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What makes a Mandalorian? Is it their creed and commitment to tradition? Their legacy of honor won through bloody victory? Nature or nurture. Blood or oath?
Din Djarin often felt alone in his covert because he knew he was other. No one could deny his commitment to the way or his skill in battle. Yet as a foundling, he always felt like he was less than his peers who were born into the clans. No one would dare speak his fears of not being enough outloud, but everyone knew that there was more than Beskar shrowding the bounty hunter.
His thoughts often went to Grogu. Was it fair to risk the kid's future feelings of self-worth just to equip him in the way of the Mandalorian? Would Gorgu resent him for not letting him try?
Din's attention snapped back into focus. Hi N-1 dropped out of hyper-space as he made his descent to Tatooine. Boba Fett had called in a favor and while the favor had long since been paid, Din couldn't help himself. When Boba asks for things, it usually means honorable combat or a cause that balances the killing books.
It doesn't hurt that Din felt a kinship to Boba. He is other, just like him.
Landing in Mos Eisly, Din popped the lid on his ship and hopped to the sand covered landing pad. His helmet took a moment to adjust to the dueling suns. As the calibrations finished, he saw the familiar angular helmet and fox like stance.
"Hello Fennec."
"Djarin. " Though both were wearing helmets, they could feel the smiles they had for each other.
"The message sounded urgent. I half expected to be landing into a battle zone."
Fennec's usual nonchalant stance slid into a slight slump.
"If only it was that. Battles can be won. This is something else." She paused and took off her helmet. The eyes of a woman forced to grow up too fast and steeped in wisdom forged from pain. "He needs you. I sent the signal. Fett is slipping into madness and I don't know how to reach him."
"Madness?"
"He has taken to ‘saving’ slave girls and offering them a choice of a stipend and a path home, or they can live in luxury with him. He's trying to make a Mandalorian heir."
Din cocked his head. Boba Fett was a Mandalorian in many ways but he never made a huge deal about it or the legacy of his father. Something else must be at the root of this.
"When did this start?" Din kept his voice as level as possible.
"Four rotations ago. A strange woman came to offer tribute to the new kingpin of Tattooine. Since her visit, he's not been right in the head. Din, I need your help. Either help me get Boba back, or help me give him peace." Fennec's normally proud gaze was glued to the ground. She hated having to ask this of a friend.
"I'll help. Does he know I'm here?"
"Not yet. I wanted to see how you wanted to handle it."
"Ok. I'm going to scout for other signs of this woman. For now, keep my arrival secret. I'll send word I'm coming to visit in three days time."
"I owe you, Din. However this ends."
"This is the way." Din walked toward Fennec and gave her a hug. Neither one of them are "huggers" but it seemed the right thing to do. It also allowed Din to plant a tracker on Fennec's back.
-----
Boba looked out from his kolto tank and let a sigh out into his breathing apparatus. His body used to be a fine-tuned weapon. His mind used to be a cold calculator. Now he felt sentimentality and his reflexes had dulled.
There was a path forward though. The Nightsister had made it clear he could honor his father while still gaining his strength back. He felt for the women who didn’t take the ride home, but it was their choice.
At least he didn’t need to make any more women make that choice.
The kolto began to drain from the pod and Boba pulled off the medical equipment. A medical droid was waiting for him with a towel and glass of water. He grabbed both and drained the glass of water in one gulp.
“Something stronger, yea?”
“I’m sorry sir. I’m under strict orders by you to only bring you water until 18:00”
“Well, I’m telling you I want something stronger. Override the order.”
“Master, please don’t. You need your strength”. A small cathar woman walked to him and put her soft hand on his chest. She was one of the few who truly struggled to comprehend she was free and he wasn’t sure if it was a kindness or not. “M1-T6, Master Fett will have water and delight in the food I and the other girls have prepared for him.”
“You know, for someone who insists on calling me Master, you like to order me around a lot.” Boba chuckled and smiled his consent to be mothered by Shiani. “Are you sure you’re not the ruler of this house?”
Shiani looked down in embarrassment.
“No! No, Master!” She went to bow but then remembered herself. “It’s only we all want you to be healthy.”
Boba let himself be led into the dining room. Around the table were six beautiful women of various species. Each wore a Mythasaur pendant around their necks with kyber crystals where the eyes would have been. The sister had been clear that all women who agreed to stay with him, must wear one.
Yet the woman whom he respected the most was missing. Ever since he began this mission, Fennec had taken to doing more solo work. She had initially stayed in the palace to help govern and argue with him. She did not like this plan and she did not understand it. He respected and trusted her enough to allow her to do needed jobs outside the palace, however he still missed her presence.
It was still too early for the women to be showing their pregnancies, but some of them were starting to have their kyber crystals change color. The sister had told him that his heir would belong to the woman who’s pendent turned green and red. Fett colors. All the other children would belong to her, and she would use them to make him and his house strong. Able to last another 10,000 years.
Shiani wasn’t one of the lucky ones. Her stones were red and black. Vizsla colors.
He didn’t know what would happen to the babies given over to the Nightsister. He didn’t care.
Ever since he ran into Din Djarin, a young Mandalorian with just as much fire as he had in his youth, the nagging attachments to the clans started to emerge. He didn’t often think of his father, but now it was all he could think of. His father traded Mandalorian blood to the Empire (Fett refused to make a distinction between the corrupt last days of the Republic and the Empire). That trade not only doomed millions of lives to war and oppression, it also diminished the clans. If there was a chance to correct this, to bring back a strong Mandalorian house unmarred by corruption and not doomed by cultish fanaticism, he had to take it.
“Ladies, please eat. No need to wait for a tired old man.”
The women made polite gestures that they had to wait but soon began eating the feast before them. A twi'lek was about to drink something close to coffee when Boba noticed her pendant had the glimmer of green and red. He walked over to her and held the necklace in his hand. He had to be sure. He didn’t want to get attached to the wrong one.
“Vayo, can you come with me for a moment?” He spoke as gently as possible to not betray his nerves. Vayo was beautiful and clever, but she also had a warrior spirit to her. When he had freed her, she needed no encouragement to pick up a blaster and start killing her way to freedom. She also showed disdain for her home as they sold her to pirates to stave off a slaughter that happened anyway. A Mandalorian heart beats in her chest.
Vayo stood and walked ahead of Boba to one of the private rooms.
“Do you know why I asked all of you to wear those necklaces?” Boba asked her as the door closed behind them.
“No, but as far as asks go, it’s not a big one. Especially from the man who saved me from slavers.”
Boba motioned for her to sit, which she did. He joined her and took a moment to think about how he wanted to put it.
“I was promised an heir by someone powerful. Someone I know can deliver. The heir would come from the woman who’s pendant turned green and red. Fett colors. The rest…well they would go to her.”
The glibness that usually adorned Vayo’s eyes was gone. She understood in an instant what Fett refused to voice out loud. She had won the lottery of life and the rest of the girls had lost.
“When did you plan to tell us we were a Nightsister experiment?” Vayo refused to look at him.
Boba froze. How did she know?
“I never said anything about nightsisters. I -”
“You didn’t have to,” Vayo cut him off. “I’m not an idiot, Fett. Kyber crystals are jedi trinkets and no jedi would do anything like this. What I want to know is what happens to me and I guess my baby.”
She might not be Fennec, but she earned his respect. This waif of a girl had seen through the whole thing in no time and rather than devolving into an emotional display, stayed focused on the pragmatic questions around her life and the life of their kid.
“You will be fine. You have my word. The Sister only wants the women who represent the other clans. If you want to, you can live a life of luxury here once our child is born. Just don’t say anything to the other girls.” His kind voice hardened into the usual harder than beskar tone.
“Of course I won’t say anything. I don’t owe them anything. But I have your word that I and my baby will be safe?”
“You have my word.”
—----
Din hadn’t expected security around the Fett palace to be so tight. He clocked no fewer than 30 armed guards around the perimeter, and noticed a few new laser walls. He couldn’t believe Fett was insane. The man had survived a sarlacc pit, tamed a rancor, and countless other feats of honor.
He was unsure whether this path was the best one. Fett always respected the straight forward approach, however if he’s compromised, then secrecy is best.
As Din waited for the suns to set, he noticed the door at the top of the palace was open. While it was still light out, that likely would be the easiest path in.
Acknowledging he likely had only a few minutes to make the call, Din shot his wrist grapple up the window and pulled himself up. He was lucky that no one saw him climbing, however he heard a rather raucous party going on. Fett did like to celebrate, so perhaps all wasn’t lost.
When he finally made his way into the door at the top of the palace, he realized how much of a gamble he had taken. When he last visited Fett, this room was essentially an armory. Now he realized he had stumbled into a bedroom.
“And who might you be.” The pale woman locked eyes with him and smirked with all the power and control of a mistress of the house.
“A friend of Fett. I’m looking into something for him and he told me not to make a scene.” Din was grateful his mask did a good job of leveling out his voice so any nerves got ironed out.
“Friends usually enter through front doors. Do you have a name, friend of Fett.”
“My name doesn’t matter. My intel does. Can I see him?”
“Hm…why not? But before you do, humor me with a few questions, friend of Fett. I don’t often meet Mandalorians who follow the old ways and I should like to learn a few things.” She gestured for him to sit. Din felt a pressure in the back of his mind urging him to sit and relax. He did so and the pressure dissipated.
The woman smiled.
“Much better. Now, friend of Fett, what makes a Mandalorian?” Her pale eyes seemed to pierce through his helmet straight into his own.
“Those who follow the creed are Mandalorian.” Din found comfort in such a familiar answer.
“So quick to answer and so sure of yourself! Very well, and those who do not follow the creed but were born to Mandalorians. Are they any more Mandalorian than a foundling such as yourself?” This question stung. Din suddenly knew she was asking about him and Fett. Teasing out whether he believed him to be Mandalorian.
“There are many paths to following the creed. It’s not for me to say who does so correctly or not.”
The woman’s snake-like smile turned into a frown.
“That’s a coward’s answer. I’ll ask again: is the child of a Mandalorian who doesn’t follow your creed just as much a Mandalorian as a Foundling?”
“No. Only blood spilled and honor earned makes the mando. Birth parents might help a child find the way, but the child must walk the path themselves if they want to be part of the mando’ad.”
The pale woman’s smile returned. She got what she wanted.
“Very good, friend of Fett. Now one last question and then I’ll fetch the master of the house…are you a Mandalorian?”
Din’s mind felt like it was in a vice. In no time at all, this woman had made him speak against a friend and now was forcing him to confront his greatest fear within himself.
“I have bathed in the waters of Mandalor. I follow the Way. I am Mandalorian.” He kept his voice stoic but his heart was beginning to race.
“Are you sure of that, friend of Fett? Your heart is beating like a liar’s and your words are too practiced to be yours.” The woman smiled and moved to sit on his lap. Din stood before she could and she laughed at him. “Peace, friend of Fett. Believe it or not, I wish to help. You may be interested in the same deal I made with the master of this house. One that would strengthen the blood of true Mandalorians. Would you like to hear of it”
Din couldn’t believe what an idiot he had been. His quarry sat before him and was toying with him while he dealt with an identity crisis. But now he knew Boba wasn’t mad. He was bewitched by her. The pressures in the back of the brain that compelled him to answer her likely sit in his brain still. Din knew enough of jedi mind tricks to know that if he attempted to just kill her, it likely wouldn’t end the control she held over Fett. He would need to play along.
“Doesn’t hurt to listen.”
“Indeed it does not.” The pale woman walked over to her cabinet and pulled out a mythasaur pendant. Its eyes were black kyber crystals. She handed it to him. “This is a force conduit specially crafted to focus on bloodlines. Particularly the bloodlines of Mandalorians. I have been studying your kind for quite some time and I believe the galaxy owes your people a great debt. I would like to lend my strength to help solidify a single house of Mandalor as the supreme ruler of your kind. The rest shall serve as they always have done. Through blood.”
Din felt the pressure in his mind but he triggered a slight stabbing sensation to force the pressure from his mind.
“The deal I made with Master Fett is quite simple: the Fett clan would reign supreme for 10,000 years and all I asked in return were the children with souls belonging to the other clans. They would become warriors in their own right, but in the tradition of my home world of Dathomir. And should any war come calling, the Mandalorians of Dathomir would be foot solders as the generals of Fett lead all to glory. Quite a fair trade, if I do say so myself.”
All sense of calm had vanished and Din could only feel sorrow for his friend. He could see the conversation playing out as clear as day, and worst of all he understood why Fett said yes. He wasn’t insane, he was doing what was in his blood to do. To trade the sons and daughters of Mandalor for the promise of glory.
“So if Fett is to lead, why bother with me?” Din couldn’t keep his voice calm.
“You are something special, friend of Fett. I wouldn’t dare indoctrinate one as fine as you in the dark side. However, I also know the ache in your heart. You wish to belong, yet never will. You are more worthy than most, but hide it beneath a foundling’s fear. My offer to you isn’t to rule, because I know it’s not in your nature to desire such things. My offer is to be granted a portion of that power I will be channeling to Fett. All you need to do is forsake the Way. It is not what makes a Mandalorian. It never was. It simply was a means to control you while real Mandalorians waged wars and earned honor. “ The pale woman gestured to the pendant in Din’s hands. “Once you put that on, all the power of those who made you feel small shall help you become a conqueror. A trusted blade for your friend to wield. And your child need never choose between being a Mandalorian and the force.”
There it was. Din knew what his answer would be right until she brought Grogu into it. He would do anything for that kid…but to abandon all honor was not something to undertake lightly.
“Anyway - you have humored me long enough. Go and see the master of the house. He’s waiting in his private chambers for you.”
—---
Boba wasn’t as surprised as he should have been to see Din walk into his room. Between Fennec avoiding him and the Sister’s cryptic message about a friend of Fett, he should have put two and two together. The young Mando always brought a smile to his face.
“What brings you here, Djarin?” Boba sounded less “master of the house” and more like a drinking buddy.
“You are worrying your friends.” Din stood tall where others bowed. “You wouldn't believe the conversation I had.” Din held up the pendant.
Boba slumped in his chair. He didn’t want Din to find out about this. His shameful need to stoop to force tricks instead of glorifying his house in the traditional way.
“So you know about the deal. Are you going to stop me?”
“Should I?”
“I wish you didn’t come here, Din.” Boba looked at the young Mando. He truly was everything he wished he could be. He had such conviction in his beliefs. He had no guilt associated with his name. “I have to do this. My father destroyed us. Had he not given Mando’a blood away to Kamino, the galaxy wouldn’t be the cesspit you and I need to clean up.”
Din didn’t say anything. He just looked his friend in the eyes. He was looking for any sign of the mental pressure, but Boba sounded like he always did. A tired old man with far more strength than he should.
Boba could feel Din’s gaze through the vizor and chuckled. He forgot he was talking to Din, not Fennec. Fennec would need the full explanation. Din just needed the action plan.
“So, what did the Sister promise you?” Boba gestured for them both to sit by the open window looking onto the city.
“A way to not force Grogu to have to choose. He could be a Mandalorian and a Jedi. Or something close to a Jedi.”
Boba’s face darkened.
“There is nothing ‘close to’ Jedi. The kid either is or isn’t. And he’d be better off not being a jedi.” Boba looked at Din with a glint he reserved for his most respected enemies and revered friends. “I don’t believe you, Din. She offered you something. What is it?”
Din shrugged.
“She offered me power but without the need to lead. The only reason I’m considering it is the kid.” Din bowed his head. If anyone would understand what he’s going through, it’s Boba.
“I need to know I’m not ruining his life by putting him on my path, Fett.” Din began, “I am not without talent, but I know I’m not a Mandalorian in the way Paz was. Or Bo-Katan. Or you.”
“But I’m not - “ Boba began
Din’s usual calm was gone. It took all his restraint not to punch him. The moment Boba Fett admitted he was not a Mandalorian, it meant Din had no chance.
“DON’T YOU DARE!” Din roared. “You ARE a Mandalorian. Your father, Jango Fett bestowed his clan honors to you and you carry his name into battle. You have no need of this ritual. You already burned the name Fett into this era. Why would you give up Mandalorian children to that force witch?”
Boba was taken aback. Din was always submissive in their dealings. This clearly struck a nerve.
“Fine, we’re both Mandalorians, and your kid would be lucky to be your foundling.”
“Being a foundling isn’t the same as being born into the clans.”
“Well, what if I adopted you into the Fett clan? You’re as worthy an heir as any of these unborn brats to the Fett name.”
Din fell into his trademark silence. He hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, or if Boba was being serious.
“But what about all the women carrying your children?”
“What about them? They’re still my kids and their moms are still entitled to my hospitality. I’m not looking to baby you - just offer the clan as a home if you want it.”
“And what about the Sister?”
Boba shook his head. He understood that in his quest to fix his father’s mistake, he had fallen into the same trap. He traded Mando’a blood away for personal pride.
Din could sense the energy around Boba change. Where he seemed less before, his old strength seemed to come back.
“Fuck the Sister. All the kids are staying here.”
Din rose and flexed his wrist gadgets.
“Then I guess we better get ready for a fight.”
—-
If you are enjoying this story, I will do a part two covering the fight with the sister and Boba adopting Din