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Bo-Katan kept her eyes trained on the splintering grey paint just above his jetpack, as she quietly attempted to even out her breath. The stairs down to Nevarros forge were too narrow and steep to walk next to each other, although that’s probably what Paz Vizsla would have preferred. She had almost been surprised with him taking the lead, turning his back towards her, but then again maybe today proved she didn’t know him quite as well as she thought.
The past weeks Bo-Katan had practically been walking on eggshells around the other members of the Children of the Watch, not quite knowing how to act or what to do with herself. Surprisingly the helmet didn’t help – If anything, she felt more watched and self-conscious about the way she carried herself than ever before. Admittedly, sticking as closely to Din Djarin and his kid as she did wasn't the best choice to blend into the background and avoid the piercing stares of the other Mandalorians either, most of all the Armorer, but the Duo had provided a sense of safety and company she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Needless to say, the past hours had been quite the surprise. She hadn’t expected Paz Vizsla or the Armorer to let her come up with a plan, much less take the lead on the mission briefing, but maybe they did finally gain some trust in her. Not in her capabilities, Bo-Katan knew that they were more than aware of the tactical and physical training she had received from a young age on. The house Kryze had always prided themselves in that and Bo-Katan would continue to do so, her skillset being one of the last remaining things her family had given her. But maybe there really was some type of future for her, here, with the Children of the Watch. Just as she was pondering over this while the High Magistrate was giving a victory speech, that, honestly, had her rolling eyes, Paz let her know that she had been requested. By the Armorer.
Saying her heart wasn’t currently beating up to her throat as they were making their way through the dim corridors of the forge would have been a blatant lie. She was nervous. More than that, actually.
Bo-Katan was not an easily intimidated person. She had not been like that as a child and most definitely wasn’t after what she lived through. Yet the Armorer made a shiver run up her spine every time Bo-Katan could feel her gaze trained on her. Whether it was from the exit of the cave when she was sparring with Din, cleaning her chest plate with the other Mandalorians in the Great Hall or when it was just the two of them, in the Armorers forge. Their talk about the Mythosaur was far from the last time the Armorer had requested to see her – No, there were countless questions about what Bo-Katan had been up to the past years, about Koska and Axe, about the Nite Owls. Even though she was careful to keep her answers short, and not reveal too much, the forgers interest didn’t seem to waver. Which in return, made Bo-Katan even more uneasy. Not uncomfortable, or even scared, no…It was something else. Something that made her heart beat just a little faster, breath a little more shallow.
The Armorer was cleaning her gloves when they entered the actual forgery, only looking up after Paz had left the room. Bo-Katan resisted the urge to squirm under her heavy gaze, instead clasping her hand behind her back, holding her chin a little higher and training her own gaze on a cobweb just above the Armorers head, to avoid having to look directly into her visor. It was just the illusion of eye contact, one would not be able to tell the color of the other persons eyes if they tried, and yet...
“This was once the forge of our covert”, the Armorer said, stroking the metal railing around the fireplace as she looked upwards.
“I have been to the Great Forge on Mandalore.”
In her youth, Bo-Katan had been too. It was more than ten, maybe twenty times the size of one here on Nevarro and had multiple Armorers working simultaneously at any given time. Part of the training her father had subjected her and Satine to, was learning the ways of an Armorer. Weapons were part of their religion after all, and being well verged in their making and fixing was nonnegotiable. Where Satine, barely 14 years old, used to grimace at the pounding and hammering of Beskar, echoing across the hall, Bo-Katan found some peace. Watching them melt the Beskar, design armor and weapon and be witness of the finished piece coming to life may have been some of her most treasured childhood memories.
“I remember the forge well”, she sighed after a pause.
“It was large and ornate…”, the Armorer continued, voice turning dreamy as she reminisced her own past, “…and the air rang with the music of a hundred hammers.”
The sound had been like music to Bo-Katan as well. For a short moment she couldn’t help but wonder if they had perhaps met before, maybe stood by the same fire pot as children, learning how to wield a hammer. She shook her head ever so slightly, attempting to rid herself of these thoughts. Speculating about the Armorers past and possible shared experiences just seemed foolish.
“And here stood a simple one. Yet they were both forges.”
Where exactly was this going?
“They served the same purpose.”
With a step away from the forge the Armorer turned her head toward her now, staring at her for a long time. Bo-Katan carefully shifted her weight from one foot to the other, decidedly keeping her head held high.
“Remove your helmet.”
“But-“, she attempted, stumbling over the word ad her breath got caught in her throat. Had she heard that right?
“Do you respect my station?”
If she had not already been doubting her ears, Bo-Katan could’ve sworn there was something close to amusement in the Armorers voice.
“I do”, she answered quickly, nodding once.
“Remove your helmet”, the Armorer repeated, more softly and quieter this time. Bo-Katan felt dizzy. Was this a test? A trap to test whether or not she respected the creed? Would she fail if she obeyed the Armorer?
She clenched and unclenched her fists, worrying her lip as she debated. After a few agonizing long seconds, she eventually reached up, hands shaking ever so slightly as she placed them on both sides of the helmet, pulling it off. The light in the forge was dim, and yet she squinched at the sudden brightness. It must have been close to a day since she had last taken off the armor, sharing her ship the other Mandalorians on the way to Nevarro with not leaving any room for privacy. Bo-Katan took a deep breath, before she looked up to the Armorer.
She was already looking, gaze heavy as ever, taking slow steps towards her.
“Our people have…strayed from the Way. And it is not enough for a few to walk it.” Was that…hesitancy she detected in her voice? She willed herself to keep a blank expression.
“We must walk it together.”
A million thoughts raced through Bo-Katans head, as she attempted to read the Armorer, but the voice modulator and heavy armor made it hard. She herself longed for a reunited Mandalore than anything, for the clans to put aside their differences and come together, but why now? What had changed these past weeks? Bo-Katan was out of her depth.
“This is the Way”, she replied, still scanning for any sign of agency. The Armorer took a few more steps towards her. “We must walk the Way together. All Mandalorians.”
“I understand.”
Bo-Katan did in fact not understand.
“I was taught, that the Mythosaur existed only in legends, and yet, you saw it. It is a sign that the new age is upon us. Mandalore must all come together”, she explained, voice turning quiet.
And oh.
That was awe in her voice. Wonder.
For her. For what she could do.
The Armorer now stopped, mere centimeters away from her face. Bo-Katan inhaled sharply, as the Armorer raised a hand. It hovered in the air.
“You have walked both worlds”, she whispered, “and you’re the one who can unite us.”
The leather of the glove was rough against her cheek, and yet she couldn’t help but lean into it ever so slightly. It had been years since anyone had shown her physical affection. Of course there were lovers, there had been even in the war, but none of these encounters left any room for actual affection. Quick and anonymous was what Bo-Katan was used to, Not someone cupping her cheek, talking about her as if she didn’t only hold, but was the answer to reunite a civilization fallen apart so, so long ago.
“Why do you-“, she tried quietly, searching the others visor for any sign of emotion. All she could see was her own reflection, pupils blown wide. The Armorer remained silent, simply spreading her thumb to stroke her cheek. Softly.
“You don’t really-“, Bo-Katan tried again, voice failing her. This was ridiculous. She was too old, too damn smart to be this affected by someone holding her face.
She sighed and let her head drop forward in frustration, pressing her forehead against the Armorers shoulder. This was absolutely not how she had pictured this meeting going. Pictured any meeting with the Armorer going, really.
“Swear to me that this is not part of a plan. That this isn’t strategic”, she finally said, voice slightly muffled.
“When foundlings get placed in our care it happens within a matter of seconds”, the Armorer answered after a few beats of silence. “We love and care for them until the end of our lives. Courtships are rather short affairs too. It does not take long for us to decide who we want to spent our lives with.”
“Courtships, huh”, Bo-Katan smirked, not being able to repress the smile forming on her lips.
Somehow, it didn’t feel crazy. It should. Her standing in this forgery, leaning against the Armorer who was still cupping her cheek.
The ashes of the glove would probably leave a mark. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.