Chapter Text
"I’m sorry about your father."
"I’m not."
It’s a practised reply, one he gives without a second thought.
Not a moment of hesitation, he should be ready for this the next time he sees his now-former squad mates. No place for doubt. Torian has plenty of those to his name. So, no: he is not sorry about the old man, nor is he sorry about leaving the last of his kin to the hands of his mortal enemy (certainly not his, Jicoln’s and Jicoln is a traitor, so it doesn’t matter what he thinks), never fantasised about what would happen if he had asked for help. It’s a waste of time; he’d have killed him no matter what.
Perhaps it would have been worse, even, now at least Jicoln died with dignity, whatever little he had left or so he says to himself, and he repeats the words in his head—I’m not sorry, I’m not sorry, I’m not. The Traitor got what was coming for him. My only regret is that I can't kill him ag…
What if he had asked for help—would he…—No. Never. These are dangerous thoughts. No.
No regrets.
He does however regret the bluntness of his reply when the Champion—Nino, stays lingering at the threshold for a moment and seemingly not knowing what to do, she gently steps into the galley, shooting him a faint apologetic smile as if she’s barging in his private quarters—not that he knows what that’s like to have.
Besides It is amusing to think of her bursting in anywhere, she has such light steps, such… manners. Nino—he still has trouble thinking about her, using her first name, it seems disrespectful, but she has asked him once to use it, and so he will—that’s one of the first things he noticed about her, for all her size the Chiss walks as if there’s a newborn baby around them, always, even Mako as slight as she is, is not soft-footed as her. Not the gait of a huntress though, no, she doesn’t appear to be accustomed to hunting prey with more than two legs. These light graceful steps seem to come from a willingness to blend in, not attract any attention, friend, or foe—though according to Torian’s experience, it’s always the latter and so it’s also a dance he very well knows, from his first step.
"Thanks though. Appreciated." He doesn’t know why exactly he’s thanking her, but he does know that in the very few moments they were together, she’s been more considerate of him than any other he has known. So that is worth thanking for.
"Vor entye." he adds "That’s what we say."
Nino glows briefly with (what he likes to assume as) happiness at being included with her people. It’s another concept familiar to Torian, though he’s been the outsider; he has always been inside when it mattered. He doesn’t know how the aruetii—outsiders, manage, with no clan and no Mandalore to kill all your kin like animals and hunt your f-
"B…- Beget. No. Gedet’-y. Bagedet ye. Ba’gedet’ye!" Her fumbling with the language cuts into Torian’s thoughts like a knife, and he couldn’t be more grateful.
It’s also oddly cute.
But then again, everything about The Champion is… endearing. Her hair, when not put up, falls around her face in soft blue ringlets he'd like to touch against his better judgment. She has freckles on her cheeks and nose, but her skin is smooth, just a few shades lighter than her hair. He can’t figure out how old she is, no matter what, but she stands a few inches shorter than him, and he finds himself standing straighter when she sits across him at the table.
"You’re a natural," he says assuringly "just need a few lessons."
She smiles more openly now, almost coyly, "And you know a good teacher?"
"Maybe." He feels himself smile, a rare occurrence. "I’ll let you know."
In the darkness of the galley, the brightest thing he can see is her eyes, red and luminous. And strangely beautiful, captivating. He finds he can’t look away even as his face heats up, nothing to do with the temperature of the cosy kitchen area.
And here’s something you should never think about your pseudo-captain and boss.
"Well, I was actually here to say ‘Hello’, I didn’t mean to—I mean. First night at a new place is always weird, and on top of that—" Nino stops abruptly and shakes her head, "I hope you come to trust me."
And tell me if there’s anything that bothers you.
Torian understands the hidden meaning, and it touches him more than it should, so he points out over the thundering beat of his heart, as neutral as he can sound:
"I’m on your ship, wouldn’t be here if I didn’t."
"Where is your… parent?" he asks without waiting for her to reply before he can stop himself. She must have her people somewhere, right? No one is as solitary as he is.
"Which one?" she huffs a little, and he can’t tell if she’s asking a genuine question or avoiding giving information about herself, so he too avoids it;
"You get to have more than one?" he asks in mock disbelief, and she laughs lightly, stunning him for a moment and at that moment, he decides it's the most endearing sound he has ever heard; he must hear more—he simply must.
"Two… Well, I suppose for a moment I had four, but none of them gives a damn about me right now." She shrugs, "You can have them."
Now that’s interesting. Worrying. Two then four. And then none at all. A marriage, then? A marriage which ended badly. Perhaps. The fact that someone had married the Champion and then separated from her sounds unbelievable.
Maybe he died.—I hope he died.
No. It'd be a great reason to duel.
"Let’s get some rest." she says, sounding more commanding than ever as her hand unexpectedly hauls him from his unrealistic daydreams and to his feet as if she's afraid he will ask more questions. He only feels her machine-like strength, the heat of her palm so acutely it must’ve branded him to the bone — certainly wouldn’t be the worst he had.
He expects Nino to climb the stairs up, but instead, she walks in with him to the room with two sets of bunks. It’s small but clean and almost cosy with one of the beds already occupied by a red figure tightly curled in the blankets, snoring away. Nino laughs lightly again at the surprised look he imagines he has on his face;
"Mako didn’t tell you? I like to be closer to the exit." she shrugs "and—"
"And she likes to see me first in the morning, I mean I wouldn’t blame her."
While Torian jumps at the sudden voice coming from the man who was sound asleep a moment ago, Nino easily bats it aside,
"Go to sleep Gault."
"Ah, but I see you’re not denying it!"
Nino heaves a long-suffering sigh, and the Devaronian chuckles, but Torian feels she’s amused more than annoyed, "Pick one. You can be on top of—you know what? You can see where the beds are." She shoots a look at Gault, who seems almost disappointed with the miss of an opportunity for a terrible, terrible joke.
Torian takes the bed under Nino, so he can watch the door, he thinks. In his heart, he knows he won't get any proper sleep if he has a chance to watch his new… comrade for lack of a better word.
And he falls asleep thinking of new beginnings, the sweet sound of her laugh and the unexpected camaraderie.
***