thick rows of trees and as you climbed the steps towards the flashing sigh of the club you shook the snow off your boots and hood.
The doorman stood bored with his arms crossed until you pulled out enough credits for him to step aside, opening the door and letting the thumping music spill out. You dimmed the volume on your helmet as you stepped in, avoiding the busiest part of the club where the lights were flashing wildly and the dancefloor was full as you walked along the wall until finding a table at the back.
“A drink?”
You looked up from where you had been brushing the snowflakes from your cloak to two bar staff, dressed in very little and leaning across the booth.
“No,” you answered gruffly, adding a quiet “thank you,” before they walked away.
As you continued to keep your guard up and scan around the room, you couldn’t help the swirling in the bottom of your stomach. You were well past the days of bounty hunting making you nervous, the only real effect it had on your body any more being the spikes of adrenaline that made your body shake and heart race as you came down once you were safely back in the cockpit, so you weren’t sure what was causing it now.
Never one to ignore your instincts, you kept your fingers within reach of your blaster; your years upon years of training meaning you could have it out of the holster, aimed and fired within a heartbeat.
You sat at the table for a while longer, a few more people coming up to try their hand and buy you a drink or attempt to convince you to ditch the helmet and meet them in the bathroom, and just when you were about to give up hope the tracker began to buzz against your belt.
You didn’t lift it, not wanting the red flashing to draw any attention, and so you let it be as you scanned across the club for the bounty you had seen on the puck. Eventually your eyes landed on him, standing at the bar relaxed and unaware of your hunter eyes trained on him as he ordered another drink and let his head bob to the music.
It was always almost amusing to you how, despite having a bounty on their head worth a decent amount of credits, the bounties always seemed to go about living life without concern that anyone could be watching them. You smirked as your hand fell to your blaster, feet already carrying you through the sea of the bodies towards him.
But then came a flash of light.
Your eyes had instinctively begun to search out the cause that had sparked a fire in the pit of your stomach, your eyes eventually landing on the familiar beskar that knocked you breathless as you stood in the middle of the dancefloor.
The lights of the club were flashing around and every couple of seconds, if you stood in this exact spot, they would flash off a beskar helmet and blind your vision for a moment.
He was already staring at you, his arms relaxed over the back of a booth and legs spread wide as a twi’lek clung to his side. For a second - the tiniest, fraction of a second - you were relieved. Din - your Din - was alive and he was here. After months of thinking the worst, thinking that he had been killed and he would never be offered a proper Mandalorian funeral as his body lay in the depths of the outer rim - that you would never get to say goodbye - here he was, living proof that he was okay.
It didn’t take long for the relief to give way to the rage that spread through your body; he was alive and he was here, running away from you and what had happened almost a year ago to the day.
You noticed the puck on his table, reminding you of your very own, and you quickly turned, forcing your body away from the man you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and scream “thank the maker you are alive,” no matter how angry you were; if you didn’t leave now you didn’t know what you would end up doing.
The bounty was right in front of you when you turned around, his eyes falling to the red flashing light on your belt. He was massive, his arms larger than your helmet and your helmet only coming up to the middle of his chest, but in the moment it was no match against your fury. Before he could even drop the glass in his hand and run in the other direction you had already raised your fist, his body slumping to the ground as soon as it connected with his face.
Only a few people noticed - most too busy dancing - and so you were free to wrap a rope around his legs and carry him towards the door without much fuss.
For a year you had dreamt about Din following you home, back to the Covert, but now you hoped more than anything he would stay. You didn’t trust yourself with him. You didn’t know whether you would cry and proclaim your love or shout and knock him out as quickly as the bounty.
Usually you would have taken a little more care as you brought the bounty back to the ship but you needed to get out of there as fast as possible, quickly tying his legs together and ignoring the pain in your back as you dragged him towards your ship. You had almost made it halfway, your boots dragging through the icy snow and your hands catching your falling body on more than one occasion, when you heard the familiar voice call out to you.
“Verd’ika.”
You dropped the rope from across your shoulder before turning around to face him.
“Djarin.”
It was dark now but you could just make out from under the moonlight that was fighting through the trees how he had been leaning against a trunk before pushing off it, walking slowly over to you. He held himself… differently than you had remembered; the same armor, the same voice, everything telling you that this was Din but as he stood before you, you knew that this wasn’t yourDin.
“Been a while,” you said, forcing your voice not to shake.
He didn’t reply, nodding once before coming to a stop far closer than need be so your helmet had to tilt up towards him. You refused to speak first again, tilting your helmet and waiting for him to go on.
“Miss me?” He asked.
You sighed, rolling your eyes under your helmet and reaching for the bounty who you had left - rather uncomfortably - on the ground. Fuck him - he doesn’t even see what his running off has done to you.
“Listen, I’ve got places to be but it’s nice to know you’re alive since you just disappeared off the face of the earth.”
He quickly reached for your wrist as you turned around, his leather pressing tight against yours and holding you in place as you gasped before turning to the side and looking up at him.
“Are- are you leaving now?” He asked and you wrenched your wrist from his hold; his warm touch that had almost begun to feel natural disappearing.
“Yes. Looks like you were quite busy back there anyway,” you nodded your chin over his shoulder towards the Twi’lek who was making her way through the forest towards you, shouting for “Mando”.
“I-”
“It’s fine, Din,” you said and you noticed his shoulders fall at the bite in your words, “I’m glad you’re still alive.”
You didn’t wait for an answer this time, turning on your heels and marching back to the ship as the tears that were spilling down your cheek blurred your vision.
This time it was Din who was forced to watch as you walked away and nothing about it felt good.
//
Additional notes: so there we have it, the year without Din! I will be continuing on with the main story on the 8 June however I am on holiday an out of the country on the date so if there is trouble posting it will be pushed back to the following week when I am home! I hope you all enjoyed
a/n: Now we’re finally getting into the more fun stuff. Thanks for continuing to slow-burn with me!
As the evening eased deeper and deeper into darkness, Elliotte bid Rhythimi and the refugees a good night and began her walk back to her own home. She stepped onto the porch and made her way down to the side walk, glancing left and right down the empty street. She’d made the walk home at this time of night dozens of times, but tonight something felt… different.
The air felt heavy, and she couldn’t shake the idea that she was being followed. Although the urge to break into a run was growing, she willed herself to maintain her composure and continue the route at a normal pace. The last thing she wanted was to draw unnecessary attention to Rhy’s safehouse.
Elliotte’s boldness wilted, however, when faint footsteps began to tail her, and before she knew it a man was beside her, walking at her side a bit too casually. He didn’t attempt to pass—just matched her pace with each step.
“That’s a nice dress, little flower,” he gruffed after a moment, “You from the palace?”
“No,” Elliotte answered curtly.
“You sure? That’s some expensive-looking bead work.”
“It’s not. It’s homemade.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, noble. I’m going to tell you this just once,” he stopped abruptly and took her by the shoulder, forcing her to stop beside him. Before Elliotte could wrench out of his grip, a blade was pressed to her throat, digging into her skin. “Give me all the credits you have on you—and that nice silver bracelet you got on.”
Elliotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes, grateful she’d already handed her credits to Rhythimi earlier in the evening. “You sure you weren’t born yesterday? If you can’t tell, I don’t have any credits on me. This thing doesn’t have pockets. And this–” Elliotte lifted her silver-clad forearm and shook it in front of his face, “Doesn’tcome off.”
Abruptly, the would-be mugger seemed to realize his mistake… but he held his ground, a snarl on his lip. “Don’t play games with me, girl,” he growled, “Or I’ll kill you and pry it off your arm myself!” Before Elliotte could move, he grabbed her arm and tried to forcefully pull off the silver clasped around her forearm. True to her word, it hardly budged.
“Oh, what a surprise.”
The blade against her throat returned, pressing in a little deeper and causing her to draw in a faint hiss of breath, but before the man could offer another threat, Elliotte’s attention was drawn to faint movement in the darkness behind him.
Suddenly, the pressure against her neck was released as the man was hauled backward with incredible force. A gloved hand covered his mouth quickly, preventing the escape of the horrified cry the man tried to give as he was quickly subdued and knocked out.
Elliotte stumbled back in surprise, a hand coming up to rub at her throat where the knife had been pressed. As her rescuer rose back up to his full height, she caught a glimpse of shiny beskar and let out a soft breath of relief she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Mando–”
“Itoldyou not to make this a habit,” he answered, gently taking her good arm to help her to her feet.
Ell chuckled weakly in response and smoothed out her dress once she had gotten her footing. “It’s not intentional… geniusover there thought I was nobility.”
“You aren’t?”
“Gods, no. My time spent in the palace is only to play music for them, and occasionally read poetry. I suppose I need to rethink my choices if people are beginning to mistake me for one,” Elliotte replied, unable to keep the look of disgust that crept across her face, causing her nose to wrinkle.
Mando didn’t respond to her comment, instead angling his helmet to look down the street. “It’s getting late, and trouble seems to enjoy following you… my ship is far closer to here than your house is. I don’t suppose you’d take me up on an offer of a place to stay tonight, would you?”
Truth be told, Elliotte was exhausted, and the idea of walking all the way back home tonight was stomach-churning. She’d had more than enough excitement for one day. “I’d hate to impose… you’ve already done more than enough.”
“If you prefer, I’ll walk you home instead.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
“You haven’t asked anythingof me. I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t genuine.”
Elliotte was cautious by nature… under regular circumstances, she would never trust a strange man enough to return with him to his ship, but he’d come to her aid twice in one day. She felt she owed him at least a chance to be trusted. “Then… I suppose… if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“It isn’t. Follow me,” replied the man as he turned on his heel and began to make his way in the direction of his ship.
Elliotte followed close behind, not wanting to take her chances on the streetside any longer. On this side of town, it felt almost impossible to make out distinct shapes in the darkness without the aid of street lamps, and the musician was on edge enough as it was.
Thankfully, the Mandalorian hadn’t been lying; his ship was significantly closer than her own house was, albeit a bit off the beaten path. The houses had grown scarcer until the architecture gave way to the vast wilderness of Listronus’s lush grass fields. The Mandalorian’s ship was tucked away behind the far treeline, well-obscured from view of any common passerby. Although Elliotte was no expert in spacecraft, she could tell the one before her was an older model than the types that normally harbored on her planet. All in all, it was the ideal location for a murder to take place, she thought. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of such an eventful day?
As she was questioning the decisions she’d made that led to this very moment, Mando approached the side of his ship and fiddled with a button on the underside, opening the ship’s ramp. Without saying a word to her, he stepped inside. Elliotte reluctantly followed, keeping a fair distance in case she needed to bolt, but her curiosity ultimately got the best of her as she found her gaze drawn to the various boxes of tools and supplies lining the ship’s walls. Elliotte had been on Listronus all her life, and had never travelled elsewhere, so she’d never actually set foot in someone’s ship before.
She was sure her eyes were alight with wonder, but she quickly snapped back to attention when she saw the figure of the Mandalorian shift back into her line of sight.
Despite the lack of personal belongings on-board, Elliotte couldn’t entirely bite back her question: “Do you live on this ship?”
“Mostly,” came the reply, muffled behind the helmet, “Occasionally I’m able to find other arrangements, but usually it’s just easier to stay put.”
Before Elliotte could respond, she became distracted by a faint tugging near the bottom of her dress. Glancing down, she was met with a small green creature wrapped in brown cloth, with ears and eyes seemingly a bit too big for its face. It cooed softly up at her as Elliotte blinked in surprise and slowly bent down to its level. She’d met with countless species over the years, but none who looked anything quite like this. She tilted her head thoughtfully and the little creature mimicked the movement, lips opening in a curious almost-smile.
“… Hi,” Ell said softly, the corner of her lip curling into a smile, “Were you here this whole time?”
The little green creature’s ears lifted slightly as she spoke, blinking its black eyes at her. Before she could say another word, the Mandalorian stepped between them and carefully picked the creature up. “… He’s… supposedto be asleep.”
“What is he?” Elliotte asked, getting to her feet once again.
“He’s a child. I’m looking after him for now,” Mando replied simply, stepping away from her once again. “You’re welcome to use the cot down here. I’ll be upstairs.”
Ell glanced in the direction he’d gestured and noticed a small area to her left, complete with a cot and little shelf. The area formed a little alcove in the ship to offer a fair bit of privacy, much to her relief. When she drew her gaze back to the Mandalorian, he was already climbing the rungs of the ladder to the ship’s upper level. “Thank you,” she said softly, “Thanks again for letting me stay here for the night.”
He angled his helmet in her direction for a moment, offering a small nod while the child in his arms cooed quietly and wrapped his tiny fingers around the fabric of Mando’s cloak. “…You’re welcome.”
With that, he was out of sight and Ell was once again left on her own. It was then that the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to her and she found herself sinking down on the small cot prepared for her. She rolled onto her back and drew the thin blanket over her, already feeling lulled to sleep. Before long, she had drifted off.
First of all, sorry for not pumping out as much content as usual this week. Since finals are coming up, I’ve been bogged down with a bunch of last-minute assignments including a 6-page paper due tomorrow night that I’ve hardly touched. Because of this, I regret to say I haven’t gotten much writing done this week.
I’ve gotten about three chapters ahead on CLARITAS and I’m hoping to publish part 6 sometime this afternoon. Reminder to please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the tag list when it updates!
A GLITCH IN THE PROGRAMMING is, as you can guess, still not coming along at the rate I’d like. I’ve got two chapters ready to publish, but after that I’ve got no new ideas flowing at the moment. I might have to move this to the back burner for a little while until I dig myself out of this writer’s block.
Finally, people seemed to really take a liking to the experimental Harley Quinn one shot from earlier this week. If that’s something people are interested in, I’ll start practicing with a couple more Harley Quinn pieces—and I’ve still got a Cara Dune x Reader on my to-do list!
CLARITAS. Part 5 (Din Djarin/Original Female Character)
WORDS: 1.3k || WARNINGS: language
a/n: this chapter is a bit of a filler for needed character development. The fun stuff will pick up again in part 6!
Elliotte spent the rest of the daylight hours gradually tidying up the lower floor of her dwelling. It was a much more slow-paced and grueling task than usual, considering she had use of only one arm. She was definitely attempting to heed the Mandalorian’s suggestion, limiting the use of her injured wrist as much as possible. Still, ever since she was a little girl, she found herself unable to sit still for extended periods of time.
Staying in her house and getting absolutely nothing accomplished was definitely off the table. She found her most success when her mind was occupied with other things, so she didn’t have enough time to get caught up in her own thoughts and worries… like what she was going to bring Rhythimi tonight.
Elliotte had managed to evade this question for the majority of the day, but as Cietovus 8’s light began to wane for the day, she could no longer delay the inevitable.
Rhythimi was a kind and patient woman, who never asked a thing of Ell in the first place—Ell knew she had no expectations for what could be provided to her organization to aid the refugees—but that didn’t mean Elliotte didn’t have her ownexpectations. With a sigh, Elliotte opened her bedside drawer and was met with her small stash of savings.
Elliotte cut it close from week to week, saving herself enough credits for rent and food, and a little bit put aside for an emergency… The rest went to Rhythimi to aid her cause. Ell could afford to take a bit out of her savings to make up for her lost income, right?
CLARITAS. Part 5 (Din Djarin/Original Female Character)
WORDS: 1.3k || WARNINGS: language
a/n: this chapter is a bit of a filler for needed character development. The fun stuff will pick up again in part 6!
Elliotte spent the rest of the daylight hours gradually tidying up the lower floor of her dwelling. It was a much more slow-paced and grueling task than usual, considering she had use of only one arm. She was definitely attempting to heed the Mandalorian’s suggestion, limiting the use of her injured wrist as much as possible. Still, ever since she was a little girl, she found herself unable to sit still for extended periods of time.
Staying in her house and getting absolutely nothing accomplished was definitely off the table. She found her most success when her mind was occupied with other things, so she didn’t have enough time to get caught up in her own thoughts and worries… like what she was going to bring Rhythimi tonight.
Elliotte had managed to evade this question for the majority of the day, but as Cietovus 8’s light began to wane for the day, she could no longer delay the inevitable.
Rhythimi was a kind and patient woman, who never asked a thing of Ell in the first place—Ell knew she had no expectations for what could be provided to her organization to aid the refugees—but that didn’t mean Elliotte didn’t have her ownexpectations. With a sigh, Elliotte opened her bedside drawer and was met with her small stash of savings.
Elliotte cut it close from week to week, saving herself enough credits for rent and food, and a little bit put aside for an emergency… The rest went to Rhythimi to aid her cause. Ell could afford to take a bit out of her savings to make up for her lost income, right?
She sighed and scooped a handful of credits into her palm and hid them away in the pouch attached to her dress’s belt loop. Then, she made her way back downstairs and to the front door. Before she could step onto the porch, something near her foot caught her eye—it was the mug Mando had taken with him when he’d left her house. At some point, he must have come back to return it.
In all honesty, she just assumed he’d keep it. It didn’t seem worth making a trip back just to leave it at her doorstep—It was a simple gesture that touched the musician’s heart. Elliotte bent to retrieve it, smiling to herself as she returned to the kitchen to place it in the sink. She’d wash it once she returned.
Once that was taken care of, she made her way back outside and shut the door behind her. The streetlamps were already beginning to illuminate the faint light, brightening Elliotte’s path as she walked. Although Rhythimi’s dwelling was a bit out of the way, Ell knew the route like the back of her hand. It hardly felt like a trek anymore.
Before too long, she’d arrived at her destination. She approached the front porch and knocked in code. The door swung open almost immediately and Rhythimi’s head peeked out, red hair kept in place by dozens of tiny white flowers weaved intricately between the strands. “Come in, Elliotte.”
She stood back and held the door open so Ell could make her way inside. A couple of greetings from the refugees in the common rooms was quick to follow, and Ell gave them a smile and wave before returning her attention to Rhythimi, whose gaze immediately latched on to her gauze-wrapped arm. “The hell happened?” She asked, her voice tinged with thinly disguised panic.
“Goddamn noble tried to get handsy. I’m fine, It’s just a sprain… but see, that’s the problem… I won’t be able to play for a few days, so…” Ell reached for the pouch of credits attached to her belt and passed them to her red-headed friend.
Rhythimi pocketed the fabric-wrapped currency and her delicate hands gently found their way to Elliotte’s wrist, lightly turning her arm over and careful not to hurt her. “We’ll manage, Elliotte… you poor dear. Did he…?”
“No. No, he didn’t. He seemed to come to his senses rather quickly.”
“Good. That’s good. Did you wrap this by yourself…? It’s very precise for only having use of one hand.”
“Oh. No, I had some help… a Mandalorian I met this morning,” Ell said, gingerly retracting her arm from her friend’s grip.
Rhythimi’s eyes shot up quickly. “A Mandalorianis here?”
“Yes. He’s come here in search of fuel. Same as everyone here.”
“Curious… I don’t remember ever seeing one on Listronus. He must come from far away,” Rhythimi mumbled, speaking more to herself than Ell, “… But never mind that for a moment. Sit on the stairs. You could use some artresmour…”
Elliotte opened her mouth to insist that it wasn’t necessary, but before she could, she was being guided to sit and Rhythimi was already taking her place behind her on the stairs, untying the little white flowers from her hair and transferring them into Elliotte’s blonde curls.
A few moments of peaceful silence filled the space between them before Elliotte spoke again. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to bring in any extra credits for a bit… I’ll try to get back to work as soon as possible.”
“Don’t push yourself. If you go back too quickly, you could do some permanent damage. That’ll do none of us any good.”
“But—”
“Elliotte. We’ll be fine,” Rhy replied, pausing to guide her friend’s gaze to the living room where several refugees gathered together, telling stories and laughing, enjoying each other’s company. “Some things are more important than money. We have each other, don’t we? Besides, you get the hard part of this deal… while I get to spend my days surrounded by people with fire in their eyes and love in their hearts, youget to have your wrist sprained by the selfish and ignorant, who know nothing more about you than the silver on your arm.”
At her words, Ell’s gaze shifted to her hands folded across her lap. One forearm was wrapped in gauze—the other wrapped in carved silver, a symbol of an unpayable debt to the royal court. She couldn’t decide which arm made her feel more trapped and powerless.
“You have a bleeding heart, Elliotte,” Rhy said, and Ell was sure she could hear the playful smirk in her voice. “Perhaps you could get your Mandalorian to wrap that for you, too.”
Elliotte reached around to smack her friend with her good arm, and Rhythimi’s hands quickly fell away from her hair as she ducked aside to evade the onslaught, laughing all the while.
“Don’t be so ruthless, Rhy! Haven’t I had a difficult enough day without your torment?”
“Enough theatrics,” Rhythimi replied with a playful roll of her eyes before settling back in behind her and once again returning to her artresmour. “If you want realtorment, I could always bring up the subject of Stangrid Lun!”
Elliotte let out a horrified groan and let her face fall into her palms. “Please don’t mention that wretched man. My mother, Maker rest her soul, was a huge believer in the idea of arranged marriages. I, however, am not.”
Rhythimi laughed as she tied off a row of white flowers and began on the next. “I remember that day so fondly—Stangrid was never one to… take hints, was he? He tried his luck with that kiss of his and next thing he knew he was up to his shoulders in stream water!”
Elliotte offered a chuckle at the memory. “I didn’t know it was possible to call off a wedding that quickly! Neither did my father, I suppose. I got a real tongue-lashing for it that night. Between you and I, though, I’d do it againin a heartbeat!”
“I know this. I’m incredibly surprised you didn’t end up laying that nobleman out in one hit this morning—or did you conveniently leave that part out of your retelling?”
“No, no. No noblemen were knocked out this morning, at least by my hand! If word about that gets out, every bit of my career could be ruined in a matter of hours,” Elliotte answered.
“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. As much as I know you hate it, it’s best to bite your tongue and… bide your time.”
CLARITAS. Part 4. Din Djarin/Original Female Character
WORDS: 1.2k || WARNINGS: Language
As Elliotte returned to her home and pulled the door shut behind her, she set her instrument down near the door and tried to turn her wrist over to look at the injury a little closer. The skin was a bit swollen, and two finger-shaped bruises were beginning to form above the bone. Elliotte hissed in a breath as she touched it and was met with a sharp sting of pain.
She pushed away from the door and made her way over to the stove, using her good hand to begin heating some water for tea. As she waited for it to boil, she sorted through various jars of herbs and dried flowers and set them down beside the stove.
Before she could get much further, there was a faint knock at the door. Elliotte turned away from the stove long enough to retrieve a thick knife from the drawer. She slid it into her sleeve as a precaution and turned her attention to the door once again.
Elliotte opened it a crack only to be met with the imposing figure of the metal-clad man. “Oh, you’re here,” she said politely.
“I am.”
Elliotte opened the door a bit wider and allowed him to step into her small dwelling. “Thank you. I apologize, I don’t have company very often.”
Once he was inside, he turned to face her. “You should sit,” he said, nodding to the table and chairs nearby. Elliotte obeyed, stepping backward and sinking into one of the chairs. The metal man pulled the other chair closer and did the same. Only then did Elliotte notice the first aid kit as he set it down on the table. “Let me see your arm.”
Elliotte reluctantly extended her wrist to him, and he turned her arm over so her palm was facing upward. Gloved fingers found the bruises over her wrist, trailing over them feather-light and studying the intensity of the injury. Elliotte was taken aback by his unexpected gentleness, especially as he supported the weight of her arm with his other hand to keep it upright. His helmet tipped upward, once again meeting her gaze behind his helmet. “It’s a sprain. Not fractured.”
The man opened the medical kit and fished around within it for some supplies. When he retracted his hand, he held a roll of gauze and tape. “It’ll need a few days to heal, so be sure to keep it elevated and don’t do anything too stressful,” he unrolled the gauze and began to wrap her forearm tightly, to prevent her from moving her wrist too much and increasing the damage.
A few days…? How will she be able to play her harp? If she can’t perform, she can’t collect credits… she would be able to manage just fine for a few days, but she wasn’t the only one relying on her income.
As the man released her arm, she drew her wrist closer to her body, brow furrowed softly with worry. Now was not the time to panic. Instead, she lifted her gaze. “Thank you, sir. I’m in your debt—truly.”
The man waved her off and got to his feet with a metallic click from his armor. “No, you aren’t. Don’t worry about it.”
Elliotte stood as well and made her way back toward the stove to retrieve the now-boiling water. “I know it isn’t much, but the least I can do is offer you a cup of tea…”
The man stole a hesitant glance in the direction of the front door, shifting uncomfortably from side to side.
“You’re by no means obligated… but it’s a secret family recipe,” Ell tried as she began stirring in the herbs and flower petals she’d set out earlier. As the water boiled away at the leaves, the pleasant aroma wafted throughout the kitchen. Ell poured a bit of the liquid into a mug, careful not to allow the herbs to follow suit.
Elliotte wasn’t sure if it was the smell or the honey-colored liquid in the second mug that enticed the metal man to stay, but he did—albeit obviously reluctantly.
“I’m Elliotte, by the way. Elliotte Cantossan. What do you go by?”
“Most people just call me ‘Mando’,” he answered, looking down at the mug she’d handed to him.
“Well… it’s nice to put a name to the… um. Helmet? I can’t exactly say face, now can I,” Elliotte gave a weak chuckle to hopefully ease the tension and leaned against the counter. “Why do you wear all of that anyway?”
“I’m a Mandalorian… I can’t take the beskar off. At least while there’s another person present.”
None of the terminology was familiar to Elliotte at all—she recalled a few mentions in passing of the race of ‘Mandalorians’ by some of the nobility, but she’d never seen one in real life… it was then that she made the connection and glanced between the mug still gripped in his gloved hand and the t-shape of his beskar helmet. “Oh, shit… you can’t–-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” Elliotte started, but she was interrupted by a faint sound from beneath the Mandalorian’s helmet, muffled through the modulator. A chuckle. A small one, but still recognizable.
“It happens more often than you’d think.”
“I could step into the other room for a few minutes, if you’d like,” Elliotte offered, now feeling a touch bad.
Mando seemed to ponder it for a moment, but he then dipped his head. “No, it’s alright. I should be going anyway.”
Elliotte chewed her lip thoughtfully, offering a slow nod. “Then… please, at least take it with you. It should be hot enough to stay warm until you make it back to your ship.”
At that offer, the Mandalorian nodded curtly behind his beskar. “… I think I’ll take you up on that. Thank you. I haven’t had tea since…” his voice trailed off, and his helmet tipped to the side. How long hadit been?
It was Elliotte’s turn to chuckle. “That long, huh? Well… as long as you’re stranded on this planet, feel free to visit now and again. I have dozens of tea recipes I haven’t practiced with in ages,” she watched quietly as Mando packed all of his supplies back into the medical kit and clamped it shut before speaking again, “And… thank you. I’m sorry I don’t have anything more to repay you with.”
His helmet turned in her direction. “It’s a roll of gauzeand some tape. I think your cup of tea is worth more.”
Mando’s light-hearted response to her apology startled a laugh from her. He did have a point—Elliotte was just touched by his kind gesture. He did come all this way, after all.
“Just don’t make it a daily habit. I’m not sure I have enough gauze for your other wrist,” he said, quietly picking the kit up and heading for her front door.
“Well there go my plans for tomorrow.” Elliotte replied, her heart nearly skipping a beat when her response earned another chuckle from the usually stoic man. She opened the door for him and smiled as he passed her and stepped down onto the sidewalk. He turned to face her once more and pointed sternly around the mug of steaming tea in his hand.
“Remember, keep it elevated. Don’t do anything stressful, or you’ll be nursing it for more than a couple of days.” And with that, he was gone, briskly making his way down the street until he was no longer in sight.
Now back inside the house, Elliotte returned to the counter and retrieved her own mug from beside the stove. She sipped the warm tea from it slowly, and thanked the gods that it tasted like heaven.
CLARITAS. Part 3 Din Djarin/Original Female Character
WORDS: 1.1k || WARNINGS: Attempted assault, sexual references.
Near the end of Elliotte’s time slot, the woman who shared Lord Miryus’s bed decided that it was finally time to call it quits and return to the local brothel, despite the Lord’s protests that he’d make it worth her while for just one more hour, baby, please. He seemed to have not an ounce of shame or sense to his name, as he’d just made the poor musician sit quietly and strum her instrument during their heated exchange between the bedsheets.
Elliotte couldn’t say it was her first time to have to witness such a thing; The nobility spent so much time with their heads lodged up their own backsides that it was hardly surprising they’d take no notice of the company of a working-class citizen in their midst… unless they were paying her for pleasure. The prostitute finally bid him goodbye, and he paid her his dues—and not a cent more. The poor girl left and even Elliotte, seated halfway across the room, didn’t miss the way her jaw clenched in distaste.
Somehow, the atmosphere in the room became even more uncomfortable with just she and the Lord remaining in his quarters. He had not even the decency to cover himself as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, lighting a cigar and placing it between his lips. “You know,” he drawled, exhaling a ring of smoke into the air of the room, “Your music is fine. You have a talent, and all, but you know I’d pay you more if you offered some additionalservices.”
Elliotte’s fingers faltered over the strings of her instrument for the briefest of moments before she steadied herself and continued her song, refusing to further acknowledge his statement.
CLARITAS. Part 3 Din Djarin/Original Female Character
WORDS: 1.1k || WARNINGS: Attempted assault, sexual references.
Near the end of Elliotte’s time slot, the woman who shared Lord Miryus’s bed decided that it was finally time to call it quits and return to the local brothel, despite the Lord’s protests that he’d make it worth her while for just one more hour, baby, please. He seemed to have not an ounce of shame or sense to his name, as he’d just made the poor musician sit quietly and strum her instrument during their heated exchange between the bedsheets.
Elliotte couldn’t say it was her first time to have to witness such a thing; The nobility spent so much time with their heads lodged up their own backsides that it was hardly surprising they’d take no notice of the company of a working-class citizen in their midst… unless they were paying her for pleasure. The prostitute finally bid him goodbye, and he paid her his dues—and not a cent more. The poor girl left and even Elliotte, seated halfway across the room, didn’t miss the way her jaw clenched in distaste.
Somehow, the atmosphere in the room became even more uncomfortable with just she and the Lord remaining in his quarters. He had not even the decency to cover himself as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, lighting a cigar and placing it between his lips. “You know,” he drawled, exhaling a ring of smoke into the air of the room, “Your music is fine. You have a talent, and all, but you know I’d pay you more if you offered some additionalservices.”
Elliotte’s fingers faltered over the strings of her instrument for the briefest of moments before she steadied herself and continued her song, refusing to further acknowledge his statement.
CLARITAS. Part 3 Din Djarin/Original Female Character
WORDS: 1.1k || WARNINGS: Attempted assault, sexual references.
Near the end of Elliotte’s time slot, the woman who shared Lord Miryus’s bed decided that it was finally time to call it quits and return to the local brothel, despite the Lord’s protests that he’d make it worth her while for just one more hour, baby, please. He seemed to have not an ounce of shame or sense to his name, as he’d just made the poor musician sit quietly and strum her instrument during their heated exchange between the bedsheets.
Elliotte couldn’t say it was her first time to have to witness such a thing; The nobility spent so much time with their heads lodged up their own backsides that it was hardly surprising they’d take no notice of the company of a working-class citizen in their midst… unless they were paying her for pleasure. The prostitute finally bid him goodbye, and he paid her his dues—and not a cent more. The poor girl left and even Elliotte, seated halfway across the room, didn’t miss the way her jaw clenched in distaste.
Somehow, the atmosphere in the room became even more uncomfortable with just she and the Lord remaining in his quarters. He had not even the decency to cover himself as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, lighting a cigar and placing it between his lips. “You know,” he drawled, exhaling a ring of smoke into the air of the room, “Your music is fine. You have a talent, and all, but you know I’d pay you more if you offered some additionalservices.”
Elliotte’s fingers faltered over the strings of her instrument for the briefest of moments before she steadied herself and continued her song, refusing to further acknowledge his statement.
The Lord didn’t seem satisfied with this. “Hey. I’m talking to you, Cantossan. Isn’t it your job to servethe court?”
“It is my job to pluck these strings and compose written poetry when requested, Lord,” the musician answered, maintaining her composure.
“Such delicate hands you have, my dear. You could do so much better with them. Come, allow me to show you.”
Elliotte abruptly rose to her feet and began to fold her instrument. “Apologies, Lord, but it seems as though your hour is–”
Before she could finish, her bare wrist was suddenly encircled by his large hand, preventing her escape. “I didn’t say you could leave,” the nobleman snarled, tightening his grip on her wrist until it was painful.
Internally, Elliotte was panicking. Her breathing was coming more quickly and her heart was pounding in her ears, but she maintained defiant eye contact with the large man. “Unhand me, Lord Miryus. I am your humble musician, not your prostitute. Please allow me the dignity of my choice.”
A few seconds of anxiety-inducing silence filled the space between them. Finally, after what felt like ages, Miryus’s grip on her arm softened, then fell away completely. He turned away from her, reaching for a handful of credits in his bedside drawer before tossing them carelessly at her—payment for the performance he cared not to listen to.
Elliotte stooped to quickly gather them up, tucking them in a spare pouch she kept tucked in her sleeve. Then, she picked up her instrument and briskly made for the exit. Only once the door was closed behind her did she let out a soft whimper of pain and clutch her wrist to her chest. It didn’t feel broken, but it certainly didn’t feel right.
She stopped a maid in the hallway and inquired about the possibility of acquiring a pain killer, but the maid informed her she had access to none.
Cursing under her breath, Elliotte had to bite the bullet and clear her schedule for the day. As disappointed as she was in herself, there was no use putting her arm at risk of additional damage by powering through whatever the issue was. She quietly thanked the maid and quietly made her way back down the front steps of the palace. She began to make the trek back to her house, but as she arrived near the marketplace, she figured to try her luck and inquire with the merchants about their available medicines.
Most merchants sold flowers and vegetables, various meats, and some handcrafted jewelry, but occasionally there was a small stall that offered medical supplies. The merchant was called Helio, and Rhythimi was good friends with him. They had arranged deals in the past so Rhy could buy medicine in bulk to provide for her refugees, but there hadn’t been any with injuries lately; Elliotte doubted she’d have any pain killers on hand.
Worse even, it didn’t seem like Helio was occupying his stall today. Elliotte chewed her lip thoughtfully… perhaps she could return to her house and try a home-made remedy? Ready to head home, she took a step backward and away from the stall and abruptly bumped into something hard. Ell whipped around quickly and came face-to-helmet with the man of metal she’d seen just earlier that morning.
She inhaled sharply in surprise and nearly tripped backward into the empty merchant’s stall, but the man caught her arm to prevent her fall. Unfortunately, he grabbed her injured wrist and he must have noticed her immediate wince of pain because he let go just as quickly as he’d reached out.
“… Sorry,” Elliotte mumbled, curling her wrist against her chest.
“You’re hurt,” the metal man observed.
“I’m fine. Just a little accident. I came to the market to get some medicine, but it looks like Helio isn’t around today.”
The man eyed her thoughtfully for a long moment—at least, Elliotte assumed he was, judging by the angle of the t-shape in his helmet—before shifting his gaze away and turning on his heel. “Follow me.”
Perhaps against her better judgement, she did—at least for a couple of steps, until she realized he was leading her further out of the busy city center. Elliotte paused mid-step. “Where are you taking me?”
“I have a first aid kit on my ship,” replied the man, voice distorted by the modulator inside his helmet.
“… I can’t go onto your ship with you. I don’t knowyou.”
“I’m trying to helpyou.”
“And I appreciate it very much, I really do… but sir, the whole reason my wrist is injured in the first place is because I was alone in a room with a man I did not trust… please understand my concern.”
The metal man paused and looked over his shoulder at her. If she looked hard enough, she could pinpoint the exact moment his shield of annoyance dissolved away and his rigid posture relaxed by just a hair.
“If you really mean well, meet me at my house. You were there earlier this morning,” Elliotte said, already retreating back into the safety of the crowd. At least at home, she knew she had weapons and protective gear at her disposal in case this mystery man did have bad intentions with her.
She couldn’t be too careful—not after the morning she’d had.
A/N: Thank you all for supporting this fic so far! The feedback has made me smile and tear up many times this week and I can’t thank you all enough for your kind words.
Once Elliotte’s eyes were covered by a wrap of thick fabric, the Mandalorian held two fingers in front of her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Uh… three…? I don’t know,” came her response as her fingers sifted through the carefully aligned piles of flowers, all sorted by color, “You’re going to have to let me know what color I’m holding… and yes, it doesmatter.”
Elliotte felt the faint shift in the air as the man settled in the grass across from her. “I will, I will,” he replied, “And you can’t see anything, right…?”
“Even if I could, I have my eyes shut… but please, if you’re uncomfortable with this, you don’t have to–”
“You’ve been nothing but trustworthy since I met you. I can offer you this much as thanks.”
Ell became silent at that, sitting back on her knees and fiddling with the hem of her dress. After a moment came a soft pop and hiss as his helmet disengaged, and a faint thump as he set it aside in the grass. She could hear him draw in a faint breath, and in that moment it was difficult to determine who felt more nervous.
In an attempt to break the uncomfortable pause, Ell lowered her head in the direction of the flower piles and began feeling around for them. “What color is your hair…? Do you have hair? Are you allowed to answer that…?”
When the Mandalorian spoke next, it was without obstruction–the first time she’d heard it so. “…It’s brown.”
“Then let’s start with… red.” Beneath her blindfold, Ell’s brows furrowed with concentration as she tried to remember the layout of her flower piles. “These are…?”
“Yellow.”
“And these…?”
“Blue. To the left – there.”
Elliotte’s hand finally settled over the proper color. She took a few in her palms and shifted forward on her knees, reaching out to him carefully. Her knuckles lightly brushed his cheek and the Mandalorian recoiled abruptly. “Sorry–! I’m sorry–” she began, but he settled himself and drew closer again.
“No, it’s… it’s fine,” he answered slowly, willing himself to concentrate, “Here,” he bumped her wrist with his gloved hand, guiding her touch upward until her fingers brushed the softness of his hair. Mando was stiff beneath her touch as Elliotte carefully measured out strands of his hair, trying to gauge how long it was and how best to arrange a pattern within it. She’d cut longer stems on her flowers in case his hair was too short to wrap the way she did her own, but she’d quickly come to find his hair was curlier and a bit longer than she’d originally anticipated.
Before placing each flower in his hair, she wrapped the bottom of the stem around her index finger and snapped it off, shortening it enough for her to disguise behind a curl of his hair. All the while, his eyes were on her blindfold, the anxiety that she could see through it never fully dissipating. Try as he might, though, his resolve began to crumble. Mando was able to watch the way she set her jaw in concentration as she looped a stem around her finger, and the way she chewed the inside of her lip as she fastened the flower securely in his hair.
Hearing her speak about artresmourbefore, he could not comprehend how the use of flowers could hold such a significant impact. How could putting flowers in one’s hair deepen a bond between people?
As he watched his companion work through the process with him, he could understand now.
The giver offered a piece of themselves within each flower; They hand-picked every flower, every stem, and each stem was finely woven between itself and other stems, invisible behind a curtain of hair. The giver was the artist, and the recipient, the canvas. The finished product was a work of art, but only the canvas knew the detail of every brushstroke and the genius behind it on a most personal level. It was a secret shared between the two of them. A silent dance of two souls in an empty meadow of flowers, and no one but the harpist and the Mandalorian around to know the significance.
How long had it been since someone touched his hair…?
Elliotte wove blossoms of red and yellow, alternating every so often and using nothing but her hands and muscle memory to guide her through the pattern. About halfway through her process, she felt the Mandalorian begin to relax. She felt the way his bunched shoulders loosened and how his breathing had mellowed out, and she knew if she could see him now without helmet or other obstruction, his eyes would be closed. He was no longer anxious.
She thought fondly back upon the countless nights her mother had tucked her into bed in a similar way, after Ell had been crying her eyes out over whatever trivial matter troubled her young mind. Her mother, always a patient woman, would sit at her bedside and sing nursery rhymes while speckles of white and blue flowers took shape around Elliotte’s head like a crown of petals.
It seemed so long ago, and life hardly ever offered moments of security and sanctuary like she had known when she was little. Even still, the act of artresmourwas one of the best ways to ease a mind into a sense of belonging. Everyone yearned for it in some way – even metal-clad men from a distant planet.
All good things must come to an end.
Elliotte fastened the last flower into his hair and felt briefly around his head to make sure everything was staying neatly in place. Once she was satisfied, she reluctantly retracted her hands from his hair.
The loss of comfort was immediate for both of them. Just as quickly as it had started, the honey-sweet solace brought about by the simplest of human contact was severed, and the weight of real life came crashing back to the forefront of their minds.
“…Hungry?” Ell asked to break the tension, once again managing to draw the Mandalorian’s attention. She patted around in the grass until her hand brushed the roughness of the basket from the marketplace. She pulled the wooden basket onto her lap and opened it, fishing around until her hand closed around one of the palm-sized useme nuts. As she held it to him, he accepted it and the opportunity to eat a meal in the presence of another person without worry.
Elliotte retrieved one of her own and again set the basket aside, shifting in the grass until she was facing the lake ahead. She crushed the thin shell in her hand and peeled off the shards, exposing the large seed within and pulling it out of the rest of the casing. Mando copied her actions and bit into the seed. It was rather plain in flavor, as most freshly harvested nuts were, but there was a hint of enjoyable sweetness to it.
A comfortable silence filled the air between them as they enjoyed the cool breeze wafting across the hilltop, sending ripples across the surface of the lake. Elliotte was still blindfolded, but she didn’t seem too bothered by it. Truth be told, as much as the Mandalorian wanted to remove the slip of fabric and be met with her blue eyes once more, he didn’t want to mess up the artresmourby putting his helmet back on over it.
“I’m sure it probably looks ridiculous,” Ell said, snapping him from his thoughts, “We’re taught to do it pretty much from the day we’re born, and yet… I’ve never had to do it with my eyes closed. It’s kind of a fun challenge.”
“It looks wonderful,” he replied, and he meant it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his reflection in the lake, and he especially couldn’t look away from the spots of red and yellow tucked into his dark hair. He looked like autumn. He looked like fallen leaves and a fireplace–like telling ghost stories and silhouettes bundled in warm furs, tucked away from the chilling bite of an evening frost.
It’s like a picture.
Mando hadn’t realized he’d said the words out loud until he heard Elliotte shifting beside him. He turned his head to watch her discard the empty useme shell and reach up to her own hairline. For the briefest moment, he thought she was reaching for the blindfold and nearly sprang for his helmet, but her fingers instead wrapped around a curl of her hair that had become untucked and began playing with it between her fingertips idly. “In a way, it is,” she murmured, one shoulder lifting in a sort of half-shrug, “Me, I’ve always seen it as a sort of living poetry–just instead of weaving words, you’re weaving flowers. I’ve never been too good at putting words to paper, so artresmour makes for a satisfactory outlet.”
“And playing your instrument doesn’t?”
Elliotte gave a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. “The nobles make for a rotten audience. They don’t really listen to it anyway.”
“Then why do you play for them?” he inquired.
“It’s less of an outlet and more of a necessity. The nobility are… difficult to work with, to say the least. They lack respect and common decency, but they pay better than anyone else. You said you used to be a bounty hunter, right? Surely you’ve had to deal with a number of unsavory people in order to get paid.”
“I have,” he admitted, unable to count on both hands the number of names that immediately came to his mind, “But… in a way, I’m able to remove myself from it. They have no idea who I am beyond a suit of armor and an empty nickname.”
“Is that why you can’t take your helmet off? To maintain some sort of anonymity?”
“Partially. The main reason is due to my religion. No living person has seen my face since… well–in a long time,” he explained, trailing a gloved finger over the t-shaped visor of his helmet beside him. “I blindfolded you not because I don’t find you trustworthy, but because if you didsee… I would have to kill you. Or else never put the helmet on again.”
“You don’t owe me any kind of apology or explanation, if that’s what you’re getting at. I would never ask anyone to make that kind of sacrifice just because I was feeling selfish! There’s no amount of curiosity worth overstepping a boundary like that,” Elliotte answered simply, crunching away at another useme nut.
“You’d be surprised at the number of people who believe they’re entitled otherwise.”
Ell angled her head toward him, brow furrowing in bewilderment. “You don’t say? Here I thought I’d seen the worst of people. A sprained wrist isn’t looking so bad right now,” she mumbled, lifting her wrapped arm to emphasize.
Mando’s gaze watched the movement of her forearm. “How does it feel…?”
“It’s not quite as sore today. Hopefully is isn’t as bad as I originally thought. Then again, I’m really in no hurry to go back to the palace…”
“Ideally, you won’t have to,” he said, finally reaching for his helmet and slipping it back on over his artresmour’d head. It clicked into place, and the next time he spoke his voice was once again muffled by the vocoder. “I’m going to pay you the same rate for your guidance that you were being paid for your instrument.”
As soon as the blindfold was removed from her eyes, Elliotte shot him an incredulous look. “Yeah, right, I wouldn’t ask that of you. That’s ridiculous.”
Before she could further protest, Mando was already passing her a handful of credits. “Please. It’s the least I can do. You need it more than I do.”
Ell hesitated for a moment, looking as though she made to reach for them, but instead her hands gently folded his gloved fingers back over the currency. She shook her head slowly, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Your offer is generous–truly, it is, and I’m exceptionally grateful, but… the truth is, the money isn’t specifically for me. I’ve got some… people I’m trying to look after. People who are in much more of a dire situation that myself. I have enough in my savings to keep me fed and a roof over my head for a while…”
“Then give it to them–I don’t mind.”
“Mando, you areone of them,” she said, and for the first time he noticed the wetness forming at the corners of her eyes. Elliotte paused for a moment to compose herself, closing her eyes to concentrate on how best to continue. “People have been stranded on this planet for months. Acquiring Listronian fuel these days is no easy or cheap task, as I’m sure you’re growing aware. If you burn through your savings, you’re sure to be put in a situation just like them, and with your kid–”
“Ellie,” he said, and judging by the way she jolted, perhaps it came out a bit sterner than he intended. “It’s going to be alright. You’ve already got enough to deal with; The last thing you need is to start worrying about me.”
Elliotte gave a weak laugh, lightly wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I can’t help it–you’re very easy to worry about.”
Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Am I? Well… you’d be the first to think so,” he stood and offered her his hand to help her to her feet. “You seem to have rotten luck of your own. First the wrist, then an attempted robbery… can’t seem to catch a break this week.”
“Well, it’s not been all bad. I got some nice company out of it, didn’t I?” said Elliotte, retrieving the basket from beside her and turning to begin the walk back down the hillside.
Another soft laugh escaped through the modulator. “I’m not usually what people would consider ‘good company’.”
“I suppose the armor would be a bit off putting to some.”
“That and my typical encounters with people aren’t exactly the ‘friendly’ kind. When you have a lot of enemies, it’s best to hold your tongue in their presence. It’s safer for you if they don’t know much about you.”
Ell didn’t respond, and they were overtaken by silence as they descended the hillside, enjoying the coolness of the air as Cietovus 8 sank behind the hillside and left them in growing darkness. Before long, they’d reached the bottom of the hill.
Back on flat ground, Elliotte turned to give him a smile. “Thanks for humoring me all day. I know the market isn’t super fun, but it isessential to life on Listronus. Hopefully Listrona Hill was a bit more enjoyable.”
“It was… and thank you for showing me. You make one hell of a tour guide.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes as the countryside faded into darkness behind them and the lights of the city drew nearer. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop before we call it a night…?”
“I don’t mind.”
On Elliotte’s route, they crossed through the center of the city, passed the palace and her house further down the street, and continued along a quiet path to the western outskirts. Mando recognized the area quickly as the place he’d rescued Elliotte from the would-be mugger the night before… what wasshe doing in this part of town so frequently?
His question was answered soon after when Elliotte turned up the pathway to a worn-down house surrounded by overgrown shrubbery and hidden from the view of the street. Mando followed her to the door as she knocked rhythmically on the chipping wooden. Before too long, a woman with hair like fire opened the door. Her brown eyes were soft and full of kindness, and her presumably long hair was tied in place by dozens of tiny yellow flowers. She couldn’t have been much older than Elliotte, herself, but her expression immediately lit up when she saw her. The woman pulled her into a bruising hug and made some comment about how she’d told Ell not to be out at this time of night. The Mandalorian shifted his weight from foot to foot, and only then did she seem to take notice of him.
The redheaded woman recoiled in surprise, “Ell, I truly thought you’d brought me a statue, but… this must be the Mandalorian you’ve told me so much about.”
Ell only had time to give an embarrassed “Rhy–” before the other woman stepped aside and held the door open.
“Come in, come in. My goodness, you are tall.”
Mando gave a sheepish ‘thanks’ and stepped into the small building behind Elliotte. The interior wasn’t much more impressive than the outside; It was small and cramped, and the smell of wood rot was rather prevalent in the air. To his left, he was surprised to find a crowd of people huddled around the small fireplace. When they took notice of Elliotte, many smiled or waved in greeting. Hardly any of them were Listronian; Mando recognized a number of species from planets far off. All at once, things began to click into place.
The fuel crisis.
Elliotte mentioned that she knew a number of other people stranded like he and the child were, and said that a large portion of her income went to providing for those in a worse situation than herself. All this time, she’d been aiding them.
“This is Rhythimi,” Ell said, once the door was shut firmly behind them, “My best friend. Rhy, this is Mando.”
“Mando. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Rhythimi answered kindly, extending her hand.
“Wish I could say the same,” he replied, shaking her hand whilst stealing a glance in Ell’s direction.
Rhythimi chuckled. “No, don’t be silly. If I’ve remained anonymous, that means Elliotte’s done her job. That being said, if you’re here that must mean you’ve found yourself in a similar situation to all these folks… low on fuel?”
“That’s right.”
“In that case, I’ll be sure to add you to the wait list,” said Rhythimi.
“Wait list?” Mando inquired.
“Of course. For fuel.”
“You’re able to get it?”
“Sure, but it’ll be a few weeks… or even a few months. We aren’t exactly following legal protocols here. But… We’ll do what we can to get you home.”
The Mandalorian inclined his head.
“Sorry to drop in on you with a guest unexpectedly, Rhy,” Ell chimed in, “…we’ll be out of your hair shortly, but we did bring you these. Hopefully they’ll come in handy,” Ell said, setting the basket of useme nuts on the table.
Rhythimi smiled gratefully. “Of course they will. Every little bit helps. And don’t you dare apologize… seeing you is one of the few things I look forward to every day.”
Ell smiled, and the two exchanged a quick hug before she bid her friend and the refugees goodnight and made for the door. The cool air returned as she and the Mandalorian crossed the porch and descended the few stairs to the grass. “I apologize for not telling you about her sooner,” she said in a hushed whisper, trying to keep her voice down in case anyone was attempting to listen in, “I know you need fuel–I’ve known that since we met, but I hope you understand… I had to make sure you were trustworthy first.”
“I do understand,” he replied, turning his helmet in her direction. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“Helping us.”
Elliotte turned to look at him, beaming with a smile that reached her eyes. “No worries… I’m glad to be doing something for a good cause.” The two reached the main street before she spoke again. “Thank you for your time today. I know it was… a lot of seemingly pointless information, but it feels nice to have someone to tell it all to.”
“Of course. I look forward to the lessons to come. In the meantime, I’ll walk you home,” he replied, and Ell looked like she wanted to protest, but he held up a gloved hand to quiet her. “No, you won’t be ‘troubling me’, stop it. You got mugged on this exact street corner last night. I’m not taking any chances.”
As much as she wanted to, Elliotte couldn’t argue with that. “Fine. But you have to take a cup of tea back to your ship with you.”
“Deal.”
By the time they began their trip down the street in the direction they’d come, the streetlights had begun to illuminate the ground around them. The Mandalorian felt much more at ease with the increased lighting the closer they got to the city, and much more relieved knowing she had agreed to let him walk her home at this time of night. Although his faith in her continued to grow, his faith in the city deteriorated. There were much more underlying issues here than he’d originally anticipated.
Between a haughty nobility, a fuel crisis, a growing homeless population, poverty-stricken individuals, and a greedy king atop it all, Mando couldn’t help but wonder how gentle souls such as Elliotte and Rhythimi had managed to survive on this planet. They both were a light in a tunnel of darkness… a clarity. A brightness.
A brightness the Mandalorian had scarcely witnessed in his many years as a bounty hunter. Without Elliotte, he hardly believed he would have given this planet more than a passing thought. He would know nothing about their culture or the people, and not too long ago he wouldn’t have cared. However, more than anything he now wanted to learn more.
Mando reached this conclusion the same moment they reached her doorstep. “Thank you again for everything,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at him. She reached for the handle and tried to turn it, but the door didn’t budge. She cursed and patted the sides of her dress, and even her sleeves.
There was a long pause before her forehead thumped against the wood of the door. “The key. I locked the key inside.”
The Mandalorian went to respond, but he watched her gaze shift from the door to the overhanging balcony a few feet up.
“Hold on,” she mumbled, crossing the small porch and taking a large jump. Her hands found purchase on the bottom of the balcony and she hoisted herself up with skillful ease.
“This hasn’t been your first time locking yourself out, has it,” Mando observed, watching with his arms folded until he was sure she was up safely. Then, he copied her motions and swung himself over the rail.
“First time while I had company,” she answered, pulling the balcony doors open. She stepped inside the revealed room without a second thought, but the Mandalorian hesitated. The room was surprisingly spacious, with a closed closet at one side, Elliotte’s harp propped against the wood of the door, and a large bathroom at the other. In the middle of the room was a small couch and coffee table, and to his left was a small bed encircled by a thin white curtain. It became clear rather quickly that he was looking into her bedroom, and he immediately felt as though he was intruding.
Elliotte seemed to notice his hesitation and lifted her hands to ask him to wait. “You don’t have to come in! You can stay there–I’m just gonna run downstairs to get your tea.”
Mando gave a single curt nod and graciously turned to busy his attention elsewhere… “elsewhere” happened to be looking out over the railing of the balcony. Without his helmet, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish the features of the buildings barely visible in the darkness, but he was able to recognize the shape of the palace down the street, and the neighboring homes on this stretch of road. The marketplace was empty, and the stalls were covered individually by large sheets to attempt to protect the wood from rain.
Before long, Elliotte made her way back upstairs, cupping her hands around a mug of steaming tea. “Here you are,” she said, carefully passing the mug to him, “Freshest Listronian tea you’ll get this time of night.”
He thanked her and took the mug from her. “Same time tomorrow?”
“We’ll start whatever time you want. I kept you out longer than I intended today, so… sleep in and spend some time with your kid.”
The Mandalorian smiled behind his helmet and realized a bit too late that she was unable to see it. “I’ll meet you here.”
The conversation should have ended there, and yet neither one of them made a move to leave. Instead, Elliotte averted her gaze, looking out over the city.
“Earlier today, you called me ‘Ellie’… I don’t know that you meant to, but you did. No one’s called me that since I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”
“No, don’t apologize,” she said quickly. She scratched her arm sheepishly, vision still focused on the flickering lights in the buildings across the street. “That was my mother’s nickname for me. It was my favorite.”
Mando didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes when she mentioned her mother, but even more so, he didn’t miss the fond smile that crept over her lips. He turned his helmet slightly to the side, still watching her through the visor. “…Thank you for today, Ellie… I learned a lot.”
The corner of her lip turned upward. “I did too.”
“Youlearned a lot about your planet today? Here I thought you knew everything,” he said, hoping his humor wasn’t lost through the vocoder.
“Not about Listronus,” Ell replied earnestly, “About you.” For a moment, her blue eyes were drawn away from the visor and moved to his shoulder, where a red flower petal had fallen out from beneath his helmet. She lifted her hand to brush it off and watched it flutter to the balcony’s floor.
“Oh…” he responded lamely.
And then Ell did something that surprised them both.
She kissed him.
A soft brush of her lips against the smooth beskar of his helmet’s cheek. She pulled back just as quickly as she’d initiated it, face flushed the color of a rose, before she cleared her throat, offered a soft “goodnight” and padded briskly into her room, shutting the balcony doors behind her. Whether she or the Mandalorian was left more flustered was debatable, as she’d immediately fled the area and he remained standing on her balcony for several long moments after she’d closed the door, a gloved hand pressed lightly against the spot on his helmet she’d touched.
After a few moments, he collected himself enough to turn his gaze from the doors she’d disappeared behind and back toward the view overlooking the city. Reluctantly, he eased himself back over the balcony’s railing and dropped to the street once again, ready to begin his walk home.
WORDS: 3.4k || WARNINGS: spirituality/talk of (made up) religion
a/n: FINALLY finished this part. I hope the fact that it’s almost double my usual chapter length makes up for how overdue it is.
As the Mandalorian stepped across the central aisle of the marketplace, he locked away in his mind the appearance of the nobleman Elliotte had pointed out to him. Lord Miryus. He’d not only been responsible for spraining Elliotte’s wrist, but also, apparently, a number of ongoing problems here on Listronus. Mando temporarily filed that information away for later, and he instead turned his attention to the fisherman behind the merchant’s stall as he approached.
The fisherman caught his eye and immediately poked at some of his fresh-caught fish, chattering excitedly about the quality and size of each one.
Elliotte came to a halt beside the Mandalorian at the stall and occupied herself with admiring the variety of fish, giving him the amount of space and time he needed to lock in a trade with his merchant of choice. He held the spool of string in-hand, turning it over in his gloved palm. The merchant stole a look at it before shifting his gaze back up to the intimidating visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “A trade?” he said, “Are you looking for a trade?”
“Yes. We are,” Mando replied, turning his helmet in Elliotte’s direction. She simply offered him a reassuring smile. He could dothis… it’s not like he’d never negotiated before. “This is… a very fine, sturdy material here. Perfect for stringing fishing poles.”
“Right. May I see it for myself?” asked the merchant, humming thoughtfully as Mando passed him the spool. He held it up, unrolling a little segment of it and pinching it between his fingers. “It is a bit stretchy—quite perfect, if you ask me. I wouldn’t mind making a trade for it. Has anything here caught your eye…? Or your lady’s?”
“She isn’t my–”
“How about five of these little zemmoks?” Elliotte chimed in, extending a finger to gesture to a long and thin fish, rather average in color, but distinguished by a needle-like protrusion from its lower jaw.
WORDS: 3.4k || WARNINGS: spirituality/talk of (made up) religion
a/n: FINALLY finished this part. I hope the fact that it’s almost double my usual chapter length makes up for how overdue it is.
As the Mandalorian stepped across the central aisle of the marketplace, he locked away in his mind the appearance of the nobleman Elliotte had pointed out to him. Lord Miryus. He’d not only been responsible for spraining Elliotte’s wrist, but also, apparently, a number of ongoing problems here on Listronus. Mando temporarily filed that information away for later, and he instead turned his attention to the fisherman behind the merchant’s stall as he approached.
The fisherman caught his eye and immediately poked at some of his fresh-caught fish, chattering excitedly about the quality and size of each one.
Elliotte came to a halt beside the Mandalorian at the stall and occupied herself with admiring the variety of fish, giving him the amount of space and time he needed to lock in a trade with his merchant of choice. He held the spool of string in-hand, turning it over in his gloved palm. The merchant stole a look at it before shifting his gaze back up to the intimidating visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “A trade?” he said, “Are you looking for a trade?”
“Yes. We are,” Mando replied, turning his helmet in Elliotte’s direction. She simply offered him a reassuring smile. He could dothis… it’s not like he’d never negotiated before. “This is… a very fine, sturdy material here. Perfect for stringing fishing poles.”
“Right. May I see it for myself?” asked the merchant, humming thoughtfully as Mando passed him the spool. He held it up, unrolling a little segment of it and pinching it between his fingers. “It is a bit stretchy—quite perfect, if you ask me. I wouldn’t mind making a trade for it. Has anything here caught your eye…? Or your lady’s?”
“She isn’t my–”
“How about five of these little zemmoks?” Elliotte chimed in, extending a finger to gesture to a long and thin fish, rather average in color, but distinguished by a needle-like protrusion from its lower jaw.
The fisherman chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, dear. Four and it’s a deal.”
“Alright then. Four.”
The merchant tucked the spool away into his pocket and turned to package up the small fish. He passed them across the row of fish to her and she tucked the wrap against her arm, thanked him, and nodded to Mando.
Once again, the two returned to the open marketplace. “Very well done! He didn’t doubt you’re a local for a second! I mean… perhaps other than appearance-wise. In that regard, you do sort of stand out,” Ell began, “I apologize for butting in there at the end… I just know we’ll need zemmoks for our next barter.”
“How many more of these are there?” Mando said, perhaps growing a bit agitated at the grueling process. As far as he could tell, they’d made no progress toward anything more valuable. A toxic fruit to beads, to a spool of string, to a handful of too-small fish… this hardly felt like a successful endeavor.
“This is the last one, I promise,” she assured, picking up on his annoyance, “I know these don’t look like much, but pitch them to the right merchant…” Ell shifted her gaze to a stall toward the front portion of the marketplace, and Mando followed her gaze. A plump and older merchant woman was receiving a handful of silver coins from a customer before passing him a basket of brightly-colored berries. That was their next target?
“That there is Misa. She’s an old friend of mine… has a real taste for zemmoks, you see. She has some old family recipe that requires a bunch of them, so she’ll snatch them up whenever anyone offers. In return, she offers useme nuts by the dozen… they’re these fist-sized nuts that grow in her personal orchard on the other side of town… crisp and incredibly tasty, especially when they’re salted the way Misa prepares them! Pretty great deal if you ask me,” Elliotte explained as she weaved through the crowd and in the direction of their target merchant.
Mando followed her, offering nothing but a grunt in response. He’d be rather happy to be finished in this marketplace. The heat of the day was unpleasant in the stuffy crowd, and although he was used to drawing curious gazes toward the sleek shine of his beskar, the continuous feeling of eyes watching his every move was beginning to grow taxing.
“Misa!” Elliotte’s voice drew him once again from his thoughts as the two of them came to a halt in front of the merchant’s stall. Unlike most of the other vendors in the marketplace, it seemed Misa specialized in more than one thing—berries, nuts, fruits, and even a few various animal products from creatures he’d never even heard of.
“Good afternoon, Elliotte!” said the friendly-looking merchant, “What can I interest you in today?”
“The usual,” Ell replied, passing over the wrap of fish she’d obtained from the previous merchant.
“You know me so well. A dozen per zemmok—that’ll give you forty-eight. Agreeable?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Misa grinned, turning away from her to set the fish down and began packing useme nuts away in a large basket. “So, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Mando managed to catch her eye for a moment before she offered a faint smile and turned her gaze back to the vendor. “This is Mando. I’m showing him around the market this morning… and the proper bargaining techniques.”
“That’s a handy skill to have,” Misa said, sitting back to blow a strand of hair out of her face. She reached over her table of goods in order to extend her hand, and Mando did the same, firmly shaking her hand. “Welcome to Listronus, Mando.”
“Thank you,” he answered.
“Well, here you are, Ms. Cantossan! Forty-eight useme nuts,” Misa added, lifting the basket off of the table and passing it to her.
“Thanks again, Misa. See you later,” Elliotte said, looping her arm under the basket’s handle and carrying it off. Finally, they were able to leave the intense environment of the marketplace. As they drew further away from the noise, Mando was able to visibly relax, at least just a hair. “Okay, now I’m intrigued. What’s the purpose of so many of… those?”
“These are a great local food source here on Listronus. I figured you could take as many of these as you’d like back for you and your kid… and if it isn’t too much to ask, I’d like to ask if I could have the remaining ones instead of a monetary payment for this first day of guiding!”
“You can have them all,” answered Mando, tilting his helmet in her direction, “I have enough to get by on my ship. And the kid’s a carnivore anyway.”
Elliotte blinked, positively bewildered by such a thing. “We’re talking about the same kid, right? Th-the little green one? He’s a carnivore?”
There was a muffled almost-chuckle from beneath the helmet. “Yes. It took me by surprise too when I saw him eat a frog whole the night I found him.” There was a certain underlying fondness in his heavily-modulated voice that Elliotte didn’t miss whenever he spoke about the child. Spending so much time around politicians and noblemen, Ell was able to differentiate between fake smiles and genuine ones, and although the Mandalorian’s face could give her no true indication she could almost hear the smile through his voice. This child was important to him.
“I didn’t mean to assume. We can trade these useme nuts for some larger fish, if–”
“No, please… I can tell they have more value to you. I have enough food on my ship to get through several more weeks. Besides… I’d rather not go back into that marketplace again for a while.”
“Crowds aren’t your thing, huh?”
“Not really.”
Ell hummed thoughtfully, switching the basket of useme nuts to her other arm. “Well… I know a few places we can visit that are much less crowded. You up for a history lesson?”
“I don’t see why not?”
“It’s a good thing we bought these after all. We’re gonna need some for the trip.”
It turns out, “trip” was a bit of an overstatement. To the east of the city, the landscape gave way to hills and valleys. Most of the flat area had been developed into farmland while the hills were relatively untouched and wild. As Cietovus 8 climbed higher into the sky, the two cut through rows of knee-high crops, watching each step to make sure no plants were crushed in the process. Mando spent much of the walk admiring the change of scenery and enjoying the time away from the bustling city streets, but even he grew curious as to what exactly the destination was supposed to be.
Ell, on the other hand, seemed to have the path memorized… which, he supposed, made sense in the grand scheme of things. She had lived here for all her life, after all. At first glance, the Mandalorian believed she was simply another haughty aristocrat. She certainly dressed like one and knew their mannerisms well, but upon getting to speak with her beyond more than a few passing words, he came to realize that she was kind, but without being naive and considerate without being a pushover. It was almost endearing in a way, the gentle balance she maintained.
Mando must have been gradually slowing his pace, because once he’d finally drawn out of his thoughts, they were no longer walking side-by-side. Ell was a few steps ahead of him, still chattering on about the details and history of the landscape and pointing out specific structures in the nearby fields. By now, he’d come to realize that they were nearing the edge of the crop fields and approaching the base of a large hill. The incline was gradual, but scattered with trees and various rock formations that would make for some simple obstacles. Overall, it appeared to be a relatively easy climb.
“Where are we?”
“This is Listrona Hill. As the name implies, it has… incredible significance to the people of this planet. It’s also why the capital city is located so nearby,” Elliotte answered, already drawing closer to a narrow trail winding up the hillside, “But it’s not the hill itself that’s so important. It’s what’s at the top.”
Mando followed her, watching every step up the incline. “What isat the top?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Ell said, “Back in the early days of this planet, Listronians were known for their unique spirituality. We believed every creature and object had a spirit and essence that it offered to the universe in a way only itcould. Our deity was Artres, goddess of flowers and abundance. According to ancient myths, this hillside was her home… to this day, we still hold many funerals and weddings at the peak, and many of the older generations still believe it honors Artres. I’m not very religious myself, but the sentiment is nice.”
Mando listened to her explanation quietly as they navigated the tricky hillside, and Elliotte continued to recite old myths and stories about the creation of the planet, the supposed death of the goddess, and her rebirth in the form of a meadow of flowers, but her organized storytelling quickly dropped off in favor of enthusiasm as they neared the peak. She increased her pace until she was jogging the final stretch and turned around to wave him on and beckon him to hurry up.
Eventually Mando was standing beside her at the summit of the hill, looking out over a vast meadow of flowers that varied in color from blues and purples to reds and yellows and whites. The thick trees didn’t seem to grow into the meadow; Instead, they outlined the hilltop from the edges. The only thing around to interrupt the expanse of flowers was a small lake filled with crystalline water so pure one could see to the very bottom. In front of the lake was what appeared to be a small shrine.
The shrine itself was made of old, deep brown wood that had obviously been replaced and refurbished multiple times over the years. Semi-fresh flowers, wilted beneath the heat of the sun, had been weaved into the lattice pattern. Perhaps the features that stood out most was the pair of large antlers against the back of the shrine and the two sets of silver claws that dangled from them. While the antlers looked natural, the “claws” were clearly manmade–composed of the same carved silver that wrapped Elliotte’s forearm.
Ell seemed to pick up on his curiosity quickly. “The antlers are from the Warhara. They’re a large canid species native to Listronus. Their antlers are strong and sturdy, and are worn by our Kings so that they may embody the same traits.”
“And these?” Mando said, cupping his hand beneath the silver claws.
“These are similarly modeled after the Warhara. To represent the spirit of a warrior. Before modern times, they were worn by footsoldiers and guardsmen, but obviously this sort of weaponry is outdated. These days, they’re worn exclusively for ritual combat… Look.” Elliotte carefully took the silver pieces off of the antlers and turned them over so that her companion was able to see the thin loop made on the underside of each claw. She slid her fingers into each loop and flexed them to show off the new extension of her hand. “They’re pretty cool, right? Personally, I think we should bring them back as part of our everyday wardrobe,” she took the claws back off and draped them back over the Warhara’s antlers before turning to him.
“Princes of Listronus can lawfully challenge the Kings for the throne, but the only weapons they are allowed are those. It’s a dangerous event. Those claws are excellent for speed, but they definitely don’t provide the same kind of protection as your um… ‘beskar’, it is called, right?” She asked, stepping away from the small shrine and crossing the meadow to the edge of the small lake. There, she knelt in the grass beside the basket of useme nuts and patted the space beside her to encourage him to join her. He did so, and not soon afterward, Elliotte reached up and began to pluck the day-old flower buds from her hair. She unraveled them one at a time and set them aside in a neat pile beside her as she stole a glance in the Mandalorian’s direction.
“Anyway, I’ve chattered on about history lessons long enough. I’m curious to learn more about you, if you would be willing to share. You mentioned earlier that you were a bounty hunter at one point… surely you have some interesting stories to tell?”
“Plenty,” Mando responded, the chuckle that followed catching on the modulator of his helmet, “… I don’t suppose you’ve heard of a ‘Mudhorn’ before, have you?”
Ell hummed thoughtfully, then offered a small shrug. “I’ve read briefly about them in books and on datapads through the years, but they’ve never been something I’ve heavily studied… why?”
The Mandalorian leaned back in the grass, placing his hands behind him as his helmet tipped skyward. “It wasn’t too long ago, actually… I was on assignment when a group of Jawas in their sandcrawler stole all the valuable parts they could scavenge from my ship. In order to get them to agree to return the pieces, they had me bring an egg of a Mudhorn as a trade. These things are… huge and incredibly territorial, and it wasn’t too happy to see me near its egg. I was outmatched immediately; It nearly shredded my armor and my weapons couldn’t even touchit — in all honesty, I really thought I was done for. But then the kid, he–” he reached out to mimic the gesture the child seemed to make with his hands, but hesitated before finishing his sentence.
Perhaps it wasn’t wise to share this information publicly. But Elliotte was enthralled by the story, fingers paused over the stem of a flower in her curled strand of hair and eyes wide with wonder and fascination, and the Mandalorian couldn’t find it in him to withhold the rest of the story from her. “All of a sudden, it stopped. The Mudhorn, mid-charge. I thought I must have died, because I sure didn’t believe what I was seeing. The whole creature was just… floating in front of me in the air. When I looked over at the kid, he had his hand out like this–” he mimicked the motion, “Keeping it suspended. I’ve never seen anything like it. With him keeping it occupied, I was able to finish it off but if he hadn’t… there’s no doubt I wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
To his surprise, when he’d finished his retelling, Ell snickered softly and set the last flower aside. “That’s an interesting story, Mando.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Sure I do. The universe is so vast and unique, there’s no way we can possiblyunderstand all of its inner workings. Just because something isn’t common doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” now that she’d finished removing the petals and buds from her hair, she turned away and began to pluck new ones from the colorful meadow nearby. “Priestesses in Listronian history have exhibited similar abilities. It was thought to be a given gift by Artres herself, you know. Not that I believe too heavily in old religion, but perhaps your child has just inherited something similar. It sounds quite extraordinary.”
The Mandalorian cast her a glance from the side of his visor. Not only had Elliotte responded unexpectedly well to such a story, but she believed it wholeheartedly. He was hesitant to call it naivety, as she really was knowledgeable about her planet and people, but trust was a difficult thing to come by in his line of work. “You’re unpredictably nonchalant about this.”
To that, Ell laughed softly. “In my experience, closed mindedness is dangerous. It lures one into a false sense of security, content in the idea they have all the answers, whereas open mindedness allows room to learn and grow… to fluctuate and move, like flowers in an afternoon breeze.”
This sentiment only served to further cast a ripple in the Mandalorian’s original judgement of Elliotte Cantossan. Despite himself being the one wrapped head to toe in protective metal, the one meant to be a mystery, he found himself more at a loss with her – the harpist whose only armor was the band of silver on her forearm and the woman who willingly sought him for nothing but his company?
She had trusted him enough to allow him into her house and enough to agree to visit his, and even enough to bring him to the holiestspace on her homeworld… and yet, as he’d come to realize, he still knew hardly anything about her.Sheknew hardly anything about him. And yet he felt drawn to her – comfortable around her – as if parts of him could seep through the gaps in his armor without worry in her presence.
By the way Ell’s smile brightened just a little when she saw the t-shape of his visor faced in her direction, he could almost believe she felt the same. As he watched her begin to tie fresh flowers into her hair, he could no longer keep himself from asking the question: “The flowers… they’re incorporated everywhere on this planet. What is the significance? Why do you put them into your hair like that?”
“Spiritually speaking, flowers are symbolic to Artres–”
“No, why do youdo it?”
Ell seemed taken aback by his question, normally steady fingers faltering and causing the strand of hair to unwrap from the stem of a pink flower. She quietly cleared her throat and began the process again. “We call it artresmour. “Godlike love”. To put them on yourself is to express vitality and youth and self love – to put it on anyone else is to express devotion and trust… it’s like saying… ‘you are important to me in a way words cannot describe.’ It’s not necessarily romantic; It’s romantic and platonic andfamilial. Some villages even use it as a greeting to strangers and newcomers. It unites us. Godlike love,” she paused briefly before continuing, “To me, it’s a way to deepen bonds; My best friend and I take turns every time we meet… it’s the way we acknowledge each other’s struggles and our fights to overcome them, and our way of assuring each other we aren’t going it alone.”
There was a brief pause between the two of them before the Mandalorian chose to break the silence. “How do you feel about… doing it blindfolded?”
