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Chapter Text

“Well, that was horrible.”

Leia fights to keep her face neutral as she glances at the Mand’alor, back straight, head forward. The two walk out of the conference room side-by-side, Bo-Katan close behind. The Onderonian delegate and their mediator are already whispering behind them before the door even closes.

“I tried to warn you,” she says wryly.

He hums, a sound like static through his helmet. “You didn’t say it was going to be like that.” 

Leia Organa has never been one to back down from a challenge. A fact that many recognize and a select few dread. It’s what made her a great commander and a better senator. And it’s why she was chosen to oversee Mandalore’s introduction to the Senate, serving as a guide and mediator. 

A largely private people with an even more private king, the Mandalorian delegation was no easy assignment, and Leia had poured over every record on Mandalore she could get her hands on to prepare. But there’s one thing she’s quickly learned since the Mandalorians landed on Coruscant:

She likes the Mand’alor. 

He’s a stranger to politics, but confident when it counts and willing to learn. It’s startlingly refreshing. And in the chaos of the capital planet, the Force is very…still around him. Calm. Peaceful. 

It may be something worth mentioning to Luke.

But for all his calm, the Mand’alor is far from content. ”I thought these were supposed to be basic introductions, not marriage proposals.” 

Leia shrugs. “Some find arranged marriages easier than actual negotiations when it comes to forming alliances.” 

Yet another reason why she’s grateful for her dear husband. There had been no small amount of discontent among the New Republic when Leia had left eligibility for a smuggler no less. But Han had taken it all in stride—and with a little spite, because that’s how he handles everything.

The Mandalorians say little else as they make their way through the halls back to Leia’s office, as she had advised. Coruscant has ears listening everywhere, and they take a particular interest in the newest arrivals.

The Mand’alor sighs as he enters Leia’s study, not sitting down until the doors close behind them. He chooses the seat facing the door. It’s certainly a sight, one she’s grown used to, a fully armored Mandalorian covered head to toe in beskar lounging on her sofa.

Bo-Katan settles into a seat beside him, much more relaxed than the first time she’d been in this room, accepting a cup of tea from Leia with a nod.

The long and intensive stay on Coruscant had created a sense of familiarity, something that Leia took no small amount of victory in.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again.” 

“These introductions are to encourage relations between planets,” Leia says, stirring her tea, the reminder of Alderaan settling her as always.

”I don’t think they’re meant to encourage those kinds of relations,” the Mand’alor mutters.

Leia fights back a snort around her drink. “That reminds me.” She sets a datapad on the table between them. “Another form. For your eligibility.” 

“Eligibility for what?” 

“Possible marriage arrangements. You can put your name on the list or remove it if you’re not interested. Do you have any existing attachments?” 

The Mand’alor goes quiet, his helmet snapping down toward the pad, and something in the Force flutters.

It’s a pull, a yearning that has Leia’s breath catching in her throat at the thrum it sends in her chest. She has always been in tune with other people’s emotions, a fact she and her brother had found especially apparent in her Force training. And the Mand’alor’s emotions have always run deep, a steady current she’s sensed from the moment he arrived. But this is something stronger. 

The Mand’alor shifts in his seat. “I don’t, um—there’s…” He shakes his head, stiff. “I’m not interested.” 

Leia takes a breath, steadying herself in the Force like Luke had taught her, and nods. “Alright. This is only an option. You can just mark that you’re not interested. And you can always change it.” 

His beskar helmet doesn’t look up, only offers a silent nod. The leather of the Mand’alor’s gloves creak as his hands clench and unclench before his picks up the pad to sign it. 

Leia almost regrets bringing it up. But given the way Bo-Katan cuts her eyes at her king, more pointed than sympathetic, Leia doubts the Mand’alor’s reaction is over lost love.

He seems almost…embarrassed, shy. Uncharacteristic for him.

And Leia’s interest is piqued. 

The Mand’alor sits back and crosses his arms when he’s done. ”Is there anything else for today?”

Leia doesn’t need the Force to sense his weariness. His shoulders sag now that they’re in the privacy of her office, and his usual silence holds a new weight to it. 

“No, that’s all.” 

He sighs and stands slowly, favoring one of his knees. “Good.” After a beat, on an afterthought, he straightens and nods. “Thank you, senator.”

”Of course, Mand’alor.”

———

The Mand’alor doesn’t eat at the dinners hosted by the New Republic, but he does attend as a courtesy. A fact that Leia is grateful for. 

What she’s not grateful for are the seating arrangements.

Some of the delegates cast sidelong looks at the Mandalorian, sitting with no plate in front of him, giving only the barest effort at conversation, while everyone else eats. If he notices, he doesn’t seem to care. Probably used to it by now.

But that’s not the problem. 

The problem is the senator sitting across from Bo-Katan. A prince who thinks himself a master historian. The endless rambling is enough to sour any meal.

But Leia can feel the turn of the conversation, a shift in the Force. Like it’s tensing with her.

Because the prince has a particular interest in the Old Republic, a fact made painfully obvious from the last several minutes spent ranting about the grandeur of Coruscant’s history. Including its ancient temples. 

There is no ulterior motive. He’s a little too wide-eyed for that. He’s just enthusiastic and a little too loud. If Leia wasn’t already drowning in dread, it would almost remind her of her brother, it would almost be a comfort.

But any firm footing she has drops out from under her when the prince turns to face the Mand’alor and speaks.

“Do you know of the Jedi, Mand’alor?”

The Mand’alor goes still.

And Leia goes still beside him, her heart pounding in her chest. She forces herself to relax. Back straight, head forward. 

Mandalore’s history with the Jedi is checkered at best. There weren’t many records left from the wars, but there were enough. And the Mandalorians certainly know how to hold a grudge.

“I know enough,” he says and nothing else.

The Force gives nothing from him.

And Leia can feel her progress with the Mandalorians slipping from her fingers.

———

Going into this assignment with Mandalore, Leia had three rules.

She drilled them into her staff, ensuring that there would be no slip-ups. 

Don’t call the Mand’alor by his given name. It’s considered extremely disrespectful by the Mandalorian people. This is a widespread rule among the New Republic delegates as well, an official notice provided with the list of Mandalorians in attendance. The moment Leia read Din Djarin on her holopad, she resolved to push it from her mind.

Don’t touch the Mandalorians. Any nudge or clap on the back could be considered an invitation for a fight. The Mand’alor is always the one to instigate any handshake. If he forgets, no one makes any move for one. 

Don’t tell the Mand’alor about Luke. This is the most important rule, and Leia has had to remind herself of it often. Her relation to a Jedi, an ancient enemy of Mandalore, could threaten her progress with them. That’s what she has to tell herself. She hates the secrecy, not just because it could destroy any trust they’ve built, but because she considers the Mandalorians friends. 

She pours herself a drink as she settles at her desk after a long night. The glow of the comm on her desk casts a shadow that seems all too appropriate given Luke’s latest message.

Luke is coming to Coruscant. 

He’s ecstatic, she can feel it. He’s finally secured a meeting with some key historians on the planet, opening the chance to see rare Jedi texts recovered straight from the temple ruins. 

But the chances of him running into a Mandalorian, or worse, the Mand’alor himself are far too high to ignore. She remembers the way Luke had perked when she had first told him about Mandalore joining the New Republic. The spark in his eye obvious even through the shaky quality of their video call. And the pull she had felt through their Force bond had been undeniable. 

She sighs, taking a very unladylike swig of her drink. Of course her brother would fall for a Mandalorian, even if he is a student’s father. If the Force wasn’t enough to know, the nights Luke has spent rambling about how patient and kind and funny his Mandalorian is would be plenty.

As if a delicate intergalactic alliance wasn’t bad enough. Now she’ll have her lovesick brother to keep out of trouble. 

She sighs, knocking back her drink. She has to tell the Mand’alor. 

It’s only a matter of time.

———

The Mand’alor’s office is bare.

Most delegates use their office as their own weapon. A show of power, showcasing their planet’s history and prowess.

She supposes the room’s gray walls tell their own story. They hold no beskar displays or mythosaur skulls. The shelves are empty, the desk only covered in holopads and paperwork. It shows a reluctant leader, trying his best to make sense of a new world, a new galaxy.  

Leia suspects the Mand’alor wasn’t even aware he would have an office. 

They’re pouring over holopads, traversing countless loopholes and technicalities in the New Republic’s policies—because Senator Almen will take any opportunity to ruin whatever progress she’s made—when Leia opens the wrong holopad.

“Oh,” she startles. A picture of Ben’s little smiling face shines up at her.

She laughs at herself, more relieved that it’s not Luke’s picture than anything. “It seems I grabbed the wrong holopad.” 

“Is that your son?” the Mand’alor asks.

”Yes.” Leia smiles down at the picture, her little boy. Ben’s wide grin reveals a missing tooth, his hands clutching a stuffed bantha, the barest glimpse of Han’s arm around him to keep him from falling. She turns the holopad to show the Mand’alor. “This is Ben. He and my husband are on Chandrila.” 

“You must miss them.” 

“I do,” Leia sighs. She misses them desperately. A part of her had thought about inviting them to come to Coruscant with her. Han never fails to lighten her day after countless meetings, and if he brightens things, Ben is like a supernova. Oh, what she would give to be with them now.

Clearing her throat, she straightens and looks up to see the Mand’alor watching her. The empty stare of the helmet seeming almost soft. Perhaps it’s the looser set of his shoulders. 

“Do you have children?” she asks without thinking.

“I do,” the Mand’alor says, his voice quiet, warmer than she’s ever heard it, “A son. I…miss him, too.” 

Leia relaxes into her seat, wondering if there’s any other way to like the Mand’alor more. A part of her wants to reach out and touch his hand, but she doesn’t. “Well, once this is all over, you can go back to Mandalore and see him.” 

There’s a pause, and Leia feels the weight of the Mand’alor’s thoughts, considering his words, before he speaks. “He’s not…on Mandalore.” 

“Oh.” Leia fights back her surprise. If her understanding is correct, children hold an extremely important place in Mandalorian culture. Why would their leader not have his own son on the planet with him?

”It’s fine,” he assures, “It’s not—He’s safe. He’s at a school. He has a…a good teacher.” 

Leia tries to take that in, turning it over in her head. But something still isn’t making sense. “Must be some teacher.” 

And the Force blooms around the Mand’alor. It fills the room, overflows it, like it’s reaching out to the stars, to something beyond Coruscant’s noise. If Leia wasn’t already seated, her knees might’ve buckled under her.

For all the emotion choking the room, the Mand’alor gives no sign of it. Perfectly still. Perfectly quiet.

He nods once. “He is.” His voice is quiet, fond. The warmth still in his voice sets off bells in Leia’s mind, and she lets out a breath as it seems to say this one.

Leia presses her lips together to hide the smile. The teacher. “Are you able to stay in touch with them?” 

“I comm when I can. I try to visit, too.” He runs a hand idly over the edge of the desk. 

She hums. “I understand. Family is important.” 

“Yes,” the Mand’alor agrees, “It’s all there is.” 

And in that moment, Leia almost tells him. She starts to open her mouth to speak, but the words catch. Please understand, she wants to say, Please forgive me. Don’t hate me for who I love. You’d love them too. 

But as she watches him look out the window, watching the lights of Coruscant as a delicate wistfulness settles around him, she holds her tongue. 

Next time, she tells herself, I’ll tell him next time. 

———

“How do you do all of this?”

The Mand’alor slumps back in his chair as soon as the Naboo delegate leaves Leia’s office. 

Given her close relationship and past cooperation with the Naboo, she had thought that having a more close and personal meeting would help ease their introduction to the Mandalorians.

She had been wrong.

If anything, the Mand’alor had been more stiff with the royals, nerves pouring off of him during the entire meeting. 

Leia chuckles. “I have a few decades of experience on you to give me an advantage.” She sits next to him with her usual tea, a part of her considering putting something stronger in it.

“Yeah,” the Mand’alor mutters, “Maybe in twenty years I’ll know what the kriff I’m doing.” 

Leia takes pity on him. “It’s not meant to be easy. It’s normal to have a crisis of faith sometimes.” 

“I think I’ve had too many of those already.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll have more.” Leia offers a wry smile and is awarded a scoff—the equivalent of a full laugh from the Mandalorian. He’s drifting in his thoughts, a slow spiral imminent, so Leia speaks again, more comforting. “It’s normal to not be sure what the right thing is.” 

“What if…” he pauses, “What if there are too many right things, and I don’t know which one to pick?” 

Leia thinks of the pile of holopads waiting on her desk. She thinks of the lightsaber she keeps locked away but always within reach. She thinks of her brother and his school off on the other side of the galaxy. She thinks of her husband and son back on Chandrila.

She starts to reach out, stopping short, her hand hovering, before accepting the risk and resting her hand on the Mand’alor’s arm. Rule number two. “You’ll learn how to weight them, find balance. I can help you learn.” 

The beskar under her hand is cold, but she can imagine the material underneath is warm. The Mand’alor doesn’t pull back, his arm steady under her touch, and he considers her for a moment. “Thank you, senator.” 

“Please.” She presses her luck and gives his arm a squeeze. “Call me Leia.” 

He nods. “Leia.” 

Steeling herself, Leia takes a deep breath and sits up. Back straight, head forward. “Mand’alor, there’s something else I need to discuss with you.” 

The Mand’alor straightens with her, instantly on edge. “What is it?” 

“It’s, um…” Leia falters for the first time, and she can feel the Mandalorian’s alarm at it. She can hardly say it’s nothing. Because it’s not. Her heart pounds in her chest. “It’s about some of my family.” 

“Okay,” the Mandalorian says, uncertain. 

“My brother—”

The door opens and Leia’s stomach plummets.

Senator Almen walks in, arms folded in front with an all too delighted smile on his face. “Ah, I hope I’m not interrupting your meeting, Senator Organa.” 

Luke follows in behind him.

His hair is a little wind blown, but he has the decency to wear his nice black robes to Coruscant, not the ones stained in mud and food and whatever else the children can get on him. His lightsaber hangs on his belt, catching in the light because of course it does. That ever present smile is on his face, albeit hesitant because Leia had specifically told him to wait for her to get him. 

Breathe, she tells herself, Back straight, head forward.

The Mand’alor turns to look at the door and, to Leia’s horror, freezes.

Back straight, head forward.

And Luke does nothing but look between him and his sister with wide eyes because he’s absolutely useless. So Leia has to save herself, it seems. Again. 

Leia is helpless to watch as Senator Almen continues on as though nothing is wrong. “Mand’alor, may I introduce you to Senator Organa’s brother, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.” 

She can feel all of her hard work crumbling, whatever trust she had formed with the Mandalorians shattering before her as the Mand’alor slowly stands to his feet. 

Great, she thinks numbly, Another galactic war on my hands. 

Chapter Text

Leia watches in horror as the Mand’alor stands to his feet, movements a little too slow, steps a little too stiff.

He doesn’t make a move for a weapon, so there’s at least that.

After a beat frozen in place, Leia jumps from her seat to move toward her brother. Maybe if she can get between them she can fix this. If only she could think of a way to fix this. But her mind is in a whirlwind. Back straight, head forward. 

Luke casts her a questioning look, but keeps a careful smile on his face, hands folded in front of him, as Almen continues.

“I’m sure Senator Organa has told you plenty about her twin. Mandalore and the Jedi both have interesting histories, something you two could certainly relate over.”

Yeah, with their blades to each other’s throat. Leia watches the Mand’alor’s head tilt, careful eyes trying to assess his mood from the angle of his helmet.

Senator Almen’s smile only grows as the Mand’alor looks between him and Luke. Because of course he’s pleased now.

Leia thought she had prepared for everything Almen could have manipulated, any wrong move by the Mand’alor, any misspoken word, any signed document. But she hadn’t expected him to do this, to so blatantly sabotage her work. 

Luke clears his throat and offers the Mand’alor a smile, and Leia prays that he knows what he’s doing as he speaks.

“It’s good to see you again, Mand’alor.”

What? Leia’s mind stops. She desperately reaches out to him in the Force, but she only feels a faint spark of amusement, a thrill of delight. Again? 

The Mand’alor gives a stiff nod. “It’s good to see you too, Master Skywalker.” 

Senator Almen looks between the two, speechless, mouth agape. An empty laugh forced its way out of his lips, and Leia feels just as crazed as he looks.

“Um, pardon me,” Almen says, voice strangled, “You two already know each other?” 

Where the Mand’alor falters, Luke steps in. “Yes, I met the Mand’alor some time ago on an Imperial cruiser. We were both there for similar reasons and took care of things pretty quickly. Mando and his team were a great help.” 

Mando, Leia thinks faintly, He called him Mando.

If that hadn’t only added to her mental whiplash, she would have been impressed by her brother’s careful diplomacy.

The Mand’alor’s scoff almost startles her out of her haze. “If Skywalker hadn’t shown up when he did, we would’ve been vaporized.” 

“I suppose we can agree to disagree,” Luke says with an easy smile.

”Well,” Senator Almen speaks with a painfully forced delight, “I suppose it’s good that you two are already acquainted and can relate over your, uh…experience.” He clears his throat, already moving towards the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go attend to some other matters. I am happy for this little reunion. How…delightful.” And he sweeps out of the room without another word. 

There’s a beat of silence as Leia stares at her brother, hoping to convey the message of what the kriff is happening with her eyes. Surely he can feel how much she’s spiraling right now. 

But Luke doesn’t look at her. He only patiently watches the door as it closes behind Almen. 

The second the door clicks shut, Luke turns around and launches himself at the Mand’alor.

For a crazed second, Leia thinks she’s about to watch her brother attack the Mand’alor, and then—

Luke laughs. 

His arms wrap around the Mand’alor’s neck, and the Mand’alor scrambles to steady him, pulling him close.

And the Force sings. 

It could have been a harsh blow, knocking the air out of Leia’s lungs, but instead it’s soft. Content. A wave gently rocking her with its tide, lulling her from the almost manic seconds before.

Blinking a few times, Leia focuses enough to look at her brother. And he’s smiling, eyes closed and content. The emotions Leia usually feels a galaxy away now beat down on her like twin suns. 

The Mand’alor’s hands are hesitant, but after a beat, press in where his arms are wrapped carefully around Luke’s back.

“Din,” Luke sighs and pulls back to grin up at him, not quite drawing away. One of the Mand’alor’s hands stays cradling his elbow. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

“Yeah. It’s good to see you too,” Din murmurs, his voice uncertain, quiet, almost fond. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

At least Leia isn’t the only one caught off guard right now. She sucks in a breath. Back straight, head forward. 

“Luke.” She forces out a pleasant tone through her teeth, taking some satisfaction in the flash of alarm in Luke’s eyes. “I wasn’t aware you knew the Mand’alor.” 

“Oh. Well.” Luke rubs the back of his neck. “I had been planning on introducing you, but I guess I don’t have to now.” At the two blank looks he’s getting, he straightens. “Oh. Din, this is my sister. Leia, this is Grogu’s father.” 

“Your sister,” Din repeats, and after a beat, takes a step back and drops his hand away. Luke’s eyes follow the movement. 

”Grogu’s father,” Leia breathes, and she takes a breath, all of the pieces finally falling together, as she looks back and forth between the two. “You’re the teacher.” 

Din’s helmet snaps around to look at her. Leia pretends not to notice. 

Luke just smiles at them. “I’m so glad you two have met. I was really hoping you’d get along.” 

The Mand’alor clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, Senator Organa has been a lot of help.” 

A weight lifts from Leia’s chest, warming under the praise. At least she got something right. “Well, the Mand’alor has been a perfectly fine guest.” 

“Oh!” Luke’s eyes widen as he looks at the Mand’alor with a spark of amusement. “Should I be calling you that? Mand’alor.” 

“Please don’t,” the Mand’alor says, curt, a thread of pleading in his voice.

“Ah, come on.” Luke nudges his arm, grinning even wider. “I told you it had a nice ring to it.”

”You say a lot of things, jetii.” 

Luke’s jaw drops and his eyes flare with mock indignation. “You know, I thought you’d be nicer to me the next time we saw each other.” 

Watching the two, Leia has to briefly convince herself this isn’t a fever dream. She had been dreading this moment, and yet here she stands, watching her Jedi brother and the Mand’alor banter like it’s the easiest thing in the word. This may be the most she’s ever heard the Mand’alor speak of his own free will. 

A distant, muffled boom sounds from outside as a streak of light and color paints the dark sky. Fireworks. She had forgotten those start tonight, a celebration of the New Republic to provide some entertainment in the midst of all these meetings. 

The Mand’alor clears his throat. “I should go. Let you two catch up.” 

“You can stay,” Luke offers before Leia gets the chance, turning to the Mandalorian with wide blue eyes, a gloved hand coming up to rest on his vambrace, “Would you like to watch the fireworks with us?” 

“If I’m not intruding…”

”No, it’s no trouble, really.” Luke shakes his head. “I’d like you to stay.” 

The Mand’alor glances up at Leia, and she gives a reassuring smile and a nod. The helmet turns to look down at Luke, lingering as the air seems to soften.

”Then I’ll stay,” he says, soft. 

Before the two can start towards the balcony, Leia wraps a hand around Luke’s arm, her fingers digging into the material even as she offers a smile to her guest. 

“Mand’alor, would you mind giving me a moment to speak to my brother in private? You’re welcome to go out to the balcony if you’d like.” 

“Alright.” He hesitates before heading towards the door.

The large windows offer little privacy from the balcony, but the moment he’s outside and turned away, Leia rears back and smacks Luke’s arm.

”Ow.” Luke clutches his arm and turns to her with wide eyes. “What was that for?” 

“That was for not telling me about your relationship with the Mand’alor,” she hisses, “This whole time your Mando has been the Mand’alor?” 

“What—” Luke flounders, his face flushing a deep red. “He’s not—we don’t have a relationship.” 

“Then what was all of that?” 

“That was just us being friendly. Because we’re friends.” 

Leia glowers at him. “Luke, you may be an idiot, but we both know you’re not that stupid.” She takes a breath, taking a moment to center herself in the Force, the annoyance bleeding out of her as Luke looks out to the Mandalorian outside. “We both can feel it.” 

Despite the decades spent apart, she likes to think she knows her twin pretty well. The Force bond certainly helps, but Luke also wears his heart on his sleeve, painfully open and painfully earnest. Leia has watched helplessly as Luke’s wide eyes track someone’s every step, taking in every movement, hanging on every word. It’s unfitting of a Jedi, she’s sure, to feel so strongly, to throw your heart at someone with everything you have, to give it willingly every time. And Leia has watched him spend years fighting it, trying to tamp down his heart to fit the mold of a solemn Jedi. But there’s always a crack, a spark that breaks through despite the fight to keep it in.

But she senses no turmoil as Luke watches the Mandalorian. Only a peaceful ebb and flow of the Force.

“You love him,” she says, quiet, not wanting to startle him. 

He still jumps at her words before settling, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he sighs and says barely above a whisper, “Yes.” His lips curls up as he lets out a shaky laugh. “A Mandalorian. My uncle would throw a fit.” 

“At least he’s not a smuggler.” 

Luke laughs for real this time. “True.” 

But it’s not, really, and they both know it. Because Han is a good man, despite his tendency to run his mouth. He dotes on Ben, and he tries his best to not cause any serious intergalactic incidents for Leia. Even though he’s still a menace at New Republic galas. But that’s why Leia loves him. He challenges her and yet never fails to soothe, calming the whirlwind in her mind when the Senate is too much or the Force is too loud. 

She knows Luke is thinking of the same, with that fond crinkle of his eye at any thought of Han’s antics. 

“It can be good, Luke,” she says, “If you’ll let it.” 

He sighs. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Good.” Leia gives him a push toward the door. “Now go out there. He’s getting nervous.” 

“Yeah, alright. I’m going.” Luke ducks his head, but fails to hide his smile as he turns to go outside. 

Leia stays inside, meaning to give them some privacy, but she’s caught in watching them. 

The Mand’alor turns away from the fireworks as Luke approaches, releasing his tight grip on the railing. His shoulders relax and the helmet tilts to the side as he says something Leia can’t make out. Luke laughs, stepping in at his side, propping on the rail and craning his neck to watch the fireworks.

The two silhouettes stand side-by-side, shoulders barely brushing. Luke keeps his head up toward the lights, hands moving all over the place as he rambles, while the Mand’alor stands perfectly still, helmet turned to only watch Luke. 

Leia eventually breaks out of the moment and busies herself with organizing her many holopads, preparing her schedule for the next few days and fitting in time for her brother. 

Later, when the fireworks start to taper and fade, she looks outside and catches the two settled on a bench. They’re huddled together, the Mand’alor’s arm across the back of the seat and Luke pressed into his side, leaning on his shoulder. 

A ping on her comm sounds and the screen lights up with a message from Bo-Katan. Leia doesn’t need to look at it to know she’s asking about the Mand’alor’s whereabouts. 

Leia glances back out at the two.

She can give them a few more minutes.

———

“It’s impossible. I don’t see how anyone can do it.” 

Leia hides her sigh behind another sip of her champagne. This talk is going nowhere.

It’s another late night, another social. The New Republic encourages its delegates to not just negotiate, but to socialize as well to bolster relationships. Most jump at the chance. While idle small talk can be just as painful as lengthy meetings, the drinks help. And Leia has made good friends at these events in the past, milling about the ballroom making idle small talk. It at least seems easier and more pleasant than painful negotiations.

Unless you’re wearing full beskar armor and seemingly incapable—or intolerant—of small talk. 

Leia watches her guest of honor linger near the corner of the bar, nursing a drink he hasn’t touched in hours, talking to absolutely no one. What’s the point of an event to form new relations if you’re not going to speak to anyone? If it wasn’t for the deep red cape draped across his shoulders, the fine material and fur marking his authority among his people, and his ramrod straight stance, he’d probably be escorted out of the event.

“I don’t understand how you do it, Leia,” Senator Turks continues, “I’ve hardly had an opening to approach the Mand’alor, let alone converse.” 

“If you’re looking for an open opportunity, he’s not going to give it,” Leia says, “You’re going to have to make one for yourself.” 

“I don’t know if I have the nerve.” Turks eyes the Mand’alor across the room. “He’s not exactly welcoming. I saw Governor Rames go talk to him, and he barely even looked at him.” 

“He’s far more open to those he’s familiar with.” Leia pats him on the arm. “Give it a chance. And some time. He’s still in unfamiliar territory. I think it’s fair for him to be wary.” 

As she makes her rounds around the room, Leia checks the time and lets out a breath. With the event and the inevitable after party, she still had a few hours to go. A couple delegates catch her in a discussion on trade routes, but she eventually makes her way over to the Mand’alor.

“You know you’re not making my job any easier, right?” she says, propping at the bar beside him, a new drink in hand. 

He huffs. “I didn’t realize that’s what I was supposed to be doing.” 

“What you’re supposed to be doing is talking to people. That’s what these events are for.” 

“I’ve been…talking to people.” 

“Waitstaff and one-sided conversations don’t count.” Leia turns to face him fully. “I want you to talk to at least five people. With actual words and full sentences. And at least one person you don’t like.” 

“That shouldn’t be too hard to find.” At Leia’s stare, he sighs. “Bo-Katan is doing a good job. She’s better at this.” 

It only takes a moment to spot Bo-Katan in the crowd, her armor glinting in the light, her face bare but stern.

“But she’s not the Mand’alor. And you can get people to like you. I like you.” She watches him out of the corner of her eye. “Luke likes you.” 

“Luke likes everyone.” The Mand’alor shifts, shoulders tensing then relaxing, swapping his drink to his other hand. “Where is he?” 

Leia bites back her smile. It’s become a common occurrence since Luke’s arrival: the Mand’alor asking after him. 

“He should be on his way. Fashionably late, as always.” 

The Mand’alor hums, something low and fond. He perks for a moment before sinking back in his spot. Leia looks and sees a flash of blond hair moving across the room, but it’s only another one of the newer senators. 

“You’d think my brother would know how to dress himself on time by now.” She shrugs. “He’s still too new to Coruscant. He’s not used to the clothes, too many buttons.” 

“I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that,” the Mand’alor mutters, plucking at his cape. 

Leia rolls her eyes, thinking about the time she’s spent on her braids alone. “You’re both hopeless.” 

The conversation around the room lulls to a near stop before returning with excited murmurs. Heads turn and move to get a clear line of sight as Luke Skywalker walks in. 

His hair is actually combed and neat for once, moving with him as he turns to greet each approaching delegate with a smile. After some pleading on his part, Leia allowed him to keep to black robes with his attire. Her personal tailors made good work as always, the cut complimenting his narrow but powerful frame, with some emphasis on his shoulders. A short cape at his back gives him the same near ethereal look without the risk of any tripping. 

Luke is quickly blocked from sight by the crowd of delegates moving in to speak to him, excited and awed and determined for his attention. The Mand’alor shifts beside her and stretches a little to catch another glimpse. After a moment, he settles back beside the bar.

“Is it always like this?”

“You didn’t think people would want to talk to the mystically powerful war hero?” Leia asks with a raised brow. “Besides, Luke is nice. Something that’s both a gift and a curse around here.” 

The Mand’alor hums. “Do you think he’ll get a break from that?” he asks, motioning to the crowd. 

“He usually does. Just give it time. If not, I can always go in and rescue him.” She shoots him wink. “I’ve done it before.” 

After some time, Luke does catch a break. His eyes scan over the room, taking a breath, before they light up when they land on Leia and the Mand’alor. As he approaches, the delicate stitching on his clothes become more visible, the same color as Leia’s own robes for tonight. The Mand’alor’s helmet moves to track every step.

Luke’s grin only grows as he gets closer. He stops short to give his sister a kiss on the cheek before shuffling into the space between them and turning to the Mand’alor, a little too close to be casual

“Hi,” he says, absolutely beaming. 

“Hi.” The Mand’alor turns his face him fully, and Leia thinks back to him barely giving Rames a glance. 

Luke reaches out to touch the cape. “This is new.” 

“Yeah, Bo-Katan said it’d make me look more…I don’t know, like a king. I don’t like it.” 

“I like it,” Luke protests, “It looks good.” His cheeks flush in the warm light as his blinks up at him. “You look good.” 

The Mand’alor clears his throat. “Thanks, uh, you do too.” 

Leia nearly rolls her eyes. Hopeless. She gives her brother’s shoulder a squeeze. “Try not to cause any trouble, and you—” She gives the Mand’alor a pointed look—“don’t forget to talk to people.” 

“I’m talking to Luke.” 

“He doesn’t count and you know it.” 

With that Leia turns and leaves the pair to huddle together by the bar, trying to push down any warm feelings so Luke doesn’t pick up on them. She can not be encouraging them here.

———

As soon as the conference room door closes, the Mand’alor sags in his seat. “How many more of these are left?” 

Leia taps away at her holopad, checking their schedule. “Four.” 

He groans. 

Leia takes some pity on him. It’s been a long day of one-on-one talks with individual delegates, with her serving as a mediator. They’ve been small discussions, nothing too serious, only meant to clear the air and avoid any future misunderstandings between people or planets. When the meetings are short, it makes for a quick and efficient day. But it’s been tiring, and Leia can feel the Mand’alor growing weary. Fortunately, she has planned for this. 

A buzz at the door signals the next guest, and the door slides open to reveal Luke faltering in the entryway. 

The Mand’alor visibly relaxes. “Luke.” 

“Hey.” Luke smiles, glancing between the two of them. “Is this the right room? I had a meeting scheduled in here.” 

“Yes.” Leia motions him in. “I scheduled you two together so you’d have some sort of a break in your day.” 

“Thank the Force.” Luke slumps and quickly circles the table to drop into the seat beside the Mand’alor. He folds his arms on the table and drops his head face down to rest on his arms, releasing a heavy sigh. Without looking up, he reaches out one hand to pat around until he finds the Mand’alor’s arm. “Hi.” 

“Hi, cyar’ika.” The Mand’alor watches him, amusement rolling off of him in waves, before leaning back in his seat. Cyar’ika. Leia makes a mental note to talk to Threepio about that. 

“You look like your day has been about the same as mine,” Luke says, tucking his hand back in under his head.

“Unfortunately.”

“How long is this meeting supposed to be?”

Leia glances down at her holopad. “About an hour.”

Luke lets out a groan. “You’re a saint, Leia.” The Mand’alor hums in agreement, helmet dipping in a slow nod.

She straightens, biting back a smile. She had thought the two could use a much needed break, and watching them relax beside each other was a win in and of itself.

“The purpose of this meeting is to discuss Jedi-Mandalorian relations given your history of war and reputation as ancient enemies. There has been some concern in the past that it could cause another Jedi-Mandalorian War and threaten our alliances.” 

Luke gives a low hum. He barely tilts his head up and cracks open an eye to look at the Mand’alor. 

“Do you think we’re ancient enemies?” he asks groggily, his voice muffled by his arm.

The Mand’alor hardly moves aside from tilting his head from where it’s still tipped back on the headrest to look at Luke, one hand resting on Luke’s armrest. “I don’t think so.” 

“Do you wanna start another Jedi-Mandalorian War?” 

“I’d rather not.” 

“Okay, good. Me too.” And Luke burrows his head back down. “I think that settles that.” 

Leia collects her holopads and stands as quietly as she can. “I’m going to give you two a moment and make some notes on your discussion.” 

“M’kay,” Luke mutters. 

When she comes back the two are still lounging, but with Luke sitting up and leaning across the armrests into the Mand’alor’s space, one hand curled around a vambrace, grinning as he talks. The Mand’alor is settled back in his seat, watching him intently, listening to every word. The fingers of one gloved hand barely brush Luke’s leg. 

When Leia clears her throat, the two startle apart. “Time’s up.” 

———

Leia gets a ping on her comm from Bo-Katan asking about a missing Mand’alor, and she knows it has to do with Luke. 

She heaves a sigh before pulling herself away from her desk and leaving her office. It’s getting late even though she’s, regretfully, still working and dressed for the day. 

It’s fairly easy to follow the pull of their Force bond and find her brother. After spending so long a galaxy apart, doing it from the same building is child’s play. 

She finds herself circling back to her own quarters, which she’s been sharing with Luke. They’re not in the living room, but a glance out the window has her stopping in her tracks and taking a step back behind a corner. 

The two are out on the balcony, silhouettes dark against the city lights.

It’s a gentle embrace, the Mand’alor’s helmet ducked down to press against Luke’s forehead, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other arm wrapped around his waist to hold him close. Luke’s eyes are closed as he melts into the touch, bare fingers idly tracing the slope of a beskar cheek, his other hand clutching where the cape meets the Mand’alor’s shoulders.

They stay like that for a stretch of time, silently swaying in each other’s arms. 

Leia slips into her room, giving them some privacy. And if she just so happens to step out as the Mand’alor bids Luke a good night, cyar’ika at the door, it’s just good timing. 

When Luke turns away from the closing door, the dopey smile on his face freezes and his eyes go wide.

“Hey,” he chokes out, “How long have you been home?” 

“What the kriff was that?” 

———

“I need to borrow Threepio for a little while.” 

Leia glances up from the holopad on her desk, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “And why are you telling me this? You don’t need my permission.” 

He sways a little, hands folded tightly behind his back, avoiding her gaze. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t already using him for anything. ‘Cause I need his help with…something.” 

“Something?”

”Just a translation.” The silence between them hangs heavy, and Leia makes no move to break it. “In Mand’oa.” 

Mand’oa. The native language of the Mandalorians. 

Leia simply hums, watching Luke.

He caves immediately with a sigh. “Don’t look at me like that,” he nearly whines. 

“How am I looking at you?” Leia sits back in her seat, trying and failing to suppress her smile. 

“You know how.” 

“I’m sorry.” Leia smiles up at her brother. Despite the nervous restlessness in his stance, she can feel the excitement running through the Force, the tension hanging in the air. She waves him off. “Go ahead. You have my blessing.” 

Luke’s eyes settle on her face, and he relaxes, settling in the Force as he hears the answer for what it is. He nods and murmurs, “Thank you, Leia.” 

When Leia stops by her quarters later that afternoon, she can hear him practicing with Threepio in his room. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Leia doesn’t say anything about it.

———

It’s the Mandalorians’ last day on Coruscant. 

Their introductions are over, and now they’ll return to Mandalore to tend to their planet and make plans for future dealings with the New Republic. 

Leia approaches their ship at the docking bay, Luke following close behind. Her brother is a torrent of emotions as he walks behind her, so much so that Leia has to put up mental blocks to not let it distract her. Nothing significant has happened yet between Luke and the Mand’alor. Leia would have felt it if not seen it. The only noticeable different is Luke’s eyes lingering on the Mand’alor just a little longer, a pull in the Force drawing him closer.

The docking bay is an organized chaos. Mandalorians and New Republic staff bustling about as they pack and make their final arrangements. 

The Mand’alor breaks off from a small group when he sees them approach, Bo-Katan in step with him. 

Leia folds her hands in front of herself with a bittersweet smile. She’s enjoyed her time with the Mandalorians, and she will miss working with them. 

“Mand’alor, I trust you’ve enjoyed your stay on Coruscant. Or at least found it tolerable.” 

He huffs out a familiar laugh. “Yeah, something like that.” 

His helmet turns to linger on Luke before returning to Leia. “I was told there’s one more thing before we leave.” 

“Yes, it’s customary for a delegate to share one last meal with their mediator before they leave. It’s very private, very casual.” She glances between the two. “However, I will be unable to do so. Something has just come up, unfortunately. So my brother will be filling in for me.” 

Luke’s head snaps around to look at her, but she ignores his shocked gaze, watching the Mand’alor. The helmet reveals nothing, he stands motionless. 

He sucks in a breath. “Thank you, senator.” 

“Please.” She holds out a hand. “Leia.” 

He reaches out and bypasses her hand to grip her forearm. The gesture feels significant as he nods. 

“Din.” 

Leia’s breath catches and her eyes widen. “Oh,” she breathes before recovering with a smile, squeezing his arm, “Thank you, Din.” 

The Mand’alor steps around her to walk with Luke, and the two drift closer to each other like magnets as they walk away. 

Bo-Katan crosses her arms beside her. “You know those two are only going to be trouble for us.” 

“I know,” Leia says, watching them with a smile, “but I think we can handle a little challenge.”

———

When Luke walks into their quarters absolutely beaming, the Force singing around him, Leia knows she made the right choice. 

Chapter Text

Leia is going to kill her brother. 

In the several months since Mandalore’s first introduction to the New Republic, things have been going relatively well. Nothing is ever perfect—especially with the likes of Senator Almen still crawling around—but the transition has been much smoother than expected. 

Despite his own claims, Din is a good leader. He’s fair, willing to listen to others’ input, but firm where he needs to be. He’s also good at making friends, something that’s often more valuable than mere allies in their work. 

Which is why Leia isn't going into full crisis mode when Din doesn’t show up for one of their briefings. The trade meeting they’re supposed to be preparing for is very low stakes, the other parties already in favor of the plan and happy to work with the Mand’alor. 

But anything can happen, and Leia is nothing if not diligent when it comes to planning. 

After enough time has passed for the him to not have simply been late, Leia makes a few inquiries into the Mand’alor’s whereabouts. 

A staff member says he was last seen with Luke leaving a meeting on tactics for dealing with Imperial remnants. Because of course he’d be with Luke. 

With the advantage of a twin Force bond, it’s not hard to find them. 

Which is how Leia finds herself banging a fist on a closet door. A closet. Leia shakes her head. When there’s no answer, she pounds on it again.

“Luke, you better open this door before I do!”

There’s a noticeable pause before it slides open to reveal Luke’s smiling face.

Leia takes one look at him and sighs. “Really, Luke?” 

To say his hair is disheveled would be an understatement. It’s rarely been perfect, but now it’s a disaster. His face is flushed, the color deepening even more as he blushes, and he tugs at the collar of his shirt to make it sit higher. 

“Hey,” Luke says with a grin that’s nearly a grimace, propping an arm on the doorframe, keeping the door blocked with his whole body, “Sorry. What time is it?” 

Leia is going to kill him. 

There’s the barest shuffle behind a shelf in the back. Leia doesn’t bother looking past Luke, just glowering at her brother. There’s no fight left in her for this. She had already accepted given up this fight, accepting the inevitable. Now she just has to manage it.

“I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one.” 

Luke’s face twists. “You have never said that.”

”I wasn’t talking to you.” Leia’s still eyes don’t leave Luke’s face as she leans to call past him. “Hello, Din.” 

There’s another shuffle, a pause.

A throat clears.

“Leia.” 

His voice is clear, unmodulated by a helmet.

Leia sighs, fully turning her back on her brother and walking away. “You’re both impossible.” She looks back and points a finger at Luke. “I want you looking presentable and the Mand’alor in my office in ten minutes.” 

Luke groans. “Alright.” He disappears through the door to whisper something to Din before leaning back out. “Sorry, Leia!” 

“No, you’re not.” 

Din’s laugh echoes down the hall.