Chapter Text
Luke's trembling all over by the time he makes his way into the forest.
It's midday, the sun is blinding in the sky, there isn't even a hint of a cloud, and most likely the village is burning up enough that everyone's either huddled up in their basements trying to cool down, or down at the small beach throwing themselves into the sea. Anakin is with Padme in the council room, assessing the damage from the most recent dragon attack, and dismissed Luke with only a wave of his hand when Luke said he was going down to the beach.
He hopes his father won't go down to actually check whether Luke’s there once he's done with the council.
Luke huffs out a breath, almost expecting it to fog up in front of him, and squares his shoulders. A part of him wishes he brought something to cover himself—the forest, with the thick tree cover and placed at just a little bit higher elevation than the village, is colder than Luke expected, and it doesn't help that his heart his hammering in his chest, like it’s trying to pump as much blood as possible before he inevitably gets slashed up by a dragon and loses most of it.
Luke's throat tightens and he stops for a moment. "Don't be stupid," he murmurs to himself, talking out loud just to hear something other than his deafening footsteps and the rush of the wind. "If the damn dragon's still here, it's trapped. It won't be able to attack me." He stops momentarily, staring at his crossbow. "Probably." He gulps and steps around a tree, following the light ahead. "If the trap worked as planned." He lifts his crossbow and stares ahead. "Or I majorly messed something up and I'll be dragon food in about—"
His voice trails off when his ears catch another sound, soft whines by the sound of it, mixed in with a deeper voice murmuring something in hushed whispers. Luke freezes, staring at the clearing up ahead, and realizes there's light because half the trees around are flattened.
He blinks once. Twice. Tilts his head and tries to gauge the size of the dragon. And blood rushes away from his face in a split second.
The dragon's much bigger than he imagined.
Luke's mind screams at him to run away, but instead, he hauls the crossbow up, pointing it at the clearing, and moves forward on shaky legs. If the sounds are any indication, he actually captured the dragon, and if he manages to kill it and bring it back to the village…
Maybe his father will be proud of him for once.
The whines are louder now, clearer. Luke tightens his grip on the crossbow even though the thing is so shaky that he doubts he'd be able to aim, checking every nook and cranny, keeping his eyes forward. Now that he's closer, he hears the deeper voice as well, speaking in hushed tones, desperation tinting it. "Crest, please," the voice says, "please be quiet. I'll get to you in a bit."
After another few steps, Luke comes to the clearing, and all air leaves his lungs. He stares ahead, at the large slimy surface right in front of him, and instinctively stumbles back. The tail—yes, the appendage is the dragon's tail —is a third his height, extending up to his waist with the spikes, and with one move would easily be able to wrap around his body and squeeze the life out of him. Luke's eyes move from the tail, following it to large silver legs and claws the size of a small kid, the large body with blood caked all over it and the cut ropes of the trap, and finally the head. Head the size of two adult bodies, teeth so big and sharp that no human would be able to survive a bite, eyes a dark shade of red. They spin around and meet Luke, and immediately, Luke stumbles back again, barely leaning against a tree to keep himself upright. It's a miracle the crossbow doesn't slip from his hands.
He lifts it, pointing at the dragon. "Don't move," he whispers shakily. The dragon huffs and Luke thinks that had it not been injured, Luke would've definitely been in its stomach by now.
That's when his eyes catch another movement. He turns his crossbow immediately, meeting a smaller figure that reveals himself from under the dragon's chin, hands lifted into the air. His clothes are torn, blood covers them all over, armor hanging precariously from his chest, and Luke's eyes meet two brown ones through the broken visor of his helmet. Mandalorian , he notices fearfully and bites his lip, squeezing the crossbow. "I'll shoot," he warns, squaring his shoulders to look larger. "Don't move."
The Mandalorian takes another step to the right, just at the right place to cover the dragon's wound—though Luke only vaguely notices—and lifts his hands again. Luke's breath hitches in his throat when he notices the fear that swims in his brown eyes. "Don't shoot," he whispers, fingers curled into fists around torn gloves. "Please." The dragon whines again with the Mandalorian's voice, curling his head to tuck his nose under his legs, and Luke's crossbow turns to its head. His finger moves to the trigger.
"Please," Mando repeats, more forcefully, and steps forward. The dragon whines again and reaches for him with a claw this time, wrapping it around his legs. Luke's heart jumps on his chest and he wonders briefly just how the Mandalorian stays so calm when the beast behind him is about ready to attack. Luke presses lightly on the trigger, ready to shoot, just as the dragon moves his head.
He fully expects it to bite the Mandalorian's legs. Instead, it places its head in front of Mando, large enough to cover Mando's body, and turns its eyes to Luke. What he sees in there takes Luke's breath away.
Calm. Resignation. Care. Protection. The dragon's protecting the Mandalorian.
Luke doesn't think he could shoot even if his muscles unlocked.
"Crest," Mando whispers, moving one hand over the dragon's head. His hand looks so small on its snout, its teeth just merely inches away, close enough that one bite would take it away, yet he doesn't seem like he minds it at all. "It's okay, girl," he says, his lips curling into a smile under the broken helmet. Crest whines, not even turning his head away from Luke, and a shiver runs down Luke's spine. He clutches his crossbow again, ready for an attack.
Instead, Mando's grip tightens on Crest's head. "She's not going to hurt you," he whispers, and it takes Luke a few seconds to realize Mando's talking to him. Crest huffs again, as if she's disagreeing, and Mando shoots him a warning look. "Not if you don't hurt her. Please." He extends his head, uncurling his fingers and moving it to gesture at Luke to put his weapon down. "Don't shoot. She's already injured enough."
Luke doesn't mention that Mando seems equally, if not more, hurt than the dragon. Not that he could, his mouth dry as paper, and he has to gulp several times before he can find his voice again. "It's a dragon," he whispers, keeping his crossbow trained on Crest's head. He wonders if the arrow will even pierce the thick skin. "How can you..."
Mando laughs, wrapping an arm around Crests' snout, rubbing a finger over her lips. Luke's eyes widen. "We grew up together. Slept in the same bed. She won't hurt a fly if she can help it." Crest whines in disagreement, and Mando just rolls his eyes. Still, there's a smile on his face.
Luke stares at the scene in front of him, Mando's arm wrapped around Crest's head, eyes watching Luke like a hawk waiting for a reaction, blood smeared on Crest's snout from his arm. Luke gulps again, crossbow clutched so tightly that it hurts, and presses on the trigger, willing himself to push it. His vision blurs with unshed tears.
He blinks once. Twice. Crest’s ruby eyes bore into him, ready for an attack, tilted so that there’s no way Luke can shoot the Mandalorian. Luke knows that one hit to the eye and he’d be able to hit the dragon’s brain, presumably cause enough damage that she’ll bleed out, and Luke can get his village to take the dragon away. Capture the Mandalorian, even, one of his village’s mortal enemies. He doubts Mando would be able to fight in his state.
He’d be hailed as a hero. He’d make his father proud. Luke blinks again, holding the crossbow tightly, and moves another shaky finger to the trigger. His eyes meet Crest’s, who slowly closes them, nudging Mando’s chest. “Please.” Luke barely hears Mando, his gaze firmly focused on Crest. He watches as Mando’s grip tightens around Crest’s snout. “Please. She’s innocent. Don’t kill her.” His voice is weaker now and he coughs up blood, clinging onto his dragon. Crest nudges him with her snout again, eyes even wider now, a soft whine on her lips.
Luke’s fingers slip away from the trigger. Slowly, he lowers the crossbow.
The moment Mando sees Luke move he sags, eyes fluttering shut. His body slumps on Crest, as if he was holding himself up just for the sake of watching Luke, and Luke winces when he hears the dragon whine again. Her eyes turn to Mando, fear flickering in them, and Luke watches in awe as she tries to push him up with his snout.
"I'm fine," Mando murmurs, even though it's clear to anyone within hearing distance that he's not. Crest whines again, tugging at Mando, and finally Mando sits down with shaky legs. "I'm okay, girl. Don't worry about me." Crest huffs out an annoyed breath and stares at him, moving his snout closer to his cheek. Luke gasps when she opens her mouth.
Instead of biting, though, Crest moves her tongue out and licks Mando's cheek, letting out another soft whine and tucking his nose to Mando's chest. Mando chuckles weakly, patting Crest's snout, and lifts his helmet just enough to press a soft kiss there. "It's okay. We'll be okay."
Crest, to her credit, doesn't sound like she agrees. She stares at Mando for a few seconds before her eyes turn back to Luke, wide and fearful, and whines again. Luke shivers when he realizes what she's asking of him.
Help Mando. Save him. Please.
He clutches the crossbow. "You want me to..." Crest whines again and shifts, just enough that her head is away from Mando, and keeps staring at Luke. Dazedly, Luke realizes that he moved away to give Mando space—to show Luke that she’s not going to hurt him if he gets close. Luke gulps, his body trembling all over. A part of him thinks that the moment he steps forward, Crest will use it as an opportunity to kill him.
Still, his eyes flicker to Mando, slumped over his dragon's body, holding his side. Luke thinks that if he doesn't get help now, he might die. It's clear he already lost too much blood, and Luke thinks that the blood caked on Crest's chest isn’t just hers.
Crest whines again, making Luke wince, and he finds himself loosening his grip around the crossbow. He sighs and pushes himself up from the tree, nibbling on his lower lip.
"This is stupid," he murmurs, taking a step forward. "This is how I die. Trying to help a Mandalorian and his damn dragon." He places the crossbow on the ground and raises his hands, watching Crest as he moves closer and closer to Mando's body. He half expects the dragon to attack.
Nothing happens. Luke finds himself next to Mando, staring down at the brown, confused eyes before he turns to Crest’s head. It’s even larger up close, her breath like a soft breeze, eyes blood red. Luke’s knees give out and he slumps in front of Mando, tucking his head between his knees. He barely musters a glare when Mando chuckles.
“She’s a sweetheart,” Mando says, voice raspy, and this time Luke does glare at him. He runs a shaky hand through his hair before he pulls himself up to a kneeling position, arms still trembling.
“She’s a dragon,” he whispers, and swears that Crest huffs out an indignant breath. “She has… Her teeth are half the size of me.” Mando laughs again, the sound low and rich, and Luke finds himself staring at his face through the broken visor. Even with his face only half visible and in shadows, Luke can tell that it’s handsome, and really, that’s probably the last thing he should be thinking about right now. He digs his fingers into the dirt and watches as Mando tilts his head.
“She’s not going to hurt you.” Crest lets out a whine, moving her head just slightly closer, and Luke finds himself bracing for her attack. It doesn’t come, but Mando does roll his eyes, fondly glancing at his dragon. “If you don’t hurt me.” He turns to Luke and finds him staring. Luke blurts out the words without thinking.
“Can you understand her or something?” Mando blinks a few times, and then a loud laugh leaves his lips. Even Crest sounds amused, curling her legs around Mando, a soft hum on her lips. Heat rises to Luke’s cheeks. “Shut up. It’s the first time I’m this close to a dragon that’s not trying to kill me.”
Mando’s laugh dies down quickly. He stares at Luke, his eyes pitiful, and Luke decides that he hates that look. He clenches his teeth and holds Mando’s gaze. “You know dragons only try to kill you if you attack them, right?” Mando’s voice is soft, only a slight frustration hidden behind the words, and Luke presses his lips together.
Tell that to my entire village, he thinks, but doesn’t voice the words. Instead, he shifts forward, glancing at Crest every now and then who’s watching him like a hawk, and lets his hands hover over Mando’s body. He freezes for a second. “She won’t attack me if I touch you, right?” Mando, with a small smile on his face, shakes his head. Luke flexes his fingers, glancing at Crest again—the dragon is too damn big and Luke’s heart is hammering so quickly that he thinks he’ll faint any moment—and squares his shoulders. “I’m just helping your friend here,” he tells the dragon, whose eyelids droop slightly, as if she’s trying to say really? I had no idea.
Luke clenches his teeth again and turns to Mando. “Please don’t attack me,” he rushes out, earning another laugh, and finally lets his hands drop on Mando’s armor. He shuts his eyes tightly and waits for the attack.
The only thing he feels is Mando’s body nudged closer and Crest’s impatient whine. He cracks one eye open and catches Mando’s gaze, who looks amused with a brow arched, and his shoulders sag in relief. He has to gulp several times to find his voice again. “Okay. That’s a good start.” Mando offers him a small smile and nods, as if giving him permission to take off the armor to take care of his wounds. Luke stares at him, wondering briefly why Mando’s even letting him do any of this.
Then Crest huffs, and Luke has his answer. Despite what Mando claims, he doesn’t doubt he’ll be a red splat between Crest’s claws if he tries to hurt Mando in any way.
Luke gulps, pushing the nausea down, and focuses on Mando. It takes him at least a few minutes to get rid of the armor and reach the undergarments, and another few minutes to take that off without hurting Mando. The wound looks…gnarly, as if someone clawed it, and Luke wonders briefly whether it was Crest.
Mando gently takes his wrist. “It wasn’t her fault,” he whispers, tilting his head to the ropes. “She was scared.” Luke stares at the familiar trap, something like guilt flickering in his gut, and nods. He focuses on Mando and dresses the wound as much as possible, even if he does have to sacrifice the hem of his shirt to be able to wrap it properly.
By the time he moves back, resting on the balls of his feet, the sun’s already headed down and Luke sweated so much that his clothes are soaking. He turns to Crest, whose eyes are still on Luke, watching him carefully. He vaguely realizes that his first instinct isn’t to run away from the dragon.
He nibbles on his lower lip and glances at Mando. Even under the broken helmet, he can tell that some color returned to his face. Luke takes a shaky breath. “You’re a Mandalorian,” he whispers, and Mando just stares at him. He blushes. “I gathered from the…”
“Armor?” Mando offers, laughing. Luke glares at him and pushes down the urge to stick out his tongue. He fiddles with the now cut hem of his shirt and glances at Crest again, who seems calmer. His eyes fall onto the wound on her neck.
“Will she… Will she be able to fly?”
Mando’s eyes are painful when he turns to his dragon. He places a hand on Crest’s belly, offering her gentle rubs. “Once she has time to heal.” Mando smiles at him. “Wondering whether you can come back with your village and capture us, Jedi?”
All blood leaves Luke’s cheeks. He stares at Mando, fingers digging into his thighs. He opens his mouth to argue, even though it’d be a lie to claim he didn’t think that. Crest huffs, making Luke jump and scutter back slightly, and Mando laughs again. “She’ll probably take out at least half your men before you can subdue her.”
“I wasn’t—” Luke forces out, voice thin, and stares at Crest. She looks like she wants to burn Luke to a crisp. “I’m not going to… That’s not…” He turns to Mando, struggling to find the right words. Mando’s head is tilted to the side, watching him curiously, waiting for Luke to come up with an answer. Luke stares at him, at the wide brown eyes, and he remembers how desperate Mando was to protect Crest, how Crest curled around Mando to shield him, and his shoulders sag. He digs his nails into the dirt and shakes his head.
“I’m not going to tell anyone else about you,” he whispers. Mando searches his face, and slowly lets his shoulders relax. His face softens into a smile.
“Thank you.” With some struggle he shifts, resting his head on Crest’s belly, and Crest lets out a soft coo that definitely doesn’t belong to a dragon her size. Luke watches her curl around Mando again, nudging his shoulder so Mando lifts his hand, and rests his chin right under the crook of Mando’s shoulder. She barely fits there, but Luke can’t help wondering whether that’s where she curled up when she was small enough for it.
He has to look away from the sight when Mando rests his forehead against Crest’s snout. He blinks away his tears and pushes himself up to his feet, staring at the crossbow for a few seconds. At the last moment, he grabs it and puts it by Mando’s feet. Mando’s eyes flicker up in surprise.
“In case someone else finds you,” Luke rushes out. He feels Mando stare at him but he doesn’t meet his gaze, staring at the floor, hands clenched into fists. Mando speaks only a few moments later.
“Thank you.” His voice is merely a whisper and Luke nods curtly, stepping back again, leaning against the tree across from Crest for just a moment to gather himself. He tilts his head to look at Mando’s visor. He wants to ask whether they can manage until Crest heals. Whether they’ll need anything else.
Instead, he changes his mind. “There’s a lake nearby,” he says, gesturing with his head. “A lot of fish if you need food. I’m sure you can handle the fire.” His eyes flicker to Mando and finds him smiling under the helmet.
“Thank you, Jedi.” Luke nibbles on his lower lip, clenching and unclenching his fists, and sighs. What does it matter? he thinks. I won’t see him again.
“Luke.” He swears something lights up in Mando’s eyes. He nods, tilting his head to the side.
“Luke.” A shiver runs down Luke’s spine at the way Mando says his name. “Call me Din.”
Despite everything, a smile finds its way to his lips. “Din,” he says with a nod, taking another step back. He holds onto the tree next to him for a few seconds, not to steady himself this time, but to have an excuse to linger. He wets his lips, opens his mouth to say something else, but nothing comes. He watches Din for a few more seconds before he turns around, disappearing into the forest.
Maybe he imagines it, but he swears he hears Crest coo after him, as if she’s saying goodbye.