Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

      Was this a good idea? Probably not. But to be fair, Din’s experience with this weird magic stuff was Ashoka’s minimal use and Grogu’s affinity to use it to grab what he wants and choke people. So for all Din knows, this is a perfectly sane idea that will end normally. Grogu will reach out and find a jetii teacher who will teach him to not choke people and stuff. And Din will be alone again, traveling the universe hunting bounties and dodging the Imps.

      Din didn’t feel much better about his plan as he did a final check of his weapons.

      Spear? Check.

      Jetpack? Check.

      Whistling birds? Check.

      Every other weapon he keeps strapped to his body at all times? Check.

      Go time.

      Din had put Grogu on the ground, and the kid had waddled a few feet away to examine a tuft of grass. Din smiled at Grogu’s innocent fascination. He was going to miss the kid.

      “Alright, Grogu,” Din said, enjoying how Grogu perked up and cooed at his name, “ready?”

      Grogu babbled and raised his arms. Din picked him up, settling Grogu on his arm. Din tapped Grogu’s nose, the kid going cross-eyed at the action. Din approached the stone and circled it one last time to see if any instructions or buttons had magically appeared.

      When Din saw nothing, he sighed and muttered to Grogu, “I guess we just sit on it?”

      Grogu’s responding coo was neither confirmatory nor negatory, so Din decided to go with it.

      “Don’t blow me up or anything,” Din asked Grogu. Din took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He counted to three in his head before sitting down on the rock with a thud.

      When he wasn’t blown up or otherwise disturbed after five seconds, Din forcefully relaxed his muscles. When Grogu cooed, Din opened his eyes. The kid was looking at him curiously.

      “Don’t look at me like that,” Din muttered sheepishly. “I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

      Had anything happened? Din adjusted Grogu so the kid was sitting on the rock between Din’s legs. Din looked around at the dilapidated rocks. Nothing looked different. Din didn’t feel any different, no tingles or numbness.

      “So now what?” Din asked Grogu. “How do you, uh, call the Jedi?”

      “Patu?” Grogu said, closing his eyes and leaning against Din’s stomach. Grogu’s breath slowed down, and his hands fell into his lap.

      “Come on, kid, it’s not nap time,” Din sighed, resting a hand on Grogu’s head. At that moment, the stone was surrounded by a pillar of rushing light. “Haar’chak! KID!”

      Grogu wasn’t responding to Din’s cry. Din pulled Grogu into his chest as the light became more opaque. The ruins were fading out of view, replaced by blinding blue-white light. Din grabbed a vibroblade from his belt and tried to stab the light barrier, hoping to make an opening to get him and Grogu out. His blade connected with the light, and Din felt a painful vibration travel up his arm before his blade was forcefully deflected. It pushed Din back, and his helmet collided with the light behind his.

      Din felt his teeth vibrate as his muscles all tensed. His vision began to darken. Din pulled Grogu as close as he could, folding his arm over Grogu’s body. Din thought he heard a coo before he blacked out.

      There was a distinct itchy feeling under Din’s armor that indicated sand having wormed its way under the small openings in his armor. Sand and armor did not mix, the tiny particles always finding their way into the crevices that Din struggled to clean out.

      The sound of a light smack accompanied a coo. Din groaned as he opened his eyes. He was staring up into a clear blue sky. His HUD did say he was injured, so why was Din lying on the ground?

      “Patu!”

      Din rolled to the side and unto his knees at Grogu’s voice. Din rested a hand on his blaster as he looked for Grogu. The kid stood a foot in front of him, big eyes looking curiously up at him. Grogu smiled, melting Din’s heart as usual. Grogu held his arms out with a demanding coo. Din picked him up and cautiously rose to his feet. Din turned in a circle, taking in the sandy dunes with scattered patches of green.

      “This isn’t Tython,” Din said. He shifted Grogu to rest in the crook of Din’s arm. He pressed the button on his vambrace to bring up his GPS. His HUD glitched, and a loading symbolled appeared in the corner of Din’s vision. “What the hell?”

      Din’s HUD only buffered when the connection to the Holonet or satellites was sucky. That usually only happened on Outer Rim planets whose tech hadn’t been updated since the Republic.

      His HUD loaded, and Din immediately cursed the weird magic stone. Because it clearly had screwed up his GPS while also having transported him and Grogu to a different planet. His HUD said Manda’yaim, which was impossible because Manda’yaim was an unhabitable planet whose surface was covered in blast marks. It was nothing like the planet Din was currently on.

      “You have any idea where we are, kid?” Din asked Grogu because, at this point, he had nothing else to lose. Grogu cooed and looked around. The kid wiggled in the manner that meant he wanted to be set down. Seeing no apparent threat, Din acquiesced. Grogu tottered forward, slipping on the loose sand. Din followed after Grogu, recognizing that the kid was on a path, and if Din tried to move him, Grogu would manage to get back on track.

      But Grogu had tiny legs and couldn’t get very far very quickly. So Din scooped up the kid, chuckling at the startled squeak. But Grogu didn’t complain as Din set out in the direction the kid wanted to go. Din’s GPS said they were heading north, but Din took little stock in it.

      Their environment didn’t change much- dunes upon dunes. There were areas of rock covered in a thin layer of sand, and Din tried to walk on those. It was easier and quicker than trudging through the sand. After 30 minutes, Din stopped at a small area of green that had some trees for shade. Din let Grogu down so the kid could walk around. Din grabbed a ration bar he had stored in his belt. He ripped off a piece for Grogu and held it out to the kid.

      Grogu narrowed his eyes at the piece of food. Din sighed. “Come on, kid, you should eat something. I know it’s not a frog, but it’s food.”

      Grogu mumbled but took the piece of ration and ate it. Din lifted his helmet and took his own bite, not flinching at the chalky texture. Din grabbed his water pouch and offered it to Grogu before taking a sip for himself. And with that break, Din picked up Grogu and continued walking.

      Maybe half a klick later, Grogu whined and slapped Din’s chest plate. “What’s up, ad’ika?”

      Grogu wiggled, and Din set the kid down. He watched as Grogu stumbled over to a dune and sat down in front of it. Grogu turned his wide eyes to Din, so the Mando walked over and kneeled next to the kid.

      “What you trying to show me, kid?” Din asked as he examined the dune. It wasn’t anything special, just some sand pile. Grogu didn’t respond; he just cooed and started to play with the sand. Din sighed, but it was more fond than annoyed. “Ok.”

      Din decided to scan the dune as a first step. He didn’t expect to find anything, so he was startled when his thermal showed what appeared to be a door buried in the dune. If Din had to guess, it led to an underground bunker. Why did Grogu want to go here? Din used his hand to clear away sand until he could see the metal door. It was scratched from the sand, and there were some spots of rust. When Din found the edge of the door, he ran a finger down the seam. There was no rust in the seam.

      “Looks like someone opened this recently,” Din mused. “Wonder if anyone is home.”

      Grogu babbled something that sounded excited and stood up. He walked to the door and slapped it with a demanding, “Patu!”

      “You want it opened?” Din guessed, amused at Grogu’s pout. The kid slapped the door again. “Ok, ok.” Din moved Grogu away from the door and more sand away until he found a handhold. Din reached for it, but he didn’t get a chance to grab it before the door burst open, sending Din reeling back.

      Din took out his blaster, but he didn’t get a chance to aim it as he was tackled by a blur of black and blue armor. It wasn’t a weighty force, but Din was startled enough that he fell. Din heard Grogu let out a startled yell as Din rolled, so his assailant was below him. Din didn’t see a weapon in their hand, but Din felt pressure on his chest and was sent flying onto his back. Din rolled with the movement, getting onto his feet and holding his blaster ready.

      Din didn’t turn off the safety as he noticed the small stature of his assailant. The teen was maybe half a foot shorter than Din and was wearing scuffed armor that didn’t fit him well. He didn’t have a helmet so that Din could see his scruffy red-blonde hair. The teen was pointing a metal tube at Din. It took Din a moment to connect the tube to the laser swords that Ahsoka Tano had. Hers were curved but looked similar enough to the one pointed at him. Behind the boy was a blonde girl covered in a ripped brown cloak. She didn’t have any visible weapons. Both the boy and the girl were dirty and had slightly sunken cheeks.

      Din slowly raised his hands, pointing his blaster at the sky. “Udesii, ad’ike. Udesii.”

      “Who are you?” The boy demanded. “What do you want?”

      “I don’t want anything,” Din said as calmly as he could, searching for Grogu out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not even sure where we are.”

      “We-?”

      “Ben?” The girl spoke. The boy-Ben- shifted to address the girl while keeping Din in sight. The girl pointed behind Din. “There.”

      A coo signaled that it was Grogu that the girl was pointing to.

      “Master Yoda?” The boy muttered, his laser sword lowering.

      “His name’s Grogu,” Din offered.

      “Patu!” Grogu exclaimed as he walked next to Din. Grogu grabbed onto Din’s boot. Ben’s attention snapped back to Din, and the kid tensed again.

      “How did you get a Jedi youngling?” Ben demanded again. Din didn’t know how Ben knew about Grogu’s history.

      “He was a bounty,” Din explained. “But I refused to give him to the Imps. I’m trying to find him a teacher.”

“Then take him to the Jedi Temple,” Ben scoffed.

      “Jedi Temple?” Din had never heard of a Jedi Temple before. That would’ve been handy to know before he had to track down Ahsoka Tano.

      Din’s question seemed to throw Ben off. The girl stepped forward and rested a hand on Ben’s shoulder.

      “Perhaps we should all put our weapons away and talk?” The girl offered. “There is clearly some confusion here.”

      Din didn’t enjoy putting his blaster away in tense situations, but he would never hurt the two teens. Especially not since Ben was familiar with the Jedi. If Din could get Ben to tell him where this Jedi Temple is, then hopefully, Din could find someone willing to teach Grogu.

      Ben relaxed minutely when Din put away his blaster. Din picked up Grogu. Din couldn’t quite place Ben’s expression as the teen looked at Grogu. 

      “Ok,” Din said. “Let’s talk.”

      The girl slapped Ben’s shoulder. Ben frowned but put away his lasersword. Ben chose to cross his arms across his chest as he stared suspiciously at Din and Grogu. The girl didn’t look amused.

      “You said you did not know where you were,” the girl said. “What does that mean?”

      Din shifted Grogu onto one arm as the kid shifted, his attention caught by something over Din’s shoulder. Ben and the girl didn’t seem concerned, so Din assumed it was some type of small animal.

      “The kid and I were on this planet called Tython. I’m not completely sure how we got- uh, wherever here is. I figured it was the magic thing.” Din shrugged. 

      “Magic thing?” Ben muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, “You mean the Force?”

      “Uh, sure?” Din said. “But, yeah. I know we're not on Tython anymore.”

      The girl nodded. “Yes, we are on Mandalore.”

      Din’s brain crashed. He could admit that his knowledge of the proceedings of the galaxy is limited. Din supposed that people could have taken up residence on Mandalore again- Bo-Katan had talked about reclaiming Manda’yaim. But Din would’ve expected more signs of damage and less greenery. Maybe the areas between the cities had been mostly spared?

      “Ok,” Din decided to go with it for now. “Who’s after you?”

      “What makes you think anyone is after us?” Ben asked defesnively. 

      Din hoped his body language showed his disbelief at the question. “I’ve met a lot of people who were trying to hide. You get good at recognizing the type.”

      No need to let these skittish teens know that Din was a bounty hunter. That would set the conversation back. 

      Before Ben could snark back a reply, the girl said, “Yes. We are… being hunted. By the Death Watch.”

      Din remembered Bo-Katan calling him a Child of the Watch. Din supposed that Death Watch was the parent. But it seemed the Death Watch wasn’t a good group. No self-respecting Mandolorain would be hunting these teens. Sure, they weren’t kids, and were probably old enough for the verd'goten, but they were still teens. And one of them didn’t have any armor. Her buir really failed: leaving their ad to be hunted without armor. 

      “Where are your buire?” Din asked. Din would do his best to get the verd’ike back home if they had been separated. Then perhaps Ben would tell him the location of this Jedi Temple.

      Ben and the girl (and Din really ought to get her name) shared a look, clearly having a silent argument. Grogu whined, catching Din’s attention immediately. The kid looked worried, his little claws scraping against Din’s armor.

      “They’re coming,” Ben said suddenly. Din looked around but couldn’t immediately see anything. But he saw Ben staring west, so Din got out his binocs. There was a small cloud of sand on the horizon, and Din could just make out the figure of three speeder bikes heading in their direction.

      “What are the chances they haven’t seen us?” The girl asked. Her question was answered by a stray blaster bolt. It wasn’t close enough to hit them, but it sent a message. 

      There was no hiding. They had to fight.

Chapter Text

       The girl- Satine, she had introduced herself as- and Grogu were in the bunker. Din and Ben had moved, so the dune was between them and the rapidly approaching speeders. Ben had pulled out a blaster- an ancient type of blaster that looked to be in surprisingly good condition.

           Din took out his binocs again and noted that two of the speeders had two riders.

           “Five incoming,” Din muttered to Ben. The teen nodded and fiddled with his blaster. Din eyed Ben, and while the kid’s hands weren’t shaking, Ben didn’t look the least bit comfortable holding the blaster. “You sure you good to use that?”

           Ben frowned. “Yes.”

           Din barely repressed a scoff at Ben’s awkward hold on the weapon. Ben’s hands were wrapped around the handle, his fingers overlapping. A quick glance at the approaching speeders indicated they were nearly in firing range. Quickly, Din reached over and adjusted Ben’s hands so that his left hand was cupping the bottom of the handle. 

           “Press up with this hand to counteract the force of firing,” Din instructed. Ben’s face underwent a rapid change of emotions before settling with a nod. Din gave Ben one last glance before taking his blaster and sighting the leading speeder. Din took two steadying breaths, and the second the speeder reached his blaster’s range, Din fired. The shot hit the front of the speeder, causing it to spin out of control. Unfortunately, the driver managed to steer it away from hitting the other speeders. Din registered the driver jumping off the speeder before it crashed. It was one less person to deal with for now. 

           “I’ll take the ones on the left,” Ben said as he fired at the speeder. The speeder, now aware of them, dodged. Din grunted at the statement. He certainly would’ve preferred to deal with most of the assailants if possible. Din had no clue how much combat training Ben had.

           One of the Death Watch fired at them, causing Din and Ben to drop flat onto the sand. Din fired back as soon as he could. He cursed when they dodged again. Din held his wrist out and aimed at the speeder on the left. Din fired two Whistling birds and watched as the small projectiles went toward their target. The rider was struck in the neck, causing them to tumble off the speeder. The passenger tried to lean forward to gain control, but the bird hit them in the hand. They were close enough that Din could hear the pained yell. The injured Mandalorian fell off the speeder, but Din noted them getting to their feet. They flew forward on their jetpack, blaster held in their good hand.

           “You good with close combat?” Din asked quickly asked.

           “Enough.”

           Din decided that was a good enough answer for now. He slid down the dune to gain extra coverage, Ben following as the airborne Mando began to fire upon them. Din settled on one knee and detached his spear from his back.

           Ben eyed him warily. “You know how to use that?”

           “Enough,” Din replied shortly. “Cover me.”

           Din jumped up and fired his blaster at the Mando in the air. They landed roughly two meters from Din. Before they could fire off more shots, Din holstered his blasters and aimed his flamethrower at them. As they rolled to the side, their armor barely singed, Din surged forward. His spear was met with a vibroblade, the Mando on their knees.

           “ Why do you protect a traitor?” The Mando snarled. Din pressed down, and the Mando had to bring their other arm up to brace. Din heard blaster fire from the other Death Watch people and Ben.          

           “ Why do you hunt a child? ” Din snapped back. The Mando scoffed and managed to push Din’s spear off the side. Din was able to brace himself, preventing him from stumbling. But the other Mando took the brief opening and lunged forward to tackle Din’s leg. Din grunted with the weight. He was unable to prevent himself from falling, but he was able to angle himself onto his side, so the Mando didn’t end up directly on top. 

           Din kicked as he felt the other Mando move. Din wasn’t able to sit up before he was nearly stabbed. Din blocked the blade with his arm holding the spear. His free hand came up and squeezed their injured hand.

           “Shabuir!” the Mando growled, leaping off Din. Din rolled to his feet and adjusted his hold on the spear.

           “Duck!” Ben exclaimed. Din crouched down, and a knife flew past his head, around where his neck would’ve been. Din dashed to the left and turned so all his assailants were in view. Ben had his laser sword out, the radiating blue a stark contrast to the dark blue of the Death Watch member he was fighting. Seeing that Ben was handling himself, Din focused on his attackers. There were two of them, both braced for a fight. Din shot his blaster at the new Mando. The injured one rushed him, blade out. Din grabbed the arm holding the knife and twisted them, so the Mando was between Din and the other Death Watch.

           As Din had hoped, Mando 2 had fired his blaster at that moment. So, the bolt hit the person Din was grappling with instead of hitting Din. They grunted and lost balance, giving Din the upper hand he needed to maneuver his spear. Din thrust the spear into the bare spot on the Mando’s ribs, grunting with the effort. They fell to the ground with a wet gasp as Din yanked the spear out. When they didn’t move, Din turned his attention to Mando 2. ‘Attention’ being code for a blaster.

           When they dodged the blast, Din charged them. He used his spear to reach out and hit the blaster out of their hand. Both of the Mando’s hands came up to grasp the spear, desperately trying to push the point away from their body. Din holstered his blaster so he could use both hands to push. The Mando ended up on their knees, grunting from the effort.

           “ You fight for a girl that would condemn you for doing so,” they huffed.

           “ I fight to protect a young one,” Din replied as he got the upper hand. “This is the Way.”

           Din thrust the spear tip into the Mando’s unprotected throat. He pulled back and whirled around to find Ben, ready to help. But Ben did not need help. The boy had the two Death Watch members scattered on the ground, slightly smoking holes through their chests. Ben’s laser sword was a brilliant blue. Din spared a moment to be grateful his beskar was lasersword-proof.

           Din approached Ben, reattaching his spear to his back. Ben turned his sword off, hanging it from his belt.

           “Are you alright?” Din asked, giving Ben a once over.

           “Yes,” Ben huffed as he looked at the scattered bodies. “But Satine will not be happy about this.”

           Din frowned as he remembered the dying words of the Death Watch member. “We did what we had to so we could protect them. What kind of Mandalorian would be upset at the defense of a child?”

           Ben gave Din a weird look. It was a look Din was becoming more familiar with these days. It was a ‘have you been living under a rock?’ look. Din just shrugged. Ben still looked confused but answered. “The New Mandalorian kind.”

           At that moment, Din decided two things. One, from what he could tell, these New Mandalorians were approaching dar’manda territory. And two, there were too many secs of Mandalorians. They all followed (theoretically) the same code- a Mandalorian was a Mandalorian. Not a Death Watch or a New Mandalorian. It was a pain.

           “We should get moving,” Din said instead of voicing his annoyance. “Chances are they commed backup.”

           “We?” Ben questioned as he opened the bunker door. Grogu’s head popped up, and the kid cooed when he saw Din. Satine showed up behind him, picking the kid up and carrying him out of the bunker. She grimaced at the sight of the bodies, slightly turning so Grogu was faced away from them. Satine frowned at Ben, but the boy cut her off from saying anything. “Please, can we not do this now?”

           Satine huffed, setting Grogu down as the kids wiggled in her hold. Grogu totted over to Din, demanding to be picked up. Din, of course, obliged. “Fine. What are we doing next?”

           Ben side-eyed Din, but Din didn’t back down. Ben sighed as he realized Din would not relent on going with them. They were two teenagers by themselves, and only one of them was willing and able to fight. Like hells Din was leaving them alone. Plus, he still hoped Ben would tell him where the wizard temple was.

           “We need to get out of here before more Death Watch shows up,” Ben said.

           “And how do we plan on getting away quick enough?” Satine asked. “We are on foot. We would never be able to run away quick enough.”

           Din eyed the speeders that the Death Watch had ridden. Two of them were in working condition (even if one was half-buried in sand). “Who said anything about running?”

           Ben looked to where Din was looking, and the boy smiled. Din noted that it seemed to degage him considerably. No kid his age should already have the beginnings of frown lines. It was another thing added to Din’s list of ‘issues to take up with Ben’s buir”. It was a rapidly growing list.

           Ben held his hand out and closed his eyes. Din watched in amazement as the speeder rose out of the sand and was placed gently in front of them. Grogu cooed and held his hand out.

           “I’m glad you can’t do that yet,” Din muttered to the kid. Grogu smiled up at him cheekily. “Right?”

           Ben walked to grab the other speeder, so Din stepped up to examine the condition of the previously buried speeder. Din set his bag on the side holder and, after making sure it was steady, he set Grogu on the seat. A quick look showed that the speeder didn’t appear to be damaged. He turned it on and winced at the grating noise from the engine. He quickly turned it off.

           Ben came with the other speeder. “Is it all good?”

           “Aside from some sand in the engine, yes,” Din replied as he opened the hatch hiding the engine. He tried to brush off the sand, but his fingers couldn’t get in the small areas. Din stepped back and motioned at the engine. “You mind helping? I can’t get all of it.”

           “You could probably just blow it out,” Satine mused. Din decided not to answer. Ben stepped up and did just that. Din turned the speeder on and was satisfied that there was no grating noise. Din shut the hatch and settled Grogu into his bag.

           Din swung his leg over the speeder and sat down. Ben and Satine got onto their speeder, with Ben driving. Satine placed her own bags on the speeder. She took out a pair of goggles and a scarf, putting them on. Then, from the other bag, she grabbed a helmet and gave it to Ben.

           “So, where are we heading?” Din asked Ben. He figured Ben could come up with an answer. Probably in the same way Grogu knew which way to go to find Ben and Satine in the first place.

           Ben looked around, his expression now hidden by his helmet. A beat passed before Ben pointed east. “They come from the west, so east is probably a safe bet.”

           Din nodded and revved his speeder. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

            They came upon a small, seemingly abandoned homestead nearly an hour later. Din had constantly been checking for any tails, but it seemed that they managed to get off Death Watch’s radar for now.

         The homestead was made up of two buildings and a paddock. There were no animals in the paddock, the gate wide open. The home was a one-story building made from a mishmash of duracrete and sandy-colored stone. Off to the right of the house was a smaller building made of transparisteel plates. Some of the plates were cracked, but Din could see the remnants of a garden on the inside.

         Ben had turned his speeder off, so Din followed suit. Din scanned the building with the scanner built into his helmet but could not get a definite reading.

         Ben and Satine had already hopped off their speeder, and Ben was moving to pull the speeder toward the house. Cautiously, Din followed them.

         “Check around back,” Din muttered to Ben. “I’ll check inside.”

         “I- ok,” Ben agreed. Din nodded at him and Satine, the girl moving over to pick up Grogu. Din unsheathed his vibroblade to give to Satine. Din resisted the urge to simultaneously chuckle and sigh at her affronted expression. Seriously, whoever came up with the ‘New Mandalorian’ thing, Din wanted to have a chat with them.

         “Humor me,” Din deadpanned. Satine made an expression reminiscent of a baby trying a Gruffle* for the first time. With her free hand, she picked up the knife with two fingers and set it down on the speeder next to her. Good enough.

         Din set his hand on his blaster and approached the front door. To no one’s surprise, the door did not open when Din pressed the button on the pad next to the door. But a bit of brute force had it open. Din opened it wide enough that he could slip in. The windows in the front of the home were boarded up, leaving the inside mostly dark. Din turned his night vision on and scanned the front room. It was a small rectangular room containing an old, worn couch, a rug, and a table with four chairs in the far corner. The two side walls had two doorways each, and the back wall had one. There were no big hiding spots aside from wall-mounted cabinets. Considering they were too small to hide any species that would be a threat, Din left them for now. He slowly went through the house, discovering a kitchen with an attached pantry, two bedrooms (a master and one with two smaller beds), a refresher, and a garage in the back.

         When Din was satisfied that there was no one hiding in the house; he walked out. Ben was waiting with Satine and Grogu by the speeders.

         “It’s clear,” Ben reported. “I checked the greenhouse too.”

         Din nodded. “Good. It’s a good place to hide out for now. We can move the speeders into the garage in the back.”

         The garage door also needed to be forced open. But Din didn’t have to force it open because Ben closed his eyes and opened it with his magic-force. When the speeders were in, Din grabbed the kip of the door to pull it back down and saw that their footprints were no longer in the sand. Din stared at the sand.

         “I covered our tracks,” Ben said as he unloaded his and Satine’s bags.

         Din nodded and pulled the door down. “Kandosii, ad’ika.”

         Ben smiled bashfully. Din set a hand on Ben’s shoulder to reinforce his compliment. Din then slung his bag over his shoulder and took Grogu from Satine. Din led the way into the home.

         “There are two beds in here,” Din said, gesturing at the first door on their right. “You two can bunk there. Grogu and I will take the other room.”

         The other room was closer to the front entrance. A placing that definitely didn’t contribute to Din’s decision to take it.

         “I’ll check the pantry for any food,” Din said as he set his bag inside his temporary room. Din set Grogu on the ground so the kid could wander around.

         “We have rations,” Ben said, holding out a bar.

         Everyone chuckled when Grogu wrinkled his nose at the ration and said, “Blah.”

         “Enough for you and Satine,” Din countered. “And I have some that the kid and I can eat, but not enough to sustain us all for long.”

         Satine brushed some dust off the small couch before sitting down elegantly. Ben sat next to her, handing her a ration. Din went into the kitchen after checking on Grogu. Grogu was amusing himself by exploring under the dining table. Din opened the conservator and was unsurprised that nothing was in it. Searching the pantry revealed a small amount of still-good rations and dried goods. Din picked up a small box of what he thought was some kind of dried meat. A glance at the doorway behind him showed no one was there, so Din lifted the lip of his helmet to taste the jerky. It wasn’t horrible. It was a little chewy, but its spices made up for the texture. Din finished his piece and took another for Grogu. Din tried to brush off some of the spices.

         As he returned to the living room, Din turned the sink on just to see. He was pleasantly surprised that it turned on and ran clear after a moment. Din grabbed a mini water-purity tester from his belt pouch. He ran the tester under the stream of water before turning the sink off. Din went to the living room while he waited for the result.

         “There are some rations and dried food,” Din reported. He crouched down when Grogu wandered over. Din handed Grogu the jerky. “Careful; it’s a little spicy.”

         Grogu cooed and bit off a piece of the jerky. Grogu reeled back and smacked his lips. He made a curious noise and sniffed the jerky before plopping down and happily munching on his jerky. Din smiled at the sight before standing back up.

         Ben and Satine were still looking at him. “There’s running water, probably connected to an underground well. It is-“ Din looked at his water tester. It displayed a green light-“potable. You two can go wash up a bit in the refresher. Don’t assume it's unlimited, so any showers should be short. And possibly cold.”

         The two teenagers looked relieved at the prospect of a shower. They were covered in a thin layer of dirt and sand. Din imaged there weren’t many chances for them to shower while on the run.

         “You can go first, Satine,” Ben offered as he finished his ration.

         Satine looked at him. “Are you sure?”

         “Yeah.”

         Satine nodded and went to grab a change of clothes before closing the refresher door.

         There was an awkward silence as the shower turned off. Din sighed and sat in one of the chairs around the dining table.

         “Do either of you plan on sharing why Death Watch is hunting you?” Din asked, trying to be casual. Grogu finished his jerky and yawned. The kid walked over to Din and held his arm up demandingly. Din complied and set the kid on his leg. Grogu snuggled into Din’s armor. Din wished he was more comfortable out of his armor so Grogu could have a softer resting place.

         “Do you plan on sharing how you ended up in the middle of nowhere on a completely different planet?” Ben snarked.

         “I was told to bring Grogu to Tython to a Seeing Stone. Apparently, Grogu could use the Force to call out to any Jedi that might be out there. I’m trying to find him a teacher,” Din explained, looking down at a drowsy Grogu. Din’s heart panged at the sight of the child-his child- and at the thought of having to give him up. Din looked back at Ben, noticing the longing expression that Ben had. “I was not told of whatever Temple it is you mentioned.”

         Ben frowned. “You don’t get out much?” Din snorted. Ben flushed. “I- I mean, it’s just that-“

         “You’re right,” Din said softly, trying to calm Ben down. “I’ve spent my life bounty hunting, almost primarily in the Outer Rim. I don’t keep up with the going-ons of the galaxy.”

         “I’ve never heard of a Mandalorian that doesn't know about the Jedi,” Ben explained. “Ancient enemies and all that.”

         Din shrugged. “It was not an important topic in my clan. We are- we were, uh, very isolated.” Ben looked curious. Din elaborated. “I learned recently that we are considered traditionalists. So the main focus of everything was clan and children. This is the Way.”

         Ben nodded, but he looked slightly concerned. “Death Watch is often considered the more traditional sect- with their desire to continue expansion.”

         “I was called a Child of the Watch,” Din said, remembering Bo-Katan’s explanation. “So I guess we are a traditional, less conquering offshoot of Death Watch.”

         Din let Ben digest that. Din checked on Grogu and saw the kid was fast asleep. Din heard the shower turn off.

         “I’m going to take Grogu to bed,” Din said, standing up slowly. When Din returned from the bedroom, bag in hand, Satine had just exited the bathroom.

         “How was your shower?” Ben asked as he stood up to grab his change of clothes.

         “Cold,” Satine sighed. “But it’s better than nothing.”

         “I’m sure I’ve had worse,” Ben said as he went into the refresher. There was another silence, even more, awkward than the one from earlier.

         “You should get some rest,” Din prompted gently. “I’ll take the first watch.”

         Satine hummed, examining Din before nodding. Din sat at the dinner table and took out his travel blaster cleaning kit.

         Satine paused in the doorway. She looked at Din, and Din glanced at her. Din noticed his vibroblade was tucked into her belt. Softly, Satine said, “Thank you.”

         “Ba’gedet’ye,” Din responded. Satine’s nose wrinkled, but she left with a nod. Din listened to Satine settle down and the running shower. Quickly, Din grabbed his canteen and took a few sips of water. Din opened a ration and ate a few pieces of it. When his helmet was back in place, Din took his blaster out and disassembled it.

         Din worked quickly and quietly to clean his blaster. Din looked up when the shower turned off, and Ben emerged from the refresher.

         “You all set?” Din asked, setting his blaster pieces down. “Satine went to bed, and you should too.”

         “You’re taking the first watch?” Ben asked, shuffling the dirty laundry in his arms.

         “’lek,” Din confirmed.

         “I’ll take second watch,” Ben decided. “Satine isn’t very good at it.”

         Din hummed, and Ben went into the bedroom. Truthfully, Din had no plans to wake either teenager up. They both looked exhausted and could do with a full night’s sleep. Din was perfectly capable of going just over two days without sleep. He wouldn’t do that, of course. Not when he had three kids to take care of. But, for tonight, Din would stay up all night. It would be a good opportunity to clean out sand from under his armor.

         Din sighed and settled in for a long night. Din decided to figure out how to breach the topic of Ben and Satine’s buire in the morning. Sensitive topics were Din’s weakness.

Chapter Text

           Din didn’t bother suppressing his chuckle at Ben’s affronted expression as the teen blearily stumbled out of his room the following day.

         “You- what? I-“ Ben stumbled through his words. Ben rubbed his eyes. “Why?”

         “You looked like you need the sleep, ad’ika. And I’m perfectly capable of staying awake one night,” Din explained, shifting on the couch. He had relocated a few hours in. The couch was old but still more comfortable than the plastic chairs.

         Ben pouted, which was frankly adorable on the teen’s face. “I’m taking first watch tomorrow.”

         Din chuckled again. “Whatever you want. Now, get something to eat.”

         Ben huffed again but grabbed a pack of dried orange slices that were from the pantry. Ben sat on the couch next to Din, sliding slightly closer to Din due to the indent of the larger man made in the couch.

         Ben munched on his oranges, and Din took a moment to listen for Grogu. “Did you eat yet?” Ben asked.

         Din smiled at the kid’s attempt to act casual. “Yes, before you woke up.”

         “Good. Good,” Ben nodded. “Satine probably won’t wake up for a little bit. She’s never been an earlier riser.”

         “And Grogu sleeps like the dead,” Din joked, prompting Ben to chuckle.

         “Yeah, I know someone like that. Snores like a bantha too,” Ben grumbled.

         They sat in silence for another minute as Ben finished first meal. Din took a slow breath.

         “So,” Din started in what was hopefully a relaxed tone, “how long have you and Satine been on the run?”

         Ben shifted in his seat and didn’t reply. But Din was content to wait him out. He would help protect Ben and Satine as long as needed (especially since he wanted to figure out the whole being on Manda’yiam thing). He could technically do that without knowing much about the situation- he certainly had completed bounties with less. But Din wanted to know, to fill in the blanks of Ben and Satine’s story, to figure out what the hells a New Mandalorian was. And Ben seemed to be more comfortable around Din than Satine was.

         Ben sighed and tilted his head slightly- a classic Mando sign of ‘I’m thinking about it.’ “About half a standard year.”

         Din resisted the urge to suck in a breath. That was way too long for these two teenagers to be on the run (especially if they were alone most of the time). What were their buire thinking? Even if they are working on solving the issue, Din feels like it is obvious that Ben and Satine should have been shipped to another, safer planet.

         “Why-“ Din sighed and lamented his inability to rub his hand down his face. “Ok. Sure. Please tell me it hasn’t just been you two most of the time. Surely either your or Satine’s buir was with you?”

         Ben looked confused for a split second before he smiled. “Oh no, my Ma-buir was with us for some time. He decided to return and help Satine’s buir stop the Death Watch, though.”

         Ok, so not too bad. Well, maybe. “How long ago was that?”

         “Eh, maybe two and a half, three months ago.”

         Only Din’s professionalism and years as a bounty hunter allowed him to keep his cool. Because Din would’ve accepted a week, or hell, even a month, as a valid answer. But nearly three months? While Din had minimal doubts about Ben’s fighting ability, leaving one teenager to defend himself and another against well-trained adults for three months was unacceptable. It didn’t help that Din wasn’t sure what their buire left with them versus what Ban and Satine had to get themselves.

         Ben figured out Din’s silence was not a happy one and leaped to his buir’s defense, as ade were wont to do. “It hasn’t been that bad. And he left instruction to find passage off-planet if he hasn’t gotten in contact in another month.”

         “And did he give you credits to buy seats on a ship? And is there even a ship port you know of that would be safe?” Din question, probably pushing a bit too much if Ben’s shoulder’s hunching in was any indication.

         “Nayc,” Ben responded meekly. Ben wasn’t looking at Din anymore.

         Din forced himself to take a deep breath. Kids, teenagers were not a strong suit. His position as beroya meant he didn’t spend much time with his clan, with the ade. The ade would look at him with starstruck gazes, but only the bravest of the bunch typically approached him. Teenagers, those who had just passed their verd’gotten, were better. But they mainly just wanted training help or to learn about his life as the tribe beroya. Din had always considered taking one on as an apprentice, but the whole Grogu thin got in the way. And now they were-well. It wasn’t happening any time soon.

         “Ben’ika,” Dain said, softer this time. When Ben didn’t look up from his hands, Din slowly reached out and set a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m not mad or upset at you. I just- I have some issues with the way your buir has handled the situation.” Ben was now looking at Din out of the corner of his eye. Din took this as a good sign and kept going. “You are doing a great job. I’m incredibly impressed. Your buir’s actions are just ori’suumyc for me.”

         Ben winced and opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t- I can guess, but I don’t know what that means. I know ori is big.”

         Breath Din. Ben had already shown that he had an understanding, at least a basic one, of Mando’a. It’s entirely possible it was just a niche or uncommon phrase. Din didn’t know any Mandalorians outside of his tribe, so that was possible.

         “Ori’suumyc means one step too far, or outrageous,” Din explained. The way Ben visibly processed the information, nodded, and smiled was endearing. There was a shuffling coming from Ben and Satine’s room. “Can we continue this conversation later?”

         “Sure,” Ben agreed. “I don’t think Satine would appreciate- uh-“

         “Criticizing her buir?” Din guessed.

         “Among other things.”

         Satine came out of the room, and Din was honestly a little impressed at her lack of bed hair. Manda knows Din got it bad, and his hair wasn’t that long. Maybe she had been awake longer than Din had thought and had brushed it. Her regal posture definitely didn’t indicate any tiredness.

         “Good morning,” Satine greeted. Din didn’t miss how she only smiled when she looked at Ben.

         “Morning Satine.”

         “Jate vaar’tur.”

         Satine sniffed and went over to their food pile. As she went through the options, Din stood up.

         “I better go get Grogu,” Din said. “If he sleeps much longer, he’ll make a fuss at bedtime.” It was a hard-learned lesson.

         Din grabbed a piece of non-spiced jerky for Grogu to have for first meal. He pointedly ignored the whispers between Ben and Satine as he walked into the front bedroom. There was a small lump settled on one of the pillows. The covers over it were moving in a steady rhythm.

         Din quietly walked over to the bed and pulled the cover off Grogu. He whispered, “Hey, kid, time to get up.” Grogu whined, curled into a together ball, and buried his face into the pillow. Din sighed, part fond and part exasperated. Din rested one hand on Grogu’s head and gently stroked his brow. “Yeah, I know. But look, I brought food.”

         Grogu peeked one eye open to see the piece of jerky Din offered. The kid considered his offer before huffing. Grogu sat up and held his hands out, greedily accepting Din’s offering. Din was impressed at Grogu’s grumpy expression. He didn’t think someone so small, who was eating food, could look so annoyed at the world. Din moved to go grab a pouch of water, but Grogu whined again.

         “Yes, ad’ika?” Din asked. Grogu patted the bed, and Din sighed, entirely fond this time. And, of course, Din sat down, allowing Grogu to climb onto his lap and rest back on his chest. “Happy?”

         Grogu gurgled a confirmation and continued eating his breakfast. Din could hear Ben and Satine talking but couldn’t make out the words.

         “Patuu?” Grogu asked, holding his half-eaten piece of jerky up to Din.

         “Thank you, ad’ika, but I already ate,” Din said, chuckling. Grogu cooed and continued to eat. Din let his thoughts wander. Satine didn’t seem to like Din very much. Correction, as Din thought on it, she didn’t seem to like it when Din was violent or (curiously) speaking Mando’a. Maybe whatever a New Mandalorian was didn’t correctly teach their ade? That was the only conclusion Din could come to with Ben’s shaky knowledge of Mando’a and Satine’s apparent distaste. It seemed that New Mandalorians were claiming to be Mandalorians without doing any Mandalorian thing. Because no real Mandalorian buir would let their unarmored and weaponless ade be hunted. It was more frustrating than the time Din went on a four-planet wild bantha chase for a bounty. A pursuit that ended in Din nearly being thrown into a fighting ring.

         “Ba?” Grogu cooed, gently slapping Din’s chest. Din hummed and looked down at him. Grogu looked back, eyes wide with concern. “Patuu?”

         “I’m ok, Grogu,” Din said, gently stroking one of Grogu’s ears. “Just trying to figure some things out.” Grogu was satisfied with his answer. Then the kid promptly burped, causing Din to laugh at Grogu’s startled expression. “I guess first meal was good, then?”

         Grogu smiled and slid himself off the bed, landing with a light thump. Din stood up as Grogu began to walk to the door. Din walked heavily behind him, hoping to warn Ben and Satine that their conversation was about to be interrupted.

         Grogu squealed when he saw Ben and ran as quickly as his little legs would allow. Ben chuckled and quickly picked Grogu up when the kid reached him. Din didn’t know when Grogu decided he liked Ben that much, but Din wouldn’t complain. It was cute watching Ben and Satine respond to Grogu’s babbles with smiles. Made them actually look their age for once. Din supposed that Ben could talk to Grogu in the same way Ahsoka was able to. So Grogu probably enjoyed having someone understand him for once.

         Din had to swallow the lump in his throat. Because for all this scene, and Grogu, made him happy, it wouldn’t last. Grogu would be better off somewhere he could communicate easily and where he didn’t have to worry about getting shot at or blown up. Yes, as much as Din loved the kid (and yes, he was finally able to admit that to himself), Din knew he was only a temporary home.

         A fleeting thought struck Din as he sat down to watch the kids talk and levitate the wrapper from Ben’s food. It wasn’t the first time Din had thought of it, but he didn’t want to linger and build up false hope. But, Ben clearly had the same powers as Grogu. Maybe, just maybe, whoever taught Ben the Force would be willing to teach Grogu. Or maybe even Ben would be willing to teach Grogu the basics. Then, Din could stay with his kid, and Grogu would be able to learn. It was a nice thought.

         A wrapper was floated in front of Din’s face. Grogu’s cooing told Din it was the kid floating the object.

         “Good job, kid,” Din praised, chuckling when Grogu lit up, his babbling kicking up a notch.

         “He’s strong in the Force,” Ben said. “Like Master Yoda and Master Yaddle are.”

         “Who?” Din asked. He remembered that Ben had called Grogu the first name when they first met.

         “Master Yoda and Yaddle are the same species that Grogu is. Probably 800 hundred years older or so.” Ben shrugged. “I don’t know what kind of species that is. They refuse to say.”

         The lump in Din’s throat returned at the reminder that Grogu would easily outlive Din. And, if Ben was true and Grogu would live to be 800 years old, the time that Grogu spent with Din would be a minuscule fraction of the kid’s life. Would Grogu even remember Din? Another reason why Din can’t be selfish and keep Grogu with him. Grogu would need someone to care for him after Din dies. Because Din imagines it’ll be another 100 years or so before Grogu is on par with a human child. And Din, despite his best efforts, would never live that long.

         “Din?” Ben asked, startling Din out of his thoughts. “Are you ok?”

         “Yeah, I uh-“ Din paused and blushed as he realized something. “I never told you my name.”

         Ben also blushed. “Oh, uh, Grogu told me. I, uh, I hope that’s ok? I don’t have to call you that if you don’t want.”

         “No, it’s ok. I didn’t even realize I didn’t share it. Most people just call me Mando,” Din said. He really hadn’t meant to forget to introduce himself.

         “Is that what you want us to call you?” Satine asked, looking uncomfortable with the idea.

         “No. You can call me Din. Uh, my name is Din Djarin,” Din finally introduced himself. It was weird to tell his name to people he’d only met the other day. But these were ade, and Din didn’t want them to be uncomfortable around him because he refused to share his name.

         Ben looked at Satine nervously. She looked back, shocked, clearly knowing what he was trying to convey. But before she could say anything, Ben turned back to Din and smiled awkwardly. “My real name is Obi-wan. We, uh, I decided to use a fake name. Obi-wan is pretty uncommon in this part of the galaxy.”

         That was fair. Obi-wan was certainly not a Mandalorian name. Din wondered if Obi-wan had been adopted or if his buire decided to name him based on wherever they originated from.

         “Alright then, Obi-wan,” Din said, looking at Satine. “And Satine?”

         She smiled tightly. “No secret names for me, I’m afraid.”

         “Well, feel free to let us know if you come up with one,” Din said, solely because he wanted to make his kids (as in the kids under his protection not- no. Nope, not going there) smile. It worked.

         “So, how long do we plan on staying here?” Satine asked. Grogu demanded to be let down, so Ben- Obi-wan (that was going to take getting used to) set the kid on the floor. Grogu began to wander over to one of the wall-mounted cabinets.

         “Well, baring being found, we can stay here another night to two,” Din said. “It would be good to figure out where we wanted to go before heading out.”

         “I can look at my datapad to see if there are any friendly settlements nearby,” Obi-wan offered.

         “I want to look around and see what things might be of use,” Din said, thinking of the greenhouse and garage.

         “I can help you with that,” Satine said, though she looked like she’d rather not. But Din wasn’t going to say no to the help.

         “Alright, go, team,” Obi-wan said dryly.

         “What kind of team are we?” Din asked, half-joking, as he stood up.

         “The jury-rigged kind,” Satine responded, prompting Din and Obi-wan to laugh.

         She wasn’t wrong.

Chapter Text

            Satine had been side-eyeing Din for the past 10 minutes. She was picking her way through a cabinet in the greenhouse as Din tried to dissect some type of moisture cell to see if he could get it to work. Obi-wan had offered to watch Grogu while researching places to go, throwing a look at Satine that Din chose not to interpret. So the greenhouse was silent aside from Din’s occasional grumble or complaint.

         Din felt a wire connected to the condenser, but he couldn’t tell if the wire had been shorted or not through his gloves. So he unhooked the gauntlet on the back of his right hand and removed his glove. He set the pieces softly on the ground and reached his hand back into the cell. Din felt the wire and noted it felt melted, meaning it needed to be replaced. Din moved the cell to see if he could see inside the cell.

         “Have you found any spare wires?” Din asked Satine. “And maybe a toolkit?”

         Satine hummed, and Din heard her rummaging around. “Actually, yes.”

         She set down a toolkit and a basket of spare wires next to Din on the work table. Din noticed Satine’s curious glance at Din’s hand in the moisture cell.

         “Mind giving me a hand?” Din asked. “It’s probably more interesting than rummaging.”

         Satine shrugged and handed the cutters that Din pointed to. Din narrated what he was doing. Din had a feeling the girl had never been taught to do such repairs. When he replaced the wire, Din removed his hand from the inside of the machine. He turned it on and smiled in satisfaction when it turned on and began to suck air in. Din pulled his glove on and reattached the gauntlet. He turned the moisture cell off.

         “There, now we don’t have to worry as much about water,” Din said. “Did you find anything of interest in the cabinets?”

         Satine shrugged. “Scraps and junk. I wouldn’t know if any of it is useful.”

         So that is how Din went through each cabinet with Satine, explaining to her the different uses of the things they found. It took some time, but by the time they finished the last cabinet, Din was reasonably confident the girl would be able to identify things of use in the garage when they searched it. They had a pile of useful pieces and, much to Din’s enjoyment, a Dl-18 in decent condition with some extra ammo.

         It was apparent Satine didn’t know how to use a blaster- apparently due to some extreme pacifism. But Din was not content in letting her carry only one vibroblade for protection (yes, Din had noticed that Satine never returned his knife. He had two others, so it wasn’t a loss).

         “After we clear the garage and check in with Obi-wan,” Din said, holding up the blaster, “I’m going to show you how to use it, just in case.”

         “But, I-I will not-“ Satine spluttered. “I will not use violence!”

         “And that’s a noble thought, ad’ika,” Din said gently. “But Death Watch doesn’t feel the same, and there’s no way to guarantee Obi-wan, and I will be with you at all times.”

         “I refuse to harm anyone- it is barbaric!” Satine exclaimed. Din filed that under ‘What the hell is a New Mandalorian.’

         Instead of going on a tangent about their culture and how important it was to learn to protect yourself so you could protect others, Din said, “You won’t have to. There’s a stun setting. Completely harmless aside from maybe a headache when they wake up.” Well, harmless except in certain circumstances, such as multiple and close-up hits. But Din didn’t think that information would help his case.

         Satine had a suspicious look on her face. “Why do you care so much about us?”

         Din's heart broke just a bit. Did she really not know how important it was to help teach and protect others? “Ba'jur, beskar'gam, ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor- An vencuyan mhi,” Din recited, hoping that Satine understood. The Resol’nare was the simplest way to explain why Din cared so much about her and Obi-wan’s safety. Clearly, their buire were not following the tenants, so Din would step up and do it himself.

         But his reciting had the exact opposite effect that he had wanted. Instead of understanding, Satine looked confused and annoyed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

         “You- you don’t know?” Din whispered, his heart entirely breaking this time. Din fully believed now that these ‘New Mandalorians’ were fakers, Mandalorian only in name. Poor Satine, not knowing the importance of the Resol’nare to her people.

         “I do not speak much Mando’a,” Satine said with a tilt of her head that vaguely reminded Din of Bo-Katan. “It is a barbaric language for a barbaric people. To learn and speak it would only perpetuate the revolting violence that Mandalorians have been known for.”

         “Me’ven?” Din asked, not believing what he was hearing. “You must be kidding, it-it is our language, the language of your people and your ancestors. It is an important part of our culture.”

         “A culture that is steeped in violence, death, and war,” Satine snapped. “Mandalore needs to modernize and leave the past in the past. Mando’a and fighting will only remind people of the violence. The New Mandalorians will lead Mandalore to a brighter, safer, and more peaceful future.”

         Din stared at Satine, lost for words. He mourned for her, never knowing what it meant to be a true Mandalorian. Din noticed Satine’s expression falter the longer he was silent. Suddenly, Din realized he had stepped closer while Satine had been speaking and was not towering over the girl. Din took a deep breath and took a few steps back.

         “I-You can’t-“ Din cleared his throat. His words came out softer than he meant them to. “If it wasn’t for the Mandalorians, I would’ve died when I was ten, along with my parents and nearly everyone else in my town.” Satine was silent, so Din continued, closing his eyes against the onslaught of memories.  “The droid army came and was shooting everyone in sight. My parents hid me in a cellar, and I heard them be killed right after. The droid saw them hid me, so it opened the cellar doors and was about to shoot. Then, a Mandalorian came from behind and destroyed it. He, he rescued me, and when there was no one else to take me in, he adopted me.”

         “I-I am sorry for your loss,” Satine muttered. “But you were a child and never should have been taught-“

         “I begged buir to teach me to fight,” Din interrupted her. “I wanted to be able to protect my new family and my clan. It is why I became my clan’s bounty hunter, so I could provide for them. No one forced me, or anyone in the clan, to fight.”

         “You don’t take your helmet off in front of people,” Satine stated. “I imagine you were indoctrinated and taught that you had to do that or else. That is not healthy.”

         Satine was looking at him, daring him to deny that. But, Din has had time to think about his childhood and the fact that he was raised in a cult. So Din nodded. “Yes. I was raised in a traditionalist cult. But how is that a mark against all Mandalorians?”

         “It shows traditional Mandalorian culture can be contorted. I mean, just look at Death Watch! Your, hm, clan, and Death Watch are two examples of how Mandalorians can be manipulated.”

         “And how does erasing our culture fix that?” Din asked. “Do you really think all Mandalorians will go along with it? And what about Death Watch? Those extremists will not listen to it.”

         “We will show how beneficial peace, New Mandalorian leadership, is for our people. Our cities are safer without weapons being carried by everyone,” Satine insisted.

         “I doubt that will work. Mandalorians are stubborn,” Din said. Satine crossed her arms.

         “They will see reason.”

         “You plan to out stubborn them?” Din chuckled. “Sounds very Mandalorian.” Satine sputtered and went silent.  Din sighed. “Please just let me show you how to shoot. I’m not really one for politics, so I’m not really the person to debate with. Plus, I’m not exactly someone that can speak for all Mandalorians. Cult and all that.”

         Satine pursed her lips. “Fine. Only if you swear to try and avoid killing while you are with us.”

         Din weighed his options. It would be much harder if their assailants were left alive. They could chase them down easier. But, if Din could teach Satine to defend herself, she would be able to take care of herself in the future. “Ok. I will try. But if it is the only option….”

         “There is always another option instead of killing someone,” Satine argued. “But, because of the circumstances, I will accept that.”

         “Alright.” Din gently slapped his thigh. “Let’s go check on Obi-wan and Grogu. And get some food.”

         “Alright,” Satine agreed and left the greenhouse at a quick, but not quite running, pace. Din looked at the blaster and took it, deciding to give it a thorough cleaning. Din left the greenhouse in time to see Satine enter their hideout.

         When Din entered, Obi-wan was looking at the door to his and Satine’s room, which was shut. Grogu babbled, a touch concerned, as we walked over to Din. He hopped up on Din’s foot and tugged on Din’s greave.

         “It’s ok, Grog’ika,” Din assured the green kid. “She’s ok.

         “What happened?” Obi-wan asked, setting his datapad down on the couch next to him.

         “Me’bana,” Din said. Might as well teach more Mando’a to the one receptive teenager.  “What happened?”

         Obi-wan smiled slightly. “Me’bana?”

         “Jate. We had a, uh, political disagreement.”

         Obi-wan sighed and rolled his eyes. Apparently, he knew exactly what Din meant. “Yeah, Satine is, well….”

         “Atin sa Mando’ad?” Din deadpanned. “Stubborn as a Mandalorian?”

         Obi-wan chuckled briefly. “Yeah. But I don’t think she’d appreciate the comparison.”

         “She didn’t.”

         “Ah,” Ben clicked his tongue. “That explains the huffiness.”

         “Bah!” Grogu slapped his greave, demanding attention.

         “Ok, ok,” Din said fondly, picking Grogu up. “Better?” Grogu cooed and settled into Din’s arms. “Brat.”

         Obi-wan was smiling at them as Din moved to take a seat next to him. “He adores you, you know? Calls you buir and talks about all the cool things you do.”

         Din didn’t hear if Obi-wan said anything else because he was stuck on the fact that Grogu called him buir. Din stared down at his ad’ika in awe. Grogu smiled up at him. Din tried to blink his tears and lifted Grogu up so he could give him a Keldabe kiss.

         Grogu cooed and set his hands on Din’s helmet. Din whispered words he hadn’t dared to do more than think. “Ni kry’tayl gai sa’ad, Grogu. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

         Grogu had closed his eyes, and Din followed suit, cupping the back of his son’s neck with a hand. Din could never claim to know how the force magic worked. But he could swear at that moment, something in the air screamed, ‘this is right, this is good.'

         Din lowered Grogu back to his lap and tried to blink away the tears clouding his vision. Grogu collapsed against Din’s stomach with a content huff.

         “He’s radiating happiness,” Obi-wan said gently. He was looking at Grogu with a fond yet slightly sad expression. “He’s basically saying ‘finally.’”

         Din’s cheeks were hurting from his smile. “He adopted me a long time ago, didn’t he?”

         “Oh yeah,” Obi-wan said. His head tilted slightly. “He’s saying it was when you came back for him?”

         Din’s breath was taken away. Grogu had considered him as buir for that long? Considering it, Din had probably emotionally adopted Grogu the first time the kid had held his finger and smiled at him. Din held Grogu up to his chest.

         There was a shuffle, and Din looked up to see Satine standing in the doorway. She was staring at Grogu, expression unreadable. But, Din noted with a hint of alarm, she had tears in her eyes.

         Obi-wan noticed it too. “Satine? Are you ok?”

         She sniffed and looked away. She nodded tensely and sat down at the dining table. Grogu lifted his head from Din’s chest and cooed. One look at his ad, and Din knew what Grogu wanted. Din set Grogu on the ground and watched, heart, warmed, as Grogu toddled over to Satine and held his arms up. Satine’s shoulders dropped, and she picked Grogu up. Grogu smiled, satisfied, and closed his eyes to take a nap.

         “You know you can’t move now?” Din asked jokingly. “He will complain about it if you do.”

         The way Satine looked at Grogu only solidified her potential to be mandokarla in Din’s mind. Passionate, loves kids, and wants the best for her people? She was more Mandalorian than she wanted to admit.

Chapter Text

           Din hadn’t asked Satine to help him comb through the garage. The girl was silent beyond muttering to Grogu. She didn’t seem too upset, and Obi-wan had stopped eyeing her, so Din figured she was deep in thought or something similar.

         Din had been in the garage for a few minutes when Obi-wan walked in and opened a cabinet a few feet away from where Din was going through a tool chest. Obi-wan didn’t speak, so Din just continued his rummaging.

         “Satine isn’t a bad person,” Obi-wan said softly, slightly startling Din.

         “I know,” Din muttered. “I never thought she was.”

         “And she’s gotten better these last few months,” Obi-wan continued as if Din hadn’t spoken, desperate to get the words out. “I think being away from Sundari has helped.”

         “I believe you, ad’ika,” Din said in his most comforting tone, not wanting Obi-wan to work himself into a panic. Obi-wan smiled awkwardly and looked back to his cabinet. Din continued rummaging, setting aside things he thought might be useful. It was quiet, and if Din strained his hearing, he could just barely hear Satine muttering to Grogu.

         “You said you were trying to find Grogu a Jedi teacher,” Obi-wan said, breaking the quiet. When Din hummed in confirmation, he continued. “Why adopt Grogu if you want to give him to the Jedi?”

         Din thought about his answer and responded slowly, “The Armorer of my clan gave me the mission to reunite Grogu with his people. I found a Jedi, but she would not train him. The Seeing Stone was meant to be Grogu’s choice to be trained or not. Since it brought us here, I decided to take it as a sign from the Manda.”

         “How did you not know about the Temple?” Obi-wan asked, sounding a bit concerned.

         Din shrugged. “I’d never heard of a Jedi or the Force before Grogu. And most people I came across didn’t either.”

         “But Jedi go to the Outer Rim for missions,” Obi-wan muttered.

         “Maybe they’re good at hiding?” Din offered half-heartedly, noticing that Obi-wan was lost in thought. Din closed the chest he had finished looking through and inspected the locker next to it. “I wouldn’t want to be found if I were them.”

         It was a barely muttered afterthought, but Obi-wan jolted violently, dropping the box of scraps he was holding. Din turned towards him, worried questions on the tip of his tongue, but Obi-wan only stumbled further away. Din recognized the panicked look in Obi-wan’s eyes- it was the look his bounties had when they realized that Din was there to collect. It looked horribly wrong on the teenager’s face. So much so that it made Din nauseous.

         Slowly, Din set down what he was holding and raised his hands. Obi-wan’s hand had gone to rest on his saber hilt. He was looking frantically between Din and the door to the living room.

         “Udesii, verd’ika. What is it?” Din asked, forcing calm into his tone.

         Obi-wan looked back at Din with a narrowed gaze. “Why should the Jedi be hiding?”

         Din considers himself fairly intuitive and good at making deductions. Still, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what had Obi-wan so spooked and why he was caught up in Din’s comment.

         Din took a moment to consider his words, wary of making the situation worse. “I didn’t say they should- just that from what I get, they probably feel safer hidden.” Unfortunately, Obi-wan only tensed further, so Din rushed out his following words. “But I don’t think it’s illegal anymore, so they could come out if they want. Well, maybe. The Evaar’la Tsad Droten is a mess, so maybe they forgot to mention it.”

         Good news: Obi-wan no longer looked terrified. Bad news: he looked at Din like he’d grown a second head. Not ideal, but better.

         “I-wha-Me’ven?”

         “I don’t think it’s illegal to be a Jedi anymore, but nobody may have told them?” Din summarized. Obi-wan’s hand dropped from his belt and was now rubbing his forehead.

         “Who told you it was illegal to be a Jedi?”

         “I don’t think it was explicitly outlawed,” Din reasoned, trying to remember anything about the end of the Clone Wars. He’d been traumatized and preoccupied with joining the covert. The ending of the Clone Wars had only brought the relief of no more droid armies with it. “But most of them were killed and hunted too, so I think that was implied.”

         At least, that was what Din had gathered from his research and discussions with Ahsoka Tano. She, understandably, hadn’t wanted to talk much about it, and Grogu always looked distraught when it was brought up, so they hadn’t discussed what had happened beyond that Grogu had been there. Wait- was the temple Obi-wan mentioned the same one on Coruscant that Grogu had been in? Because there was no way, Din was making the kid back there. Din added that to his list of questions to ask later. Because Obi-wan currently looked a bit green.

         “Kid?”

         “I-I don’t understand,” Obi-wan whispered. “The Jedi aren’t dead.”

         “I don’t know what to tell you, kid,” Din said sympathetically. “Everything I’ve heard points to them being more endangered than Mandalorians.”

         Obi-wan looked more distraught and confused, so Din pulled out the stool from under the workstation. “Why don’t you sit down? Did you have second meal?”

         Obi-wan walked over and sat on the stool, staring vacantly in front of him.

         “I-“ Obi-wan violently flinched, curling into himself. Alarm bells were blaring in Din’s mind as he threw up both hands around Obi-wan to steady him. Din mentally went through every cause for Obi-wan's current state he could think of but came up with nothing. Obi-wan deeply inhaled, sitting straight up. He looked at Din with scared eyes.

         In a tone Din could barely hear even while standing next to him, Obi-wan whispered, “You’re from the future.”

Chapter Text

            Din hated how much sense it made. He hated how the various puzzle pieces swirling in his head were slotting together to create a picture. Din thinks he preferred the jumbled mess to the final picture.

         Because time travel? It’s kriffing ridiculous. Impossible even. But Obi-wan had said it with such conviction, and it made sense.

         “Osik.”

         Obi-wan let out a laugh that was uncomfortably close to a hysteric sob. Din, without thinking, stepped closer and pulled the kid into a hug, making sure Obi-wan’s head didn’t hit his chest plate too hard. Obi-wan let out a full sob this time, turning to hide his face in Din’s neck.

         “They’re all dead,” Obi-wan managed between sobs and hiccups. “And I- I-“

         “Shh, ad’ika,” Din murmured, stroking Obi-wan’s hair. “The future is not your fault.”

         “No!” Obi-wan cried, burrowing deeper into Din’s embrace. “I saw! I saw- I wasn’t there in time- I couldn’t save them-“

         Din was beginning to suspect that Obi-wan had a close relationship with the Jedi. He was also beginning to suspect that those lightsabers weren’t just a rare weapon that Din had only seen twice.

         But none of that mattered now, not when Obi-wan was still crying in his arms. Din slowly rocked the two of them side to side as he muttered old Mandalorian songs to Obi-wan. The ad’ika was gripping the edges of Din’s chest plate so tight his knuckles had turned white.

         There was a soft whoosh of a door opening, nearly inaudible over Obi-wan crying. A concerned Satine and Grogu were standing in the doorway, and Grogu’s ears drooped low. Grogu, from his place in Satine’s arms, held out a hand and opened and closed it in Obi-wan’s direction, letting out a pitiful whine.

         Obi-wan inhaled deeply, cutting off his next cry, and peak his head up from Din’s shoulder. Din didn’t know if some type of Force communication happened, but when Obi-wan saw Grogu, the teen sobbed again. Satine, becoming frantic in her worry, rushed over with Grogu. Immediately, Grogu pulled himself onto Obi-wan's lap, smushed between the teen and Din. Obi-wan’s arms wrapped around the child, hunched over as if trying to protect Grogu from the world.

         “I’m sorry, ni ceta, I’m so sorry,” Obi-wan let out a stream of muttered apologies, still rocking slightly in Din’s arms even after the man had gone still.

         Satine was looking between Din and Obi-wan, concern showing with a hint of suspicion. Din wanted to reassure her that Obi-wan was fine and that Din hadn’t done anything to him. But that wasn’t exactly the truth, was it?

         So Din settled for saying, “It’s hard to explain.”

         Satine didn’t like that explanation, but she still rested a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. Obi-wan had opened his eyes and was staring into Grogu’s. He wasn’t sobbing anymore, but tears were still running down his face.

         “I’m so sorry that you-“ Obi-wan hiccuped. Grogu cooed and rested on clawed hand on Obi-wan’s cheek. They must’ve been communicating mentally again because Obi-wan shook his head. “No, no, I’m not- I’m no hero- I couldn’t-“

         “Patu!” Grogu huffed and turned to stare at Din demandingly. The kid’s expression practically screamed, ‘do something about this!’

         Din was never good at denying his ad’ika anything, so he brought a hand up to rest on the back of Obi-wan’s head. “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about it right now, ok? Let’s get some water and food in you first, then we can, uh, figure things out.”

         Obi-wan sniffed and used his shoulder to try and wipe away the tears still on his face. He wasn’t actively crying anymore, but he still looked one wrong move away from bursting into tears.

         “Obi-wan, what happened?” Satine asked gently, reaching a hand out slowly to wipe away the tears Obi-wan missed.

         “I-uh-“

         “Apparently, Grogu and I are from the future,” Din said after Obi-wan struggled to get the words out. “It’s, well, it’s not been great for some time.”

         It was vague, but Satine still looked incredibly shocked. She looked between Din and Grogu as if trying to process the fact that the two beings in front of her were, chronologically, younger than her. Admittedly, it hurt Din’s head to think about it too much, and he already had practice with having a son who was older than him.

         Finally, Satine looked at Obi-wan for answers. The boy sniffed and straightened himself. Din let his arms fall but kept a steadying hand on Obi-wan’s back. “I had a vision- and uh, I saw, well, it was so bad-“

         When Obi-wan’s breath hitched, Satine cut him off. “It’s ok. You don’t have to describe it right now. I think Din’s idea of food and water is good, yeah?”

         Grogu exclaimed, “Baa!” settling the issue.

         Obi-wan stood up slowly, still cradling Grogu in his arms as if the kid was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. Din kept a hand on Obi-wan’s back until the kid stepped out of reach. Satine took over, holding onto one of Obi-wan’s arms as she led him back into the living room. Din took a moment to himself and took a depth breath.

         So, time travel. Clearly, they were in a time before Mandalore had been glassed and before the Jedi had been killed. Din didn’t know yet if the Clone Wars were currently happening or if they were even further back. Satine hadn’t really reacted to Din’s mention of the droid army, but that could also have been because it was buried in his mini-trauma dump. Grogu seemed to recognize Obi-wan from around the time of the Jedi Purge, so they’re probably not much over 80 years at maximum if Obi-wan was at an old age for a human at the time.

         Din’s best bet would be to figure out the year (and hoped he still remembered how to do the year conversions, which has been one of the biggest pains in the past few years). But, Din was worried that revealing how many years until the Purge happens would only send Obi-wan into another panic. From what Din could tell, the kid would take full responsibility for trying to stop it. Which, obviously, Din wasn’t going to let happen.

         Din allowed himself a single groan. All he had wanted was to get his kid safe; how the hells did he end up on the mission to save the Jedi from their massacre? He was a bounty hunter, for kriff’s sake. One who hadn’t even known Jedi were a thing until a few months ago. The Manda, the Force, or whatever, must’ve been laughing at him. Or incredibly desperate.

         Satine appeared in the doorway, eyes narrowed. Din resigned himself to an interrogation. He was kind of curious how a pacifist would pull that off.

         “Me’bana?” Satine demanded. Din let himself have a moment of victory at the girl using Mando’a. “The future? How do you expect me to believe that?”

         Din shrugged and decided to sit on the stool Obi-wan had been sitting on. “Obi-wan and I were, uh, discussing Jedi, and it turns out they’re still alive now.”

         “What?”

         “In my time, almost every Jedi was killed nearly 30 years ago*. They called it the Purge.” Din said, watching the devastating and understanding cross Satine’s face. “Obi-wan is a Jedi.”

         It wasn’t a question- it was the only explanation that Din could come up with for Obi-wan's reaction to the news. And he could use the Force and had a sword. As Din understood, those were the main qualifications to be a Jedi.

         Still, Satine nodded in confirmation. “Yes, he is, um, on a mission-“

         “To protect you from Death Watch,” Din filled in. Satine nodded again, and Din filed away his questions about why she was important enough for Death Watch to want to kill for later. “But, yes. The Jedi are dead, and Obi-wan didn’t take it well, and-“

         Din cut himself off with a shrug and a gesture to the living room. Satine looked back for a moment before focusing on Din again. “And Grogu?”

         “From what I know,” Din said softly, “He was smuggled out of the temple in the midst of it.”

         Satine gasped in horror. “So he saw….” Din nodded grimly. “Oh, the poor thing.”

         Din let her sit with her thoughts. He couldn’t hear any crying, so he was ok with staying where he was for a few more minutes. After a minute, Satine asked, “And Mandalore? What’s been going on?”

         Din winced, expression hidden by his helmet. “As far as I know, not much.”

         “So the New Mandalorian leadership worked?” Satine asked hopefully.

         “Mandalore was glassed- bombed to the point of uninhabited. Most Mandalorians were killed. I can only assume that included the New Mandalorians.”

         “Oh.” Satine deflated. “Who did it?”

         “The Empire,” Din responded before realizing that was a whole other conversation. “But that’s a long story that Obi-wan should hear.”

         Satine huffed but agreed. “Ok. But not right now.”    

         “Definitely not,” Din agreed. It was a bit funny. Obi-wan was apparently the topic that two vastly different Mandalorians could agree on.

         When they re-entered the main room, Obi-wan was curled up on the couch, Grogu resting back on his leg that were tucked up. There were two empty wrappers and a water pouch on the table. Obi-wan was muttering something to Grogu, a small smile on his face.

         Grogu interrupted whatever Obi-wan was saying with a squeal when Din walked in. Obi-wan gave Din a small, awkward smile.

         “Hi. I was just telling him some stories about my childhood and friends.”

         Din hummed and took a seat at the dining table. Satine sat on the opposite end of the couch from Obi-wan, pulling her feet up too. “Mind sharing? I’d like to hear about growing up in a Jedi Temple.”

         Obi-wan froze for a second before chuckling sheepishly. “Ah. You figured that out.”

         “Yes,” Din said. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want.”

         “No, no, I don’t mind,” Obi-wan assured. “Maybe you can also share some stories?”

         Din chuckled at the hidden interest in Obi-wan’s voice. “Sure.”

         “Satine?”

         “Of course,” Satine said. “But I’m not sure how they match up.”

         And so they swapped stories for the afternoon, Din taking the time to do a maintenance check on his weapons and armor. They should have been looking for supplies, places to go, and making plans. But, as Din watched Satine and Obi-wan laugh over stories of childhood pranks gone wrong, Din couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The teens were relaxed, and Grogu adored the attention. Who was Din to take away a moment of relaxation and security? He would happily keep watch and entertain with humorous stories about learning to be a beroya.

         They deserved it, especially if their soon-coming conversations would be as emotional as Din predicted.

Chapter Text

            They didn’t talk about it till the following day. Obi-wan said he needed to mediate before having any further conversation. Din asked if that was something Grogu was supposed to do, and Obi-wan had looked resigned to being Din’s Jedi expert.

         “He can join in a little while if he wants,” Obi-wan said before returning to his room. Thirty minutes passed before Din asked Satine how long mediating usually took.

         She shrugged. “It varies. I’m guessing it’ll take longer today with everything.”

         Din had gone with the answer and decided to get Grogu late meal. The kid was unusually quiet as he ate his jerky, repeatedly glancing at the door to the bedroom Obi-wan was in. When he was done, Grogu walked over to the door. Din quickly got up and followed him so he could open the door lest Grogu tried to use the Force to throw something at the controls.

         Din saw Obi-wan sitting on the floor of the room with his eyes closed. The teen smiled when Grogu came over but otherwise didn’t move.

         “This ok?” Din asked, watching as Grogu settled on the floor across from Obi-wan.

         “Yes.”

         With the confirmation, Din let the door close. Din gathered some food to eat and headed to his room. Before he opened the door, Satine spoke.

         “I know we aren’t talking about it tonight,” she said quietly, “But I have one question. You probably don’t know, but I need to ask.”

         “Go ahead,” Din prompted.

         “My family- my little sister,” Satine said, looking at Din with sad eyes. “We don’t get along very well, but I love her and, and I-“

         “Want to know if she’s ok?” Din guessed, already feeling bad about the unlikeliness Din knew Satine’s sister.

         “Yes. So, do you know anything of a Bo-Katan Kryze?”

         Din was stunned for a moment. “Actually, yes. I do.” Satine looked hopeful. “She told me where to find one of the last Jedi. She leads some other Mandalorians. Apparently, she’s planning to take Mandalore back.”

         Satine slumped like a puppet whose strings were cut. “Oh, thank the Manda.”

         “She’s a brave woman and a good fighter,” Din added, still a little confused about how Bo-Katan was Satine’s sister. They were very different people.

         Satine’s smile was small and a little bitter. “She has never been a fan of pacifism. But I am just happy she does well for herself.”

         There wasn’t anything Din could add to the conversation, so he left Satine to her thoughts and ate his dinner. Once he finished, he decided to clean and check over his helmet while he was alone.

         It had been about 15 minutes since Din entered his room when there was a knock on the door. Din put his helmet on and called the person in.

         Obi-wan was standing in the doorway with a fast-asleep Grogu in his arms. Din couldn’t help but chuckle at the small snores coming from his son.

         “He fell asleep while meditating,” Obi-wan said sheepishly. Din gestured for Obi-wan to lay Grogu on the bed.

         “Must mean he’s ok,” Din guessed, watching fondly as Grogu immediately curled up once placed on the bed. Obi-wan pulled the sheet up to cover him.

         “Yeah,” Obi-wan muttered.

         “And you?” Din asked. “Me’vaar ti gar?”

         Obi-wan shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, none of that stuff had happened yet, and maybe I can help it not happen. And it feels silly to mourn for people who aren’t even dead. But…”

         “But they’re your aliit,” Din said gently. “And the thought of something bad happening to them hurts.”

         “Yeah.” Obi-wan sniffed but did not start crying. They both looked at Grogu for a silent moment. “I think you were right when you said you and Grogu were sent here for a reason.”

         “Yeah?”

         “Yeah.” Obi-wan smiled slightly. “I think the Force is trying to give us a second chance.”

         “And why do you think that?”

         “When I was meditating, I asked the Force why- why it gave me those visions, why you and Grogu were here. When I considered the idea of changing the future, it felt right. There’s no good way to explain it.”:

         “I don’t know about the Force, but I do know that very few things are true coincidences,” Din offered. Obi-wan smiled again, bigger this time.

         “It’s funny. Acting on my visions, trying to change the future is the exact opposite of what my master has always told me to do.”

         “Master?” Din asked, slightly concerned. Satine had confirmed that Obi-wan was a Jedi, but the only people who used the term ‘master’ were slaves, as far as Din knew.

         “Oh, my teacher,” Obi-wan chuckled.

         “Jetii call their teachers master?” Din asked skeptically.

         “Yeah, it’s a respectful term used for older Jedi who have a mastery of the Force.” Obi-wan winced. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a Jedi.”

         “Don’t be,” Din waved off the apology. “The first thing I was told about Jedi was that they were enemies. I can guess you had a similar experience.”

         “More like to be wary around Mandalorians, but the younger you were, the better off you’d be.” Obi-wan shrugged. Din noticed the slump in Obi-wan's shoulders.

         “Why don’t you eat and get some rest,” Din suggested. “Going to be a long day tomorrow.”

         Obi-wan was silent for a moment as he looked at Grogu. Then, he nodded and said goodnight. Din stayed with Grogu, watching his ad’ika face scrunch in sleep. Gently, Din stroked a finger down Grogu’s ear. Grogu twitched

         Looking back on Din’s life, it was funny that he’d never been interested in having a child of his own. Yes, he loved the children of his covert, but having one of his own? It hadn’t been in the books.

         When Din was first adopted, he’d asked his buir what made them adopt Din. His buir had chuckled and replied, “When I first saw you, I knew in my heart you were mine.”

         Din had never really understood that until he met Grogu. No matter how often he told himself Grogu would be gone soon, his heart insisted that this little green Jedi was his ad’ika. He would gladly walk through hellfire if it would make Grogu smile. And here he was, doing the impossible and changing the future for the kid.

         It wouldn’t change the horrors Grogu has seen. But maybe whatever baby version of Grogu was out there (if there was? Din didn’t know how that worked out. Would there be a baby Din born soon?) would be spared the pain and be able to grow up to be a happy Jedi. And Maybe Din would be able to spare whatever fate Obi-wan and Satine had endured. Maybe Din could save his family and save his people.

         Just maybe.

         He’d probably already changed the future just by interacting with Obi-wan and Satine. But that was a wormhole of thought Din didn’t feel like thinking about (like would he have to make sure his buir meets young him? Was that even possible? Would Din just not be a Mandalorian in this timeline? Wasn't that a paradox or something?)

         There was a soft knock at the door. Satine opened the door and smiled softly at Din.

         “Do you want me to stay up first?” She asked quietly.  Din thought about it. He was tired, but Satine had just gotten a big shock too.

         “No. I’ll do it,” Din answered.

         “Ok,” Satine said. “But get me for second watch. I think Obi-wan needs all the rest he can get.”

         “Got it.” Din examined Satine, noticing a red tinge in her eyes. “How are you doing?”

         Satine frowned and rubbed her arm. “I- Can I get back to you an that?”

         “Sure. But, uh, if you need to talk, I’ll be here,” Din offered awkwardly. Satine smiled again, seemingly amused at his awkwardness.

         “Ok.”

         “Ok. Uh, jate ca, Satine.”

         “…jate ca, Din.”

Chapter Text

            The following day was quiet- even Grogu was feeling the somber mood. Obi-wan had a far-away gaze during first meal, and Satine looked lost in thought. Grogu had, immediately after being given food, plopped himself down on Obi-wan’s lap and refused to move. Din actually had to put food in both Satine and Obi-wan’s hands to get them to eat as neither teen attempted to get food for themselves. Din watched them eat and questioned if they really should have this conversation now. Logically he knew it was for the best as it would likely shape their next moves, but Din didn’t want to see Obi-wan or Satine break down.

         “So,” Din broke the silence after everyone was done eating, “How are we doing this?”

         Din didn’t get a response as Obi-wan and Satine looked at each other. Din started trying to mentally calculate his last known current year-9 ABY- into the old calendar system from before the Empire. So 9 ABY would’ve been roughly 28 AFE, leaving it being 7986 CRC. Probably. Din never kept track of the time much. He used what calendar system was popular and didn’t do much converting. It had never mattered before.

         “I’d like to know what happened to the Jedi,” Obi-wan said hesitantly.

         “And I the Mandalorians,” followed Satine.

         “I know more about the Mandalorians,” Din said. Obi-wan nodded, likely expecting that answer. Grogu cooed and patted Obi-wan’s leg. Obi-wan frowned.

         “Are you sure?” Obi-wan asked Grogu. “I don’t want you to relive such horrid memories.”

         Grogu huffed in the manner Din had learned was equivalent to ‘you’re a stubborn idiot, but I’m more stubborn, so I’m going to do it regardless of your feelings on the matter,” The kid, Din had found, was very good at displaying complex thoughts with minimal sounds. Or maybe Din just read into it too much.

         “Ah, well, alright then,” Obi-wan conceded. “Grogu said he will share what he remembers happening.”

         “We’ll do that last,” Din immediately decided. That way, if Grogu was as exhausted as Din thought he’d be, they would be done, and Grogu wouldn’t have to push through. “First things, I guess, would be to figure out just how far back we are.”

         “It’s 7937 C.RC,” Satine offered.

         Din did the math. “Ok. Uh, we were in 9ABY, which I think would be about 7986 C.R.C. So 49 years?”

            Satine and Obi-wan looked shocked at this, and Din knew his face was probably a close mirror. Grogu was laser focused on Satine’s hand he’d grabbed.

         “ABY?” Obi-wan asked.

         “After the Battle of Yavin,” Din paused. “Before that, it was AFE- after the formation of the Empire.”

         “So the Battle of Yavin toppled this Empire?” Satine asked while Obi-wan's face scrunched in displeasure.

         “No. Uh-“ Din shrugged. “Calendar system has been weird lately. The Empire fell around 3 ABY.”         

         “Ok. Let’s back up,” Obi-wan said with a shake of his head. “The Empire?”

         “Took over the Republic at the end of the Clone Wars, when the Jedi were killed.”

         “Clone Wars?” Obi-wan sounded even more distressed.

         Din paused. “…I might be getting ahead of myself.”

         “Yeah,” Obi-wan faintly agreed. “So, where do you start?”

         Din thought about the (frankly minimal) history education he had in the clan. That, plus what he had been able to needle out of Bo-Katan and her lackeys. “I don’t have any solid dates- what had been going on?”

         Satine frowned. “Death Watch was thought to have been destroyed some years ago. They have recently re-emerged and are terrorizing the people. They have tried to have me, my father, and my sister assassinated.”

         “Hence the protection detail?” Din guessed. Satine nodded. “Well, I already said your thing didn’t work out. As far as I know, Death Watch is also extinct, and my clan would be the only sort of remainder from it. We only survived because we did not live on Manda’yaim.”

         “But what happened to the New Mandalorians?” Satine asked, leaning forward in her seat.

         “From what I can guess, the Empire probably booted them out,” Din said. “I remember hearing about Mandalorian commandos working for the Empire. Mandalore was just another system under the Empire’s thumb.”

         “I-but- you mentioned Manda’yaim being ‘glassed’- bombed?” Satine said. “What happened?”

         “Mandalorians being Mandalorians,” Din said dryly. “Some Mandos decided they were done with being stuck under the Empire's oppression. The Empire didn’t take kindly to it and bombed the planet and then went down and made sure everyone was dead.”

         “But surely there were more Mandalorians left,” Satine argued, “A good number do not live on Manda’yaim. There’s a whole sect on Coruscant.”

         “They fled when the Empire came into power,” Din said with a shake of his head. “And most were slaughtered beforehand- many of them by the Imperial Commandos.”

         Satine looked horrified. Obi-wan reached out a comforting hand and rubbed it down her back. She covered her face with her hands for a moment, rubbing them slowly down. She muttered, “Sweet ka’ra.”       

         “Like I said last night,” Din gently said, “Your sister and her commandos are planning on taking back Manda’yaim now that the Empire’s gone.”

         Satine snapped, flying up from her seat. “And how does she plan on taking back an uninhabited planet where millions of her people were slaughtered?”

         “Well, I helped her steal an Imperial freighter.” Satine’s face twitched in a fashion Din had never seen before. “She’s recruiting survivors.”

         “And?”

         “And that’s all I know.”

         Satine spluttered, unable to come up with words. Finally, she all but collapsed back onto the couch. Grogu crawled onto her lap and reached up to pat a hand on her face.

         “Thank you,” Satine said quietly. Grogu cooed happily. Satine looked back up at Din. “And thank you for telling me.”

         “I think you have the right to know,” Din said. “As for the Jedi…”        

         Obi-wan was staring at Din, his desperate expression filling Din with pain. Din had lived through the purge of his people and knew how it felt. But he couldn’t imagine being 16 again and some stranger from the future telling him that the Mandalorians would be massacred by the Empire, sending his tribe into hiding.

         “The Clone Wars started in 3 BFE- before the Empire. Probably 7955 C.R.C. It was a war between the Republic and the Separatists- a group of planets that wanted to secede from the Republic,” Din explained.

         “And they went to war over it?” Satine asked, horrified.

         “Well, uh, from what I gather, the Republic wouldn’t let them leave. So, war.”

         “Why was it called the Clone Wars?” Obi-wan asked.

         “Well, the Separatist army was a droid army led by some live beings,” Din explained. “It was never explained how it came about, the Republic needed an army that could keep up. In comes millions of clones, all born and raised for war. They were led by the Jedi into battle.”

         “The Jedi?” Obi-wan asked in shock. “We are not warmongers and generals- we are peacekeepers!”

         Din shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what was behind that. I was a kid living on a backwater planet that, for a long time, was untouched by the war.”

         Satine’s face fell. “You said your people were killed by a droid army right before the Mandalorians found you. It was these Separatist’s army?” Din nodded, his throat closing up. “But, but why?”

         Din’s words came out quieter than intended. “I don’t know why. The Separatists were known for invading planets, or taking over planets that made treaties with them.”

         “But that makes no sense!” Satine jumped up again, causing Grogu to fall onto the cushion. She shot him an apologetic glance. “If the Separatists were trying to secede, why would they be conquering Republic worlds? Were they trying to take over? Logically, they shouldn’t have been the aggressors!”

         “The war was weird; I remember hearing people talk about it. Warriors in my tribe, after the war, used it to teach us what war shouldn’t look like.”

         Satine was pacing, but Obi-wan was still looking at Din. “How did the war end?”

         Din grimaced. “No one knows the exact details, but one day the Emperor broadcasted, saying there had been a coup and declaring the Empire.”

         “How does that relate to the Jedi being killed?” Obi-wan asked. Grogu climbed back onto the teen’s lap.

         Din shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I didn’t even know Jedi were a thing till a few months ago. They weren’t really talked about when I was a kid.”

         Grogu cooed, calling attention to him. Obi-wan held onto Grogu tight as the silence went on. Din could see tears forming in both ad’ike’s eyes. Both Satine and Din moved over, Satine sitting back on the couch and Din crouching next to the two. Neither of them spoke, not fully understanding how Obi-wan and Grogu’s communication worked.

         Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Obi-wan gasped wetly and hugged Grogu tightly to his chest. Din could make out Grogu gripping Obi-wan’s tunic tightly. Din didn’t bother suppressing his urge to hug them, gently pulling them and, by extension, Satine into his chest.

         “The Jedi were declared traitors,” Obi-wan muttered into Din’s shoulder, loud enough that they could all hear it. “The clones turned on the Jedi- I saw it in my vision. Masters were shot down unexpectedly by men they trusted. Grogu doesn’t know why. They marched on the Temple, led by a fallen Jedi and-and-“ Obi-wan let out a shuttering breath. “They killed everyone- the masters, the padawans, the initiates!”

         Din could feel Obi-wan’s shoulders shaking. Obi-wan didn’t keep speaking for another few minutes. Din was about to suggest they take a break when Obi-wan spoke, voice worryingly dead. “I saw myself-shot down from a cliff. I-I felt the confusion- the betrayal because the men I trusted- the man I -I-lo-“

         Satine shushed Obi-wan, clearly distressed at his tone. Din gently rocked their group back and forth. Din said, “It’s going to be ok, Ob’ika. We’re going to change things.”

         “We will save your people,” Satine swore with a fierce expression. “Just as we will save ours.”

         “Thank you.”

         They sat together for some time. Din didn’t bother to measure. At some point, Grogu wormed his way to nestle his head into the exposed section of Din’s neck. Din was pretty sure the kid had fallen asleep, and Din resolved to be on the lookout for nightmares. Both from Grogu and the two teens.

         “I think,” Obi-wan said in a faint tine. “I think we need to get Master Jinn.”

         Satine and Din shared a look. Satine spoke first. “Ok. Ok, we can do that.”

         Obi-wan looked up at Din, and immediately Din knew he could never say no to that face. The kid must’ve been giving him lessons.

         “We’ll leave tomorrow to wherever he is,” Din confirmed.

         “Sundari, most like,” Satine said.

         “Alright. We set course for Sundari in the morning.”

Chapter Text

            The next morning’s conversations consisted of checking in on each other, trying to figure out what to pack, and Obi-wan explaining the best path back to Sundari. Din also gave Satine and Obi-wan a quick lesson on proper blaster etiquette and helped Obi-wan do a maintenance check on his armor. While they were doing that, Satine fashioned a headwrap out of one of the bedsheets. It served two functions, she’d explained; it kept her out of the sun and covered her hair, so she’d be harder to identify. Din and Obi-wan had no complaints.

         The conversation moved to backup plans should they get attacked as they were traveling or camping out for the night as they packed the speeders and did a final check of the home. Din insisted that, if it came down to it, they would take Grogu and run while Din held off their attackers. Neither Obi-wan nor Satine were happy with that plan and protested loudly. Din let them win the argument, but privately Din resolved to protect everyone no matter what. Din trusted Obi-wan and Satine to take care of Grogu.

         As they got onto the speeders, Obi-wan waved his hand and once again covered the tracks they’d left in the sand. One last look at the home’s anterior confirmed it looked as abandoned as they had found it.

         Obi-wan took the lead, having been the one to map out their route beforehand. They were headed to a small town that was Southwest of Sundari. They’d be able to access any local gossip and refill any supplies. Din had the directions pulled up on his HUD, but he wanted to be able to protect and defend them from any attacks from the back. The one good thing about this desert was that it was hard to sneak up on them.

         Obi-wan and Din had connected their comms, and Satine had one in her ear. Din asked Obi-wan and Satine to tell him about their homes and family. The two teens were happy to talk about the people and places they love. Obi-wan discussed funny stories involving pranks he and his friends played on other Jedi (a boy name Quinlan Vos featured heavily in these stories) and told stories of missions gone hilarious wrong. He spoke fondly of Jedi traditions, and Din made notes to see if Grogu would be interested in celebrating some of these events.

         Satine spoke of the misadventures of her and Bo-Katan when they were younger, her time on Coruscant in school, and of the various places in the Mandalorian system she’d visited. Din could hear how much she loved her culture and people, and Din hoped she was beginning to realize why the extreme pacifism she’d talked about wasn’t realistic.

         When the teens fell silent, Din hesitantly began to speak of his childhood (his voice had never been so used before, and he was starting to feel it). At first, it was stories from the covert and learning to be a bounty hunter. Din couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he began to talk about Aq Ventia. The memories were fuzzy, but it didn’t hurt to think about which was a nice change.

         They stopped around midday and parked under a rocky outcrop to hide from the sun. Grogu happily ate the jerky Din gave him, and Satine took over watching him. She pointedly looked at Obi-wan, signaling that Din should talk to him.

         Obi-wan had sat on a stone slab and had his eyes closed. Din slowly approached him, two ration bars in hand. Din lowered himself, sitting next to Obi-wan, but didn’t speak. He opted to watch Grogu struggle through walking on the sand. Din lifted the edge of his helmet so he could eat his food. The second bar was placed on the ground next to Obi-wan.

         Din heard when Obi-wan took the ration bar and slowly ate it. Din lowered his helmet and put his empty wrapper in a pouch on his belt.

         “What’s going on, kid?” Din asked, not missing the tense way Obi-wan was carrying himself.

         Obi-wan sighed. “I- I am unsure how my Master will react to…all of this.” Din turned, so he was facing Obi-wan, titling his head in a clear indication for the teen to continue talking. “Master Jinn is big on focusing on the present. I am worried he will not take your stories of the future seriously.”

         “He is going to learn that his people were massacred,” Din said flatly. “I would assume anyone would take that seriously.”

         Obi-wan let out a bitter chuckle- a noise mirrored by Grogu, whom Satine was showing how to pile up sand and then destroy the pile. “I have a feeling he’ll say something along the line of ‘we can’t be certain that is actually our future.'”

         Din took a moment to look at Obi-wan; the teen’s shoulders were slumped, and he spoke with a tone telling of experience. “He's said things like that before?”

         “I’ve had visions since I was an initiate-a youngling, Obi-wan confessed. “Force visions of the future are commonly treated as something better to think on, not act on. Master Jinn, well, he doesn’t think they’re even worth spending much time meditating on.”

         “If he ignores the evidence right in front of his face, he is even more of a fool than I originally thought,” Din said. Obi-wan gave a small smile at that.

         “Best not to say that to his face,” Obi-wan playfully suggested. “He may take offense.”

         Din scoffed and decided at the first opportunity he could, he would most certainly tell Jinn precisely what he thought of the Jetii Master. The looked Obi-wan gave Din said that Obi-wan knew exactly what Din was thinking.

         Grogu tottled over, slipping over the sand. Din chuckled at his son and set him on his lap. Grogu slapped Din’s chest plate and giggled at the sound it made.

         “Having fun, ad’ika?” Din asked in amusement. Satine wandered over, taking a seat next to Obi-wan. Grogu cooed and crawled off Din’s lap to sit with Obi-wan.

         “He says yes,” Obi-wan translated with a smirk. Grogu laughed, took a handful of sand, and tossed it at Obi-wan’s chest. Obi-wan sputtered, and Din, Satine, and Grogu laughed at his outraged face. While Grogu was distracted, Din pinched some sand between his fingers and sprinkled it on Grogu’s head. Grogu gave an offended squawk and glared at Obi-wan; Grogu’s general cuteness ruined the expression. Obi-wan’s shoulders began shaking as the teen struggled and then failed to hide his laughter. Satine was doing a better job, her hand covering her smile. Grogu huffed and climbed over Obi-wan to sit on Satine. She stroked one of his ears.

         “Are they bullying you, Grog’ika?” Satine asked, still smiling. Grogu cooed and gave her his best Tooka eyes. Satine chuckled softly. “Oh, you poor thing.”

         Grogu leaned into Satine’s stomach and smiled victoriously at Din and Grogu. Din rolled his eyes at his son.

         “We should probably get going if we want to reach the town before nightfall,” Din said as he stood up, resisting the urge to groan at the action.

         Obi-wan followed, chuckling as he stood up. “Grogu wants to stay with Satine.”

         The little brat was clinging to Satine, his smug smile still in place. Satine still lavished him with attention and didn’t seem opposed to carrying him.

         Din still wasn’t any good at denying Grogu anything. “Fine,” Din sighed, handing Satine the satchel Grogu rode in. “Don’t let him peek out too much, or he’ll get sand in his eyes.”

         “Got it.”

         They rode on for a few hours more, occasionally stopping to take a drink of water and scan for any life forms. It was quiet, simultaneously relieving and putting Din on edge. A lifetime of bounty hunting had conditioned Din into distrusting silence and missions going to plan. Obi-wan seemed to feel the same, as his nervous shifting picked up each time they stopped. He would be looking around but deny sensing anything.

         As the sun got closer to the horizon, Din began to see buildings in the distance.

         “There,” Din pointed out, “I see the town.”

         “Good,” Satine responded. “Let’s hope there’s an inn.”

         “From what I can tell, the town is heavily populated by Mandalorians that aren’t Death Watch but also are still traditional. They should be friendly as long as we don’t reveal our true identities,” Obi-wan informed.

         “So even if there’s no inn, we should be able to get shelter,” Din concluded. “No true Mandalorian would let kids, or teens, sleep on the street. Adult guardian or not.”

         “And maybe I can talk to some people and get their opinions on New Mandalorian policies,” Satine mused. Din didn’t think that was a great idea.

         “Maybe,” Obi-wan said slowly. “Just be careful.”

         Satine agreed, and they finished their ride in silence. Homes with greenhouses, like the one they stayed in, began to pass. This time they were inhabited, and Din was pretty sure he noticed some figures watching them as they passed. Din supposed travelers weren’t terribly common.

         There was still some sun left as they entered the town. They hopped off their speeders and walked along them as they went towards the town center. No one stopped them or pulled a weapon on them, but Din and Obi-wan made sure to position Satine and Grogu between them.

         They reached a marketplace that was mostly shut down, with a few buildings still lit up. Most looked to be cantinas and other restaurants. Din could just make out the smell of a strong tiingilar through his helmet’s filters as they passed a restaurant with an opened entryway. What Din could clearly make out was the noise Satine and Obi-wan’s stomachs made. Adorably, both teens flushed.

         Din checked. “Why don’t we stop for late meal? We can also ask about lodging for the night.”

         Both teens agreed readily, and Grogu poked his head out of his satchel to coo his agreement. So they parked the speeders outside the restaurant under a sign declaring the establishment to be called ‘Draluram bal heturam.’ There was laughing and music coming from the restaurant. Din checked they their speeders were locked before motioning for Obi-wan to lead the way.

Chapter Text

            No one immediately pulled a blaster on them when they walked in, which Din would count as a win. Also, Din was pretty sure he saw a few Mandos swoon when Grogu popped his head out of the satchel, a sentiment he fully understood.

         Din gently nudged Obi-wan and Satine toward a table against the far wall. It was angled so they could all see the doorway (it looked like most of the tables were arranged this way). There were three chairs, so Satine rested Grogu on her lap. Grogu, uncaring for how much it raised Din’s blood pressure, climbed onto the table and sat down with a content coo. Obi-wan, after Din nodded at him, took his helmet off. Satine took her goggles off and pulled her scarf down from her mouth and nose, keeping it over her hair.

         A female Twi’lek walked over to their table. She wasn’t in full armor but had green and orange pieces on her arms and lower legs.

         “Su’cuy!” she greeted cheerfully, cooing at Grogu when the child waved at her. She set three menus down and a piece of coloring flimsy with crayons in front of Grogu. The kid started gnawing on the box to try and open it. “My name is Askhi, she/her. Can I start you all off with something to drink?”

         Obi-wan and Satine ordered the shig, and Din ordered varos juice for Grogu as he opened the box for the kid. Grogu quickly began scribbling over the outline of a cartoony mythosaur.

         “And you?” the waitress asked. Din shook his head, unwilling to lift his helmet. Askhi hummed. “I can get you a straw if that’s an issue.”

         Din considered it. “Tihaar then, please.”

         Askhi smiled and nodded along when Grogu babbled at her. “Got it. Those’ll be right up.”

         When Din looked over, after stopping Grogu from chewing on the crayons, Obi-wan and Satine had their heads bent over a menu and were pointing at different items.

         “I’m not going to have a fun night,” Obi-wan muttered as he scanned the menu. Obi-wan looked at Din with tooka eyes. “Help. My spice tolerance is mediocre.”

         Din chuckled and scanned the menu. “Well, they don’t seem to have bas neral, so if you were looking for no spice, you’re out of luck.”

         Satine snickered, and Obi-wan rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. What’s Grogu having?”

         Din hummed as he considered. “You might get some funny looks, eating the same thing as the ik’aad.”

         Satine nodded. “Yeah, Obi, you have to get something spicy, so you don’t expose us.”

         Obi-wan sputtered, and Din wished he had his comm out to take a picture of his face. Letting Obi-wan suffer Satine’s needling to get tiingilar, Din turned to Grogu. “Ok, kid, here’s what I’m thinking, roast shatual. It’s roasted meat, and I can ask for less spice than normal.”

         Grogu babbled as he scribbled a green streak on his paper. Obi-wan spoke, muffled since he had rested his face on the table, “He’s fine with that.”

         Din hummed. “Getting tiingilar?”

         “I’m going to die.”

         “We can ask for less spice,” Din said. “Like we will for Grogu.”

         “Ik’aad hetikles,” Satine teased. Obi-wan groaned.

         Ashki came back with their drinks in hand: two regular cups, one with a metal straw and one plastic one with a cap and straw. Grogu happily sipped his drink, the other hand slapping his drawing proudly.

         “Beautiful, little one,” Askhi said with a chuckle. “Do you know what you want to eat?”

         “Shatual for him, minimal spice if you can,” Din said as he pulled his drink out of Grogu’s reach. “Could I have some tiingilar to go?”

         “Of course,” Askhi said, writing a note on a flimsi-pad. She turned to Obi-wan(who had lifted his head off the table but still had a red mark on his forehead) and Satine. “How about you two?”

         “Two tiingilar, please,” Satine said with a smile, pointedly not asking for less spice.

         “And blue milk, please,” Obi-wan all but groaned, eliciting a smile from Askhi.

         “One shatual, hold the spice, one tiingilar to go, two for here, and a spice saver,” she said. “Coming right up.”

         “’Spice saver’?” Obi-wan questioned after the Twi’lek walked away.

         “Milk and bread to soak the tiingilar in, if I had a guess,” Din told him. “I had something similar when I was first adopted.”

         Grogu cooed, drawing their attention to the kid. He was looking at two approaching Mandalorians. They all tensed. The Mandos were fully armored, and the one on the left had their helmet off. Din noted that the holsters on their sides were emptied, but he could make out where there were likely knives and other things hidden. The right one was a burly human who looked like they could bench-press Din, and the one on the left was a tall Togruta. The Togruta was smiling but hiding their sharp teeth, and both Mandos had their hands visible as they got closer.

         “I don’t think they’re here to cause problems,” Obi-wan muttered. “But beskar messes with the Force.”

         “Su’cuy!” the Togruta greeted cheerfully. “My name is Cano, he/him, and this is my spouse Loeto, they/them.”

         They all greeted the couple, Grogu waving at them, causing Cano to wave back.

         “You seem to be new in town, so we figured we would stop over and see if there was anything you need help finding,” Cano explained.

         Loeto scoffed and removed their helmet so they could throw a fond look at Cano. “And you wanted to say hi to the kid.”

         Cano shrugged, unabashed. “Ok, that too. Your child is adorable. Can I ask their name?”

         Din hesitated for a second, but neither Obi-wan nor Grogu gave the impression that it was a bad idea. Din had to remind himself that there was no one in this time hunting Grogu. “Grogu.” Grogu cooed, as he did when Din said his name, and Cano melted. Loeto was smiling.

         “Su’cuy, Grog’ika,” Loeto said. Grogu held a hand out, and Loeto paused before awkwardly reaching their free hand out and letting Grogu grab onto their finger. Grogu shook Loeto’s finger, looking immensely proud of himself. He even looked back at Din as if in approval.

         “Very good ad’ika,” Din said, relaxing minutely into his seat.

         “You’ve raised a polite child,” Loeto said when Grogu released their finger, switching Basic after hearing Din speaking it.

         “I imagine you two are just as nice,” Cano complimented Obi-wan and Satine. “Your buir seems to be a good one.”

         Both teens flushed and stammered. After a moment, Satine stuttered out a “Vor’e.”

         “N’entye,” Cano said. “Are you all planning on staying for a while?”

         “No,” Din said, shaking his head. “Just for the night. You, uh, know a place where we can stay?”

         “There are a few rooms upstairs,” Loetoa said, jerking their head at the ceiling. “No inn or anything. Travelers aren’t terribly common.”

         “And the owner will probably give you a discount,” Cano added. “Since you’ve got three ade with you.”

         “Thank you,” Din said. Cano and Loeto said goodbye before walking back to their table.

         The rest of their night was uneventful. Askhi returned with their food and was happy to arrange two rooms for them, one for Din and Grogu and one for Obi-wan and Satine. Cano was right when he said they’d get a discount. Din was pleasantly surprised at the price they were quoted and had a suspicion that they weren’t charged for Grogu’s meal.

         When they went upstairs, Obi-wan and Satine offered to take Grogu so Din could eat. But both teens looked exhausted, and they had a long day ahead, so Din denied it. But after Din had set Grogu on the bed and down a security sweep of the room, Din hesitated to lift his helmet to eat. He’d down it before with the kid, lifting his helmet just enough to eat. But that was before he’d officially adopted Grogu. The door was locked, the windows firmly covered, and the kid could alert him if anyone was coming.

         Din took a fortifying breath as he sat next to Grogu and set his food container on the bedside table. Grogu cooed curiously at him. Din slowly lifted his hands to his helmet, Grogu watching his movement with a tilted head. He released the seals, and Grogu crawled closer, vocalizing more intently as Din lifted his helmet.

         Din opened his eyes when he set his helmet on the bed next to him, not remembering when he closed his eyes. The wall was a beige color, slightly different looking, with his HUD tinting it. Din felt Grogu climb onto his lap and slowly looked down at his son. Grogu was standing on Din’s legs, wide eyes roaming across Din’s face, taking in his messy hair and facial hair.

         “Patu,” Grogu whispered and slowly reached a hand towards Din's face.

         “Hey, ad’ika,” Din whispered back, swallowing heavily when Grogu touched his cheek, cooing in wonder. Din’s skin tingled where Grogu’s claws gently skirted across his skin. Grogu giggled when he starched Din’s overgrown stubble. “What do you think?”

         “Bah!” Grogu exclaimed. He stood on his toes and headbutted Din’s chin. Din’s heart warmed at the gesture, and he carefully lifted Grogu, so their eyes were level. Grogu leaned in and gave Din a proper mirshmure’cya. Din sniffed and went a little teary-eyed at his son’s expression of love.

         “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” Din said. “I hope you know that.”

         “Dara,” Grogu said. “Gar dara.”

         Din could stop the smile that split his face at Grogu’s attempt at Mando’a. “Good job, Grog’ika.” 

         Grogu refused to move from Din’s lap as he tried to eat. Din was surprised when Grogu didn’t try to steal any of Din’s tiingilar. Grogu was wholly focused on Din’s face, giggling when Din blushed in embarrassment. Grogu expressed disappointment when Din moved to put his helmet on again, and Din, still unable to deny Grogu many things, left it next to the bed as they laid down, Din’s back to the door with Grogu held protectively in his arms. Grogu, even as his eyes drifted shut, kept one hand on Din’s check.

Chapter Text

           No one was attacked in the middle of the night, and everyone looked relatively rested (Obi-wan seemed anxious but assured Din it wasn’t a Force feeling). Askhi met them in the morning outside the building, offering them directions to a nice place for breakfast. It was good (Din decided he would risk lifting his helmet to eat), and Grogu charmed the cook so much that they packed extra snacks and a lunch for their group. Din was marveling at the kindness they were being shown. In Din’s tribe, while they would do their best to care for orphaned kids, kids with adults with them wouldn’t just be given food for free. Food cost credits and Din was one of the only ways their tribe could get credits. He was a good bounty hunter, maybe one of the best in his time if he was feeling cocky, but the credits he made could only help his small tribe survive and no more.

         Askhi stopped them right before leaving, pulling a slim box out of the bag she had over her shoulder. She’d given it to Satine with a final remark: "So you can blend in better.”

         The box contained two vambraces, painted light green. Din took them to look them over as Satine gapped at the present.

         “They seem like training vambraces,” Din mused. “Durasteel, but can still take a hit.”

         “Why did she give me armor?” Satine asked, not sounding upset exactly. More baffled than anything.

         “To blend in,” Din repeated Askhi’s words blandly. It was a good idea, and Din had wanted to get Satine something from the start, but he didn’t have the credits. Also, there had been a 50/50 chance Satine threw them back at him.

         “We’re surrounded by Mandalorians who wear armor, Satine,” Obi-wan explained. “You’re the odd one out, which isn’t great for us. It’s a good idea. Besides, it’d be rude to reject Askhi’s gift.”

         Satine sputtered but quickly relented and strapped the vambraces on. Din was pleasantly surprised that she knew how to do it.

         “Now you look like a Mando’ad,” Din said as he sat on his speeder. Grogu was with him, the kid being extra clingy. Satine didn’t say anything in response, focused on examining her forearms.

         “Never thought I would wear armor,” she muttered. Din thought she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

         “It looks good on you,” Obi-wan said as he guided her to their speeder. Grogu poked his head up and cooed his agreement. “I like the colors.”

         “Light green for a lust for peace. Either we weren’t subtle enough, or Askhi is very perceptive,” Din said with a chuckle. “What do you think, Sat’ika?”

         “I- I like it,” Satine whispered, a hint of awe in her voice. “I-hm.”

         She went silent as she sat behind Obi-wan. Obi-wan put his helmet on and turned his comm on.

         “I think she’ll be ok,” Obi-wan said, probably able to feel Din’s worry. “Just a shock.”

         Din hummed, and then they were off. Trying to keep a conversation up, maybe to help distract Satine, Obi-wan asked about the meaning of different colors and why Din had never painted his.

         “Well,” Din said sheepishly, “I just haven’t had the chance. Paint is expensive, and going to markets is dangerous. Plus, it added a nice intimidation factor.”

         “When we get back to Sundari,” Satine spoke for the first time in nearly 30 minutes, “I can get you paint if you want it.”

         “I might take you up on that,” Din said, imagining what colors he’d use. Yellow, for his tribe. Maybe dark green, gray, or blue. Definitely some red for the Armorer. “Maybe you two can help me.”

         “That’d be fun,” Obi-wan said. “Maybe I can repaint this armor to something more fitting.”

         “Blue fits, but maybe some green would be nice. And brown,” Satine mused. Din was relieved that she seemed to have snapped out of her shock.

         Obi-wan and Satine chatted about various armor designs they’ve seen in the last few months. Satine never once brought up any New Mandalorian ideas on beskar’gam.

         “Can they make tiny armor?” Obi-wan mused. “Maybe Grogu would want some.”

         “Uh,” Din hesitated. “I don’t know. You get armor when preparing for your verd’gotten, roughly 14 for humans. I don’t know what that’d be for the kid.”

         Obi-wan hummed, and Din could imagine the way his face scrunched in thought. “Uh, probably 110ish?”

         Din hoped he would live long enough to see it, even if he was a feeble old man. “Well, maybe I can get the kid something protective anyway. For my sanity.”

         There was a bigger town they stopped at for lunch. They could see the dome of Sundari on the horizon. Reactions to Grogu were similar to the previous town, but since this town was bigger than that one, no one took particular notice of them. Obi-wan pointed out that more people were not wearing armor intermixed with the armored Mandos.

         Satine had inhaled sharply when she looked closer at them. “They're New Mandalorians,” she whispered.

         They all curiously watched a New Mandalorian human interact with an armored Mandalorian with a Mythosaur signet on their shoulder. They were both friendly and smiling as the armored Mando bought a piece of fruit from the stand. Neither seemed to carry animosity towards the other.

         “I’ve never seen a True Mandalorian interact so kindly with a New Mandalorian,” Satine said in awe. “I, I honestly didn’t know they could.”

         “Maybe things are different outside of the city,” Obi-wan suggested. “Less politics.”

         Satine smiled sadly as she watched a New Mandalorian parent introduce their shy child to a True Mandalorian, the child looking at them in awe. From what Din could tell, ‘True Mandalorian’ was an accurate, if simple, name. The True Mandalorian was kneeling in front of the child, the parent unconcerned. “I like it.”

         Din rested a hand on Satine’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s something you can try to bring to Sundari.”

         Satine didn’t say anything in response, but Din could see her taking everything in as they returned to their speeder. Din and Obi-wan were tense because as they got closer to Sundari, the risk of attack increased. The longer they weren’t attacked, the more Din tensed up.

         They stopped a klick away from the dome, hidden in the shadow of a rock formation. Obi-wan pulled his comm out and tried to contact his Master.

         “This might take a second,” Obi-wan said. “He’s not expecting me to call.”

         Din stood with Satine as she stared at the city. “Everything ok, Sat’ika?”        

         Satine was quiet for a moment. “I feel like a different person. So much has changed since I left.”

         “For worse?” Din asked as Grogu poked his head out to coo at Satine.

         “I-“ she paused and pursed her lips. “I don’t think so.”

         “Master!” Obi-wan's exclamation pulled Din and Satine’s attention.

         “Padawan?” a concerned voice, Master Jinn’s, sounded from the comm. “Is everything ok?”

         Obi-wan eyed Din and Grogu. “There was a, uh, unexpected complication.”

         “Are you ok? And the Duchess?”

         Obi-wan smiled. “Yes, Master, we are ok. Nothing bad happened. But, uh, we are about a klick from Sundari.”

         Jinn didn’t say anything for a minute. “Padawan?” Jinn said slowly. “Are you sure everything is ok? Because the Force is telling me something is up.”

         Obi-wan chuckled nervously, and Satine smirked at him. The girl took the comm and spoke. “Hello, Master Jinn. I hope everything is well?” 

         “Duchess,” Jinn greeted. “It is as well as it can be. Though I would not say it is safe enough for you to return.”

         “I’m afraid we felt this was the only option, due to the situation.”

         The sigh Jinn let out was something Din was familiar with. It was the exasperated sigh of a buir. It raised Din’s opinion of the Jedi slightly. “It is never a good thing when the both of you are being vague.”

         “We found two time travelers,” Obi-wan said, getting to the point. “A Mandalorian and a Jedi youngling from 50 years in the future. It’s, uh, not a good future.”

         Jinn didn’t respond for so long that they all shared concerned looks. Satine held the comm up to Din. “Uh,” Din said awkwardly, “hi,” Grogu added his own babble as his introduction.

         “Why do these things always happen to you, padawan?” Jinn asked tiredly. Obi-wan shrugged sheepishly.

         “To be fair, Sa-the Duchess and I weren’t doing anything that would cause time travel.”

         “Oh, yes, I’m sure,” Jinn muttered. The Jedi sighed again. “Send me your location; I will meet you there.”

         “Yes, Master,” Obi-wan chirped. “See you soon.”

         “Stay safe,” Jinn said before signing off.

         “That went well,” Din said. “You get into trouble often?”

         Obi-wan flushed. “Well, uh, maybe?”

         Satine giggled. “My favorite is the time with the gundarks-“

         “That was not my fault!” Obi-wan interjected. Grogu giggled at the teens’ antics. Obi-wan smiled at the kid. “I hope I can get a picture of Master Jinn’s face when he sees you, Gro’ika.”

         “I’ll take a picture with my helmet,” Din offered, much to the teens' enjoyment. Satine took off her headwrap and tried to arrange her hair into something more put together.

         “Do you think I should keep this on?” Obi-wan asked, looking at his armor.

         “Please,” Din said quickly, going gray at the thought of Obi-wan dancing around the Death Watch with only his lightsaber for protection.

         “You’ve earned it,” Satine said softly. “Besides, no one can fault you for wearing it after what we’ve been through.”

         Obi-wan nodded. “Yeah, ok.”

         Din heard the hum of an approaching vehicle. Din put his hand on his blaster and turned to cover Obi-wan and Satine.

         “It’s Master Jinn,” Obi-wan said, putting a hand on Din’s shoulder. “Remember, you promised to be nice.” Din hummed. “Din…”

         “Ok, fine, ad’ika,” Din sighed playfully. “I’ll be nice.”

         A speeder crested the nearest dune. Obi-wan stepped in front of their group, and the speeder stopped. The first thing Din noticed about the Jedi was his long hair. As the man exited the speeder, Din decided that Jinn looked about exactly what Din had imagined a Jedi would look like. Slightly scraggly with an air of mystique. He was also really tall.

         The Jedi approached Obi-wan, stopping and resting a hand on the teen’s shoulder, a smile on the man’s face. His eyes darted down for a quick look at Obi-wan's armor.

         “It is good to see you in good health, padawan,” Jinn greeted. Satine stepped up, and Jinn’s eyes moved to her, giving her vambraces a curious look. “And you too, Duchess.”

         Satine nodded at Jinn, and Din crossed his arms, drawing Jinn’s attention. The man’s face contorted hilariously, and Din quickly saved a screenshot of his HUD.

         “Master Yoda?” Jinn asked, losing his regal persona, confusion taking over. Grogu waved shyly at the Jedi.

         “Grogu,” Din corrected the Jedi, resting a hand against his son through the satchel. Jinn took in Din.

         “Huh,” Jinn said in a breath of air.

         “Yeah,” Obi-wan said sympathetically.

         “The future?”

         “Yeah, I know.”

         “Huh.”

Chapter Text

            Jinn looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than right there at that moment. His eyes were staring at the sky, and Din had a feeling he was questioning the gods- or the Force if that was something the Jedi did. Satine looked concerned, but Obi-wan looked like this was a fairly common occurrence and, yeah. Din had definitely felt that exact emotion these last few days.

         “We should go somewhere less exposed,” Din said after Jinn didn’t speak for another minute. Jinn took a deep breath and looked back at Din. He plastered a serene smile on his face, faltering for a moment after Jinn glanced back down at Grogu.

         “Yes, that is a good idea.” Jinn looked back at the teens. “It would be best if…”

         Jinn trailed off, giving Din a meaningful look. “Mando.”

         Jinn’s face twitched before settling again. “Alright, Mando. Mando should ride with me since he is new. We don’t want the security to mistake him for someone chasing you.”

         Din groaned, quiet enough that his vocoder didn’t pick it up but walked over to the speeder. Obi-wan gave Din a warning look when he walked past.

         “Padawan, a quick word?” Jinn asked, sweeping his hand to the side. Obi-wan nodded, and the two Jedi walked just far enough that they couldn’t hear what they were saying.

         Satine stepped up to Din, looking between Sundari and the Jedi. “Do you think Death Watch would try to attack us in the city?”

         She sounded nervous, and she was twisting her hands around one another. Din rested a hand on her shoulder. “You can ride in the speeder if you’d feel safer. I think Jinn just wants a chance to interrogate me.”

         Satine smiled but was looking at her feet. “I don’t like being afraid. But Sundari isn’t completely my home yet. It’s still too different.”

         Din didn’t know how to respond to that, but he remembered when he first joined the covert. He looked over his shoulder at every noise, convinced that a droid would pop out and shoot him.

         “I know what you mean,” Din said. “But all I can say is that it takes time, and no one should expect you to get over everything that quickly.”

         “Tell that to the advisors,” Satine muttered. Din offered to, which caused Satine to laugh. Which was not really what Din was going for, but he’d take it.

         Obi-wan walked back over to them, a grim expression fading from his face to form a neutral smile.

         “Are you all ready?” Obi-wan asked.

         “Patuu,” Grogu said, nodding his head before settling back into his bag. Obi-wan’s smile took on a genuine feel.

         “What he said,” Din added. Satine nodded, setting her shoulders back. Obi-wan led her to the bikes as Din got into the speeder with Jinn. They took off, Satine just behind them and Obi-wan behind her.

         Din, having little interest in making small talk or staring at the passing desert, checked in on Grogu and gave the kid a snack. Jinn was watching them interact without bothering to pretend he wasn’t.

         Be nice popped up in the corner of Din’s vision, the message box signaling it was from Obi-wan. Din scoffed quietly in amusement.

         “So,” Jinn said, “what Mandalorian faction are you a member of?”

         Din shrugged. “Not a big thing in our time.” Jinn pressed his lips together. Before opening his mouth to ask another question. Din interrupted him. “My turn; why did you leave two teenagers alone, one without any weapons or defense, when they were being hunted?”           

         The speeder jerked to the side before Jinn corrected it. The Jedi looked baffled at the question. What did I just say? showed up in Din’s HUD.

         Din looked away from the Jedi to give the man a chance to gather himself- see, he was being nice, Obi-wan- choosing to take in the approaching dome. Din had the faintest memory of a domed city when he was first taken in. His clan had to register him as a foundling and buir as his guardian. But they’d been on Manda’yiam for only a few hours before they left to join the rest of the covert. The most Din remembered was thinking he never wanted to live in such a crowded place. Granted, the sewers felt a bit too much in the opposite direction.

         “I had full faith in my Padawan’s ability to protect the Dutchess,” Jinn eventually said, managing to have tampered down most hints of annoyance in his tone.

         “But two teenagers against a cult of fully trained, adult warriors?” Din needled. “Jetii or not, that’s not a fair fight. And if they’d gotten separated, or Obi-wan couldn’t fight? Then what?”

         “I believe it is my turn to ask a question if that is what we are doing?” Jinn said dryly. Din sighed but tampered his growing anger, letting Jinn go. Might as well play this game. “Alright, what did Obi-wan mean by a ‘bad future’?”

         Din scoffed. “What part of it? The massacre of Mandalorians or the genocide of the Jetii? Or maybe the Clone Wars or the Rebellion against a fascist Empire?”

         Grogu cooed sadly, reacting to Din’s bitter tone. Din gently smoothed a hand over his son’s head. When Jinn did speak, Din looked over and saw the Jedi had a white-knuckled grip on the steering yoke. The man’s face had blanched, and Din could see his chest moving in deep, rhythmic breaths.

         “Ah,” Jinn cleared his throat. He still sounded hoarse when he continued. “Well, I suppose it is a good thing the future is never concrete.”

         “It is if nothing changes,” Din countered. “Isn’t that a Jetii thing; listening to signs from the Force or whatever?”

         “Yes, but the Force is never very specific in its signs,” Jinn explained, voice taking on a tone of someone talking to a particularly stubborn child. Jinn should be thankful that Obi-wan doesn’t want Din to hurt Jinn. “It can be just as dangerous to assume a sign means one thing as it is to ignore a sign.”

         Din pointedly looked at himself and Grogu. “I don’t know. I feel like an obvious sign.”

         “Patuu,” Grogu added, nodding in agreement.

         “Well, I will have to discuss it with the Council once I understand the situation better.”

         “Ok,” Din said with a shrug, nicely not pointing out that it just sounded like Jinn was making excuses to get out of the conversation.

         Thankfully, they reached an entrance to the city, halting any further conversation. They stopped at a checkpoint, and the guards approaching them were eyeing Din. Din made sure to sit still, keeping his hands displayed on his lap. Din noted that one of the guard’s eyes were darting back to Satine and Obi-wan, their faces still hidden and Obi-wan still in armor.

         “Master Jedi,” the guard greeted. “Your uh, guests will need to be registered and either submit to a search of their weapons or remove their weapons to be stored here.”

         Jinn looked back at Din. Din didn’t speak, happy to let Jinn come up with an answer about who Din was.

         “Duchess!” The second guard gasped suddenly. Din turned and saw that Satine had removed her head wrap and goggles. She smiled slightly.

         “I will take responsibility for the members of this party,” Satine said. “I trust them, and they are not willing to be parted with their weapons.”

         The two guards shared alarmed looks, trying to stammer their way through an explanation of their duties. Grogu, during their floundering, pushed his satchel over so he could tumble onto the seat. The guards stopped talking, their jaws dropping as Grogu began to babble at them.

         “He’s hungry,” Obi-wan translated from the back, leaning forward on the handlebars of his speeder.

         “Well, I wouldn’t want Grogu to go hungry,” Satine said innocently. “If you get in trouble, I will deal with it.”

         The guards shared a final look before letting them pass, and Grogu settled himself on Din’s lap.

         “Thank you,” Jinn said serenely before continuing into the city. Grogu twisted so he could peek his head up and watch the inside of the city peek into view. Din was also looking around, head on a swivel. Sundari was so different from the last time he was there. There felt like there was more life and color in the city. They flew over one section of the city where all the people Din could see had at least one piece of armor on, and Din decided he’d like to visit there if possible. It looked and sounded like a more lively version of the towns they’d visited.

         As they got closer to the city center, pieces of armor on people began to disappear slowly until no one was wearing them. Din had a feeling if they were at eye level with the walkway, he’d be getting some odd stares.

         “Those who choose to follow the traditional Mandalorian way don’t tend to leave their section of the city,” Jinn commented. “Many are actually leaving the city for smaller towns or another planet.”

         “That’s what happens when you try to outlaw their way of life,” Din said dryly. Jinn just hummed in response.

Chapter Text

          After that, Jinn didn’t bother with any more questions, seemingly content to finish their ride in silence. Grogu, never satisfied with silence, babbled away, and Din responded to his son with occasional hums.

         When they pulled into a covered hanger, Satine was the first one to dismount, shedding her head covering and goggles. Her head was held high, and she walked like beskar was injected into her spine. A flock of fancy-dressed advisors descended on her, fawning over her and talking rapidly. One woman rested a hand on one of Satine’s vambraces, looking like she was going to remove it. Satine jerked her arm back, hiding the vambraces behind her back.

         Jinn exited the vehicle, and Din followed, holding Grogu in his arms. Obi-wan came to stand with them. The teen stood a step behind Jinn, and to the right, so Din fell back in step with Obi-wan.

         Half of the advisors made their way over to Jinn, smiling and thanking the man for-well Din didn’t know what they were thanking the Jedi Master for. Din held onto Grogu tighter as the advisors noticed them, giving them confused and even annoyed looks.

         “Padawan Kenobi did an exceptional job protecting the Duchess,” Jinn said in response to the thanks. Obi-wan blushed and ducked his head as the vultures descended on him. Din took a step back, watching as Obi-wan tried to defer back to his Master. It wasn’t working. It got worse as the remaining advisors migrated over to their group. When Din looked at Satine, she was only with one person, a younger girl with red hair(and there was no way that was Bo-Katan, she was so small). The younger girl was scuffing her feet on the ground and looking anywhere except Satine. Eventually, the girl’s eyes landed on Din, and she lit up and began tugging Satine’s arm. Satine twisted and gestured for Din to come over. Din happily left-some of the advisor started trying to talk to him. No thank you.

         Din stopped at Satine’s side. Tiny-Bo-katan’s eyes were roaming across Din’s armor and visible weapons. It was weird.

         “This is my sister, Bo-Katan,” Satine introduced, resting a hand on Din’s arm, near Grogu. The kid cooed and tapped her hand. “Bo, this is Mando and his son Grogu.”

         Bo-Katan’s attention zeroed in on Satine’s vambrace. “Is that armor?”

         “Bo, be polite,” Satine lightly scolded.

         Bo-Katan rolled her eyes, and Din was seriously having issues connecting this young teen to the powerhouse of a woman Din had known. “Hello, Mando, Grogu. Nice to meet you.”

         “…Su’cuy.”

         “Patuu.”

         Bo-Katan stared at them again. “Ok. Why are you wearing armor?”

         Satine rolled her eyes at her sister, smiling fondly. “It was pointed out that I wasn’t doing a good job at blending in the towns we were hiding in. There is a high population of True Mandalorians in those towns.”

         “Then why are you still wearing them? I’d expected you would throw them in the nearest pit the second you could,” Bo-Katan said, crossing her arms.

         Satine mirrored her sister’s posture, and now Din could better see their relationship. “What’s with all the questions? I figured you’d want to hound Mando, not your boring older sister.”

         “For a politician, you’re bad at deflecting questions,” Bo-Katan snarked. “Seriously, Satine, you’re just suddenly fine with me learning about Mandalorian culture? You hit or head or something?”

         Satine glanced at Din, looked to the ground, and finally looked back at her sister. “I guess I had a change of heart.”

         “Duchess,” an advisor butted in. “There are some matters that require your attention.”

         Satine looked between Bo-Katan and Din, clearly not wanting to leave. “Surely my father can handle it?”

         The advisor stammered out something unintelligible. Obi-wan appeared next to Satine. “I can stay with Mando and your sister, Duchess. I think Master Jinn would like to talk to you in private.”

         Satine gave Obi-wan a suspicious look but acquiesced. “Alright. There should be a room near yours that is being set up for Mando and Grogu. I will see you all at late meal.” She turned to Bo-Katan. “I’ll comm you when I’m done, ok?”

         Bo-Katan nodded, suddenly quiet. Satine looked like she didn’t want to leave but did walk away with Jinn, advisors trailing behind her. When they entered the building, Bo-Katan turned to Obi-wan. “Shouldn’t you be the one to tell her?”

         “I-“ Obi-wan sighed. “Master Jinn thought it’d be best if he told her. But we can go to her after.”

         “What are you talking about? Is Satine going to be ok?” Din asked, concern welling in his chest. Bo-Katan looked confused at Din’s concern.

         “Duke Kryze, their father, he uh,” Obi-wan stumbled over his words as he saw Bo-Katan look away. The girl was biting her lip and squeezing her arms.

         “He’s dead,” Bo-Katan said, voice worryingly blank. She was staring, unseeingly, into the distance.

         “Death Watch managed to infiltrate the palace and assassinate him. Master Jinn said that’s why he returned to Sundari,” Obi-wan elaborated. “He didn’t tell us because he didn’t want Satine to try and return. It would’ve been too dangerous.”

         “Oh.”

         Bo-Katan scoffed. “’Oh’? That’s all you have to say. My father is dead!”

         “Uh.” Din didn’t know how to respond. He tried to remember what was said to him when his parents died. “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la.”

         Bo-katan’s face softened, and she ducked her head. “No one’s said that to me yet,” she muttered. “It’s just, ‘sorry for your loss,’ and ‘I can only imagine what you’re going through.”

         “My buir told me death is less like a ‘goodbye’ and more like ‘until we meet again,’” Din said. Grogu cooed, reaching a hand out to Bo-Katan. A tear had escaped the girl’s eye, and she swiftly rubbed it away.

         “The Jedi believe in something similar,” Obi-wan added gently, wrapping an arm around Bo-katan’s shoulder. “When we die, we join the Force. So, those you care about who have passed are still with you, as the Force is everywhere. They are never truly gone.”

         “I wished the people here thought like that,” Bo-Katan admitted. “But I’m pretty sure they’d have a fit if I brought up the idea of marching on.”

         “Why care about them?” Din asked. “You choose what you want to believe.”

         Bo-Katan looked as though she’d never considered it that way. Quietly, glancing around for ease-droppers, she said, “So if I wanted to learn how to be a real Mandalorian…?”

         “I’ll teach you,” Din offered, sounding more confident than he felt. Sheepish;y, he added, “Well, it may not be exactly like the True Mandalorians learn.”

         “But it’s better than anything here!” Bo-Katan said happily. Din wondered for a moment who’d taught Bo-Katan in his timeline and how different the woman would turn out to be.

         “We can take a trip to one of the True Mandalorian sects of the city,” Obi-wan added. “To get a feel for what they do.”

         Bo-Katan was smiling, but suddenly her face fell. “But Satine probably wouldn’t let us go. There’s a difference between me asking you questions and me actually practicing everything.”

         Din and Obi-wan shared a look. Obi-wan, after a moment, said, “I think the Duchess may be more accepting than you think.”

         “Maybe she’ll come with,” Din added. Bo-Katan scoffed.

         “That’d be a miracle,” she muttered.

         “All things are possible with the Force,” Obi-wan said with a playful smile. Bo-Katan gave him an annoyed look, and Din got the feeling that it was some kind of an inside joke between the two. Before the girl should snap back a response, Obi-wan’s comm dinged with a message. The teen frowned when he read it. “We have to go get Satine.”

         “What?” Bo-Katan asked, worry evident in her tone and expression.

         “Master Jinn said he tried to get her alone to tell her everything so she could process it, but some of the council members burst in after he broke the news,” Obi-wan explained.

         “And Satine is too nice to tell them to go away,” Bo-Katan reasoned, eyes filling with anger.

         “Let’s go,” Din said, already storming away. He paused. “You should lead.”

         Bo-Katan nodded and began to lead their angry (thought Obi-wan was hiding better) march through the winding halls of the palace. Din rested a hand on his blaster, scaring away anyone that thought to stop them. Din wondered how annoyed Satine would be if he stunned her advisors.

         Probably slightly. Though, honestly, they’d be lucky if he didn’t just shoot them.

         One second thought, Din might not even be given a chance. Because for a girl surrounded by pacifism, Bo-Katan looked ready to kill. Din decided to stand away from her in case she tried to swipe one of his blasters or knives.

         Din could only imagine the sight they made. A fully armored Mandalorian with a green child in his arms, a Jedi student still in slightly ill-fitting armor, and a 13 (maybe) year-old girl in a dress; all looking like they were marching to a battlefield, not to whatever office Satine was trapped in. They were undoubtedly one hell of a rescue team.

Chapter Text

           Jinn meet them at the door, face grim. No words were spoken when he stepped aside and pressed the button to open the door. When the door opened, Obi-wan was the only reason Bo-Katan didn’t fling herself across the room. The teen had a hand on the girl’s shoulder, keeping her feet solidly on the ground. But he wasn’t restraining Din, so either he trusted Din not to act rashly or thought Bo-Katan was a bigger threat.

         Satine was trapped against her desk by a semi-circle of advisors, all of whom had had their backs to the door and were now half-turned towards them. It let Din she Satine. He could just make out the tears gathered in her eyes and her hands twisting around each other. She was bracing herself on the desk, and her jaw was clenched.

         Din handed Grogu off to Obi-wan and took a menacing step forward. The advisors all flinched back. Din rested a hand on his blaster. “Get out,” he growled.

         One brave man tried to argue. “Who do you think-“

         “Out. Now,” Din demanded, taking another step forward and lifting his blaster slightly out of the holster.

         “The Duchess has just received terrible news,” Obi-wan said, straining to sound calm. “I would imagine she needs some time to process.”

         “Yeah. So leave my sister alone,” Bo-Katan said. “I bet you can deal with most of the stuff yourselves.”

         The brave- more like stupid- advisor opened his mouth again but was cut off by Satine. “I have had a difficult few months,” she said quietly. Despite that, all of the attention was on her now. Satine was looking at her feet. “I was never truly safe, and when I finally returned home, I found my only parent left was gone, and this palace could no longer be considered safe. I ask you to find it in your hearts to allow me a day to process and grieve.”

         “If you have any immediate concerns,” Jinn spoke up for the doorway, surprising some of the room, “You may take it up with me. That is if the Duchess does not mind.”

         Satine nodded. “Thank you, Master Jinn. That would be greatly appreciated.”

         Jinn bowed. Bo-Katan decided to speak up, “One day is nowhere near enough.”

         Satine frowned and when to scold her sister, but Din interrupted her and said, “She’s right.”

         “Maybe try two days, then slowly start tackling things,” Obi-wan suggested. Jinn immediately agreed, and after a moment, Satine did too.

         The advisors looked stunned, but Din got them moving with a sharp jerk of his head towards the door, where Jinn helpfully stepped to the side and swept his arm out in invitation.

         “Let us find somewhere else to speak,” Jinn said as the advisor streamed out behind him. Before the man left the room, he cast one more look at Satine and shared a glance with Obi-wan. The door then slid close behind him.

         Satine all but collapsed onto the floor- Bo-Katan rushing forward was the only thing slowing her hard descent. The two girls curled into each other on the ground, and Obi-wan moved over, depositing Grogu so the child could wiggle his way into their laps. Obi-wan comforted the girls as Din moved to the door to lock it. He did a security sweep of the office, closing the window blinds, the sobs tugging at his heart as he went. When he turned back to the pile on the floor, Bo-Katan had hidden her face in Satine’s neck, and Obi-wan was rubbing a hand down Satine’s back. Din, recognizing that his armor makes him not very cuddly, crouched down across from them.

         “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Satine muttered, words muffled because her face was mushed on Bo-katan’s head. “I’m so sorry, Bo.”

         Din couldn’t make out Bo-katan’s reply, but Satine pulled her sister closer. Grogu, still squished between the sister, squeaked. The girls laughed at the noise, the sounds wet. But Grogu, from what Din could see of him, looked proud of himself. Satine lifted her head to smile at Grogu before looking at Din. And, without speaking a word, freed one hand and held it out to Din. Din shuffled closer and held her hand. Satine yanked, and Din followed and sat down closer to their pile. Bo-Katan, apparently communicating silently with her sister, grabbed Din’s arm near her and wrapped it around her. Din moved, so he could hold Satine and Bo-Katan (it was a little awkward, but the girls seemed content).

         No one spoke, the girls periodically crying before quieting. At one point, Bo-Katan muttered, “Nu kyr’adyc.”

         Satine sniffed but quietly finished, “Shi taab’echaaj’la.”

         “Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Din said. “Vir and Lida Djarin.”

         Bo-Katan and Satine repeated the face, adding their father’s name. When nudged by Satine, Obi-wan stumbled through the words and added, “Cerasi.”

         Grogu babbled something, and Din felt he was adding his own names. They were silent again, occasional sniffs and solitary sobs emerging. Din didn’t move, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. Eventually, Satine pulled back, so Din let go. Bo-Katan stayed glued to Satine’s side. Grogu got up on his toes, precariously balancing on Satine’s lap, and patted Satine and Bo-katan’s cheeks.

         “Vor’e,” Satine said, holding Grogu’s hand. The kid graced her with a wide smile. Satine looked to Din again. “And thank you for getting them out of here. And without shooting them.”

         “I can still do it,” Din said, half joking.

         “Can I?” Bo-Katan asked eagerly. Satine rolled her eyes and playfully flicked her. Satine yawned, setting off a domino effect- Bo-Katan, Grogu, and Obi-wan yawned too.

         Din chuckled. “Nap time?”

         Satine sighed and shook her head, opening her mouth to give an excuse, but Obi-wan cut her off, “I think it would be nice to rest some before dealing with anything else today.”

         Bo-Katan nodded. “Do you think we could, maybe, go to your room Satie? Your bed is bigger.”

         Satine smiled at her sister. “Of course. I assume you will be joining us?”

         She looked at Obi-wan and Din (where Grogu had crawled back to). Din didn’t let Obi-wan try to think up an argument before agreeing. It would be much easier to watch over them all if they were together. Nightmares were a possibility, and Din wouldn’t let his guard down, even if there were guards around. What good were guards that only used stun blasts?

         “But I really should-“

         “Sleep,” Din interrupted Obi-wan standing up and hoisting the boy up with him. Din dropped Grogu into Obi-wan’s arms. Grogu yawned and snuggled into his arms, innocently blinking up at the teen. Obi-wan sighed and accepted his fate. Satine and Bo-Katan stood up. The girls lead their group out into the hallway, Din walking in step with them. Satine did roll her eyes when Din casually rested a hand on his blaster. Maybe it was overkill, but it worked. Not one person who thought to approach them as they passed didn’t rethink it. They passed one of the advisors that Din had threatened. Din didn’t recognize them, but the way they flinched back from him gave it away. Din wasn’t a fan of intentionally scaring someone- but this felt like a situation that warranted it.

         “I’m going to have to start paying you as a bodyguard, aren’t I?” Satine mused as they made it to the hall where people lived. Din shrugged- his credits wouldn’t work here, and he wasn’t going to stop watching over Satine.

         Obi-wan peeled off to change out of his clothes, keeping Grogu with him because the kid refused to leave his arms. Satine told Din to drop his stuff off in his room, so Din followed after Bo-Katan swore to slap Satine’s comm out of her hand if she tried to work.

         The room was the biggest one Din had ever stayed in; it could probably fit the entirety of Din’s clan. He set Grogu down on the ground to check the room, which consisted of a sleeping area, sitting area, refresher, and closet. The room was well-lit and clean, and there were various pieces of artwork and plants. Din set his bag down on the trunk at the bottom of the bed. Grogu was attempting to climb onto the couch; face scrunched up in concentration. Grogu abandoned his attempt when Din walked over, demanding to be held. Din picked his son up but hesitated When Grogu patted his helmet, cooing as he tried to push it up. Din looked around the room and moved, so he wasn’t visible from the windows. Din lifted his helmet, a smile coming to his face when his son cheered. Grogu patted his face, and Din allowed himself to lay a kiss on Grogu’s forehead. Grogu, satisfied, closed his eyes and laid his head on Din's chest.

         “Yeah, ok,” Din whispered, setting his helmet back down. “Let’s go get everyone to bed.”

Chapter Text

            The amount of holos Din took of the kids curled up on Satine’s bed was between him and the Manda. Bo-Katan was attached firmly to Satine, who had, in turn, curled around Obi-wan, and Grogu had been lost in the tangle.

         Maybe 30 minutes in, there was a light knock on the door. The kids on the bed shifted but didn’t wake up. Din quietly went to the door and opened up, fully ready to scare off some haughty advisor. But it was Master Jinn on the other side.

         “May I speak to you for a moment?” Jinn asked in a whisper. Din stepped into the hallway, and Jinn peeked past him, smiling when he saw the tangle on the bed before the door closed. “How are they?”

         “Tired,” Din said. Jinn nodded.

         “As expected.” Jinn folded his hands into his cloak. “I was hoping to ask about your future.”

         Din crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Shoot.”

         “Well, the things you mentioned were all concerning,” Jinn said slowly, considering his words. “But, as you may imagine, I have a special interest in the ‘Jedi genocide.’”

         “I wasn’t there,” Din warned, “Grogu filled in the gaps, but you’re not asking him about it. He’s had enough for now.”

         “Completely understandable,” Jinn said agreeably. “I would just like the general points, if you will. I plan to contact the council soon and should like to be able to give them some more information.”

         “And you don’t need stuff on the Mandalorians or the Clone Wars?”

         “Well, of course, those things are important, too,” Jinn said, holding a hand out as if to calm Din. “However, the massacre of Mandalorians would be best handled by Mandalorians, and I believe we are both in agreement that Satine is in no state to deal with such matters.”

         “And the war has to deal with the Mandalorians, right? Cause were violent barbarians.” Din was being annoying, he knew. But Obi-wan wasn’t there to tell him not to. So Din was going to enjoy this while he could.

         “I did not make any assumption about this ‘Clone Wars,” Jinn said, still annoyingly calm, though Din thought he might’ve detected a hint of annoyance in his voice. “However, I should like to know if it is relevant to the Jedi.”

         “Ok,” Din relented. He explained the concept of the Clone Wars and how it led to the genocide of the Jedi and the rise of the Empire. Din threw in how he met Grogu and his quest. His throat was dry, and his voice turned hoarse by the end. Jinn looked progressively more horrified. He stayed silent after Din finished, looking pensive and stroking his beard.

         “That-“ Jinn cleared his throat. “Hm.”

         “Is that all?” Din asked, impatient to get back to the kids.

         “Yes, thank you,” Jinn said. Anything further was cut off by the door opening. Standing in the doorway was a groggy Obi-wan, holding an even groggier Grogu. His kid whined and reached out to Din, so he immediately held his son.

         “He got upset when he woke up, and you were gone,” Obi-wan explained, hiding a yawn behind his hand. When he noticed Jinn, Obi-wan straightened up and tried to brush his hair. “Master, is everything ok?”

         Jinn smiled and set a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. “Yes, Obi-wan, everything is fine. I simply wanted to ask Mando here about his experiences. You can go back to bed; you look like you need the rest.”

         Obi-wan blushed. “Are you sure? I surely have work I should do or even meditate-“

         “All thing you can do later,” Jinn soothed. “Rest now, Obi-wan. I am going to meet with the council later, and if you are awake, you can join me.”

         Obi-wan nodded and returned to the bed. Grogu was snuggled into Din’s arm but was peeking at Jinn.

         “Hello, young one,” Jinn said softly. “I am sorry for taking Mando away and worrying you.” Grogu cooed, and Jinn chuckled. “Thank you for your forgiveness.”

         Grogu began babbling, the sounds slurring together as Grogu started to fall back asleep. Jinn nodded along until the kid fell asleep. Jinn looked at Din curiously.

         “He speaks very highly of you,” Jinn whispered. “I am glad you found each other.”

         Din looked down at his son and trailed a gentle finger down one of Grogu’s ears. “Me too.”

         Jinn said goodbye and left, so Din returned to the room, trying to set Grogu back down on the bed. But his son whined whenever he attempted to, so Din settled down with Grogu held close to his chest.

         The Mandalorian, apparently from the future, was a puzzle, and Qui-gon was eager to solve it. He never took his helmet off and refused to share his name but quickly won the Kryze girls' favor and even Obi-wan's. Bo-Katan, he could understand; the fiery girl had expressed interest in learning and following a more traditional Mandalorian lifestyle. But the peaceful Satine and his Padawan were more baffling phenomena. And even thinking about the youngling, Grogu, gave Qui-gon a headache. He’d never considered what Masters Yoda and Yaddle looked like as a baby, and Qui-gon didn’t even want to know how many years old the child was.

         Qui-gon shook his head to disperse the thoughts- brooding over them wouldn’t result in any worthwhile answers. He would have to meditate before his meeting with the council.

         He went to his room just to do that, settling on the floor near the bed, closing his eyes, and taking deep breaths. Soon enough, years of practice allowed him to fall into the gentle ebb and flow of the Force. He let his consciousness float as he reached out, depositing his questions and concerns into the Force, not demanding or expecting an answer. He allowed himself to feel the life surrounding him- there was a lovely garden outside his window shining in the Force.

         But something shifted- a cold prick just out of reach. Tentatively, Qui-gon followed it as if following a line the Force had set out. When he reached the source, he had a feeling he couldn’t explain, a feeling that this was a point of no return. He cast out a question of if this was what he was meant to do and received a gentle nudge from the Force. So Qui-gon fortified his mental shields and allowed the Force to do what it wanted.

         He is the Chosen One- a burning wound-

         The sound of thousands of feet marching to tune- the feeling of resigned fate- Blast him!

         A cold feeling- a strike of lightening- the smell of something burnt- I HATE YOU-

         The feeling of thousands of lights snuffed out- younglings were screaming why are the clones attacking-

         Qui-gon jerked himself out of his meditation, heaving and feeling the tears he hadn’t even realized he’d cried. Frantically he reached out for his bond with Obi-wan, admittedly weaker than it should be. But he could feel that his Padawan was ok, still asleep, surrounded by warm comforts and a calm, muted presence watching over him. He was alright; everyone was ok. Qui-gon forced himself through the breathing techniques he was taught as an initiate. In or 5, hold for 6, out for 7. Repeat. Repeat until his heart stopped racing and his hands- and when had they drifted to his stomach?- stopped shaking. The Force was there, a comforting presence in the back of his mind.

         Qui-gon tried to sort through the things he’d been shown and experienced and had the slightly hysterical thought that he’d just experienced his own death and the death of his people.

         Was this what Obi-wan felt all those times he’d awoken screaming from a dream he said felt like a vision from the Force? And had Qui-gon really brushed him off while his Padawan struggled with echoes of a gruesome future?

         Qui-gon hadn’t noticed he’d reached for his comm until it rang, calling someone he didn’t remember dialing. Tears were still falling down his face when the call connected.

         “Qui-gon?” The deep voice of his Master spoke. “To what do I owe- are you crying?”

         Qui-gon sniffed and rubbed away his tears with the back of his hand. “It would appear so.”

         Master Dooku’s brow furrowed, his stoic Master’s expression of concern. “What is wrong, Padawan? You are on the Mandalorian mission, yes? Is your Padawan alright?”

         “Yes, Obi-wan is fine,” Qui-gon said, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to reach out to Obi-wan’s Force signature again. “We’ve had, well, unexpected visitors.”

         Master Dooku raised a brow. “And these visitors have caused your tears?”

         “In a somewhat indirect way,” Qui-gon admitted. “I had questions about them that I meditate on, and what the Force showed me….”

         Burning-cold-fire-why-

         “Qui-gon, padawan!” Master Dooku’s concerned voice snapped Qui-gon out of his spiral.

         “Sorry, Master,” Qui-gon muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “But yes, it was unsettling, and I called you without realizing it. I hope I did not interrupt anything.”

         “You didn’t,” Master Dooku assured, though his frown felt contradictory. “What are you going to do about what you saw?”

         “I have a meeting with the council in-“ Qui-gon checked the time; he’d been meditating longer than he thought-“Half an hour. I will bring it up.”

         Master Dooku hummed in response, silence falling between the two. Eventually, Dooku broke it. “I can come to Mandalore-“

         “That shouldn’t be necessary,” Qui-gon said with a fond smile and a shake of his head. How many people would believe that the infamous Master Dooku was a worry-wart?

         “You will tell me the minute it is,” Master Dooku demanded. Qui-gon agreed, knowing when it wasn’t worth arguing with his Master. Besides, Qui-gon could feel Obi-wan awake and heading toward him. Qui-gon considered saying goodbye to his Master, but Obi-wan reached his door before he could go through with it.

         “One moment,” Qui-gon told his Master, setting his comm down to open the door. Qui-gon couldn’t stop his smile at seeing Obi-wan. The boy had tried to fix his bedhead, but a portion in the back was still sticking up. Qui-gon reached out and smoothed it. “Good morning padawan. Did you have a good rest?”

         Obi-wan smiled. “Yes, Master, I did. I hope I’ve made it in time for the council meeting?”

         “You have,” Qui-gon said, stepping aside so his Padawan could enter the room. The boy paused at the sight of Qui-gon’s comm. “There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

         Qui-gon walked Obi-wan over to the comm and sat down with him. “Master Dooku, this is Obi-wan Kenobi. Padawan, this is my Master, Yan Dooku.”

         “Pleased to meet you, Master Dooku,” Obi-wan greeted politely with a bow of his head.

         “You as well, Padawan Kenobi,” Master Dooku returned with a fond quirk of his lips. “I have heard many things about you. Very good things.”

         Obi-wan blushed, and Qui-gon couldn’t resist poking his Padawan teasingly in the Force. “Tha-thank you.”

         “When you return to the Temple, I would hope we could perhaps have tea together,” Master Dooku suggested. And surprisingly, Qui-gon didn’t feel the need to reject, and Obi-wan didn’t look opposed.

         “That sounds like a nice time,” Qui-gon said with a smile, enjoying the subtle signs of surprise on his Master’s face.

         “Yes, I will look forward to it,” Master Dooku said, regaining his composure. Something off-screen caught Master Dooku’s attention. “I’m afraid I have to leave now. Remember what I said?”

         “Yes, Master, it was only a few minutes ago,” Qui-gan said with a casual hand wave. Master Dooku ‘hmphed’, and they said their goodbyes.

         “Are the others awake?” Qui-gon asked Obi-wan as they stood up.

         His Padawan nodded. “The Duchess and Bo-Katan took them to eat- Grogu was hungry.”

         Qui-gon hummed and examined his Padawan. His meditation had left him with the feeling that poor Obi-wan, who’d already been through so much, as a critical player in the future Mando had discussed.

         “Master, is everything ok?” Obi-wan asked. Qui-gon nodded and assured his Padawan that he was just thinking. “Should we head over to the comm station?”

         “Yes, that would be a good idea,” Qui-gon agreed. “And you are sure you want to attend?”

         Obi-wan nodded quickly. “Yes, Master.”

         “Alright, but if that changes, please don’t be afraid to excuse yourself.”

         There wasn’t an immediate response to that request, but he eventually agreed. Obi-wan was still learning that the council wasn’t a scary monster, they were Masters who’d understand that Obi-wan was a padawan, and this was an emotionally taxing situation. But, still, Qui-gon would be sure to keep an eye on his Padawan.

Chapter Text

            Din wasn’t leaving Satine’s side, no matter how much she said she was okay. Satine wasn’t safe here, and Din hadn’t fought off Death Watch for her just for them to kill her at home. Besides, Bo-Katan had glued herself to Satine’s side, so Din could uphold his promise to teach the girl about more traditional Mandalorian customs. It was a win-win situation, in Din’s opinion. Plus, Grogu loved Satine and was warming up to Bo-Katan, and Satine was not so subtly listening in on Din’s lessons. However, she had drawn the line at self-defense practice in her office, mainly because Bo-Katan had thrown some ornamental decoration at Din once.

         Obi-wan had been spending as much time with them as feasible. The poor kid had a lot of homework (apparently something Jedi still had to do) to catch up on, and there was definitely something Jinn was keeping from them- probably whatever had gone down during their council meeting. Din didn’t care too much; let the Jetii keep his secrets.

         The most amusing and annoying thing was that the more often Din was seen by Satine’s side, the more and more people took notice of him. One would think people would get over the novelty, but apparently, he was just becoming a bigger mystery. And, according to an article Bo-Katan had shown him, some people in Sundari were- ugh- ‘fangirling’ over him. Logically, Din knew in his time that Mandalorians were the subject of admiration, but to have it shoved in his face was unpleasant.

         All in all, it had been a quiet few days- putting Din on edge. That changed when Satine’s comm went off in the middle of a meeting. She had scanned the message, going from confused to concerned, before standing from her seat.

         “Excuse me,” she said primly, “I have just been informed of an important, unexpected visitor. We will resume this meeting at a later time.”

         Satine left the room, giving no room for argument, and Din followed her. “Who is it?” Din asked when they were alone.

         Satine spared him a glance. “Grandmaster Yoda.” It took Din a second to remember why he remembered that name, and he nearly stopped walking in shock. Satine didn’t attempt to hide her smirk.

         “Why?”

         Satine shrugged. “Obi-wan didn’t say. I can only imagine it has to do with you and Grogu.”

         Din’s mind was a flurry of concocted images of what an older Grogu looked like. They ranged from a normal-sized person that was green with giant ears to a wrinkly version of his son. It was a train of thought that Din cut off quickly.

         Din couldn’t check on Grogu to see what the kid thought about the situation- Obi-wan had asked to take Grogu to meditate with him and Jinn. Din was weak for Grogu’s tooka eyes, and he trusted Obi-wan to watch the kid.

         Guessing what Din was thinking, Satine said, “Obi-wan is bringing Grogu.”

         Din acknowledged her, and they continued in silence.

         The ship Yoda came in was small and had a marking on the side that Din didn’t recognize. He supposed that it was the Jedi Order symbol. No one had gotten off the ship by the time Satine and Din made their way over to Obi-wan, Jinn, and Grogu. Grogu cooed at Din, and Obi-wan transferred him over to Din’s arms.

         “He just landed,” Jinn told them. Satine straightened up, brushing back flyaway hairs and smoothing down her dress. Din was still getting used to her being dressed up; it gave an interesting look combined with her vambraces, which now had grey swirls covering them. Din was trying to convince Satine to get even more armor or consider armor weave clothes. Mostly, so she was more protected, but also because the pinched look on the New Mandalorians in the palace when they saw their Duchess in armor was funny.

         The ship’s ramp opened, snapping Din out of his thoughts. Grogu perked up and started babbling. Slowly, someone rounded the corner and appeared, and Din could just make out the sound of a cane tapping along the ground. No amount of pondering could’ve prepared Din for Master Yoda. He was short, would maybe only come up to Din’s knee, and his years were large like Grogu’s. Apparently, the ears just grew proportionally large to their body. Good to know. The man was wrinkled and had the faintest whisps of white hair on his head. Yoda click-click-clicked his way down the ramp, moving slowly even though Din had the feeling the man would move faster is he wanted. No one spoke until Yoda stopped in front of their group. Grogu had gone silent and was staring with wide eyes at Yoda.

         “Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, good to see you, it is,” Yoda spoke, having the weirdest speech pattern Din had ever heard. Would Grogu sound like that when the kid learned to talk? Want cookies, I do buir- “And Duchess, very sorry for your loss, I am.”

         Satine bowed her head. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”

         Yoda hummed and rested his hands on his wooden cane. He looked Din up and down, smiling when he rested his eyes on Grogu, who was still staring. “Introduce me, you should grand-padawan of mine. To be rude, it is not good.”

         Jinn cleared his throat. “Yes, of course, Master Yoda. This is Mando and his, uh, son Grogu.”

         “Son, you say? Hrmm,” Yoda said. “Adopted, I hope, fit under that helmet, your ears would not.”

         “Uh, yes. I did adopt him,” Din responded, feeling incredibly awkward under the older Jedi’s gaze. Yoda nodded sagely, ear drooping a bit- a startling familiar gesture that Grogu also had.

         “Been through much, Grogu has, I hear. Glad I am, the Force has brought you together, yes,” Yoda said. Grogu cooed at his name. “Yes, little one, remember you, I do. Only just born were you.”

         Nope, nope, Din wasn’t going to think about that. Except- “Are you his birth father?”

         Yoda laughed. “Me? Oh no, much too old I am for such things.”

         “Ah. Ok.”

         “Hm, yes.” Yoda turned his unnerving gaze back to Jinn and Obi-wan. “Taking long, he is.”

         “Who, Master Yoda?” Obi-wan asked with a curious tilt of his head. Jinn focused back in on the ship and sucked in a breath. At that moment, another person descended the ramp. They were a humanoid male with dark hair streaked with gray. They walked regally, nose turned up and cape flaring behind them. They looked like the mental image Din had connected in his head of a Jedi. There was something familiar about him.

         “Master Dooku?” Jinn muttered, and the man, Dooku, approached.

         “Qui-gon,” Dooku greeted, “Obi-wan. Duchess.”

         Satine smiled. “I was unaware you were coming along, Master Dooku, was it? I shall have the staff prepare you a room.”

         “Thank you,” Dooku said, ducking his head. When he looked back up, his gaze focused on Din and Grogu. Grogu curled up tighter in Din’s arms with a whimper- a reaction no one expected.

         “Grogu?” Obi-wan muttered, stepping to get a look at the kid. “What’s wrong?” Grogu whined again. “Count? No, that’s Master Dooku, Master Qui-gon’s master.”

         Dooku looked confused and concerned, his brows furrowing when Obi-wan said, ‘Count.’ “My apologizes; I do not intend to frighten you, young one.”

         Grogu gave Dooku the stink eye but relaxed. Din decided to keep an eye on Dooku.

         “Interesting, this is,” Yoda said, pulling their attention back to him. “Continue this discussion inside, may we? Old, we are, a cold we may catch.”

            Jinn barely stifled a sigh, eyes flashing towards the sky. Obi-wan was smiling, though.

         Satine seemed to startle. “Oh, yes, of course, we can go to one of the conference rooms.”

         “Going us, you will be, Duchess?” Yoda asked pleasantly.

         Satine looked uncertain for a second before she straightened up. “Yes. This situation involves my people too.”

         Yoda nodded as if in approval. “A good leader, you are. Come, let us go.”

         Obi-wan kneeled, and Yoda hopped onto Obi-wan’s shoulder, and in an impressive display of balance, Obi-wan stood and began walking. It looked so natural that Din could only assume Yoda did this a lot. Din caught Grogu looking up at his shoulder.

         “No,” Din muttered. “Not while you still fit in my arms.”

         Grogu pouted but quickly got over it as he remembered how much he liked being held. The walk to the conference room was filled with chattered between Obi-wan and Yoda, the older Jedi asking the boy about his adventures. Obi-wan was happy to tell Yoda about evading Death Watch, how they’d meet Din, and all the new foods he had tried. Jinn and Dooku were sharing whispers, some argument if Din had to guess. Occasionally Grogu would babble, and one of the Jedi would respond in kind. Din definitely wasn’t jealous that they could understand his son. Nope. No way.

         When they reached the conference room, they settled at the table, locking the doors to prevent unwanted interruptions. Din sat between Obi-wan and Satine, Grogu on his lap. Together, they recounted what they had gathered about the future, the kids saving Din from having to wear out his voice. The adult Jedi, while good at concealing their emotions, couldn’t hide their horror when hearing about the Jedi Purge or the glassing of Mandalore. Even the state of the galaxy after the Empire was abysmal. But when they were done, Grogu began furiously babbling and climbed onto the table to point at Dooku. Dooku looked like he didn’t know if he should be afraid or just confused. But all the Jedi’s faces crumpled at whatever Grogu was communicating.

         “No, I would never….” Dooku trailed off.

         “What is it?” Satine asked worriedly.

         “Grogu, Grogu says that Master Dooku led the Separatists- and was a Sith,” Obi-wan said, sounding shaken. Din shot up and grabbed his son while pushing Obi-wan and Satine’s chairs behind him. This was the man responsible for his parent's death, for the deaths of so many people!

         Satine grabbed Din’s arm before he could pull his blaster. “Don’t!”

         “We’re trying to fix the future, right?” Din all but growled, eyes still looking on Dooku. “Well, I know one way we can do that.”

         “Master Dooku is not a Sith!” Jinn complained, coming to his Master’s defense.

         “Don’t know what that is. But he’s the one who led the army that killed my entire village,” Din said hotly. “I think I’d be doing the galaxy a favor.”

         Dooku slowly stood up, keeping his hands planted firmly on the table. “You are angry,” he said. “Understandably so. I find it hard to believe I could do such things, but clearly, something happened. You want revenge, and I will not deny you that. Take it if you truly think I deserve it.”

         The room was tensely silent, Satine still hanging onto Din’s arm. Din’s chest was heaving, long suppressed memories returning- the sound of blaster fire, the sight of scattered bodies, the smell of blood and-

            A small hand was on his chin, reaching up under his helmet. Din took a deep breath and looked down. Grogu was staring up at him, wide eyes sad and, and- almost afraid.

         At that moment, all the fight left his body, and Din collapsed back into his chair. He hugged Grogu close, whispering apologies for scaring his son. A glance showed that Satine looked scared too, even if she tried to hide it, so Din pulled her in, and Obi-wan, too, for good measure.

         “The Sith still alive, likely they are,” Yoda said when Din released hi the kids, ears dropping sadly. “Grave news, this is.”

         “What are we going to do, Masters?” Obi-wan asked, eyes darting between the three Jedi. The three men shared a look.

         “Meditate, we will. See if answers, the Force will provide us.” Yoda nodded and hopped from his seat. He kindly smiled at Obi-wan. “Rest, you should. Long days ahead of us, there will be."

         They all walked back to the guest rooms together. It was late, and some of the staff had brought late meal to their rooms. They all agreed to meet in the morning to devise a plan of action and discuss if the Force told them anything (Din didn’t know how ethereal magic could speak to the Jedi using meditation, but he decided not to ask).

         Satine had told Din to rest in his room, insisting she’d be fine sleeping alone, that he should be able to sleep without his armor for once. Din somehow lost that argument, still rattled from learning who Dooku was- or, more accurately, would become.

         Din drifted asleep with Grogu curled up on his unarmored chest.

         It was barely light out when he woke up, not fully knowing what pulled him from his sleep. It took him a moment to register the beeping of his comm. Din was on high alert when we answered it, already out of bed and working his armor on. Satine’s frantic and slightly afraid voice came from the tiny speaker.

         “Din- we need you in the hanger. Jango Fett is here, and he’s demanding to speak to you.”

Chapter Text

           “Who?” was the first thing that came out of Din’s mouth. “Why?” quickly followed suit.

         “He was the leader of the True Mandalorians, maybe five years ago before- well, I don’t know the details, but a bunch of them were killed, and Fett disappeared,” Satine explained, becoming more frantic. Din was out of his room, Grogu in his arms.

         “Ok, udesii ad’ika, I’m on my way,” Din said, mind racing with situations. “Did he say he wants to talk to me?”

         “No, no, he just said he wants to speak to ‘the Mando’ad who’s been chained to my side,'” Satine said. “He doesn’t seem happy. He doesn’t like me.”

         “Ok, don’t go near him until I get there. Are you alone?” Din was practically running, the few people in the halls moving quickly out of his way.

         “No, Master Jinn and Yoda are with me; Master Dooku and Obi-wan are with Bo just inside.”

         “Ok, I’m almost there.”

         Din slowed to a quick walk when he reached the doors leading to the hanger. Din handed Grogu to Obi-wan. Dooku looked more constipated than usual.

         “You kill his family too?” Din asked sarcastically, still not a fan of the man. Dooku flinched, and honestly, Din shouldn’t have been surprised. Once a demagolka, always a demagolka- though this is a bit backward, Din supposed. Din scoffed and shook his head.

         “I’m coming with you!” Bo-Katan stated, squaring herself up. Din looked down at her, noticing the knife on her belt.

         “Stay behind me, be quiet, and at the first sign of a fight, run inside,” Din laid out his conditions, and Bo-Katan agreed after a moment because Din was leaving and would make her stay if she didn’t agree. So Din marched into the hangar, with Bo-Katan as his shadow. Jinn and Yoda flanked Satine, and she was hiding any fear that Din had heard when she called him. Across the hanger was a fully outfitted Mandalorian in blue-lined silver armor. The Mando, who Din assumed was Fett, was standing as if he’d be attacked any second, which wasn’t really how New Mandalorians worked. Din wondered how the man got into the city because he clearly wasn’t expected, so he hadn’t registered. And he clearly hadn’t given his weapons up, and Din noticed as he watched Fett fingering one of his blasters in its holster. Fett had perked up at Din’s appearance, but Din didn’t acknowledge the man, choosing to stand with Satine. Jinn moved to the side so Din could be next to Satine.

         Satine looked at Bo-Katan, lips flattening with her displeasure, but she didn’t comment on it. In a low voice, Din asked, “Are you ok?”

         Satine tried to give Din a small smile. “He hasn’t done anything except demand you.”

         “Seems hurt, he does,” Yoda added. “In the Force, pain there is.”

         Din grunted in acknowledgment. “Don’t know why he wants me.”

         “You are at my side frequently,” Satine said. “I’ve received messages from more traditional groups questioning this and what it means about my opinions. Perhaps as the once leader of the True Mandalorians, Fett feels he must investigate himself.”

         “And he couldn’t have just written a comm like everyone else?” Bo-Katan complained, even as Din saw her eye Fett’s armor in interest.

         Satine winced. “I probably would’ve brushed off any comms as fake. No one’s heard from him in over five years.”

         Fett seemingly got impatient and began striding over to their group. Din noticed that he favored his left side ever so slightly, giving weight to Yoda’s words. Din shifted to cover Satine more but still left the girl in the position to negotiate because chances are Din wouldn’t be able to help Fett with whatever his issue was. Unless he wanted a fight because Din could do that. Fett stopped two meters in front of them, and the man made a show of sizing Din up.

         “Ser Fett,” Satine greeted pleasantly after Fett didn’t say anything, “It is good to have you here- there were rumors that you had died. I am glad to see they are not true.”

         Fett scoffed, but Satine admirably didn’t waver. “I’m sure,” the man drawled, voice scratchier than Din thought it would be. “When I saw that you had armor and a ver’gebuir, I just had to see it myself.”

         “Yes, well, now that you’ve seen him, is there another reason you are here?” Satine prompted. “Surely the Haat Mando’ade would want to meet with you.”

         Fett shrugged, an interesting response- had the man not bothered meeting with the people he’d led before coming to the palace? Apparently not, if the man’s refusal to answer was any clue.

         “Figured you had a change of heart,” Fett said. “But these Jetiise would prove otherwise.” The man had all but spat the word, every inch of him dripping with his distaste. He brushed over his blaster again. Satine opened her mouth to defend the Jetii, but Yoda bet her to it.

         “Hurt you and your people, we have,” Yoda said sagely with a slow nod, ears dipped low. “A tragedy, Galidraan was. Understandable, your distrust of us is. Take it out on the Duchess, you should not. Mandalorians, you both are.”

         Fett scoffed, fist clenching. Din got the impression that he was glaring at the old Jetii. “How could someone who advocates for banning everything at the heart of our culture be a Mandalorian? Or are you just a hypocrite?”

         That’s it; Din was going to punch the man. Likely sensing Din’s intent, Satine rested a hand on his arm.

         “I believe that a change in one’s opinions does not make one a hypocrite,” Satine said evenly, shocking Fett if the way he reared back was an indication. Din was slightly surprised by the declaration. Sure, he had noticed the changes in Satine’s attitude but hadn’t been expecting any sort of recognition of those changes, especially not when her leadership position was not completely set. Did Din think a teenager should be leading in this sort of capacity? No, but Satine was handling it as well as expected.

         “Some say it is a sign of the strength of one’s character,” Jinn added unnecessarily. Why was the man here? Fett had made it clear that he wasn’t a fan of the Jetii, and apparently, the Jedi knew why so one would think they’d tried to limit their presence around the man.

         “Ok, sure,” Fett said dismissively as he slowly rolled his right shoulder back. The man wasn’t fully able to hide his wince at the movement. Jinn stepped forward as if to help, but Fett tensed and fell halfway to a fighting stance.

         Satine frowned. “Are you hurt, Ser Fett? We would be happy to help in that case.”

         “I don’t need your help,” Fett hissed, taking a step away from Jinn.

         “Then why come here?” Din couldn’t help asking. It was a question everyone was dancing around. Maybe there was some political reason for it, but politics and the subtleness of words were not Din’s forte. Something told him Fett was probably the same way- it seemed many Mandalorians were.

         “Like I said, I was curious,” Fett said, which was definitely not the entire truth. “Especially since I don’t remember any clan with that signet.” Fett gestured to the Mudhorn on Din’s shoulder. “At least not in the Haat Mando’ade.”

         “I am not a Haat Mando’ad,” Din said. “I am, well, I’m just a Mandalorian.” Din could’ve mentioned that he was a Child of the Watch, but Din had no interest in what would happen if the man connected that to Death Watch.

         “So you don’t affiliate with any faction?” Fett sounded curious, head tipped to the side. “And yet you guard the leader of the faction probably farthest from your own beliefs.” He sounded angry as if it was a heinous act- protecting an ad who couldn’t defend herself. Maybe whatever had hurt Fett had included his head. Perhaps that would explain the man’s weird behavior. And the fact that Fett was starting to sway slightly.

         “Ser Fett, I insist you let one of our baar’ur look you over,” Satine interjected, concern evident in her tone. She must have noticed Fett swaying.

         “I don’t need the help of an aruetti!” Fett lashed out. His chest was heaving, and his hands shook as he reached for his blasters. Din fully stepped in front of Satine and Bo-Katan, grabbed his blaster, and had it trained on Fett before the man could remove his blaster from its holster. Din’s blaster was set on stun as per Satine’s request.

         “Ne nari!” Din barked. “Gaanse laam!”

         Fett growled and looked at something past Din. Unexpectedly, Fett lunged towards Din, hands out, and angled like he was going to try and get past Din. Din shot the man, and Fett collapsed on the ground in a heap of beskar. Din’s shoulders were tense, and it felt too quiet. Slowly, Din stepped up to Fett, keeping his blaster trained on the unconscious man. Din rolled the man on his back and checked Fett’s pulse with two fingers on his neck. Din wasn’t a baar’ur, but it felt like Fett’s heart was racing.

         “What happened?” Obi-wan’s voice startled Din. He looked back and saw that Obi-wan and Dooku had entered the hangar. While Dooku was focused on Fett, Obi-wan was looking between Din, Satine, and Jinn.

         “I-I don’t know,” Satine said, sounding shaken. She had pulled Bo-Katan to her side. “He just snapped.”

         Suddenly, Fett’s arm jerked, causing Din to leap back and raise his blaster. But Fett wasn’t waking up. Instead, his limbs were tensed and shaking.

         “He’s seizing!” Obi-wan exclaimed, handing Grogu off to Satine to rush to Fett’s side. “Get a medic! Ser Fett, can you hear me? We’re going to take your helmet off, ok?”

         Din dropped next to Obi-wan and helped the Padawan pull Fett’s buy’ce off, no matter how uncomfortable it made Din. Din turned Fett on his side as Obi-wan took off and folded up his cloak under Fett’s head, narrating all his actions. Din then worked on undoing the clasps for Fett’s hal’cabur and ghet’bur. Yoda stepped forward and rested a hand on Fett’s forehead; eyes closed in concentration. Din could hear Satine talking into her comm, urging a baar’ur to come with haste. Din scanned Fett’s face. The man’s skin was paled and gaunt, bags under his eyes dark. There were barely healed cuts and bruises littering his face. Fett’s seizing slowed and eventually stopped, but the man didn’t wake up. Yoda looked concerned when he opened his eyes.

         “Yes, very hurt, he is.” Yoda sounded solemn. Grogu squeaked, and Din stood up to gather his son in his arms, pulling Satine and Bo-Katan in for good measure. The baar’ure rushed into the hanger. They all watched quietly as they fussed over the unconscious man, lifting him onto a stretcher.

         “Duchess?” One medic asked, stopping in front of them as the others pulled Fett away. “Do you need any medical assistance?”

         “No,” Satine answered with a shake of her head. “We are all unharmed. Please keep me updated on Ser Fett’s condition.” The baar’ur nodded and left.

         “What’s next?” Din asked quietly. Satine had her thinking face one.

         “I think the first order of business is to contact the True Mandalorians and tell them their Mand’alor has returned. After that-“ Satine shrugged. “Wait for Fett to wake up.”

         “And get first meal,” Obi-wan added. Grogu cooed in agreement.

         “Meditate, I think I will,” Yoda said, looking over to Dooku. The man looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Join me, will you, Master Dooku?”

         It took Dooku a minute to respond, but the man eventually nodded. “Yes. I have much to think about.”

         “Yeah, like what Fett’s problem is,” Bo-Katan grumbled, pulling away from Din and Satine to glare at the spot where Fett had collapsed. “And how you pulled your blaster so fast.”

         The second part had been directed at Din, admiration in Bo-katan’s eyes. Din rested his free hand on her shoulder. “Maybe another time, verd’ika. Obi-wan was right; first meal is a good idea.” Grogu cooed again, smacking Din’s chest to get his point across. “I’d also like to hear about whatever happened at Galidraan.”

         The Jedi looked uncomfortable at it, but Din refused to walk into this situation without the whole story. He’d done hunts like that before, and they were always more likely to end in disaster.

         “I will tell you,” Jinn offered. “Obi-wan wasn’t at the Temple at the time, so he may not recall it all.”

         Obi-wan looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned on him. The wince on his face signaled that whatever he was doing hadn’t been pleasant. Din filed that information away for later. One traumatic occurrence at a time- that was Din’s policy.

         It was a somber first meal as Jinn recounted the disaster that was Galidraan as everyone ate. Din was sipping on the smoothie that the kitchen staff had started to make for him so he could be at meals and still eat. As Jinn went on, Din began to understand Fett’s hatred of Jetii and why the armor had told him that Jetii had been their enemy. Weren’t Jedi meant to be more perceptive? Why had the Jedi attacked the True Mandalorians right away? Where was the due justice, the investigation?

         When Din had voiced his questions, Jinn had shaken his head. “I could not tell you. Those are questions for Master Dooku?”

         It took a minute for Din to connect that to how Dooku had reacted to Din’s scathing remark earlier. “Should’ve shot him when I had the chance,” Din murmured as he handed Grogu a piece of dried food.

         “It was hardly entirely his fault,” Jinn scolded, though whatever effect it was supposed to have was lost on Din. “However, it is well known that the…outcome was likely preventable.”

         “We learn about it in conflict negotiation classes,” Obi-wan added, a distant look in his eyes. Grogu waddled across the table and sat next to Obi-wan. They all tried to make small talk, but after such a heavy story, it fell flat. Eventually, Satine stood up to excuse herself, and Din tried to follow. But she insisted the Din take some time off, that she’d be fine making the call by herself. Plus, she pointed out that she would have to meet with her advisors and councilors, and Din didn’t like them. Obi-wan invited Din to join Jinn as they practiced their katas. Din decided it was a good time to continue Bo-katan’s training. And if he managed to convince Obi-wan to spar with her so Obi-wan would get more hand-to-hand practice, then it would be a successful practice.  

         Just as they were winding down, Din received a comm from Satine.

         Please meet me in the Medbay. Obi-wan can show you where it is. Please don’t let Bo come.

         Din sent an affirmative, explaining the situation to the group. Bo-Katan wasn’t a fan of the plan, but Jinn sated her with the offer to teach her some Jetii katas. The girl was so eager to learn, so she accepted. With Grogu secure in his arms, Obi-wan and Din set off to the Medbay.

         “Did she say what was going on?” Obi-wan asked. Din shook his head. Obi-wan hummed in thought. “I can’t tell if he’s awake. Though I doubt it, the combination of the stun blaster and Spice withdrawal will probably have him out for a while.”

         “Spice withdrawal?” Din asked, but it was more rhetorical. Din had seen his fair share of addicts; it came with the territory of stalking the underworlds of various planets. The tremors, mood swings, and pale and gaunt skin were all hallmarks of a Spice user experiencing withdrawal. The seizure was likely a combination of the withdrawal and the stun. Din felt a moment of guilt, knowing he had added to Fett’s issue. “So he disappeared for five years after his people were killed to go on a Spice bend?”

         Obi-wan frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think so. It wouldn’t explain his limp or the….” Obi-wan trailed off.

         “The what?” Din gently prodded as they stopped in front of the Medbay.

         “The scars around his neck,” Obi-wan finally said, haunted eyes looking up at Din. “They were from a slave collar.”

Chapter Text

            Jango Fett looked younger than Din expected now that Din could observe the man’s face free of the tension it had had earlier. Fett was definitely under 30; Din would say somewhere in his mid-twenties if he had to guess. It was weird to think that this man had been Mand’alor at such a young age. Din had asked (ok, interrogated) Dooku on how in the hell Fett had ended up a slave, and the man hadn’t given any reasonable answer. The Jedi had dropped Fett off to the Mayor that had contacted them and hadn’t bothered with a follow-up. Din was mildly impressed that Dooku continued to move up his shit list. Obi-wan had managed to dance around Din's questions on how he'd identified Fett's scars. Din had resolved to push it to a later time.

         Din hadn’t sat in with Satine when she tried to contact the remains of the True Mandalorians, choosing to keep vigilance at Fett’s side as the man was likely to wake up soon. Din didn’t know why he felt the need to, but Grogu also seemed fascinated with Fett. Din had to, once again, stop Grogu from crawling onto the bio-bed and running his hands over Fett’s face. Obi-wan huffed after that, curiously tilting his head.

         “What?” Din asked.

         “Grogu says he knows Fett’s face, but he feels different,” Obi-wan answered with a slight frown. Grogu cooed. “I think the clones were clones of Fett.”

         Din tried to remember the few promotional holos he had seen as a child but could only conjure images of troopers in white armor painted in various colors. There hadn’t been any holos with the clones’ helmets removed. The information caused more questions than it answered, both about Fett’s future and the clones as a whole. It was, fortunately, not Din’s job to figure that out.

         Fett shifted on the bed, causing Din and Obi-wan to stiffen. Obi-wan was watching Fett with rapt attention, Fett was still, but Din could see the slightest hitch in the man’s breathing. Obi-wan nodded at Din; Fett was awake but was pretending not to be. Din was going to call Fett out, but Obi-wan beat him to it.

         “Are you feeling better, Ser Fett?” Obi-wan asked softly. Fett’s hand twitched, and the man slowly cracked his eyes open. The lights had been dimmed so it wouldn’t be too painful for him. Din watched as Fett’s eyes flicked between Obi-wan and himself, briefly lingering on Grogu. Fett frowned and slowly started to sit up, eyes locked on Din. Which was fair- Din had shot him.

         “Su cuy’gar,” Din greeted dryly as he reached over and pressed the call button.

         “Where am I? What did you do to me?” Fett asked in Mando’a, voice scratchy. Fett was apparently assuming Obi-wan didn’t speak the language. At least the man hadn’t fully recognized that Obi-wan was a Jetii- Din didn’t know how well that would end.

         “I stunned you. You had a seizure. You are in the medbay,” Din replied shortly. Before Fett could respond, the door to the room opened, and the baar’ur- a stern-looking Pantroan man named Kilay- entered the room.

         “Mand’alor Fett,” Kilay greeted. Fett looked shocked at the greeting, but Kilay had expressed that he was a True Mandalorian but had accepted employment in the palace. Work was work and all that. It was lucky he was working when Fett had come in. “Me’vaar ti gar?”

         Fett didn’t respond as Kilay checked the monitor Fett was attached to. The medic raised a brow at Fett’s silence, prompting the man to answer. “Not the Mand’alor.”

         Kilay sighed. “Agree to disagree, Mand’alor. Please answer my question.”

         “I feel like I was stunned,” Fett said blandly, eyes darting to Din. “And had a seizure, apparently.”

         “Any withdrawal symptoms currently?” Kilay asked patiently. “We took the liberty to place you on a spice replacement. All the relief with none of the high. Should help wean you off without any more seizures.”

         “You’re not gonna ask how your Mand’alor-“Fett spat the word-“got addicted to spice.”

         Kilay just raised a brow again, finishing looking through the medical devices. The Pantraon crossed his arms. “I can guess, but it’s not relevant. I’ll assume you’re feeling fine, then.”

         “The Duchess is on her way,” Obi-wan interrupted the stare-down between Fett and Kilay. “She said she was able to get contact, and someone is on their way.”

         Fett sneered. Din couldn’t tell if it was aimed at Obi-wan or Satine. But Fett didn’t say anything.

         “Ok. Given you don’t get worse, you can be discharged soon. Preferably when there is someone you can stay with,” Kilay said, ignoring Fett’s glower. “A support system is important in beating addiction. Plus, you will need a place to stay, preferably nearby, so I can continue monitoring you, and we can slowly wean you off the replacement.”

         “I am not staying here,” Fett finally said, shaking his head. Kilay hummed skeptically but didn’t refute the man. A light knock on the door stopped any further conversation.

         “Come in,” Kilay said, and the door opened to reveal Satine. The girl smiled slightly, waving slightly at Grogu when the child cooed at her. She focused back on Fett. Fett looked less than amused.

         “Hello, Ser Fett. I am happy to see you awake. You gave us quite the scare,” Satine said kindly as she stepped into the room, letting the door close behind her. “I do hope you are feeling better.”  Fett grunted in response, arms crossed and reminding Din slightly of a petulant child. Satine didn’t falter. Kilay excused himself. “If you are feeling up to it, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

         “Not like I have much of a choice,” Fett said.

         “You are the one that came here,” Satine reminded him gently. Fett just grunted again. Satine glanced at Din, but he just shrugged. “Regardless, I contacted someone named Silas Vall, and he is on his way. He sounded pleased to hear you were here.”

         Fett looked surprised at the news, but he quickly schooled his expression. “So he’s my prison guard to make sure I listen to you? How many people have you forced to follow your rules?”

         Satine frowned, and Din could see how hurt she was. Din knew that Satine truly wanted what was best for Mandalore and was coming around to the idea that maybe what she thought was best wasn’t. There was no need to be insulting her.

         “If you don’t like how she leads, why don’t you step up and do it?” Din prodded, Grogu backing him up with an agreeing babble.

         “I’m no leader.”

         “But you were.”

         “And look what happened!” Fett burst, nearly surging out of bed. He was only stopped by the monitors he was hooked up to. “I led my people into a massacre and got myself enslaved. What kind of leader is that?”

         “The kind forced into the position too soon,” Obi-wan answered gently. Fett turned towards him in shock; he’d forgotten that Obi-wan was there. Obi-wan wasn’t phased and instead continued in a tone that spoke of experience far beyond his age. “You were not ready to lead and were led into a trap meant to make you fail.”

         “Wow, that really makes me feel so much better,” Fett sneered sarcastically. “You’re so good at comforting, Jetii.”

         “I wasn’t trying to make you feel better,” Obi-wan retorted. “Just stating the facts.”

         “If you want another chance,” Satine interjected, “I would be very interested in working with you and the Haat Mando’ade, as I am in the process of constructing my own board of advisors-“ Fett harshly laughed, but Satine just raised a brow at him and continued speaking, “And your input on how to better blend the Haat Mando’ade and New Mandalorian beliefs would be appreciated.”

         “Why would you want me?” Fett asked, a slip of insecurity escaping in his tone.

         “Our buire admired and respected each other, and despite their differences, both wanted to work to build a better Mandalore,” Satine stated firmly. “I believe we both want the same. So we can continue their legacies and not let our differences and disagreements tear us, and our people, apart.”

         “But why me?” Fett stressed. “I’m sure whoever is leading the remnants of the Haat Mando’ade would work just as well.”

         “I spoke to him, and Silas was insistent that you would be the one to work with me.” Satine smiled sadly. “You may not see yourself as such, but your people still consider you Mand’alor. And while the New Mandalorians may not be ready to accept you as such, you are welcomed here as my equal.”

         Din couldn’t help the swell of pride he felt at Satine’s progress in the short time he’d known her. Not for the first time, Din wondered how the girl had turned out in his original timeline. Fett looked shocked at Satine’s declaration, and Din wanted to wave his arms and say, ‘See, you shouldn’t have underestimated her!’ but he was a professional. Still, the look Obi-wan shot him told Din he might’ve been projecting that into the Force or something.

         “Ah,” Fett breathed before he set his lips in a grim frown. “I’m not one for politics, but I will help take down Kyr’tsad.”

         Satine smiled. “Great. With Tor Vizsla no longer causing terror, I am confident we can lead our people to peace and prosperity.”

         “Ah, yeah,” Fett said with a grimace. “I already killed Vizsla.”

         “Oh.”

         “How the hells-“ Din muttered, confused on many levels. One while addicted to spice, Fett had managed to kill who Din was assuming was Death Watch’s leader. Two, Vizsla? As in Paz Vizsla, as in Din’s long-time friend/rival, Vizsla? That-

         That kind of made sense, actually- that some type of grandchild of the leader of Death Watch, a member of its offshoot.

         “Who is leading Death Watch now?” Obi-wan asked. “Did Tor have a child?”

         “Yes,” Din answered, shrugging at the confused looks Fett and Satine gave him. “I grew up with his grandson.”

         “Me’ven?” Fett asked, rapidly blinking as if clearing something from his eyes. “Because I thought I heard you say you knew Vizsla’s grandson. Which he doesn’t have.”

         “Oh yeah,” Din mumbled. “Yeah, the kid and I are from the future.”

         “Ok, that’s it,” Fett said abruptly, trying to push himself up off the bed. “Either you’re insane, or I’m still on a spice trip. Either way, I’m done.”

         “Jango Fett, you will sit your ass back on that bed and listen,” A stern voice came from the doorway. A dark-haired human male was standing in the doorway, his green and gold helmet secure on his hip. “Or I will make you.”

         “Silas,” Fett said breathlessly as he lowered himself back onto the bed. Silas looked unimpressed as he entered the room.

         “Mand’alor,” Silas greeted more respectfully, grinning at Jango’s grumble. “Su cuy’gar.”

         “You too. I didn’t know who-“ Jango cut himself off. It was quiet for a moment. Din saw Obi-wan look around the room, which was getting cramped.

         “I will excuse myself,” he said, getting up from his chair and offering it to the standing Mandalorians. Satine motioned for Silas to sit. “I don’t want to intrude.”

         “When has that stopped the Jetii before?” Jango muttered.

         “Hate the people that hurt you, not their kin,” Din snapped, tired of the man’s whiney attitude. If he had to listen to one more derogatory remark about his son or Obi-wan, Din would punch Jango. And doing so in a med bay was typically frowned upon. “I will not listen to you insult my ade anymore.”

         Everyone in the room looked stunned at Din’s mild outburst except Grogu, who was happily cooing. Jango and Silas were rapidly looking between each other, Din, and Grogu, clearly trying to figure out how the tiny green Jetii became the son of a Mandalorian.

         “The future, remember?” Din prompted. “Things are different.”

         “That is an interesting difference,” Silas admitted. Obi-wan slipped out of the room.

         “You actually believe him?” Jango said to his friend. Silas shrugged.

         “The Duchess told a convincing story, and if even half of it is true, we’ll want to believe them. It’s bad, Jango.”

         “And according to Grogu,” Din added, holding up the kid for reference, “You have a bigger part to play than we originally thought. You know anything about cloning?”

         Fett shook his head silently. Satine chose that moment to speak. “It is a long story, Ser Fett. Perhaps we can tell it over late meal tonight? In the meantime, we can get you discharged and set up here in the palace. You as well, Silas.” Silas nodded in acceptance and nudged Jango to agree. The man still looked shocked and confused. Din figured Silas would help fill in some gaps in the time before late meal. Satine smiled. “Wonderful. I will get baar’ur Kilay and have him prep you for discharge.”

         Din stood to follow Satine, sending one last menacing look at Jango. Judging by the man’s sheepish expression, the look got across even with the helmet. That was the nice thing about being around other Mandalorians. They understood faceless expressions better.

         Din followed Satine as she talked to Kilay, and then into the hallway outside the medbay. He stopped her before she could return to her office and do more work.

         “Did you have midmeal?” Din asked.

         “I had some fruit, yes,” Satine said as she typed something on her comm.

         “No good enough.” Din gently pulled her down the hallway, depositing Grogu in her arms when she tried to argue. “Break time. And then you can do some more work.”

         “Ok, fine,” Satine relented. “Also, where’s Bo?”

         “Last I knew, Jinn was teaching her some Jetii moves.”

         “Oh, and you let him?” Satine teased. “I’m surprised since you’re such a papa buir.”

         “… I’m not her buir?” Din said, confused.

         “It’s an expression,” Satine explained. She smiled sadly. “Though you might be getting close. You did say ‘ade’ after all.”

         Din stopped moving. He’d said what?

         I will not listen to you insult my ade anymore.

         Oh. Oh, osik, not again.

Chapter Text

            Din wasn’t one for politics- he lacked the patience for annoying people and had more of a ‘shot first, talk later’ policy. So Din was justifiably confused when, the day after Fett woke up, one of the advisors approached him in between meetings with Jango, Satine, and her new council. She was one of the younger advisors, probably about Jangos’ age, and she had a brave face on when walking up to Din.

         “Hi?” Din said, more question in the word than he meant to have.

         “Hello,” the girl greeted cheerfully. “My name is Ashon, and I was hoping you would be willing to help me.”

         Din was fairly certain Ashon was a New Mandalorian; there was not a hint of armor on the girl. So she probably wasn’t going to try to hire him for a job. “Uh, sure.”

         “Great!”  Ashon held her hand out, giving Din a datastick. Tentatively, Din took it. “I was hoping you’d look over my suggestions on integrating the True and New Mandalorians in our education systems. I would appreciate your feedback on how you think we should work with the more traditionalist groups!” Din was nodding along even though his confusion hadn’t gone away. “You can take your time; I shouldn’t need it before the end of the week.”

         Ashon was gone before Din could question her on why she thought Din would know anything about what should be taught in schools.

         Someone cleared their throat at the end of the hall, and Din snapped his head over to see Jinn standing serenely. The man had a slight smirk on his face. “Making a move into politics, Mando?”

         “No?” Din looked down at the datastick in his hand before putting it in his belt, resolving to look at it later. “No. Just helping.”

         Jinn hummed. “You do have a way with younger individuals. The Duchess and her sister do look up to you.”

         Din shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t do anything special.”

         “A natural talent, then,” Jinn concluded. “However, I would like to discuss something with you.”

         “Ok?”

         Jinn folded his hands in his incredibly impracticable cloak. “It won’t take much of your time.” Jinn swept an arm towards one of the empty meeting rooms.

         Din followed the man in, sitting across from Jinn at the table. Din awkwardly fiddled with his hands before resting them on his thighs. Jinn was still smiling, but he looked more serious.

         “Obi-wan speaks highly of you, and I cannot express my gratitude enough to you for being with him and the Duchess when I could not be. You had no incentive to help them as you did and continue to do.”

         “They were alone, being attacked, and couldn’t fully defend themselves. Any good Mandalorian would’ve helped,” Din countered. The way Jinn was speaking made Din sound like some selfless hero. Din was just a Mandalorian bounty hunter that was trying to get his magic kid a teacher and had ended up way out of his depth.

         “The galaxy could use more people with that line of thinking,” Jinn said with a tone of finality. This wasn’t what the Jedi had wanted to talk to Din about. So Din hummed, waiting for Jinn to continue. “Regardless, as you probably already know, there is something else I wish to speak to you about.”

         Din wished he had Grogu or another one of the kids here with him. Any excuse to get out of this conversation.

         Jinn cleared his throat, resting his hands on the table before him. “What do you know of the Jedi code?”

         Din tipped his head to the side as he remembered some of the things he’d been told. “You use the Force, and you help people. Uh, Obi-wan mentioned something about emotions with his meditation.”

         Jinn smiled, so Din figured he’d hit upon some point the man was looking for. “Ah yes, negative emotions like fear and hate negatively impact anyone, but a Force user is susceptible. Such emotions- and attachments- can lead to the-“

         “Dark side?” Din guessed, remembering his conversation with Ahsoka Tano. Din would admit he didn’t fully understand the whole thing; how could the fact that Grogu saw him as a father lead to terrible things? Sure, the kid had choked a few people when he thought Din was in danger, but wasn’t that all the more reason to teach Grogu not to do that? Jinn looked moderately surprised that Din knew what he was talking about. “Before we got here, I had found one of the last Jedi. She wouldn’t teach Grogu because, apparently, he was attached to me.” Din shrugged. “She said she knew someone whose anger had led to the dark side, and it wasn’t good.”

         “And yet you still searched for a teacher?” Jinn asked, a slight frown on his face.

         “I want Grogu to know how to protect himself,” Din explained. “Both physically and from your dark side.”

         “Yet you no longer are searching for someone to teach him to be a Jedi?”

         “From my understanding,” Din said dryly, “That’s not possible since I adopted him officially. Am I wrong?”

         Din didn’t know why Jinn looked so confused, but he was content to let the man puzzle out whatever he was thinking. Din didn’t need to justify his parenting- for someone who never intended to become a buir, much less one to a magic kid; Din thought he was doing pretty good.

         Eventually, Jinn nodded. “Yes, that is right.” Jinn shook his head lightly. “I am afraid I got off topic, apologizes. I did want to discuss attachments with you. But not in concerns to Grogu.” Din had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. But he stayed quiet and motioned for Jinn to continue. “It had come to my intention that recently you, however unintentionally, have become something of a father figure to the Kryze sisters.” Din nodded in agreement, helmet hiding his bashfulness. “And perhaps, even for my Padawan.”

         Yeah, ok. Din was getting some type of shovel talk from Jinn. Great. Just what he wanted with his day. Still, Din nodded again.

         Jinn tried for a kind smile. “I am glad Obi-wan has found himself comfortable with you. It is something he has…struggled with in the past. And yet…”

         “You’re worried he’s going to get attached to me?” Din asked, tired of Jinn talking around his point. Jinn winced slightly, so Din decided to go in for the kill. “Because I’ve been teaching him Mando’a and Mandalorian culture. Because he tells me more than he tells you?”

         Din wasn’t stupid. He was, by nature and profession, very observant. He had seen Jinn trying to hide scowls when Obi-wan had gone to Din for advice. Seen the way Jinn hesitated to leave Obi-wan alone with Din and how the man had been coming up with more and more tasks to keep Obi-wan occupied.

         “You must understand, I am only worried for my Padawan,” Jinn said, sounding a little strained. “He has struggled with anger and attachment. I only want what is best for him.”

         “Have you told Obi-wan that?” Din asked, annoyance seeping into his voice. “Instead of trying to scare me off, potentially upsetting Obi-wan in the process, have you tried talking to Obi-wan about your concerns?” Jinn gapped, mouth moving, but no words came out. Din nodded with finality. “Great. Let me know how that goes. Now, I have a meeting to get to.”

         With that, Din got up and left the room, leaving Jinn behind. Din allowed himself a moment in the hallway to clear his thoughts before heading to the meeting room. Din wasn’t the first one back. Jango was in his seat, and Silas (who had been the man’s shadow) was nowhere to be seen. Din quietly took his seat. Thankfully, it wasn’t at the main table but instead off to the side of Satine’s seat. She’d refused to let Din stand the entire meeting.

            Din and Jango didn't speak for a few minutes. Jango looked content to stare up at the ceiling with a thoughtful look on his face. So Din was a little shocked when the man spoke. “ My buir was preparing me to take his place as ruler . But he was killed far before I was ready .” Jango turned to look at Din. “ And yet people insist on pulling me into politics I don’t understand.”

         “I know the feeling,” Din said, thinking of the datastick in his pocket.

         Jango sighed, looking away from Din. Quietly, he said, “I don’t hate Kr- Satine. I actually think she’s doing a good job, all things considered. I thought she was a radical New Mandalorian. That’s why I was rude. But she keeps asking me about the Resol’nare and its interpretations.”

         “When I met her, she was more radical,” Din said after a moment. “Her Coruscant education opened her up to these beliefs, but she was willing to learn and change.”

         Jango let out of soft breath. “Guess I should try that too, huh?”

         “It could help. I hear politics is about compromise.” Well, that was one of the kinder things about politics he’s heard. “Have you tried talking to Satine about it?” That seemed to be a theme for today. What is it with these people not talking to each other? Even Din, who isn’t known for his love of talking, could see that as the easy solution.

         “Tell that to Almec,” Jango muttered in basic. Din could understand the sentiment. The man, while loyal to Satine, got on his nerves.

         “You’re outnumbered,” Din said instead of his more unpleasant thoughts. “You and Silas are putting up a good fight, and Satine is a good mediator. But you need more people on your side. Maybe even more traditionalists. That way, you know everyone is heard.”

         Jango grimaced. “Can’t you be the traditionalist's voice? Bringing them in here will result in more yelling.”

         “I’m from the future,” Din helpfully reminded him. “Current affairs and concerns aren't something I know.”

         Jango sighed and agreed. “I’ll ask Silas-“

         The door to the room opened, and Silas and Satine entered. “Ask Silas what?”

         “If any of the older families would be interested in sending a representative.”

         Silas nodded. “I can think of a few. Wren, for starters.”

         Satine smiled. “That’s a good idea, Jango. Let me know who agrees, and I can arrange a place for them to stay if needed.”

         The conversation faded as more people re-entered the room. Satine had taken her seat but leaned over to whisper to Din. “Any reason I saw Master Jinn exiting a meeting room, looking shell-shocked?”

         Din shook his head and tried for an exasperated tone. “Jetii and their communication issues.”

         Satine smirked. “Too true. Just like you and your adoption issues. Which is-”

         “Something we should probably talk about. Yeah.” Din nodded. Satine smiled again, softer this time. Someone called for her attention, and Din let himself lean back slightly in his chair.

         The Kryze sisters had just lost their buir, and Din had no idea how they’d feel about Din accidentally taking that position. Bo-Katan had been silent at first meal, glancing at Din when she thought he wasn’t looking. Satine hadn’t made much mention of it since Din had admitted to her that ‘ade’ to him encompassed more than Bo-Katan. Din remembered after his parents died, he hadn’t called his buir ‘buir’ for months. There had never been a push for it, but Din had struggled with that trauma. On the flip side, Din knew kids entering the covert that took to their new buir like fire, even after losing their parents. Case by case situation if Din had to guess. Maybe he’d look it up. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared. Din’s to-do list was growing rapidly.

• Talk to Obi-wan about the slave thing (and the Jinn thing too)
• Read Ashon’s proposals
• Look up how to parent traumatized kids
• Stop the genocide of the Mandalorians and Jetii.
• And preferably the Clone Wars too

         Easy enough. But he had to get through this meeting first, starting off strong with Almec trying to make a case for why architecture was a better purpose for beskar. Funnily enough, it was not a popular suggestion, even among some New Mandalorians.

Chapter Text

            Din knew this conversation was coming- had known it since Satine pointed out his accidental ‘ade.’ That doesn’t mean he was prepared for it. But when Satine had all but pulled him away after the meeting adjourned, Din was helpless to follow after her. At least the girl didn’t look angry as he led him through the hallways and into her and Bo-Katan’s rooms. Sitting at their private dining table were Bo-Katan, Obi-wan, and Grogu. Din felt an itch in his hands, having never been comfortable being cornered. This, of course, wasn’t a typical situation where he was cornered, but the ade’s faces made it clear he wasn’t leaving until they had all talked.

      Satine sat next to her sister at the round table, leaving Din to sit in the remaining seat. It had a good view of the door to the hall, which Din appreciated. Obi-wan quickly passed Grogu over, and his ad happily snuggled into Din’s arms. Din stroked his fingers softly over Grogu’s ears as he waited for someone to speak.

      Satine lightly cleared her throat. “So, we are here to discuss a situation that caught us all by surprise-“

      “Don’t treat this like one of your meetings,” Bo-Katan cut her sister off. The younger girl turned to Din. “You referred to us as your ‘ade.’” It wasn’t a question, but Din nodded anyway. “Did you mean it?”

      “Bo-“ Satine tried to calm her sister. But Bo-Katan continued on.

      “No, he said it. He either meant it or not,” Bo-Katan said firmly, turning back to stare at Din. “So?”

      Din took a breath, patting Grogu’s head when the child cooed. Din allowed himself to sweep his eyes over the table. Bo-Katan was frowning, but Din could see the tears forming in her eyes. Satine was also looking at Din, but her feelings about the situation were hidden. Obi-wan wasn’t looking at Din, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. Din wondered if Jinn had talked to him and how that conversation went.

      “I-“ Din cleared his throat, voice hoarse. It didn’t help, but the action afforded him another moment before he had to speak. “Yeah. Sorry.”

      Bo-Katan opened her mouth as if to yell- like to rave about Din’s audacity; she and Satine had just lost their buir, and Obi-wan was a Jetii! They never asked for any parental figure, much less from Din, a man from the future whom they had met less than two weeks ago! Satine would undoubtedly back her sister up, if not more gently. Obi-wan would add that Din had done an excellent job preparing them to stop his horrific future, but with his talents, there wasn’t much more he could do. Satine might offer him credits, maybe a ship, so he and Grogu could go start their new, hopefully improved, lives. Din needed to be out of the palace by the end of the day.

      It was what Din had figured would happen as he ran scenario after scenario through his mind during the remainder of the meeting. He hadn’t been able to come up with any good ideas as to what he’d do- his skills lay firmly with bounty hunting, but in this time, he didn’t have the reputation he once had with the Guild. Sure, Satine had managed to get him an official ID again, so Din could theoretically start anew with the Guild, but it would be a pain. Besides, was that what he actually wanted? He had Grogu to think about, and while he had been able to balance caring for the kid and hunting, it hadn’t been easy. They were criminals now, weren’t being hunted. They could settle down. Maybe find a Mandalorian clan open to a traditionalist and his magic son. Din could teach the kids how to shoot, hunt, or whatever.

      But regardless of the consequences, Din couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He had found himself growing fond of these kids- even though they were technically older than him and that Din was like 75% older Bo-Katan had wanted to kill him at some point. It was weird and made his head hurt. But the fact of the matter was that these kids were some of the only people he knew in this time. Din didn’t know what to do if he had to leave them. The worry alone might kill him.

      “Patuu?” Grogu’s voice broke Din out of his thoughts, the gentle smack to his helmet accenting the noise. Grogu was standing on his toes in Din’s lap, eyes wide. Din muttered reassurances to his ad.

      “Sorry, I got lost in thought.”

      “You keep apologizing,” Obi-wan pointed out. Din looked at him and shrugged, biting back another apology. He didn’t want to upset them- it was a new sentiment that Din had gained. Because Din used to never care how other people saw him. But for these kids, Din didn’t think he could handle it if they thought bad of him.

      Din glanced over at Satine and Bo-Katan and saw the older girl wrapping an arm around her sister. Great, Din had made Bo-Katan cry. Now there was no way Satine would let him stay.

      “Please don’t cry, Bo,” Din rasped. Grogu cooed again, looking torn between comforting his buir and Bo-Katan.

      “You don’t get to say you see us as your kids and then apologize for it!” Bo-Katan shouted, whipping her tears away as if they’d personally offended her. “Own up to it!”

      Satine tried to calm her sister down, but she kept staring at Din in challenge. Din didn’t want to know what the girl would do if he failed to act. So Din took a deep breath and said, as steadily as he could, “I have, accidentally, found myself thinking of the three of you as my ade.”

      Bo-Katan slumped back into her seat. Obi-wan sounded almost like he’d been punched, and Satine bit her lip. Satine lightly said, “I’m sure you understand our hesitance….”

      “You just lost your buir,” Din said and nodded to Obi-wan, “and you still have your Jetii buir. I know. Trust me. I know.”

      Satine nodded. “I think this is something the two- the three of us,” Satine corrected as she looked at Obi-wan (who looked reminiscent of a kicked Tooka), “should talk about.” When Din didn’t move, she raised a brow at him. “Alone. Please.”

      “Oh right, yeah, I got it,” Din muttered as he stood up. Grogu slapped his arm.

      “He wants to stay here for this,” Obi-wan translated. So Din set Grogu down on the table. “We can call you when we’re done?”

      “Ok. Just don’t forget to eat late meal.” The reminder slipped past Din’s lips before he realized that was maybe too much of a buir thing to do in this circumstance. The kids just smiled, so he left it at that and left the room.

      Din didn’t move immediately when he stepped into the hallway. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop- no, he was just confused and lost. Din started walking, trusting his feet to take him somewhere safe. He made it to his rooms and was pretty sure that he had passed Dooku at one point. The older man had looked concerned, but he didn’t stop Din.

      Din found himself sitting on his bed as he took his helmet off. He looked at his warped reflection as his mind raced.

      Din was confused. He was lost. He’d been a great bounty hunter, traveling the galaxy's outer edges with his ward. Now, he was fifty years in the past and in the middle of what was shaping to be a new political movement. The ability to prevent millions of deaths was in his hands. And here he was, freaking out about where some teenagers he’d met a few weeks ago were mad at him. Din set his helmet to the side so he could bury his face in his hands as he hunched over his knees. His fingers wound into his hair- he needed a haircut- and tugged slightly as if trying to pull away his thoughts. It was unsuccessful.

      Because Din was scared. In their time, there had been dangers- rouge Imps, greedy bounty hunters, and the occasional beast. But now they were being threatened by other Mandalorians, dar’jetii, and the looming threat of war. And what the hell was Din going to do? Fight his way through it like every problem he’d encountered before? Even with his pure beskar armor and spear, Din was no match for a terrorist group and magical beings. And what if he did stop these things? What new threat would arise? Din didn’t know every last detail about the Clone Wars and what preceded it. There were bound to be things, people, and events he would miss that would spiral into something worse.

      Where was Din’s place in the galaxy? Before, he was secure in his place- he was the provider of his clan and then later of Grogu. Now, he was a bodyguard for a Duchess who, given certain plans played out well, wouldn’t need him anymore. That would leave Din and Grogu alone in the universe.

      Surely, Din thought with some panic, there was someone better suited to all of this that the Manda, or the Force, or whatever could’ve shot back in time. Like Tano or hell, even one of those Rebellion people.

      Din choked on a sob, his chest aching. That pain, plus the sting of him pulling his hair, pulled him out of his downward spiral. He was crying, heaving, and rasping breaths escaping him. His chest felt tight- crying with armor on was never pleasant.

      Ok Din, get your osik together.

      5 things you see: the floor, the bedspread, his fingers, the ornate wallpaper, his knees

      4 things you can feel: the ache in his chest, wetness on his face, stinging of his scalp, the weight of his beskar

      3 things you can hear: his hitching breath, the whirl of the temperature control system, someone speaking beyond the door-

      What?

      Din tried to focus on that last sound and finally made out a frantic voice accompanied by knocking. “Din? Din, please let us in!”

      That was Satine! She sounded scared.

      Without a second thought, Din bounded to his door, mind whirling with reasons why she was here- was she in danger? Was Death Watch attacking? Din opened the door, hand already on his blaster.

      Instead of distant blaster fire, Din only heard Satine squeak as she and Obi-wan turned around, Satine pulling Bo-Katan with her. Grogu peeked his head over Obi-wan’s shoulder and whined.

      “Uhh…What’s wrong?” Din asked, trying to figure out why their backs were to him? His thought slowly caught up to him, and he realized they must have finished their talk and tried to call him. When he didn’t respond, they’d come to get him- how long was Din lost in thought for? “Ad’ike?”

      “Helmet,” Obi-wan answered. Din frowned and, in a kind of dumb move, patted his face. Which was not covered.

      “Ah.” Din surprised himself by not panicking. His covert didn’t exist, and talks with Jango and Silas showed that wearing your helmet at all times was a rule not commonly followed. Did that mean Din would be walking around the palace bare face? No, that felt too exposed. But in his room with his kids- even if they were delivering news that they didn’t want that? Why not. It felt like the conversation he should show his face for. “Just- just come in. Please.”

      Din backed away from the door and watched in amusement as Obi-wan, Satine, and Bo-Katan tried to walk through the door backward. Grogu, evidently annoyed with their weirdness, demanded to be let down so he could toddle his way to Din. As Din always did, he picked his son up. Grogu patted his cheek, a habit the boy had taken to when seeing Din’s bare face.

      The three teens successfully got into the room and shut the door behind- in front?- of them. Din went over to the small living set up to the side of the room and sat on a chair with Grogu on his lap. His helmet was still on the bed.

      “You can turn around,” Din said softly. He was already taking in as much as he could of the three without his HUD changing the image. “It’s ok, ori’haat.”

      Bo-Katan was the first to turn around. She immediately started scanning Din’s face. Din was hopeless to stop the flush of his cheeks, not having as much practice controlling his face as most people had. When Din didn’t change his mind or say something to Bo-Katan, Satine and Obi-wan also turned around. Having three people looking at him was uncomfortable, but Din would bear it.

      Obi-wan seemed to be able to tell Din’s feelings, however. He tugged Satine and Bo-Katan over to the loveseat and other chair.

      Satine tried to lock eyes with Din as she went to speak but couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking across his face. “Are you ok? You look like….”

      “You were crying,” Obi-wan finished. “Grogu got worried about you, so we came to check.”

      “Yeah, just,” Din hesitated on sharing his thoughts. He didn’t want to stress them out or have them change their choices in any way. “Just thinking too hard about some difficult stuff.” Satine and Obi-wan exchanged glances but let him get away with his lackluster answer. Bo-Katan was still staring at him. “Uh, Bo? Everything ok?”

      Satine lightly smacked his sister’s arm, but Bo-Katan waved her off. “I just thought you’d look more… buir-y.”

      “Buir-y?” Din wrinkled his nose at the word.

      “Yeah,” Bo-Katan said with a nod. “Less scruffy.”

      “Bo!” Satine scolded, poorly hiding a smile. Din didn’t bother pretending not to smile. He was pretty scruffy looking. Never really had to deal with other people seeing him.

      They sat in happy silence for another minute before Din sighed. He hated unnecessary waits. “So, what’s the verdict?”

      Satine sat up straighter. “I can’t speak for Obi-wan, but Bo and I- well, you’re right. We just lost our buir, but….”

      “You haven’t been pushy about it,” Bo-Katan finished. “Bet if you didn’t slip up, you would’ve never mentioned anything.” Din nodded in agreement.

      “Plus, from what you told me, you understand how it feels.” Satine’s voice cracked slightly, and she used her shoulder to rub at her eyes. Din’s hands twitched to hug the girl. Satine composed herself and said, “We don’t know if we are ready, or ever will be, to call you buir and say the vows. But we don’t want you to leave. We don’t want you to change.”

      Din’s heart felt like it had stopped. He looked at Bo-Katan for confirmation. The usually boisterous girl seemed shy, biting her lip as she nodded. Din all but deflated in relief, and Grogu squealed.

      “Oh, thank the Manda,” Din mumbled. “Thought you might kick us out.”

      Din had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his helmet, and his under-the-breath remarks could be heard by everyone else. None of the kids looked happy at that one.

      “What! No, we would never have kicked you out!” Satine said in outrage. “You’ve saved our lives, if nothing else!”

      “Plus, you don’t have anywhere else to go.” That earned Bo-Katan an elbow to her ribs.

      “Yeah, you’re right,” Din just agreed. Obi-wan had a knowing look on his face.

      “Is that what you were thinking about? Getting thrown out, and what’d you do?” he guessed.

      “Partially,” Din admitted. “Nice to know I don’t have to keep worrying.”

      “You don’t,” Satine said with finality. Din nodded and looked back at Obi-wan.

      “Right, ok so,” Obi-wan cleared his throat. “Earlier, Master asked to talk to me.”

      “Good,” Din muttered. He elaborated at Obi-wan’s confused look. “Try to talk to me about it; told him it was more of a conversation for you two.”

      Obi-wan chuckled slightly. “That does sound like Master Jinn. Anyway, he wanted to talk about all of this.” Obi-wan waved his hand between them. “He was worried. His last padawan- well, it’s not my story to tell, but basically, he had contact with his birth family and it sort of resulted in him falling, selling me to slavery, and ultimately his death.” Obi-wan took a breath and made to continue, but Din held a finger up.

      “We are coming back to that,” Din said firmly. It wasn’t the time to push it, and Din figured it was where he’d learned to identify slave collar marks. But Obi-wan wasn’t allowed to drop that information like nothing happened.

      Obi-wan winced. “Ok. Anyway, attachments for Jedi are bad. It can lead you to fall to the dark side. And while the Order doesn’t ban having familial, romantic, or otherwise relationships, it is treated with caution and usually discouraged for padawans since we are still learners. Add that to the Order’s less-than-stellar relationship with Mandalorians. Master Jinn is worried about my future.”

      “Wait, what’s the difference between an attachment and a relationship?” Bo-Katan asked, voicing Din’s exact thoughts.

      “I can be complicated to understand, but basically, an attachment is an unhealthier relationship, at the extreme. You know, possessiveness and all that. Less extreme than that is the idea that a Jedi’s duty always has to come first, no matter what. I can’t stop a fellow Jedi from going on a mission just because I worry about them, and the people who care about me shouldn’t stop me from my duty for selfish reasons.” Bo-Katan still looked a little confused, and Din was sure he did too. “Don’t worry. Like I said, it’s complicated. Some Jedi still don’t fully understand it, and they’ve been learning it all their lives.”

      “So Ji- Master Jinn told you to be wary of me,” Din guessed, the words leaving a sour feeling in his mouth.

      Obi-wan blushed. “Well, yeah. But I sort of told him- uh, you were already becoming a parent figure to me, so whoops.” The words were rushed, but Din was able to decipher them. “So we talked about boundaries and maintaining those kinds of relationships. Also, I signed up to see a mind healer at the Temple, which is pretty common for people forming stronger relationships outside the Temple.”

      Din took a moment to digest everything. He then looked each of his kids in the eyes. They looked happy, and Din smiled. “I’m happy to be whatever you need or want me to be,” he said. “I care about you, ad’ike. I’m going to work to make sure the galaxy is as safe as it can be for you. Haat, ijaa, haa’it.”

      Like a dam breaking, Bo-Katan all but threw herself at Din. Din, of course, caught her and pulled her into an embrace while shuffling so Grogu wasn’t crushed. Satine and Obi-wan moved to the chair’s arms to curl around Din.

      As for Din, he felt content, he was happy, and he wasn’t lost anymore. Children were the future, and Din was determined to change the future for his kids.

Chapter Text

                Nothing drastically changed in the following days, though Din didn’t know what he expected to happen. Sure, they’d had an emotional conversation, but it was more about acknowledging what was going on rather than changing behaviors. Really the only things that had changed were the kids having more physical contact with him and Jinn…

      Well, the Jedi was being weird and asking Din for what sounded like parenting advice. Din gave it- baffled as to how he’d become the go-to source for it.

      And as if the word had spread of Din’s willingness to shell out words of advice- more like state things he thought were obvious but looked to be a revelation from the Manda to the recipients- Din had found himself increasingly being approached. And not just by politicians and Jedi. Random members of the palace staff had lost any fear of him. On the occasional trip into the city, Din would find himself standing in front of a nervous New Mandalorian asking for help with their toddler’s problems or, on one memorable trip, recommendations for a self-defense weapon. Grogu was thrilled with the increase in the attention he was receiving.

      Jango sat heavily down on the bench next to Din. Din was just trying to take a second to breathe in one of the gardens in the palace. Grogu was crawling around, wreaking havoc on the fauna.

      “Jango,” Din greeted, looking at the man from the corner of his eye. Din kept most of his attention on his son. Grogu squealed in greeting before turning back to his chase. An unlucky frog was lifted into the air using the Force. Grogu turned to Din with a smile on his face. “Good job, ad’ika.”

      Jango huffed a laugh. “You’re a good buir,” he said.

      Din turned to better face Jango. “If Jinn told you to ask me more parenting advice-“

      Jango scoffed and shook his head. “I’ve been avoiding the Jetii. Though that old toa-“ Jango cut himself off, eyeing Grogu. “Uh, old Master Yoda keeps creeping up on me somehow. I can’t understand half the stuff he says.”

      “Obi-wan says that is normal,” Din said. Din had asked Obi-wan about it after Yoda had approached him and started talking about co-parenting and child support? Din wasn’t 100% he had hallucinated that conversation. “He likes to be cryptic.”

      “Huh.”

      Din didn’t say anything else, content to let Jango figure out whatever he wanted.

      “My buir dreamed of a united Mandalore,” Jango eventually said. “Probably would’ve succeeded if it wasn’t for that aruetii Montross and Death Watch. He just… inspired people. Was a great Mand’alor.” Din used his usual tactic of staying quiet. People tended to want to fill the silence, leaving Din with more information without having to dig for it. “When he died, everyone started to look to me as Mand’alor- well, I wasn’t ready. Buir’s advisors did their best to help me, but politics was never my thing. I could complete bounties easily, but beyond that-” Jango sighed. “Well, you know how that ended.”

      Din still didn’t know what Jango wanted him to say, but Jango seemed to have told his piece. They sat silently as they watched Grogu crawl around and babble to himself.

      “I don’t know much about Mandalorian politics,” Din said once he gathered his thoughts. “I hadn’t known other creeds existed until a little before all-“ Din waved a hand around-“this. But, from what I’ve seen and heard, much of it had devolved into who has the loudest voice.” Countess Wren had proven that. The louder she got, the louder the others got in attempts to dominate the conversation. Satine was barely able to prevent the conversations from breaking out into yelling. “Not exactly a good way to get anything done.”

      Was Din hitting on whatever Jango wanted to hear about? Unclear. Jango was still silent, staring out at Grogu. Din had a feeling Jango was lost in his thoughts. By the entrance to the garden, Bo-Katan walked by, Ursa Wren at her side. The two girls had made quick friends. Bo-Katan paused to wave at Din, which Din returned. Grogu squealed again, got up, and toddled quickly over to his sister (the kids had said they were fine being called Grogu’s siblings, leaving a warm feeling in Din’s chest every time he thought it). Din nodded his assent, and Bo-Katan scooped Grogu up and walked away with him. Din was getting better at letting Grogu out of sight. They weren’t being constantly hunted, so it was safe enough.

      “You don’t yell,” Jango said after another pause. “But people still listen to you.”

      Din didn’t like where this was going. “I don’t know why.”

      Jango smirked. “Well, you’re usually right, and don’t try to push your political agenda at each turn. Plus, even the Jetii listen to you. That’s better than most people here.”

      “I don’t have a political agenda,” Din pointed out. “Besides preventing my future.”

      “Exactly. You just want what’s best for everyone, Mandalore, and your ade. You basically ooze mandokarla” Jango looked like the tooka that got the cream. “You’re half the reason we might be able to some type of truce or treaty with the Jetii.”

      “Hmm,” Din hummed in the back of his throat. “Happy to help.”

      “Yeah.” Jango eyed him. “Have you thought about-“

      “Nu draar,” Din cut in, not even wanting to hear the words that he was sure Jango would say. “I don’t have a claim to it.”

      “Who says you need it?” Jango challenged. “There’s plenty of people that would follow you on both sides. Satine, me, Silas, even Wren seems to like you.”

      “It can’t be that easy,” Din said in desperation.

      “Oh, there will be plenty of people that try to fight against you, Kyr’tsad included. My buir was a banished Journeyman protector before he became Mand’alor. He had a vision for our people, got supporters, and they elevated him and chose him. People challenged him, but he always won. Vizsla only survived because he was a hut’uun who never properly challenged him.”

      “I’m no leader.”

      “Aren’t you?”

      They stared at each other in challenge. Din resisted the urge to reach out and shake Jango, questioning his sanity. If Din didn’t know better, he’d say that the spice was still kriffing with Jango’s brain. Jango was still smirking.

      “And what does Silas think of this?” Din finally questioned. Jango’s smirk fell, and he cleared his throat. Din felt the thrill of victory.

      “I, uh, haven’t mentioned it.” Jango rubbed the back of his neck. Jango rushed out, “But I’m sure he’d come around to it.”

      “Well,” Din said as he stood up and patted Jango’s shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

      Din wasn’t running away. It was a tactical retreat combined with Din deciding to check on what chaos Bo-Katan, Grogu, and Ursa had gotten up to. And maybe find Obi-wan and grill him on Jinn’s deal. Maybe cross some stuff off his to-do list. Do some research on how there was no way Din could actually become Mand’alor because it definitely wasn’t as easy as Jango was making it out to be.

      “Din!” Bo-Katan shouted as she ran down the hall towards him, Grogu in her arms and Ursa by her side.

      “Bo’ika,” Din greeted, shaking thoughts of Mand’alor from his mind. “Grog’ika, Ursa.”

      “Mr. Din,” Ursa greeted politely. Din was still getting used to people knowing his name. Go figure, being called Mando was confusing on a planet full of Mandalorians.

      “What are you verd’ike up to?” Din asked.

      Bo-Katan straightened up in a copy of Satine's pose when she was making proposals. “We want to go to Kih’Keldabe. You promised to take Satie and me. And we think that Satine could use a break from politics.”

      Din agreed with that sentiment. “Did you ask your buir?” Din asked Ursa. “And we’ll need to get someone more familiar with it before going.

      “Jango can come too,” Bo-Katan said, a slight blush on her cheeks. Din narrowed his eyes at her, and she shifted her feet. Din hummed suspiciously but allowed it to pass.

      “I was going to ask her after we asked you,” Ursa answered.

      “Ok. Ask your buir and let us know what she says. And Bo, if you can get Jango to agree, that works for me. Also, you have to ask your sister when she can go. Obi-wan too.”

      “Deal!” Bo-Katan said. She handed Grogu back to Din before she and Ursa rushed off. Din looked fondly down at his son. Grogu tilted his head and cooed. Din rubbed his head, much to Grogu’s delight.

      “Can you imagine me as Mand’alor?” Din muttered to his son.

      “Patuu.”

      “Yeah. Me neither.”

      “Never know, what the future may hold.” Din startled and whipped around to face Master Yoda, looking smugger than Din thought a Jedi was supposed to look. “Always changing it is. With your guidance, even now, it shifts. Choose you; the Force did. A bigger role, you have.”

      With that advice(?), the old Master walked away, cane tapping along. When Din was sure the Jetii was gone, he looked back to his son. “Do me a favor, and don’t grow up to talk like that.”

      Grogu cooed in what Din hoped was agreement. Din began walking to where he thought Satine was. Maybe while waiting for Bo-Katan and Ursa to gather permissions, Din could talk to Satine about what it actually took to be Mand’alor.

Chapter Text

            The kids were up to something and weren’t trying to hide it. Din didn’t know if that meant he’d need to teach them about subtlety, if they didn’t think he’d notice, or if they didn’t care. Din took solace in the fact that they weren’t including Jango too. That did leave the two of them alone as they darted between stalls and shops, and Jango kept making little remarks. Din was questioning if this current Mandalore was just failing in teaching subtlety.

         Din was just considering approaching his kids as they left another stall- a stall selling various pieces of metal works. Obi-wan whipped around towards him and whispered frantically to their group. Bo-Katan moved over to a group of younger ade being watched over by their buire as they played. She talked to the buire, gesturing to Din. Din stopped in his tracks and sighed as the adults laughed and nodded to Bo-Katan.

         “That looks fun,” Jango commented.

         “Yeah.” Din sighed. Bo-Katan walked back over to Din, and the buire said something to their ade. They exclaimed and began to follow after Bo-Katan. It was cute, the 7 ade following after a serious-looking Bo-Katan. Obi-wan and Satine were laughing at him.

         When Bo-Katan reached Din, she turned to her little followers and announced, “This is Din. He’s a beroya and fought Kry’tsad to save my vod’e!”

         The ade gasped, and Din had 7 pairs of awe-filled eyes turned on him. He was then bombarded with overlapping questions in basic, Mando’a, and what Din was pretty sure of Ryl. Two of the ade, a Twi’lek, and a human female, latched onto his legs. Din looked to Jango for help but saw Bo-Katan dragging him away. Jango was laughing, the traitor. The buire of the ade currently trying to climb him and talk to him was laughing as they walked closer. They didn’t try to help Din, but they did send him sympathetic looks.

         Din tried to field questions while spreading his attention equally. He watched as Jango and his ade walked into another shop, feeling a mix of pride and annoyance.

         “Is it true that you fought off 10 Kyr’tsad by yourself?”

         “Is your ad really a Jetii?”

         “Are you really a Taung, and that’s why you don’t take off your buy’ce?”

         “Did you really kill 6 Jedi with your bare hands?”

         “That was Mand’alor Fett, di’kut!”

         “Sheb!”

         “Rid’ika!” One of the parents scolded sharply. The ad, Rid, apologized. Great, Din now knew one of their names.

         “Ok, ok,” Din took advantage of the moment of silence. “One at a time, please.”

         The kids bickered with each other on who got to go first, and Din sent a comm to Obi-wan not-quite begging him to come back. Leave the other Mandos to their scheming. Aren’t Jedi supposed to help people?

         Obi-wan left him on read. Din would have to talk to Jinn about his Padawan’s manners.

         One of the ade- the little Twi’lek- tugged on his hand to get his attention. Din kneeled so he could better heat the ade, so he didn’t loom over them.

         “’Lek?” Din asked in his softest voice.

         “Are you really gonna unite Mandalore?” The little girl asked. Din hesitated in the face of her open and earnest expression. Din didn’t know where she’d gotten that idea- if Bo-Katan had brought it up or if that rumor was spreading about him. Despite Din’s feelings on the matter, he didn’t want to disappoint these ade. They were all looking hopefully at him.

         “I’m going to do my best to help,” Din answered. Not a total lie. “That’s not a job only one person can do.”

         The ade seemed happy with their answers and continued to ask him questions, many about his bounty hunting and how he’d met Satine and Obi-wan. Those were questions he could easily answer, and he did so. Din was still checking in on his ade’s location- even in the heart of Sundari, there was a chance of a Death Watch attack. Din trusted that Obi-wan and Jango could protect Satine, Grogu, and Bo-Katan, but he was still going to be on watch. Plus, they were all wearing some sort of head covering to protect their identities. Not that Din wasn’t recognizable enough to give that away. But the Mandalorians in their section seemed happy to pretend they didn’t know them.

         After maybe 15 minutes, the ade ran out of questions- and wow, there were a lot of wide rumors and stories spreading about Din- and began to demand Din show off some of his skills. Fortunately, the ade’s buire stepped in and redirected their attention. One of the buire- Rid’s if Din’s memory served, stepped up to him.

         “ Thank you for that,” they said. “You’ve become quite the tale among the ade. Some of the adults too. My name is Ove, by the way.”

         “ It was no problem,” Din replied. “ My ade seemed eager to distract me.”

         Ove laughed. “ They certainly did seem like it. I’m sure it is for a good reason.”

         “I doubt it ,” Din said with a sigh.

         “It is good to see them able to act like kids,” Ove said, looking over to where Din’s ade were standing outside a shop with their heads bent together. “ It has been a hard time for them .”

         Din nodded. “ Makes up for the dread.”

         They laughed together before Ove said goodbye, but not before inviting Din back to entertain the ade another time. Din found himself seriously considering it. When Din walked towards his little group, they actually allowed him to get close enough to talk to them. He was met with innocent smiles.

         “Have fun?” Obi-wan asked.

         “…Yes,” Din answered as he took Grogu from Satine. Grogu huffed and pulled himself closer to Din. Din chuckled. “No need to be jealous, Grog’ika. What were you kids doing, and do I have to worry about it?”

         “You’ll see, and it depends,” Bo-Katan helpfully answered.

         “Great.”

         “Jango is helping me talk to some of the Haat Mando’ade. I want to hear the opinions of the citizens,” Sainte added. Jango didn’t look terribly thrilled at the idea of re-introducing himself to his people. Din didn’t feel pity for him. Serves him right.

         “That’s smart,” Din praised. Satine smiled at him.

         “We also wanted to introduce Obi-wan,” Bo-Katan said. “Ya’know, introduce a non-threatening Jetii.”

         Obi-wan frowned. “Hey-“

         Din nodded, purposefully cutting Obi-wan off. “An ikaad Jetii is more likely to be welcomed by the Mando’ade.”

         “Oh, come on-“

         “Better than Dooku. Or Yoda, the troll,” Jango said, muttering the last bit. Obi-wan seemingly had given up. Din patted his shoulder.

         “You are a good fighter and Jetii,” Din consoled Obi-wan.

         “Yeah, Obi,” Satine said.

         “Vor’e,” Obi-wan said with a smile. “And don’t forget Bo and Jango talking up Din. Especially to the buire.”

         Bo-Katan winced, but Jango met Din’s stare head-on. Bo-Katan quickly copied him, and Din found himself in the middle of a staring contest with the two of them.

         “Oh, please,” Satine sighed. “Jango, stop trying to pawn off your responsibilities. Din, just accept that you are becoming popular. And Bo, stop instigating.”

         They dropped it, but as they continued to walk around the market, Din began to notice the people looking at him. There was less curiosity and more intrigue.

         “Don’t worry,” Obi-wan whispered to him. “I made sure to compliment Jango’s political return behind his back for you.”

         “Good ad,” Din said and patted his head. Grogu reached out and patted Obi-wan too.

         They all stopped in front of a store selling various types of blades. Bo-Katan was practically pressing her face into the transparisteel of the shop front. She was fixated on a vibroblade. It was small and discrete. Probably wouldn’t do too much damage, but it would fit nicely into a boot.

         “What are you looking at, Bo?” Satine asked as she stepped up next to his sister. Bo pointed the knife out, and Satine bit her lip. Din could see that she was warring with herself. Satine worried about Bo-Katan’s safety, and a vibroblade would help the girl defend herself. But Satine was still adjusting to the thought of carrying around anything that wasn’t a stun blaster. Armor was easy enough to adjust to; it was inherently protective, and any deadliness was an add-on. Din would’ve offered to buy Bo-Katan the blade, but he thought it was important for Satine to make the decision.

         Eventually, Satine sighed. “Ok. Do you want it?”

         Bo-Katan lit up. “Really?! I love this less stuck-up you, Satie!”

         Satine frowned as Bo-Katan grabbed Obi-wan and Jango and pulled them into the store. “I wasn’t stuck up. Right?”

         “Uhh.” Din didn’t want to answer that. “You are, uh, very opinionated and stubborn. Still are, but you’re better about it?” Satine, thankfully, didn’t get offended at Din’s fumble (Grogu was laughing away). She just nodded. “Do you want a blade too?” Satine gave Din a look he couldn’t read. “It would make me feel better?”

         Satine shook her head, but Din could see her smile. “I’ll think about it.”

         They walked into the shop. The shopkeeper looked over at them from where they were talking to Bo-Katan. They looked faintly shocked as if they couldn’t believe Satine was walking in. Din shifted to stand in front of her. The shopkeeper looked away quickly. Din and Satine walked over to the rest of their group. Obi-wan and Jango were bickering about blasters vs lightsabers. At the same time, Bo-Katan listened intently to the shopkeeper explain the specs of the vibroblade.

         On one of the display stands, something caught his eye. It was a long metal tube with holes and a sharpened tip. Din wracked his brain for the name of it but came up blank. The merchant saw what Din was looking at.

         “Ah, I see this bes’bev has caught your eye,” they said with a smile. They walked over and picked the tool up to show it off. “It functions both as an instrument and a weapon. It is a beskar blend, so it is very strong. And this-“ they pointed to the engraving on the side of the bes’bev- “was hand engraved by my riduur. It depicts the beautiful landscapes of Mandalore of old.”

         “It’s beautiful,” Satine murmured. She shook her head, as if breaking a trace. “But I’m afraid I only have the credits for my sister’s blade on me today.”

         “That is alright,” the merchant said, setting down the bes’bev. Bo-Katan took Satine to the droid manning the front desk to buy the blade. The merchant stayed by Din, and Jango and Obi-wan moved to stand next to him. All three men were looking at the bes’bev and between each other.

         “I could put it on hold if you’d like to come back for it?” the merchant suggested.

         “ You would do that?” Jango asked, faintly surprised.

         “It is nice to see the Duchess widening her horizons, ” the merchant admitted. “I believe a bes’bev is the perfect weapon for her at this point, elegant but still dangerous. I hope it will help in changing her views.”

         Din agreed, and the merchant marked the bes’bev on hold for a week. Din was pretty sure he couldn’t afford it on his own, but he’d probably be able to convince Jango or someone else to pitch in.

         They exited the shop, Bo-Katan showing her new vibroblade off to Din, who made sure to react with the appropriate amount of awe and sternness in making sure she would be able to use it properly. Grogu was also watching, fascinated by the swishing movements. Satine was talking to Jango- the two getting into debates frequently. They had stopped getting heated for the most part, but Din kept half an ear on it just in case. Obi-wan was walking silently, his lips pulled down into a slight frown. Din was about to as the Jetii what was wrong as they turned down a side road, but Obi-wan stopped in his tracks.

         “Obi?” Satine asked in worry. Obi-wan looked around frantically, causing Din and Jango to reach for their weapons. Grogu whined, his ears flattening. His son’s eyes widening at something behind him that alerted Din to the danger.

         Without a second thought, Din tossed Grogu to Satine and spun on his heel with his blaster at the ready.

         There was a hiss, gasps from the group, and a bright red light began to descend on Din. It was too close to shoot, so Din lifted his arm to block the blade. He grunted with the force of it- the attacker had dropped down from above- but despite the awful sound of a lightsaber (for Din was sure that’s what it was- despite its red color) on beskar, he held firm. He managed to push his attacker back in order to pull out his own vibroblade, not that it’d do much against a lightsaber. Of all the times to forgo his spear.

         The attacker- a Zabrack Din was able to identify them as- lunged again. This time it was towards Satine and Grogu. The Zabrack moved unnaturally quickly, so Din couldn’t get in between his ade and the attacker. But Obi-wan was and met the red lightsaber head-on with his own. The Zabrack growled. Obi-wan’s face scrunched in effort, so Din stepped in as he barked orders to Jango.

         “ Get them out of here!” Din didn’t wait for a response but noted that Jango quickly grabbed Satine and Bo-Katan and began to run. Din hoped that one of them had commed for help. Preferably a Jetii.

         Din raised his blaster to shoot the attacker’s back, but he pulled back from Obi-wan in time to deflect it straight back at Din. The shot hit his pauldron, and Din could already feel the bruise that would form. But it didn’t stop Din from moving forward to meet the Zabrack’s blade. At the same time, Obi-wan moved to hit the attacker’s back with his own lightsaber while Din kept the attack’s blade occupied.

         The Zabrack grinned- an unpleasant sight made worse by the unnaturally yellow eyes- and hit a button on his blade’s handle. Another equally red blade sprung from the back and nearly skewered Obi-wan. The Jetii barely managed to avoid it, but it did singe his arm. Din grunted and pulled back, and Obi-wan did the same.

         The attacker was still grinning ferally as he looked between Din and Obi-wan. “Run back to your Master, little Jedi,” he purred. “I’m not here for you.”

         Obi-wan’s face hardened. “As if.”

         Din took the opportunity to rush the Zabrack. The Zabrack wasn’t taken by surprise at the motion- Din was pretty sure he could also use the Force- but he wasn’t ready for Din straight up tackling him. It was a weakness Din had noted in all of the Jetii he’d seen fight. They never expect you to charge them. Granted, that was probably due to the lightsaber, but Din was mostly well-protected from those. Mostly, the sharp burn that appeared on the back of his thigh where there were no plates, reminded him.

         They fell to the ground and rolled. When they came to a stop, Din lashed his fist out and caught the Zabrack’s cheek. He was rewarded with a gnashing of teeth and the feeling of being shoved over by a brick wall. Din managed to roll to his feet and partially resist the movement, but he was still pushed back enough that the Zabrack could get it.

         But it was too late. The commotion had drawn in Mandalorians from the street. Fully armored and armed Mandalorians who apparently had taken a liking to Din. And, go figure, when faced with 20 fully trained warriors and a Jedi, the Zabrack retreated. He jumped, making it farther in the air than was natural, until he reached a rooftop. Some of the Mandalorians with jetpacks followed him.

         “Get to your ade,” one of them told Din as he prepared to follow. “We will follow him and lead the other Jetii to him.”

         Din nodded, and the Mandalorians dispersed. Din rushed to Obi-wan, but besides the slight burn, he seemed unharmed.

         “Are you ok?” Din still asked, gently grabbing Obi-wan’s arms.

         “Yeah, you?” Din nodded, choosing to ignore his wound. It didn’t hurt much yet, and he could still walk on it.

         “Let’s get back to the place now.”

         The two of them began to run, but as they reached the main street, they stopped. Because all around the city, there was an explosion in the distance. Screaming and blaster fire erupted, and Mandalorians zipped through the air as they fought. Din saw a group fly by and felt the breath lead him as he finally discovered where the explosion was.

         Death Watch was here. And they had bombed a hospital.

Chapter Text

             Din froze. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but in all fairness, he was never trained to deal with terrorist situations. So freezing was a valid reaction.

             Fortunately, Obi-wan reacted better than Din. The Jetii grabbed Din’s arm and pulled him along. Din followed, mind still reeling. Shoots at them finally broke Din’s stupor- getting shot at was a situation he could deal with. Din activated his jetpack and flew into the Kry’tsad soldier. They grappled in the air until Din could stab his vibroblade into their unprotected side. They fell, and Din flew back to Obi-wan. The Padawan was running, yelling into his comm, and blocking blaster shots at him with his lightsaber. Din landed and helped fight off the Kyr’tsad.

             “They’re storming the palace,” Obi-wan yelled. “Master Dooku is defending it with the Haat Mando’ade. Masters Jinn and Yoda are going after the Sith.”

             “Satine?” Din asked as he sent his whistling birds into three Kry’tsad that were heading towards a New Mandalorian family cowering in an alleyway. They fell, and Din yelled, “Get inside!” to the family.

             “Can’t get ahold of them,” Obi-wan said as he jumped up, landing on the back of a Kry’tsad that flew above them. He stabbed into their back, jumped back down, and finished, “But I can still feel Grogu in the Force, so I think they’re alive.”

             Din grunted in response, feeling the relief that mixed with his worry. The two of them worked through the streets, fighting Kyr’tsad. They reached a crossroads, and Obi-wan's head snapped to the left.

             “Master Jinn is over there,” he said. The problem was that the palace was to the right.

             “Go,” Din ordered. “I’ll go to the palace.” Obi-wan hesitated. “Go!”

             “K’oyacyi,” Obi-wan demanded gravely.

             “Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur,” Din responded before running away from his ad. All his instincts demanded that he stay with Obi-wan, protect him, and find his other ade. But Din knew that he would be the most help fighting the Kyr’tsad. Despite not dying earlier, Din wasn’t the best choice to fight a Sith, even a gangly teen one. The sooner Din could end the fighting, the sooner his ade would be safe.

             Din hitched a ride with a group of Haat Mando’ade riding speeders to the palace. Just before they entered the chaos, Din received a ping on his comm.

             Safe, the message from Jango read. I’m going to the palace.

             See you there, Din sent back. Din followed the other Mandalorians of his group that weren’t driving and jumped off the back of the speeders. Din didn’t make it far. He was slammed to the side by someone, and they grappled as they fell to the ground rapidly. Din turned them in the air so a Mandalorian in red and brown armor could shoot the soldier off Din. Din returned the favor and shot the soldier coming up from behind the other Mando.

             Din fell into the familiar movements of battle as he moved toward the center of the palace. The halls were wrecked- tapestries cut and ancient vases smashed. Din forced himself to ignore the bodies- Kyr’tsad, Haat Mando’ade, and New Mandalorians littered the halls. Din thought there was some sort of poetic irony in it- three groups of people, all claiming Mandalorians, all with different views, joined together in death. Death- the only impartial force in the galaxy as far as Din was concerned. Din was glad that his helmet blocked most of the smell. He was certain the hallways were steeped in the scent of blood and viscera.

             Din recognized some of the beskar’game, the Wren and Skirata clans, and some of the faces. In a doorway, slumped over with a knife in her slack fingers, Din saw Ashon, the first of Satine’s advisors who asked Din for advice. The girl who cared fiercely about education. The girl who’d shyly shown up to a meeting yesterday with a pink vambrace. She was dead. And judging by the dead Kry’tsad at her feet, knife wound in their side, she’d broken her vow of pacifism. Din paused; no one was alive in the hallway, so he took a moment to close the girl’s eyes.

             “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la.”

             Din was decidedly more aggressive from there on. Verde moved out of his way as he tore his way through the halls. He made a pitstop in his room to grab his spear. It would be much more effective than his vibroblade against any dar’jetii. At one point, in an empty hallway, Din was jumped by two Kry’tsad. One of them was shot by an ally he couldn’t see. When din killed the other one, Din turned to see little Ursa standing in a doorway with a blaster in her hands. The girl looked grim, and Din saw behind her. There, huddled in a corner, were the kids of the various dignities and advisors. The Haat Mando’ade children had various weapons in their grips, standing between the New Mandalorians and the door.

             “Vor’e,” Din thanked. “Are you all ok?”

             “Yes,” Ursa said with a nod. “My mother is in the throne room. That’s where Death Watch is congregating. The Jedi is with her.” Din nodded, but before he would continue, Ursa threw something at him. “Bacta,” she said and nodded at Din’s injured thigh. With the adrenaline of the fight, Din had forgotten all about his burn from the dar’jetii’s lightsaber. Din nodded his thanks and sprayed the cool bacta on his wound. It stung, but Din could also feel the relief of the wound being healed. Din went to give the bacta back, but Ursa insisted he keep it.

             Din finally continued towards the throne room. As he got closer, more bodies had saber marks and holes. He could hear the faint hum of a lightsaber.

             “Din!” someone shouted. Din turned and saw Jango grappling with a Kry’tsad. He stabbed them and pushed them to the side. Din clasped Jango’s shoulder. “I left them with a Haat Mando’ade family, holed up in a safe spot.”

             “Good job.” Din nodded towards the hall the throne room was down. “Shall we?”

             Jango nodded, and they ran down the hall. The ornate doors to the throne room were thrown open, and one was hanging half off its hinges. Blaster fire had erupted in the small room. The elaborate windows were busted open, with Kry’stad clustered around their remains. There were maybe 30 Kry’tsad standing between Din and the Haat Mandoade fighting back on the other side of the room. New Mandalorian guards were using their shields to shield the Haat Mando’ade so they could shoot back at Kry’tsad. Din could see Ursa and Dooku still up, standing back to back as they defended the throne.

             “Where’s Vizsla? Jango asked as he scanned the crowd. No one had noticed them yet. Kry’tsad looked all the same to Din, but apparently, Jango could pick Vizsla out of a crowd.

             Their luck didn’t last, and soon they were ducking behind fallen pedestals as they fought back. Din and Jango weren’t in the throne room, so they didn’t see the new figure fly through the broken windows. At least they didn’t until they shouted, “Fett! Come out here and face me like a man!”

             Jango hissed, and the blaster fired stopped. An uneasy silence fell as Jango slowly stood up. Din followed and saw the newcomer. They were nearly indistinguishable, except for their black cape. And, you know, the pitch-black lightsaber they had pointed at Jango in a challenge. The Darksaber, wielded by Pre Vizsla, is Din had to guess. The dar’manda leader of Death Watch, the son of the man who killed Jango’s buir, and Paz Viszla’s relative. The man was laughably small compared to Paz; Din didn’t think laughing was appropriate for this situation.

             “Vizsla,” Jango hissed. “ Finally decided to give up? ”

             Vizsla laughed an ugly noise. And removed his helmet with his free hand. There was a sneer on his face. “ I am here to once and for all prove Clan Vizsla’s claim to Mand’alor. Just as my father killed yours, I will kill you!”

             Jango snarled but didn’t throw himself into the fight. Something was holding him back. There was something in the air Din couldn’t name. A crackling power, like the air before a lightning strike. It spoke to sudden change. This was the moment everything could change.

             This is why I’m here . The realization came to Din abruptly. Din had no idea how he knew it, but it settled with a sense of certainty deep in his soul. This is why I’m here; this is how I can change the future for the better .

             Without thinking about it further- ignoring the screaming doubt in the back of his mind- Din stepped forward. Attention snapped to him, and Vizsla’s eyes narrowed at him.

             “You? The ver’gebuir of the so-called Duchess Satine?” Vizsla laughed again. Again, not really the situation for it. The man continued, still yelling, “You are a nameless, clanless, nobody. Do you think you could beat me, Pre Vizsla? That you have any right to Mand’alor?”

             Din didn’t respond immediately. He unstrapped his spear as he stared down Vizsla. The man began to look uncomfortable as the silence stretched on. Finally, Din said, not shouting like Vizsla was, “More than you. Dar’manda.”

             Vizsla snarled. Before the man could lunge, Countess Wren stepped forward. “If you fight for the throne, it shall be done properly, so there is no more confusion about who is the true Mand’alor.”

             “Fine,” Vizsla spat after none of his soldiers disagreed. Countess Wren nodded sharply. In a swift movement, the Mandalorians in the room stepped back. They formed a ring around Vizsla, leaving an opening for Din to walk through. Din could make out Silas gesturing for Dooku to leave. This wasn’t an event for Jetii.

             Jango grabbed Din’s elbow. “Are you sure about this?”

             “An hour ago, you were trying to convince people I’d be a good Mand’alor,” Din reminded him. “You don’t want to, and I don’t think anyone else here will step up.”

             Din couldn’t see Jango’s face or read what was running through the man’s mind. But Jango loosened his grip and let Din step forward. Jango raised his voice so the rest of the room could hear him, “I will gladly fight beside you when you are Mand’alor.”

             With that settled, the Haat Mando’ade in the room turned to Din in support. With the man they considered the rightful Mand’alor stating his support for Din, they would pledge loyalty to him. Din

             “Who claims the right to Mand’alor?” Countess Wren asked.”

             “I am Pre Vizsla, House Vizsla, Clan Vizsla, ” Vizsla said, looking proud at his name. “Wielder of the Darksaber .”

             “And who challenges him?”

             This was it. Din could back out, claim a moment of temporary insanity, and give his spear to Jango to let the man fight. Din could remain Satine’s bodyguard and live his life trying to subtly change the future while raising his kids. He didn’t have to do this.

             Din stepped forward and into the circle. Jango followed him and closed the circle. Din clanged his spear against the ground.

             “I am Din Djarin. And I challenge Pre Vizsla for the Darksaber and title of Mand’alor.”

Chapter Text

         The rules were simple: anything went, aside from help from the crowd, the first one to surrender or die loses, and the winner claims the Darksaber the right to be Mand’alor.

         Easy enough. Din just needed to not die. He was good at that. Hadn’t died yet.

         Din had spared with Obi-wan, Jinn, and once (on a memorable occasion) with Yoda. He knew how to fight against a lightsaber, how to deflect and dodge and keep his distance. The problem was that Vizsla was no Jedi. Din hoped that his knowledge of fighting both Jedi and Mandalorians would translate into this situation.

         Vizsla struck first, heavy-handed, and aimed for Din’s neck to catch Din off guard and end the fight quickly. Unfortunately for him, Din was paying attention to every small move the man made, his years of bounty hunting having finetuned his attention to even the slightest shifts. Din quickly met the Darksaber with his spear. The sharp ringing of the noise reverberated through Din’s skull, but it wasn’t painful.

         Din was bulkier than Vizsla; his muscles were a result of years of hard work, while Vizsla’s were from working out and sparing. The man didn’t strike Din as the kind of person to get his hands dirty in everyday skirmishes. So Din could easily push Vizsla away and swipe at him with his spear. Din thought about lighting his flamethrower but decided to keep that as a surprise, just in case.

         Vizsla activated a shield generator and his wrist to block Din’s strike. Din rushed the man, spear held as a block. He clashed with Vizsla, and in his free hand, Din grabbed one of his vibroblades and swiped it under the shield. He barely nicked Vizsla’s side, and Din could make out Vizsla’s faint swear. Clearly the overconfident man hadn’t expected Din to get a hit in. They separated, and Din grinned at the blood smear on his blade. He’d gotten first blood. Not a guaranteed win, but it definitely looked promising.

         The blood enraged Vizsla. He dropped his shield so his hand could grab his blaster to fire at Din. Din took the shot to the chest, grunting at the impact pain, but otherwise fine. Din strapped his spear onto his back to grab his own blaster. Vizsla’s armor wasn’t pure beskar, and while it could take some hits, it would fail much sooner than Din’s. So Din fired shots, not even aiming for the man’s chest or head. He just needed Vizsla to drop his blaster. Din wasn’t going to win if the fight stayed at a distance. He needed to get close. He needed to get the Darksaber.

         Predictably, Vizsla put his blaster away to shield himself. Why he didn’t deactivate the Darksaber so he had a free hand was beyond Din. It was no good at a distance, and it was clear Vizsla wouldn’t have any luck rushing Din.

         Din continued to shoot as he rushed Vizsla again. He went low this time, trying to get his shoulder under the shield. It was a pain, and needed to go. The Darksaber swiped at his back, and Din hissed at a burn on his side. Din was focused on getting his vibroblade under the arm and-

         There! Din slashed the shield generator before retreating. The shield sputtered out, and Vizsla rushed him again before Din could escape. Din met him in a grapple, one hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding the Darksaber. Yes, up close fighting was what Din wanted, but it was also more dangerous. Din was saber-resistant, not saber-proof. Din’s other hand punched the wound on Vizsla’s side. He was head-butted in return, and that would be an annoying headache. Din stumbled back, letting Vizsla’s wrist go, catching the Darksaber on his hal’cabur. It left a scorch mark, but Din was fine.  Vizsla tried to hit him with the blade again, but Din dodged as he grabbed his spear again. He held it in front of him as he crashed into Vizsla. The beskar spear met the Darksaber heavily. Din shifted his weight and kicked the side of Vizsla’s leg with all his power. Vizsla’s leg crumpled, and the man fell. Din followed him. He dropped his spear, so both his hands were free to try and wrangle the Darksaber from Vizsla. It left more like a child’s fight for a toy than it had any right to.

         Din took the punches to his side from Vizsla, entirely focused on getting the Darksaber. Din was still on top of Vizsla when he kneed the man’s inner thigh. And like Din had found a button, Vizsla’s fingers loosen just a hair-

         He got it! Din managed to pull the Darksaber from Vizsla’s hand, getting a vibroblade sliced across his side for his efforts. The pain didn’t matter as adrenaline flowed through Din s he rolled off Vizsla and to his feet.

         Neither moved. Din stood above Vizsla with the unlit Darksaber in his hands- using both hands because he wasn’t stupid. The room went silent, their onlookers hushing at the events. Din’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. Vizsla was frozen on the ground, but Din could practically see the hate radiating off him.

         Din allowed himself to take a few deep breaths in the silence. They rattled something in his chest- Vizsla may have cracked something with his hits. He could kill Vizsla; Manda knows the man deserves it. But a part of Din (that sounded suspiciously like Satine and Obi-wan) insisted he gave Vizsla a chance to surrender and live. Din lit the Darksaber, which jolted Vizsla to his feet.

         “Bastard,” Vizsla growled, not dissimilar to a feral tooka.

         “Surrender,” Din offered. “You don’t have to die.”

         Vizsla laughed. It was a deranged sound. “You truly know nothing. I would rather die with my pride than surrender to the likes of you.”

         And that was that. Din didn’t bother answering. He fired three whistling birds and waited for Vizsla to move to dodge them. The distraction allowed Din to close in, taking the blaster shots Vizsla fired in stride. He used his jetpack to boost him the last few feet. He knocked Vizsla down again, flying over him this time and landing on the other side. Din whirled and kicked Vizsla down as the man tried to climb to his feet. Before Vizsla could get past his knees, he had the Darksaber at this throat.

         No one moved a muscle. It felt like the entire room was holding their breaths. Din stared at Vizsla, imagining the sneer on the man’s face. Din thought of Paz again- he hoped his actions wouldn’t cause his friend to not exist. Maybe Din’s clan would never be formed. Little Din Djarin wouldn’t lose his parents, would never meet his buire. Satine wouldn’t be saddled with too much responsibility at a young age, Obi-wan wouldn’t become a general, and the Jedi and Mandalorians would never be killed.

         This really was it, wasn’t it? The moment everything changed for good.

         Din thought he should say something, some grand statement offering a final chance at life to Vizsla. Show he was merciful. But Din didn’t feel merciful, and Vizsla had made his position clear.

         It was over with a flick of Din’s wrist. With his head inside, Vizsla's helmet rolled to the side, and the rest of his body slumped in the opposite direction. Din didn’t spare another glance, preferring to look around the room. The Death Watch members looked torn between avenging Vizsla and fleeing. But the True Mandalorians had them surrounded.

         “Kyr’tsad is dar’manda,” Din said after it became clear everyone was waiting for him to speak. The Death Watch soldiers stiffened. “Don’t let it be your death like it was Vizsla’s.”

         Some soldiers dropped to their knees and bent their heads, following Din’s advice. The majority stayed standing. “If you surrender, you will be offered a fair trial. You will be executed otherwise.”

         More people knelt, but half were still standing.

         “Long live the true Mand’alor!” One of the standing soldiers shouted. Jango knocked them down and held a blaster to their neck, waiting for Din’s word.

         “I plan on it,” Din said dryly and nodded. Blaster fire rang out, followed by the drop of bodies. The kneeling soldiers did not look up or move as their wrists were restrained and weapons removed.

         Din didn’t know what he was supposed to do next. Probably make sure the True Mandalorians were ok with him being Mand’alor.

         Jango solved that problem for him. He stepped up to Din’s feet, removed his helmet, and knelt with a fist on his heart.

         “I pledge my loyalty and my life. I swear to severe and answer your call as Mand’alor,” Jango swore. He looked up and grinned at Din. “Mand’alor Djarin.” The other True Mandalorians knelt. “This is where you say something,” Jango whispered.

         Din, grateful for the guidance, spoke the words that came to mind. “I may not be known to you. I never wanted to lead; I just wanted to take care of my kid. But the state of Mandalore will only lead to our destruction. We cannot be divided.” Din hefted the Darksaber over his head with one hand, the action feeling right. “We must stand together as one.”

         “Oya!” Jango barked and was echoed by the other Mandalorians in the room.

         Din didn’t feel nervous. For the first time in a long time, he felt confident and at ease. He had a goal and a good idea of what not to do. 

         This wasn’t for him, anyway. It was for his ade- for all the Mandalorian ade. He’d make the future better for them.

         A screech from the main door caught everyone’s attention. Din lowered his weapon while everyone else reached for theirs. There was no danger. Standing in the doorway was the Jetiise and Din’s ade. Grogu had been the one to yell. Din was able to turn the Darksaber off and put it in his belt- he’d have to get a clip for it- before Grogu flung himself at Din. It was an impressive jump, clearly Force assisted. Din still caught Grogu easily, as he always would.

         Grogu nuzzled into the underside of Din’s chin. Din chuckled at his purring. “Hey, ad’ika. Glad you’re ok.”

         When he looked up again, all the Mandalorians stood but were at ease. Jinn and Dooku were chatting with Silas and another Mandalorian. Besides the few burns on their robes, neither looked worse for wear. Yoda was smiling at Din. It was both smug and knowing.

         Din’s other ade approached him, looking unharmed. Obi-wan looked ruffled, and his cheeks were still red from exertion. But no one looked hurt. Bo-Katan didn’t hesitate to throw herself at Din, wrapping her arms around his waist. Din hissed when she touched his wound, but pulled her closer with a hand when she went to withdraw.

         “Just a scrape, ad’ika,” Din assured her. “I’ll live.”

         Satine was looking between Din’s face and the saber on his belt. “…You’re Mand’alor now?”

         “That’s what I’ve been told,” Din said gently. “I look forward to working with you, Sat’ika.” Satine looked like she was going to cry, but before Din could get too alarmed, she hugged Din too. Din shifted Grogu to his previously free hand so he could gently hold the back of Satine’s head. “We will unite Mand’alor together.”

         Obi-wan looked awkwardly out of place. It was easy enough to nudge Bo-Katan over so there was room for Obi-wan to step closer. The girls easily wrapped an arm each around him, completing their little circle.

         “We’re going to be ok,” Din said. Eyes were watching his family, but Din didn’t care. His ade were safe and were going to be able to grow up in peace.

         No more Vizsla. No more Death Watch. And soon enough, no more Sith.