Archive of Our Own

Ever since Din had, hm, let’s call it ‘picked up’ the green child, things had gotten weirder and weirder. Not that his life had been perfectly normal before (or at least that’s what his new friends proclaimed, at the scarce opportunities he mentioned some of his past experiences at the covert), but it had gotten worse .

Sometimes he felt like the unwilling protagonist of a very strangely written holonovel.

But it wasn’t all bad.

Like, for example, he now had Grogu.

Again.

Which was a downer, but the Jedi Luke had said that he’d always be welcome back at the Academy, he just seemed to want to live with Din more than with him at the moment. Which Din himself didn’t quite understand why that was, but he had learned that questioning the little green menace only resulted in more hassle than it was worth. 

Peli had told him that he was letting the kid get away with too much, but Din didn't want to hear anything from a woman who’d lost almost a year’s wages to fresh frogs.

Not that he wasn’t thankful for her, frogs were incredibly hard to come by on Tatooine, where he currently was not-hiding from his non-responsibilities and/or Bo-Katan Kryze.

Or had been, until one day, during a quick bounty run to get some money back into the bank, in a moment of carelessness he had left Grogu alone with the steering board. In hindsight an obvious mistake to make, but he’d been occupied with strapping in the (now) unconscious bounty back into the safety nets they had freed themselves from during the ascent from the planet. Din wasn’t quite sure why the tranqs hadn’t worked properly, but he didn’t have time to find out as suddenly a jolt went through the ship and when he got his baring back, he immediately noticed the familiar thrum of a hyperdrive at work.

Staggering, he rushed back to the cockpit, where, true to form, Grogu was now out of his crib-pod and on the steering console, happily playing with the furiously blinking buttons and panels.

<Grogu!> Din was at his son’s side in an instant, lifting the kid away and, with his free hand, quickly sorting out all the chaos he’d managed to cause. Or, well, most of it.

The hyperdrive stayed on, since just dropping out of it was more dangerous than awaiting the next jump point – which would definitely add days to their travel and put a strain on their supplies, but from the bit of quick mental math he did, they should be able to manage.

<Grogu,> he turned to scold the kid who already was putting on his best tooka eyes, <... I told you to not touch the buttons.>

Grogu made a drawn-out noise at the back of his throat, one that Din had learned to understand as a general ‘I don’t care I do what I want’ sort of declaration. 

He sighed.

<No extra frogs today for you,> he told the green critter as he lifted him off the conn, ignoring the immediate wails of protest. <Don’t give me that, ad’ika,> he said, as sternly as he could (he was still weak towards the kid’s pouty face), <Actions have consequences.>

The rest of the flight through hyperspace was spent to a neverending backdrop of unhappy little-green-child-noises. 

Luckily Din’s buy’ce had a noise-canceling setting.

…

Bail Organa had always prided himself in his skill of foresight. Not Force-assisted, by any means, no, just plain old pattern-reading and people skills.

It had, after all, earned him the place at his Queen’s side and the dubious honor of being one of the old Senate’s more illustrious members. As well as more than a handful of enemies, but that simply was the price of the job.

Yet still, he had not seen this coming.

Maybe he should have. But he didn’t.

The last thing he remembered having when their planetary shields failed, when their world disappeared in green fire was simple numbness.

He hadn’t been able to believe until the very last moment.

And now, now that he’d come out on the other end of that emerald hell he still found himself in denial. Denial that he hadn’t seen, that after all the cruelties of the Empire they still had had the gall to believe themselves safe . Surely, they had thought, the Emperor wouldn’t take up arms against a Core world .

Against Alderaan .

Oh how desperately stupid they had been.

Tears were blurring his vision as he simply stared into the bright vastness of blue above him, coldness seeping through the coat under him.

A sharp gasp right next to his dazed mind let him startle up.

“B…reha?”, Bail’s voice was like brittle glass as he stared at the figure that was sitting up in the snow right next to him. The tears that had gathered unshed in his eyes before now were leaving cold trails over his cheeks.

“Bail,” her reply was barely more than a hoarse whisper. She looked at her hands, at the snow, at the sky. Then back at him, face a mosaic of wonder, fear and horrible sorrow. “What– where are we?” Soft clouds danced from her lips as she spoke.

Bail opened his mouth, but no answer would come.

She looked on again, eyes still wide and narrow shoulders hunched. “We died ,” was what eventually broke the silence.

And it hurt . 

His Queen acknowledging their ultimate – his ultimate – failure.

“We died,” horror was tinging her voice now, “Where are we? How are we–”

“ Alive ?,” he finished the sentence and shook his head. “I don’t know, are we?”

“Well this certainly does not look like the Summer Halls,” Breha murmured as she struggled to stand, “Unless the Prophets drastically misjudged the afterlife’s relationship to temperate climates.”

Bail was on his feet immediately, lending out an arm for her to take or not.

She did and the warmth of her touch, even through the stiff dress tunic he’d been wearing, was starling. It drove the reality that they had died and yet still were here – wherever ‘here’ was – home once more.

For a moment, nothing existed except for their quick breaths and the way their hands dug into each other’s arms. Then, Bail looked out, taking in their surroundings.

Not that there was much. A snowy plain, as far as the horizon stretched, completely deserted and untouched, save for their lonely figures. It was deeply unsettling and Bail all of the sudden felt both lost and very, very small.

“We’re lucky that the sun is out,” his wife and Queen’s voice rang out beside him, quiet with worry, “I do not wish to know how far the temperatures drop here at night.”

Bail didn’t say anything, because the path his thoughts took was obvious. No need to spell it out. 

No semblance of civilization, no place to seek shelter, just vast, flat, snowy plains.

They may just have to die a second time here.

…

<Finally,> Din groaned to himself and pushed off the ground, leaving the disassembled pieces of his vambrace strewn across the floor. Grogu was sleeping in his crib, so he’d used the rare moment of quiet to take apart the whistling bird launcher for maintenance and cleaning.

They’d be back in hyperspace momentarily, so he figured he could get right back to it afterwards. He just needed to quickly get the ship back en route to Tatooine.

Boba probably wanted his ship back.

He’d only lent this one to him because the bounty had been one he had to bring in alive and as nice as the N1 was, it didn’t really lend itself to many additional passengers. They’d gotten it from a bunch of Freed that had come from Mos Doba, Boba claimed that it must have been an extremely modified old Republic dropship. How that had landed on Tatooine was beyond Din.

Probably in parts, via the Jawas.

Anyways, as the shudder of the hyperdrive came to a halt, Din did take a look to where his favorite green problem had catapulted them. Unsurprisingly, the view out of the viewport – a white-blue marble of a planet – told him nothing. A bit more unusual was that that also held true for the nav.

Well, it was just like Grogu to send them to an undocumented or unnamed corner of space.

Speaking of which.

The moment he thought of the kid, an ear-piercing screech cut through the hallway behind him, sending Din almost stumbling. Osik , had the kid gotten himself hur–

Something brown and green dashed past him.

Din’s first reaction was relief. The kid wasn’t hurt, great.

Then, immediately following was apprehension and a mild bit of panic because Gorogu was back on the conn, itching for –

– the viewscreen.

His little hand pressed against the transparisteel and he started warbling incessantly. Then he looked back at Din, those big brown eyes staring right into his soul.

“Patuu,” his son said, patting the viewscreen.

<I can’t actually understand you, you know that,> Din moved to hoist the little critter back off the sensitive controls again

“ Patuu !” Grogu’s ears flicked down and back, in a manner Din had quickly learned meant that he was very much not happy with whatever was going on. He repeated the ‘word’, more incessantly, then tapped the viewscreen twice.

Din was at a loss.

<I don’t get it kid. That’s a dead planet. Nothing but snow and ice.>

Grogu made a sound that could roughly be interpreted as a ‘no’. He tapped the viewscreen again .

<Grogu.>

Another tap.

Din sighed. <I’ll do a scan of the area, happy now?> He pressed a few buttons on the console.

The gratified warble that the kid let out let him roll his eyes.

At least when the scan would return empty, Din would have hard facts to prove his point to his infant son. Oh the wonders of fatherhood.

…

The scan returned not empty.

…

You know what? Bail had, over his long career as a noble and a politician, learned that sometimes you better not look a gift eopie in the mouth. Sometimes you simply had to accept that something was favorable for you and too many questions would just scare it away.

Or ‘who’, in this case.

Yes, when a single, rather dinged-up shuttle had suddenly landed right in front of them, a single, very shiny Mandalorian and a baby that looked like Master Yoda but even smaller had appeared on the loading ramp, Bail and Breha had simply (mentally) said ‘fuck it, this might as well be happening’ and climbed in.

<The kid wanted this,> was the one thing the Mando said when Bail tried to thank him. They sounded vaguely upset at the fact, that black visor turning slightly towards where the little green kid was standing on Breha’s foot, tiny claws in the waterlogged hems of her dress and demanding… uppies?

Breha, ever the diplomat, just shot them a glance, bent down and picked the kid up and then very earnestly thanked the Yoda-ling. That seemed to earn them some stones in the Mando’s board, somehow, and Bail quietly thought that the thing he’d heard about their people really cherishing children must be true then.

Apart from that interaction, they didn’t really have any sort of social streak.

Questions got answers (yes, they could go to the small med room the shuttle had; no, the Mando didn’t mind them taking those blankets for the time being; no, the kid wasn’t supposed to climb into that floor compartment; no, the Mando hadn’t known that was there; yes, taping it shut should suffice), but that was about it.

The kid was a lot more vocal, but not in any language Bail understood (or any language at all), babbling at Breha who would reply readily – whether that was because she could actually make sense of the baby babblings or if she was simply entertaining the kid was another matter. But she'd done the same with Leia back when their girl had been small enough to carry in one arm, so Bail figured he might as well leave her to it.

Instead, he asked the Mando for permission to access the holonet from the ship (<...Sure.>) and then proceeded to make a number of harrowing discoveries.

They hadn’t just been transported through space , but also through time .

That was… Bail had no words. Why the Force (because you better bet he was blaming all of this on it) had decided to place them on a snow marble roughly five years in the future was beyond him. Far beyond. 

And there wasn’t an Obi-Wan here to bother about it.

Bail sighed and continued on with his research.

There was one thing he really needed to know.

And that one thing was Leia. How had their little girl fared? It must have been horrible for her, Bail knew how much she tended to blame herself for things she thought she could have prevented. Maybe the Mando would be amenable to bring them to her, if they could find her whe–

Bail blinked at the screen. Then scrolled some more through the news report he’d clicked on.

Then on another.

And another.

Finally, after who-knew-how-long, he staggered up and raced to find his wife.

Palpatine was dead.

Killed by Luke .

The Empire was gone .

…

The day had been long and taxing.

The night would probably be even worse in that regard. Whenever Bail closed his eyes he saw green fire, white snow or the images of the headlines declaring the destruction of the Empire, the holos of their daughter and her brother, side by side with a slew of other figures neither of them knew.

The Mando too had simply shrugged when he’d asked about it, saying something about sewers and a reclusive childhood. Another curiosity Bail had noticed about their rescuer, one on a list that seemed to steadily grow longer.

One of many uncertainties they had found themselves in.

He didn’t like it. Uncertainty meant unpredictability and Bail had had quite enough surprises in the last few… hours? Days? Years? 

It was nagging at him

He hadn’t asked, but he assumed Breha was feeling similarly restless. His Queen hadn’t stopped pacing until Bail had returned from the meager galley with two ration packs and a small can of water.

“So,” Breha sat down next to Bail, her shoulders pressing into his side almost immediately, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He snorted lightly. It was born more from frustration than from humor, not with Breha, but the whole situation. “How could I ever dare guess your thoughts, my Queen?”

“I shall allow it this once.” She rested her head on his shoulder and he could feel the tension leaving her body. Yes, he too felt it, the sudden lull of simply… nothing happening. It was bordering on uneasiness almost immediately.

The Empire was gone – mayhaps not entirely, but the big parts were – the constant looming threats were gone, their responsibilities were gone.

Yet…

Alderaan was gone.

And that…

… it didn’t even hurt. What he felt whenever he thought of the blinding green light, the burning nothingness in his lungs, the numbing panic – there were no simple words to even start describing it.

Alderaan was gone .

Their home, their people, their friends… their gardens, all of their memories, every picture they had ever taken, every book Breha had painstakingly conserved in her private library, every bit of the handmade beaded jewelry that Leia had brought from school, every plant Bail had raised from the seeds he’d snuck from official banquets and functions.

Everything.

Gone.

The soft squeeze of his Queen’s hand on his knee brought him back to reality.

“That,” she murmured softly, sadly, “Wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Oh. It must have shown on his face then, the sudden turn his thoughts had taken.

“Sorry,” he whispered back, “I just…”

Another squeeze. “I know. Me too.”

They spent some moments in complete silence, just the soft thrum of the hyperdrive rumbling in the walls around them to keep them company.

“But,” Breha’s voice was firm when she spoke again, “This is another chance. I don’t know why and why us, but it happened and we’re going to make the best of it.”

Bail sighed long and deep, closing his eyes. His Queen had always been stronger than him, in every aspect. It was why he had fallen in love with her all those years ago anyways and it was why he loved her still. Why everyone should love her, actually.

“The Mando.”

Bail opened his eyes, looking down at Breha’s concentrated face with curiosity.

“There is something about him…,” she mused. 

“Something familiar?,” Bail asked.

She shook her head. “No, not that. Just, hm, remember the thing Obi-Wan would say sometimes? The ‘I have a bad feeling’ thing? It’s like that, but not… bad .”

“A bad feeling without the bad?” Against his will he felt amused. “So just a feeling then?”

She boxed him into the side, lightly. “Oh, shut it,” she huffed. “It feels like he’s standing in the middle of a black hole, things get drawn to him.” The little gesture that accompanied her statement was just as adorable as it was nonsensical. “I don’t think he realizes it though.”

“Things get drawn to him,” Bail hummed, “You think it wasn’t a coincidence that we ended up here? That he was the one to pick us up?”

“Indeed I don’t.”

Bail considered that. He trusted Breha’s feelings, years of diplomatic service had honed her senses – latent Force-sensitivity or not – more than most. His Queen had always been an excellent judge of character and age hadn’t dimmed that light in any way. If she said that there was something at work here, he’d believe her.

Moreover, he’d gotten the same feeling. Sort of.

“His armor,” that had been something he’d noticed, “That’s not just any metal. I am reasonably sure that’s beskar. And a high-grade alloy as well.”

“Could it be pure?,” Breha asked, voice tinged with wonder.

Bail hesitated. He wanted to say no, pure beskar was nigh impossible to get your hands on in such quantities. And even harder to shape, if Obi-Wan’s admiring rambles were to have been believed. Yet… “I guess it’s possible? I can’t say for sure. The only pure beskar I’ve ever seen was in the Sundari museum and that wasn’t fashioned into armor.” The sheen certainly had been the same, but it was possible that that was a quality that could be preserved even as an alloy. He simply didn’t know.

He told his Queen as much.

She shrugged. “It would fit. He feels like a blank slate.”

“In the Force?” He thought of the rumored Force-dampening qualities of the Mandalorian Iron.

“Mh.”

“Hm.” He fell silent once again. After a while, “We could just ask? Tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t that be… kind of invasive? I remember you telling me about the cultural importance that the armor holds.” The proud glow that Bail felt in his chest at her having listened to his long past late-night rambles and still remembering what he’d said back then was nice. “He doesn’t even take off his helmet, he might not be comfortable talking about his culture that much. We both know how much the Empire took from his people.”

Bail slid an arm around Breha and pulled her into a soft hug. “You are very right.” He lightly kissed her temple. “I will not ask.”

…

The next morning Din was sent into a mini heart-attack by his son’s crib floating empty next to the medical cot he’d crammed himself onto.

Was it slightly unnecessary since they were in an enclosed space and there were only a finite amount of places the kid could have been?

Maybe.

But his years as a beroya and, more importantly, the past few months as a buir had shown him that with small children in possession of space magic you should never say never. Especially when it came to shenanigans.

Also, he had just picked up two complete strangers off a nameless snow ball.

Better safe than sorry.

Or so he thought.

Because as he hastily clattered out of the medbay, the audio sensors in his helmet were already picking up the ad’ika’s loud giggling from further down the hallway. Giggling was good. The location it was coming from less so.

That was the part of the ship he’d told that strange couple they could stay in.

Uh oh.

–

Turns out he shouldn’t have worried.

Or he should have, but not about Grogu.

The scene he saw upon entering their room, was one of chaos. The woman was laying on the floor, bundled up in a whole bunch of blankets, even the shimmery cape the man had worn when they’d first picked them up. Only her head was peeking out. She was a bit pale, but smiling. More specifically, smiling up at the happily babbling and chirping face of Din’s ad , who was doing many things to her hair, none of which could be called ‘braid’.

Next to them, hunched over a loading crate that had more datapads on it than Din had been aware were even on the ship, the man was furiously taking notes. The bags under his eyes told Din that he might have been doing that for the entire sleep cycle.

Something told Din that this was going to be a long flight back to Tatooine.

He was right.

Well, at least the kid was happy.

…

“Din?” The Daimyo’s eyes flickered behind his as he stepped down the already dusty loading ramp onto Tatooine soil. Or sand, technically. “I’m pretty sure the mark was just for one guy?”

Don’t remind him. <Yes.>

But Boba wasn’t going to let this go that easily. “Then who are they ?,” he asked, voice somewhere between frustration and wonder.

It was then that Din had realized that he’d never even asked their names. Which seemed like a rookie mistake, but… Grogu had been so taken with them, especially the woman, that he’d just kind of… forgotten. And also he’d been preoccupied with mentally running the numbers on the remaining fuel because they really were cutting it close with the distance Grogu’s spontaneous detour had cost them as well as doubling the bodycount on the ship.

<Uh,> was what he said out loud.

Luckily, the man must have overheard, because he easily stepped up, did a fancy little bow that looked more than out-of-place onTatooine and then introduced himself as ‘Bail’ and the woman – his wife. apparently – as ‘Breha’.

Boba squinted at them for a while and then asked if he’d seen their bounties somewhere before.

The woman – Breha – gave a chilling smile and answered with a light “Possibly”, to which the man – Bail – added, “Not anymore though.”

Nothing about that whole exchange cleared anything up for Din, but Boba seemed okay with leaving it at that and turned around with a shrug, telling Din to unload his bounty and from the couple he demanded to know if they would be able to make themselves useful in some way.

“Depends on what you need,” was the last thing Din heard Bail say before he disappeared back into the ship. They’d figure it out. Bail seemed to be the respectful sort, he hadn’t asked any of the usual questions people pestered him with, which had been nice. And if nothing else, Breha could help take care of children. With how quickly Grogu had taken to her, he had no doubts that she would do well with others as well.

Later, at a moment where he’d managed to catch the Daimyo alone, Din told him of the sneaking suspicion he’d gotten over the course of their flight.

<Boba,> he fidgeted, <I think they might be jetiise .>

The Daimyo stopped fidgeting with the blaster barrel on his knees. He turned to face Din, brow drawn into an unreadable expression. “Did you ask them if they were?”

< Nayc .>

Boba stared at him silently for a while, then sighed. He put the gun aside and folded his hands over his knees. “Okay. Then why are you telling me this?”

<I don’t know how to ask,> Din admitted.

That got him a raised eyebrow. “You asked the cook just fine. And the merchant from Thanis. And that terrellian bounty hunter. And the–”

<But what if they actually are ?> Din cut him off, face heating under his bucket, <Grogu is weird with them. He normally isn’t that trusting with strangers.> And to be honest, Din was more unsettled by that than he should have been. 

Even worse. He himself had found that he’d warmed up to the strange couple faster than he’d thought possible. A lot faster.

For the Ka’ra’s sake, he’d even told them his name already!

“Isn’t that a good thing?,” Boba asked, still looking politely confused. “I mean, you’ve been looking for a wizard to take care of your green bean for forever – sure, you found one, but I’m not mad you took Gro’ika back. Skywalker is a farmer that lucked his way into a laser sword and a governmental position, that’s no basis to teach children on.” He shrugged. “The way I see it, you might actually be lucky for once.”

Ha. Lucky.

Din was lucky that Boba didn’t see the scowl he pulled behind his buy’ce .

…

Life on Tatooine, while not easy, was rather enjoyable. At least in parts.

Something about the way the people in the Daimyo’s town, most of them recently Freed, were so very welcoming to two lost souls simply soothed their spirits. No one pried, no one did grand shows of pity when they mentioned that their home and people were lost, everyone just accepted and quietly grieved with them.

And after death was grieved, life was celebrated.

Loud jeering and whoops rang through the cantina.

“Ooooh, look at her face!,” a rodian that was flushed blue from all the alcohol he’d imbibed up to this point waved his empty glass at the holoprojector, “She hates hates him.”

The grain blue image was showing footage, as live as it got out here in the Rim, from the new Senate the re-established Republic had assembled. The camera had zoomed in on a diminutive figure in a veritable stand-off with a much larger, crested, humanoid.

The smaller one was wearing a bright, floor-length gown and a traditional alderaanian hairstyle wound around her head.

“Girl’s got guts,” a scraggly bothan cackled meanly, “But she’s too young. They’re eatin’ her alive.”

Breha took a glance at the projector and froze. “Oh no,” she raised her hand to her mouth, “She’s about to punch him.”

Bail got out a wry grimace before the projection of their dear little girl did just that. Her slim fist landed squarely in the broad faceplate of the serellian senator. In front of working cameras and the eyes of probably more than half the galaxy. 

Figures.

He sighed deeply. The sound cut through the sudden stunned silence that had descended upon the bar.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t challenge him to single combat for his seat,” his Queen murmured, completely oblivious – or unfazed – by the many stares that hung on her form by now.

<I, Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, challenge you, Senator Form’hekai, to Je’sech. You say Alderaan doesn’t deserve a seat in the new senate? Then we shall take yours!> the little blue image of their daughter snarled. Well, she always had preferred a more hands-on approach to politics. Something he suspected she’d inherited from both her biological parents.

Bail took a swig from his beer. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, somewhere between exasperation and pride.

“Someone will need to stop her from annexing the entire Serrel sector,” the love of his life agreed, “I do not think any of her new friends realize that that will be the inevitable outcome of this.”

“Can’t have another Alderaanian Empire,” Bail agreed. Empires were such tedious things to take care of, after all. And after the last one the general opinion on that form of government wasn’t exactly positive to begin with. He’d rather their girl spent her time and effort on something more enjoyable.

They left the bar soon after. Plans had to be made.

…

Boba stared at the couple. They were entranced in sorting through the datapads – and the pieces of flimsi he’d commandeered for his purposes when he’d run out of pads – that listed standing trade agreements with partners on- and off-planet, possible agricultural reforms they needed to implement, references of legal documents and texts, his more than a dozen disjointed drafts of a (hopefully) comprehensive set of new laws and what else there was.

They were speaking Basic, or so he at least assumed, but the words they used sounded like the high-borne babble of politicians and law-makers and as such went completely over his head.

Every once in a while, one of them would turn to him, say a sentence of which he understood roughly half of the words individually and the inflection that the end would indicate that it had been a question. At which point Boba would either nod sagely or shrug, depending on how confident he was in his understanding of what they wanted from him, and tell them to just do whatever they thought was best.

Which possibly, maybe wasn’t the best practice of someone who’d found himself in the closest thing that amounted to a governmental position on this planet. But who cared.

It wasn’t like they could do worse than the Hutts.

And at least from an outside perspective the way Bail and Breha went over this seemed actually confidence-inspiring. 

Like they knew what they were doing.

Like they had done this kind of thing before .

Unbidden, Din’s words from earlier that day came to his mind.

That they might be, or have been, Jedi. Boba wasn’t quite sure, but… the Jedi often had had to do with politicians and that ilk, back in the Republic, no? He didn’t know how far their education in the matters had gone, in his mind they still were mostly space-monks and the faces of a pointless war, but he was sure that there must have been something .

Luckily, he knew just the person to ask about something like this. A person who was guaranteed to be both very straight forward and truthful in her assessment of the situation.

And the best thing was that he’d only have to wait for one more day until she returned.

That day passed quickly and very soon Boba got a message patched through from the haphazard flight control they’d set up that Fennec Shand was returning from her hunt and would be meeting him shortly. True to what was promised, about half an hour later the high doors to his ‘office’ swung open.

Boba nodded in greeting, “Hello Fennec, how was the hunt?”

“Great,” she grinned and slung the bag on her back and her sniper rifle onto one of the chaise-longues at the wall, “Was real relaxing, actually, finally killing another little asshat for money. Without risking sand in every crevice of my poor rifle.” She flopped down next to her baggage, propping her chin on her hand. “And you? Anything fun happen while I was away?”

“Din picked up another pair of strays.”

Her eyebrows shot up in that distinct Fennec-style. “More green little frog-eaters?”

Boba snorted and shook his head. “No. These two are full sized. And their diet, from what I could observe, seems reasonable.” He paused.

Fennec immediately picked up on it and cocked her head at him, a silent demand.

Boba set down the pad he’d been swiping through. It contained an alphabetically sorted list of spaceports that weren’t under the control of the Hutt council, additionally color coded by distance to Tatooiine.

“They might be Jedi,” he admitted.

“Oh?,” she leaned in, face betraying nothing, “Pray tell me more.”

Boba did.

Fennec tentatively agreed that that did sound suspiciously Jedi-like, but told him she couldn’t said for sure until she met them. Boba then informed her that dinner would be served in about two hours and they usually were there. She could meet them then and tell Boba of her thoughts on the matter afterwards.

Fennec agreed to that plan.

…

There was a loud spurt and Boba looked behind himself just in time to see the remains of what once had been a healthy sip of water drip down Fennec’s chin. The hunter’s eyes were comically wide as she stared disbelievingly at the two newcomers.

“Ah, Fennec Shand, right?,” Bail’s voice carried mild amusement.

“You two know each other?,” Breha voiced Boba’s exact thoughts, a slight, playful quip in her brow.

“One could say,” Bail’s eyes didn’t leave Fennec and for some reason there was an edge to his gaze that Boba hadn’t seen in there before. Although it was well hidden beneath his usual air of calm friendliness, “One tends to remember assassins sent after oneself.”

There was a loud creak and the assassin in question sprung up, her finger pointing accusingly. “ Bail Organa?! ,” she screeched – Boba hadn’t known that she was capable of that. “How– you’re dead !”

But before his mind could catch up with him, Din’s modulated voice, in his disconnected way, piped up, <Organa? Like that alderaanian Princess?>

And that was when the last credit chip fell for Boba as well.

“BAIL ORGANA THE SENATOR ?!,” he exclaimed.

In a testimony to the man’s truly unending patience, he simply cracked a smile, folded his hands and said, “Former senator, Ser Fett.”

“DIN, YOU SAID THEY WERE JEDI !”

…

Bail was greatly amused.

Yes, seeing a woman who’d once very professionally sought to claim his life again was a tad jarring, but she’d very quickly assured him that the contract had been voided a long time ago so there would be no further tries and no bad blood between them. He could work with that.

Breha had been a little more skeptical, but had come around eventually.

That they all had assumed he and Breha were Jedi really simply was too funny.

Oh, how he wished that one of their old friends were there to hear of this. Obi-Wan would have had an aneurysm, possibly, and Quinlan would probably have laughed himself half to death. 

Explaining what really was going on took a bit more time, but luckily food was already served so no matter how philosophical the discussions got, no one was left unoccupied. 

“So what you’re saying,” Bail hadn’t seen the Daimyo this distressed since he’d met him, “Is that the Jedi’s weird space magic somehow grabbed you in the moment your planet was hit with a giant superlaser, dropped you off four to five years into the future on a planet that was just snow and nothing else just in time for Din here to find you because his adopted baby Jedi child pushed the wrong button at the wrong time–”

“Or the right button at the right time,” Fennec murmured between spoons of meiloorun soup.

“ – and now you’re here?”

“That is how we understand it as well, yes,” Breha nodded sagely.

Under his breath, Bail added, “The Force isn’t just the Jedi’s, it actually connects all–”

He was cut off by the sharp elbow his dear Queen planted in his side, smiling benevolently. “There also is another matter,” she continued, ignoring him entirely, “Namely that, while we enjoy helping you with your work here, we do wish to be reunited with our daughter as soon as possible.”

“Oh shit,” Fennec said, “Right. She thinks you died, huh.”

Bail grimaced. They had died. Just, somehow, they had survived it.

“That and also she is about to annex another planet,” Breha sighed, placing one hand on her cheek, “Which would be in direct offense to the regulations set into place by the Corellian Congress, which is dictating Alderaan’s neutrality. Even with the planet gone, those are not agreements that should be broken, not even partly, because much of the power balance within the galaxy hinges on them.”

Bail nodded sagely.

The little round of bounty hunters (and one child) simply stared at them, incredulous.

…

In the end, Boba agreed that they’d get them to Serrel Se to try to stop the formation of yet another empire.

If only because Bail and Breha agreed to pay them twice the going rate for escort missions and let them watch the fight. Well, all except for Din, who sheepishly admitted that he’d already taken another job.

But it was on the same planet, so they could just take Grogu to go see the spectacle.

Bail was so caught up in the enthusiasm of finally seeing Leia again that he didn’t even question the rather large coincidence that that was.

Maybe he should have.

…

Luke fidgeted a bit under his wide hood.

In front of him a wide arena strewn with white sand stretched out and even just the vague resemblance made him think of Hutt fighting pits back on Tatooine. That his sister was going to step into the ring here was… a strange thought.

Leia had assured him that she had more than enough combat experience to head this – apparently on her planet she’d had to claim the right to succeed the throne through it – but he still couldn’t quite fight that queasy little feeling down. Even though the Force sure indicated that all was well.

If he was reading it correctly.

Ugh, no Luke, no second-guessing yourself. That was the death of every teacher.

Someone stepped up behind him and he stilled. Composed himself.

Leia had more than once regaled him with why exactly his position as ‘the’ Jedi needed to be kept, even in appearance. So no swoop-bike races, no nerding-out about the newest hydroplant-technologies and, most importantly, no fidgeting. Not when anyone could see, at least.

“Hello,” he turned to greet them and it was a man with a tan, kind face and a well-kept beard. His form was hidden under a wide cloak that looked remarkably like Luke’s own, just grey.

Then again, there was only a finite amount of ways a plain cloak could look.

The man’s gaze softened even further as he looked at Luke, and something told him that this guy, impossible as it was, recognized him. Not saw-you-on-a-propaganda-poster recognized, but true recognition. Like they had met before.

“Luke,” he spoke, and his voice was just as kind as his presence, “I cannot tell you how glad I am to meet you.”

Again , the Force supplied, meet you again .

“I’m sorry,” Luke couldn’t place the man’s face, no matter how hard he tried, “I don’t seem to remember you? My apologies.” Leia would strangle him if he forgot the face of yet another dignitary and insulted them to their face.

“No need to apologize,” there was a profound sadness in the man’s eyes all of the sudden, “You wouldn’t have remembered.”

Probably not a dignitary then.

Luke hesitated, that had been weird and cryptic. 

Which, coming from him, was saying something.

But before he could ask for clarification, a loud fanfare cut through the air and his poor heart and in the moment he took to glance into the arena behind him to the small form of his sister, the man disappeared somewhere into the crowd.

Luke was left there wondering if he’d just seen a mirage.

…

Of all the things that could have happened in the Je’sech – the traditional ritualistic duels the serellians held over important points of dispute – a very familiar silvery suit of beskar’gam being the first thing anyone took notice of as the Senator’s champion stepped into the arena was the one Bail had expected least .

“That’s Din,” Boba said and he sounded like that was something distressing .

“Yes?,” Bail was politely confused, the other Mandalorian was a honorable man, the fight would be good and fair, “Why–”

“ Boba Fett!?! ,” the smuggler that was possibly their daughter’s intended screeched out of nowhere, but was promptly dragged off by Fennec.

Below them the fight began.

Bail looked after them for a moment, then returned his gaze to the Daimyo. Who was staring down into the arena, paling more with every minute that passed. Following his gaze didn’t solve the questions forming in Bail’s mind, but it did make pride swell once more because Leia was winning.

Possibly because Din didn’t have access to all his weapons, but still. He knew how good of a fighter the beroya was.

“She’s winning,” Boba murmured, “Oh, Stars. She is winning .”

“Why wouldn’t she?,” Breha tilted her large sun hat so that she could peer at the man, “She is a formidable fighter and it seems like the past few years only honed that skill.” Not that Bail would have faulted the man for underestimating their daughter, the rigorous combat training any member of the Alderranian nobility went through was a rather closely guarded secret after all. But still, for this to be such a cause of distress ?

“That’s not…,” Boba drew his hand over his face, aggravated. Then, with a sharp sigh, he pointed down, “He’s the Mand’alor. Technically. It’s a bit of a– you know what, never mind. Only thing that matters is that he’d got a position too that can be won by right of combat. Combat which he is losing right now.”

“Oh,” Breha said lightly. Then grimaced.

Bail looked back down, heart feeling equally complicated as they watched Leia dip down and slide over the sand before tackling Din from behind and slinging her legs in a chokehold around his neck.

In her lap, Grogu gave an angry screech from him, but Breha quickly calmed the kid.

“Does there need to be an official declaration?,” Bail eventually asked.

“For the challenge?” Boba shrugged, then shook his head. “I guess it would depend on whom you ask. But Din got the Darksaber from someone that wasn’t even mando’ad , so…” There was a proud-sounding warble from Grogu.

“The Darksaber?” Breha looked confused.

“Ancient Mandalorian-Jedi lightsaber,” Bail explained absent-mindedly, “Belonged to Master – or Mand’alor – Tarre Vizsla and has been seen as the symbol of rule amongst many Clans for quite a while. I thought it was lost after the Siege?” He glanced at Boba.

The Daimyo shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I learned of the blasted thing when Din basically tried to throw it at me.”

“He doesn’t want it?”

A shake of head. “You know Din, he’s content being a father and a beroya . Being the leader of a government probably is the last thing on his bucket list. He’s just kept the ‘saber for this long because, and I quote him here, ‘it’s useful for bounty hunting and giving it to Bo-Katan isn’t an option, she’s jare’la’ , which,” he shrugged again, “I can’t deny.”

That was surprising news. “Bo-Katan Kryze is alive ?” He had thought all the Kryzes had been killed.

Boba looked at him with a weird expression, then sighed. “Kriff, you really just know all the names, don’t you? Yes, Kryze is alive and kicking, a bit too much if you ask me.”

Both Bail and Breha laughed a little. “Occupational hazard, I fear,” the former eventually smiled, “Knowing names is quite important when representing one’s Queen and planet on a galactic scale.” He gave a loving squeeze to Breha’s shoulder.

“Satine’s sister,” Breha mused, “Wasn’t she a domestic terrorist?”

A scowl passed over Boba’s face. “Yeah, there’s little love lost between us. I don’t care for what she does, but from what I heard she thinks herself the Savior of Mandalore now.”

“Which she needs the saber for.” Bail was starting to catch on. Hm, now he could see why that would be a problem. Sure, he could be giving Kryze the benefit of the doubt, but he was inclined not to. For personal reasons. Breha could be his better judgment when it came to it.

“Yeah. But she’s a shit fighter. Which is why she won’t be a problem.” Boba nodded down into the arena. “ That , though, might.”

…

It came how it had to.

Leia won.

Not decisively. Bail could see it in the hitch in her stride and the harshness around her mouth. She was probably more banged-up than she let on. But the fire in her eyes told them that she relished in this.

They watched whirl around towards the tribune, where the now rather pallid Senator Form’hekai was standing at the railing.

“Senator,” they could hear her yell – and oh, how great it was to hear her voice again – at the top of her lungs, just as they sprinted down the last flight of stairs, “I bested your champion. Still of the opinion that Alderaan has no strength to hold on to a seat in the senate?!”

Whatever the Senator replied was lost to the thunderous cheer from all around.

Bail was glad, because thanks to the interruption they had enough time to reach their daughter before she could declare something… unfortunate.

The clamor died down and Leia immediately raised her voice again, “As the Princess of Alderaan and the winner of this Je’sech, I declare–”

“That this all was very fun and that it now is over ,” Bail raised his voice over their daughter’s, stepping up right next to her.

She whirled around, pure fury on her face for one moment, before her expression morphed and circled through all facets of horror, surprise, grief, hope and pain. “What?,” she croaked, staggering back.

“Hello, Leia,” Bail said softly, feeling Breha step up next to him, “Sorry for disappearing.” 

Breha opened her arms for a hug, like she’d always done.

With a loud, strangled sob Leia crashed into her.

Wrapping his arms around the two most important lights of his life, Bail finally, finally let himself feel at peace again.

..

“No, Din–!,” Boba tried to stop the younger hunter, but it was too late.

The beroya marched over to the small pile of Organas and planted himself in front of them, prompting all of them to disentangle themselves from the small cuddle pile they’d coalesced in. The face of the Princess read open distrust as she looked up.

Gruffly, he thrust a sleek dark hilt at her.

<There. You bested me in combat. It’s your problem now. Good luck.>

“Wha–,” the Organa’s daughter started, but was interrupted by the Skywalker Jedi startling forward and wrestling the saber hilt from her. “That’s a lightsaber!” He looked up, face circling through all expressions known to mankind, “Where did you get a lightsaber from?!”

Typical Skywalker, Boba thought, always interrupting important moments.

<Got it from an Imp,> Din provided, apparently feeling more helpful than most of the time. Maybe finally being rid of the responsibilities of being Mand’alor had put him in a good mood. It certainly would be in character for that shabuir .

“What?,” Skywalker repeated, face growing only more confused.

Boba decided that it was high time he stepped in. “That,” he gestured at the hilt, “Is the Darksaber. If you light it you’ll know,” he quickly added as soon as he could see the questions on Skywalker’s face forming, “It’s the symbol of the Mand’alor, the sole leader of the Mandalorian people. And the right to wield it is won by combat, so…” He did the bare bones of a salute towards the Princess.

“Good luck, Mand’alor Organa. You’ll probably need it.” Then he turned, waving to both Fennec and Din, “Come on, people, let’s get back to Tatooine. We’ve still got a government to set up there.”

Fennec’s unenthusiastic ‘woohoo’ was drowned out in baffled protests of the Princess's, pardon, the Mand’alor’s friends.