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There were many misconceptions about the Mandalorians.
Some people thought they were a bloodthirsty race of warriors. Others thought they were an alliance of previously warring nations that now invoked their combined power to terrorize common enemies. Others believed the Mandalorians were simply a myth.
Turns out, as it so often does, the truth was a much simpler matter.
The Mandalorians were individuals who took the same oath. A creed, a Way, for which to live their lives. The secrets of the Mandalorians were closely guarded, and they were more than happy to let all other people believe the stories and rumors. A little healthy wariness never hurt their cause.
The armor the Mandalorians dawned was an extension of their commitment to the Way. For an outsider to see their face was a great disgrace, and Mandalorians were known to fight to their deaths rather than allow for this to happen.
A commitment to family was central to the Mandalorian culture. Most never knew of their dedication to saving children and raising their own in the Way. Nothing was more imperative to their culture than the cultivation of family.
Where outsides saw the battles and blood of the Mandalorian people, they missed the gentle and unflinchingly loyal nature of the warrior people.
Their dedication to family was so central that a Mandalarian’s family was at the heart to their individual Way. Therefore, close family members, such as spouses and siblings, could see their true faces in the intimate privacy of their homes.
Or their children.
Din sat against one wall of his ship, back protesting his lack of movement while his eyes followed the little figure running around the cargo hold.
He wasn’t sure where the Child had gotten the little red ball but the simple toy proved to be a highly effective distraction from the long stretches of silent space travel. The Child threw the ball gleefully and watched as it bounced off the far wall before tearing after it as quickly as his little legs would allow.
Once the ball was retrieved, the Child held it aloft and waved it in the Mandalorian’s direction.
“I see it, Ad’ika ,” Din said with a smile for what must have been the dozenth time already. Still, he felt more warmth than annoyance for the simple game that kept his ward so thoroughly entertained.
The helmet felt heavy on his head. Din knew he had chosen his fate the moment he stole the Child away from his own client, and there was no way to turn back on that decision. He certainly didn’t regret it. If he had allowed the Child to be taken away for experiments or stars knows what else, the guilt and shame would have followed his footsteps for the rest of his life. Some questions simply demanded answers.
So now he had a child in his care. A child that required an immense amount of attention and patience. And yet, Din could not remember ever being happier than during the moment when the Child first lit up after Din had unconsciously called him “ Ad’ika .”
My child.
With each day, Din’s relationship with the little alien infant seemed more and more immeasurable. There was no way back and Din found that, to his surprise, he had no desire to backtrack. He wanted to move forward with the Child at his side, large inky eyes gazing up at him with the kind of adoration and trust Din knew he was far from worthy of.
There was only one step that he needed to take to move forward on this chosen path. Din had been struggling with it for weeks, overthinking to the point of nausea. Deep down, he knew it was right.
The Mandalorian would not allow fear to ruin the one truly good thing he had in his life.
Slowly, Din’s hands reached up to his head. The Child was still distracted by the ball, now dropping it against the ground and trying to catch it when it jumped back up to meet him.
Din’s bare hands touched the smooth coldness of the metal. He took a deep breath, filling his chest with a giant gulp of air, and slid the helmet off.
For a few moments, the Child didn’t notice. He threw the ball down particularly hard and reached out with surprising reflexes to snatch it from the air.
“Ah!” cried the infant in delight, spinning to face the Mandalorian, ball raised proudly in the air.
The Child froze.
Din stiffened, feeling sweat drip off his bare chin. At that moment, he felt as though nothing else existed in the galaxy but him and the dark eyes across the room.
The Child gazed at him calculatingly for a moment before dropping the now-forgotten ball and slowly approaching the seated man.
Din watched the Child approach, wanting desperately to reach out to him but holding himself back. Without his helmet, he felt completely naked, the light in the room suddenly much too bright.
The Child finally reached Din and stopped at his feet. For a long moment, the two stared at each other, the Child’s eyes roving over his face hungrily.
Finally, the Child gasped. Din started at the sudden noise, hands halfway down to the Child.
“No, Ad’ika , it’s ok! It’s me! I swear-”
Din was cut off by another gasp. Only it wasn’t a gasp, it was a noise he had never before heard from the Child.
Laughter. Small, choked, a bit strange sounding, but most certainly laughter.
The Child gaped his delight up at the Mandalorian and raised his little arms. “Uh-uh-uh!”
Somewhat dubious but relieved he hadn’t frightened the baby, Din gently lifted the Child into his arms.
The Child promptly smacked his guardian's cheeks with little green hands.
“Here, careful there!” Din said with his own laugh. “I’m open and exposed, right now. Got to be gentle.”
The Child smacked him once again before his touch turned soft. Din momentarily forgot how to breathe as the little fingers traced his features. It had been so long since…
It was several long minutes before the Child was satisfied. Finally, he pulled away and gurgled his satisfaction.
Din set the Child on his lap and leaned over to grab the discarded ball. He rolled it around his fingers and grinned as the infant tried to seize it.
“Alright, little one, here you go,” he said, surrendering the prize.
The Child promptly returned his attention to playing with the toy, as if the two hadn’t just shared an earth-shattering moment.
Din watched the Child play, trying gallantly to keep his tears at bay. The baby had accepted him instantly, he’d still reached for the man who lay under the cold metal. Din hadn’t realized just how nervous he'd been leading up to this one little moment.
“You know,” he said, voice a bit too strained to be casual, “Mandalorians only take off their masks with family. Parents, siblings, that sort of thing. Their children. So I guess this kind of makes our crazy joyriding adventure official.”
The ball was now in the Child’s mouth as he slobbered around it, staring back up at the man. Din ran gentle fingers down the fuzz of the baby’s head.
“Guess you’re stuck with me now, Ad’ika .”
The Child smiled once again at the name and moved forward to bury himself in the Mandalorian’s side, whining softly.
The Child may be fifty-years-old, but he was just a baby. He had no idea of the significance of this moment, he was simply happy to see another side of the man he clearly adored. There was an innocence in him that was beautiful and terrifying to behold.
Din brought his knees up to cradle the Child against his chest. He could distantly feel the little ball being thunked against his armor and stifled a laugh.
“Ni kar’tayl gai sa’ad.” he whispered.
I know your name as my child.
And that, as they say, was that.