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“You’ve been following me.”
The man—Din didn’t remember his name although he knew the Chancellor had spoken it because she had introduced them—didn’t look at all alarmed even with a viroblade against his neck. He smiled prettily, tilting his head back to rest on Din’s shoulder to get a better look at him.
The burnt ambers and oranges of his head wrap shifted through all the colors of the sunset as the fabric moved, revealing even prettier blue eyes hiding behind the vail. Din swallowed, pressing the knife a little harder against the man’s neck even as he loosened his hold on his waist. Din had snuck up behind the man, slipped the knife against the pale skin of his neck and pulled him against his chest in quick and startled movements, but the man had relaxed into Din’s hold like he had been there before.
Like he was comfortable there.
“Someone tried to kill you.” He said simply. It was not a denial, but it wasn’t a confirmation either. He smiled a little wider, meeting Din’s eyes even through the visor. It was unnerving.
Din frowned, choosing to take it as confirmation anyway. “Lots of people try to kill me.”
A thin line of blood rolled down the man’s pale neck as he tilted his head, the vibroblade splitting open the skin.
“Not on foregin planets, they don’t.” The man easily slipped out of Din’s hold with a graceful twist, like they were dancing to a lover's sweet song rather than holding one another against the tip of a knife in an empty hall of the Theed Royal palace. He looked like the fires of the forge as he stepped closer to Din, drawing his own knife and slipping it underneath Din’s helmet as he brought them chest to chest again. The weapon was not close enough to Din’s vein to do any damage, but the cold metal still settled on Din’s bare skin, a strange sensation that was entirely foregin to him. Metal weapons were rare, the material too difficult to get a hold of. “My mother asked me to keep an eye on you, that’s all.”
Din narrowed his eyes.
He knew Chancellor Amidala had bodyguards.
If rumors were to be believed, they were some of the most skilled warriors in the galaxy—te oya’la prudii they called them. The living shadow.
What he did not know was that their techniques and skills were apparently available for the Chancellor's son to learn and use at his whim. If that’s even what this was. No one knew anything about the Naboo bodyguards. Half the galaxy was convinced they didn’t even exist, that they were nothing more than a ghost story used to frighten children. The Chancellor’s son could just be exceptionally skilled at defending himself.
Luke, Din’s mind finally supplied. His name was Luke.
“I can take care of myself.” Din said. He brought his own viroblade back up, pressing the tip just between Luke’s ribs. He didn’t push hard enough to break the skin, but the threat was there all the same.
Luke looked him over slowly.
“You certainly can.” He murmured. Then he smiled, pulling his knife away and taking a neat step back. “Take care, Mand’alor.”
—
Now that Din had seen Luke, he couldn’t stop seeing him.
The Chancellor's son was always there, standing in shadows and corners like another piece of decoration with all the fine silks and gilded jewels he was wearing. Always smiling. Always looking at Din.
A oya’la prudii.
—
“I don’t need a babysitter, Chancellor.”
Padmé Amidala did not seem in the least bit phased by Din’s brash tone, although Luke was stifling a laugh from where he stood behind her.
“I’m sure you don’t.” Chancellor Amidala said easily. She had not reacted when Din burst into her office, his irritation and annoyance at Luke tailing him like he was a troublesome child finally becoming too much to deal with. She hadn’t looked at all surprised to see him, truthfully. She had glanced up from her paperwork when Din came storming in, letting out a near silent sigh before setting her pen down and lacing her fingers together before resting her clasped hands on the desk. Like she had been expecting him. “But as you are a guest on my planet, it’s my job to make sure you’re cared for and comfortable.”
She very tactfully did not add on that someone shot at Din as soon as he landed on Naboo.
It had been entirely unsuccessful. The blaster shot had hit Din’s chestplate and bounced off, and before anyone truly realized what was happening the gunman was lying dead at Din’s feet with his throat exposed to the Naboo midday sun.
“I’m very comfortable.” Din said. He looked at Luke, who smiled and tilted his head. The color of his shawl was a pretty green, bringing out strands of gold and starshine in Luke’s hair, the fabric shifting like the sand dunes at Luke’s gentle movements. It was wrapped loosely around his head and his shoulders, providing plenty of folds and pockets to hide sharp things. “I’d be even more comfortable if your son stopped following me around.”
Luke didn’t bother to hide his laugh this time, a bright rining sound that echoed like the sound of a hammer against beskar.
Chancellor Amidala pursed her lips.
“If I may speak plainly, Mand’alor,” she leaned forward, her knuckles going white as she clutched her hands tightly. She looked tired. “I’ve already watched one of your leaders die while under Republic protection. I'm not keen to do it again.”
Din narrowed his eyes.
—
Luke did not go away.
He followed Din throughout the halls of Theed Royal, flashing pretty smiles every time Din caught him. His very own oya’la prudii.
It was infuriating.
It was insufferable.
Din found himself looking worriedly around for Luke whenever he couldn’t see him, afraid that something might have happened to the Chancellor’s son.
–
Din was standing on the floor of the Theed Royal palace’s throne room, speaking to the Queen and the Chancellor about the conditions that would have to be met before Din even thought about extending a relationship out to the Republic, when he felt someone coming up behind him.
He reacted quickly, ducking out of the way before the viroblade could sink into his neck.
It was an annoyingly precise attack.
You had to be intimately familiar with Mandalorian armor to know that there was a weak point at the neck.
Din grabbed onto his attacker’s wrist, squeezing hard enough for bones to creak and groan. The viroblade fell to the ground with a loud clatter, and as Din threw the attacker over his shoulder and to the floor he could see Luke hovering nearby, his face perfectly calm and docile as he watched. Din stared at him for only a moment longer before looking down at the man he had thrown on the ground, not in the least bit surprised to see a Mandalorian at his feet. His armor was black, the jai’galaar painted in a vibrant gold on his pauldron.
The man reached for the blaster strapped to his thigh, but Din stepped on his hand before he could wrap his fingers around the handle.
The snapping of bones was eerily loud in the now silent chamber.
The man did not cry out.
He tried to reach for another weapon with his other hand, but Din swiftly drew the Darksaber and pressed the saber’s blade against his neck. The man stilled. The scent of burning fabric filled the air, and if Din moved even just the tiniest tick they would be smelling burning skin instead.
“You don’t deserve that blade,” the man spit the words out, the Mando’a harsh and staccato against his tongue. “You defile the throne with your mere presence–the Mand’alors of Before weep in their sorrow for how you’ve tainted their legacy.”
Din said nothing.
“You are no king.” The man hissed.
Din leaned down, driving the tip of the Darksaber’s blade into the floor as he placed his knee on the Mandalorian’s chest. He edged the blade closer to the man’s neck, the faint scent of charred skin started to filter through his helmet. The young Nabooian Queen’s eyes were wide with fear, and while it would be easier to kill this man here and now, he would not needlessly frighten a child.
“And yet here you are,” Din murmured, the Mando’a sliding between his teeth like sweet wine. “At my feet.”
–
“So what did you do to get someone mad enough to want to kill you?” Luke asked. “That’s been the third assassination attempt this week.”
Din blinked.
He hadn’t realized there had been two others.
Luke was perched in the window seat of Din’s room, one leg delicately crossed over the other and exposing the bare skin of his thigh as the fabric of his robe slipped away. Din couldn’t stop looking, the shimmering champagne colors complimenting Luke’s skin tone in such lovely ways. He wanted to peel the fabric off to see what lay underneath before lovingly putting it back on. He wanted to see if the moonlight would compliment Luke’s bare skin as well as the pale pink fabric did. “I became king to a planet I’ve never been to,” Din answered, then he blinked and shook his head. “How did you get in here?”
“Fascinating.” Luke ingored Din’s question.
“The door was locked,” Din said.
“You think I can’t pick locks?” Luke smiled sweetly.
Din frowned and crossed the room to Luke. To yell at him, maybe. Din didn’t know. He just needed to get closer, to see how pretty the moonlight looked on his skin. Luke let his legs fall back to the floor the closer Din got, hiding away that pretty swath of bare skin. Before Din could mourn its loss Luke parted his legs, giving Din just enough room to settle between them. He greedily took it, thinking it a fitting compromise as he settled his hands on Luke’s slim waist. Din pulled him closer, rocking his hips up into Luke’s as Luke lifted his hand to cup the back of Din’s neck.
“Would you let me kiss you?” Luke asked.
“If you keep your eyes closed.” Din answered.
–
“There seems to be a lot of people upset over this treaty.”
Din lifted his arm as Luke twirled gracefully. The Chancellor had insisted on throwing a banquet. Din had planned to sit at a table all night, but Luke had swept in with a pretty smile and golden fabric draped over his chest and Din was helpless to stop Luke from pulling him onto the ballroom floor. “Yeah well,” Din snuck his arm back around Luke’s waist. Even though all the silky fabric he wore and Din’s own gloves he could feel the corded muscles in Luke’s back. Din didn’t think he would ever forget what Luke felt like. Not after last night. “No one told me this sword came attached with years of infighting.”
“Seem’s like an oversight on their part.” Luke said.
“I’ve managed to keep most of the violence down,” Din hummed softly. Most of the fighting was done in Mandalore’s throne room with words and insults, between Clan leaders who either supported Din or hated him. But from what Din had seen that seemed to be normal in politics. “But who knows how long that will last.”
Luke tightened his hand in Din’s. “You say that like someone hasn’t tried to kill you already.”
“That’s—different.” Din sighed. “Their assassination attempts are technically a challenge for the throne. Speaking the words of the traditional challenge is just a formality.”
Luke frowned. “That seems…unfair.”
Din shrugged. He had never really thought it odd. If a leader couldn’t even protect himself, how could he protect and defend his people? “It’s how I got the throne. I never issued a formal challenge.”
He left off the part where he had done it completely by accident.
“Really?” Luke blinked in surprise.
“Really.” Din said softly. He ducked his head down, pressing his cheek against Luke’s as he slid his hand a little higher up Luke’s ribs, pressing gently against the pretty bruise he had left there. Luke shuddered, leaning into Din’s touch. “That’s why I didn’t want you following me around in the first place. Whether you like it or not, interfering with those assassination attempts is interfering with my planet’s politics.”
Luke hummed, tilting his head in contemplation. The lighting was doing lovely things to him, the golds and silvers he wore making him look like he belonged in a mural on the palace walls in Sundari. Din wondered what Luke would look like draped in the reds of Mandalore’s kings, if he would look just as lovely splayed across Din’s bed as he did in his own. “And what about now?”
Din led Luke into another spin, pulling him flush against him as he came back, Luke’s back pressed sweetly against Din’s chest. “Now I like looking at you too much.”
Luke lifted his hand, placing his palm on the side of Din's helmet, tilting his head to look down at Luke as he tilted his own head to look up at him. Din wanted to keep him. He wanted Luke to keep him.
“Is that a threat, Mand’alor?” Luke purred.
Din hummed. “If you want it to be.”