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Din waited until the clamour around them died down, the cheering warriors on the sand breaking off into small groups and hearing the story form different members of the war party, before he began looking for Bo-Katan. The sun was beginning to dip again, their climb and subsequent rescue having burned through almost all their hours of daylight. In his arms, Grogu grumbled, and Din looked down at his would-be son. The boy had been grumpy at being left behind, unhappy to be excluded even though, for once, he couldn’t have possibly helped. Even his incredible gifts wouldn’t have allowed him to climb the cliff or take flight after the raptor and internally Din winced. One day he would have to teach Grogu how to use a jet pack, to train him in the art of the rising phoenix. The thought of it gave him anxiety.
His feet led him to the cave, the sun setting behind him and the Covert spread out on the sands in front. He’d seen Bo follow the Armourer into their warren of caves an hour ago, her right shoulder glaringly unprotected so he knew where to go. Even from tunnels away he could hear the crash of the hammer on beskar steel, smell the tang of the forge and hear the distant hum of voices. It was a sound that Din had grown to love. As a boy he’d found it harsh and brutal, the ringing of metal against metal at all hours of the day, reminding him of the sounds the battle droids had made as they’d marched through his home. Now it was a sound of comfort, something he’d missed when he’d been an apostate.
Grogu perked up in his hands as they neared the forge, sensing Bo-Katan, the ringing of steel coming to an end and the voices growing louder as the Armourer and Bo spoke. Din kept his footfalls soft, wary of interrupting. To sit by the Forge as beskar was crafted for you was a sacred gift, to hear the words of wisdom passed on with it even more so. Instead he stopped just outside the chamber, his back finding the uneven stone wall, content to wait for Bo-Katan, even as their words filtered through to him.
Bo’s voice was cautious, curious in way that surprised him, even with her words edged in uncertainty. A strange mix for a woman who had always seemed so confident in herself. “What would you say if I told you I saw one?”
There was a crunch of sand as the Armourer stopped walking, and Din could see the faint tilt of her head in his mind, the movement so familiar to him from his years of growing up by her knee. “That you saw what?”
There was pause before Bo spoke again, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was debating answering as she sometimes did with him. “A Mythosaur.”
Din felt his hands tense around Grogu, the boy looking up at him with a hint of the confusion Din now felt, trying to understand what the half-heard conversation even could mean. Against his chest, Grogu remained unusually quiet, his big ears already tilted back to where the Forge sat. “I would say you are very lucky. It is a noble vision.” There was a hiss and click, the magnetic locks snapping into place on Bo’s new pauldron.
“No I-”Bo’s voice still held the confusion from before, more intense now, trying to understand what had stared back at her, but also a certainty, “I mean a real one. Beneath the Living Waters on Mandalor.”
His back came free of the wall, muscles suddenly too tense and his mind too aware, Grogu’s eyes peering up at him again, mirroring the same shock he was feeling. He thought back to those fateful moments, the ground disappearing beneath his feet and icy water flooding him, the cavern flowing past him as he sank. He’d seen nothing. Thought nothing of it as Bo had flippantly asked him if he’d seen anything, not digging for any deeper meaning in her words. But why would he? She hadn’t said anything to him.
The Armourer’s voice came again then, quiet and patient, no doubt trying to understand what she’d just been told, but calm and contemplative too. “When you choose to walk the way of the Mand’alor, you will see many things.”
Not an answer, and he felt as much as heard Bo shift, her blue helmet no doubt looking up to the gold one. “But it was real,” her voice so soft that Din almost missed it, almost missed the sorrow and the fear and the desperation that was hidden within her tone.
Quietly, Din moved away, keeping Grogu close to his chest as they headed back out of the cave network, back onto the sands where fires had been lit, family groups clustering around each as night set in. Silently he moved towards a smaller fire that had been set near Bo’s ship, unattended and slightly away from the rest of the Covert, his mind still going over everything that he’d heard.
Everything around plunging into the depths was a little blurry in his mind, the waters little more than a ghost in his memory as he lost consciousness towards the bottom. Before he’d entered the water, he could remember Bo mocking him over his belief in the Way, his instance that he had to redeem himself to still be a Mandalorian. Din had ignored her, despite feeling humiliated by her tone. Still, he’d been relieved when she’d fallen silent as he began to recite the words, as the water has soaked through to his skin and he felt the Creed fill his heart, even as he’d felt the weight of his beskar pulling him under.
He’d been even more relieved when he came to on the stone floor, his body cold and wet, but still breathing.
He’d paid little attention to her attitude after that, and even as he thought back, he’d put her questions down to her mocking him again. Teasing him about his reliance on the Creed and the ancient songs of Mandalore the Great taming the Mythosaur in the same cave they’d been stood in. Her urgency to leave he’d attributed to the ruins of Sundari, the memories that being there would have brought back and the pain that must have resurfaced with it.
Her words had been sincere when she’d asked if he’d seen anything though, and after she’d rescued him, she had been less antagonistic. Yes, she’d still teased him about his helmet staying on, but it had been kinder, not as cruel as she’d been on the journey there and he’d remembered the warrior he’d met on Trask in her tone. The angry woman slouched on her throne had disappeared after she’d pulled him out of the Living Waters he realised. Silently, Din cursed himself for being so wrapped up in his own achievement of redeeming himself that he’d missed the change in Bo’s behaviour.
And somehow, he’d missed an entire Mythosaur.
Din looked down to Grogu, his son staring into the crackling flames from his spot in the sand. “I don’t suppose you sensed anything alive in the Living Waters?” Grogu turned to look at him, his body a shadowed silhouette against the fire, and let out a grumble. The sound as unhappy as Din found himself feeling, and he took it as a negative.
Din couldn’t deny the sinking in his heart that Bo hadn’t told him what she’d seen. They’d been building a solid friendship in his mind, most of their short time in the Covert had been spent together, either familiarising her with how everything ran there or sat by the fire in an evening talking with Grogu cuddled up on her lap. Even before they’d arrived on the planet, they’d had their brief stop on Vanquo, where Bo had laid herself bare at his feet. He could still remember the feeling of her curled into his shoulder as she’d sobbed, as she hadn’t hidden her emotions from him, had let him see her stripped down to her emotional core. So why had she hidden this from him?
His mind was still wandering when Din heard footsteps approaching, too heavy to be Bo, their armour clinking with each step. Din turned to find Paz behind his shoulder, a bowl of something roasted and hot in each hand. “Would we be able to speak?” His voice was uncertain, and in all the years he’d known the man, Din had never heard him hesitate.
Silently, Din shuffled over against the boulder he was leaning on, giving Paz space to sit down beside him, one of the bowls being passed into his waiting hands. The strips of meat were still steaming in the night air. Grogu instantly perked up, pushing up to his feet and trotting over, little fingers already taking a piece and beginning to eat. Din copied his son, lifting his helmet just enough to be able to rip a chunk off with his teeth.
“I never really understood how you were able to take on the entire Guild on Nevarro for a child that wasn’t even your own flesh and blood,” Paz began, his voice soft and his focus on Grogu in the sand. “Not until it was my own Foundling that was taken from me, my own son. Blood doesn’t matter in the end. Ragnar is my boy, and he is alive because of you and Bo-Katan Kryze.”
Din continued to chew, his head dipping softly in acknowledgement. Paz had already thanked them both repeatedly on the flight back, so many times that he’d grown tired of hearing it, and so many times that Din knew this wasn’t the only reason Paz was speaking to him. They had never been the best of friends, never been much more than warriors in arms and their rivalry had been there since they’d both been young. Things seemed to have calmed between them now, but Din could remember a duel in the bowels of spaceport, the desperation the other man had had for the weapon resting on his hip.
His silence paid off, Paz’s voice coming again from beside him, his own words muffled by his own food. “When you arrived with Bo-Katan Kryze I didn’t trust her. I was sure you had brought a traitor into our ranks and I spoke to the Armourer about either challenging her or killing her to protect the Covert.” Din’s head spun at once, his eyes taking in Paz leaning casually against the boulder, his tone as relaxed as his voice, unapologetic for the death threat he’d just announced. “Part of me still sees her as the woman responsible for the destruction of our home, for the deaths of so many of our kind. I spent those first few days following her everywhere she went. Everywhere you both went,” he corrected.
There had been very little time that Din had not been at Bo’s side since they arrived from Mandalore, and it had been well noticed within the Coverts’ ranks. Even the child had been ridiculously attached, spending almost as much time curled up against Bo’s chest as he did Din’s. Speculation had been running rife, the possibility they had taken vows even being suggested, and somehow the two people in question hadn’t noticed a thing.
“The fact she had not challenged you for the Dark Saber was perplexing. It is weapon she has held before and I believed she would want it again. Bo-Katan was never someone to sit back and let others lead for her.” Paz shook his head, memories coming back, “or she never used to be.”
Again Paz fell silent, and Din felt himself building up to the question on his tongue. Paz spoke as if he’d met her. Instead, he tore another strip of meat apart, handing half to Grogu who was still listening, curiosity shining in his big, brown eyes.
Finally, Paz sighed, “the Bo-Katan Kryze you have brought to our Covert is not the same woman I grew up with.”
This time Din did speak, unable to hold himself back. “You knew Bo when you were young?” It wasn’t what Din had been expecting, more prepared for a story of battle during the days of the Empire than one of a shared childhood.
He looked briefly to Din before he turned back to the fire. “My father took her after her own parents were killed in the first civil war. She was five and a year older than me.” Paz could remember her vividly, even at four he was taller than her, but it had never been an edge against her in combat. She had outstripped him in skill with ease. His only saving grace was that she had done the exact same to children years older than herself too. “My father was head of house Vizsla, and leader of the traditional sects that pushed back against the pacifist movement. Bo-Katan’s family was on the other side of that fight. The Great Clan Wars,” he grumbled, the sound angry and edged with sarcasm. “Looking back now, I believe he planned the Kryze family’s murder. Claiming Bo-Katan as his ward was just a bonus.” Paz shook his head. The methods his family had used to wage war had been without honour, he could see that now, and to use a child in war was even worse. His eyes found Ragnar, his son leaning against another boy’s shoulder as they laughed and he knew how much he loved him in that instant, that his safety and wellbeing was more important than anything else in the galaxy. His own childhood had not been as loving. “She was incredibly gifted in combat and tactics, even as a young child. In her my family saw potential, a legitimate way to throne of Mandalore with someone who appeared to share our martial values.”
Din frowned beneath his helmet, the implication enough to make him uncomfortable. He’d never considered Bo as defenceless, not in their few encounters in his travels, but at five years old there would have been little she could do to protect herself from the ideals of grown men.
Still, curiosity grew in him. What had Bo-Katan been like as a little girl? In his mind he saw a child with the same fiery hair, the same sharp wit hiding in her eyes, but free of all the burdens she’d taken on her shoulders. He hoped she’d been happier, more eager to smile as a girl, and he glimpsed a child’s face scrunched with laughter, unmistakably Bo, but so much younger. Din found himself asking, almost without thinking, “what was she like?” The imagine in his mind not filling in enough of the gaps.
“Wilful and bold, and incredibly aware of the world around her,” Paz said easily and Din wasn’t surprised. Traits he’d seen in her more than once. “But this is not why I wished to speak to you,” he said, pulling them back to why he had forced himself to have this conversation. Their joint history was exactly that, history, and despite what Paz suspected Din hoped, Bo-Katan had never really been a happy child. Their upbringing and training had been harsh, and even though they survived it, it had left a mark on Paz.
“I was the youngest of five brothers,” he whispered sadly, and instantly Grogu cooed softly, sensing the change in mood, the grief pulsing through Paz. “My eldest brother, Pre, was ten years older than me, and far too like our father. After he died, Pre took command of Death Watch on Concordia. None of us were safe from his temper, and Bo-Katan took some of the worst of it.” He’d never managed to avoid the fists that came with his brother’s moods, and it had been the death of two of his siblings. “Much like my father, Pre saw an opportunity with her, and he pursued her in all the wrong ways.” Even at fifteen, Paz had known better, known that to love someone was to protect them not harm them.
Din felt himself holding his breath, reading between the lines of what Paz was saying, knowing Bo would still have a teenager and Pre Vizsla somewhere in his twenties. Surely Bo would have known that it wasn’t right, that she was still almost a child, that someone that hurt her wasn’t a good person to share her heart with. Although, if she had been indoctrinated since she was small perhaps she wouldn’t have known any better, perhaps up to that point it had been all she’d known. It still made Din sad, and the thought that he would never treat her like that came to mind. His train of thoughts suddenly stalled, shocked. He’d never considered that he felt about her like that, never considered she meant more to him. Paz carried on, only adding to Din’s inner turmoil.
“What I am trying to say,” Paz finally said, turning to look at Din’s helmet, “is that I remember how my brother treated her, and it was rarely with kindness and gentleness.” There had to have been something, he rationalised, but Pre was dead now and he’d never found a reason to love his eldest brother.
His voice turned serious, still holding Din’s gaze through the helmet. “I do not know what your intentions are with Bo-Katan or if you are already sworn to each other, but if you ever treat her like my brother did, I will not hesitate in stopping you.” He’d never been brave enough to stand up to Pre, never strong enough both physically and mentally, and he’d seen what he’d done to Bo all those years ago. He wouldn’t let it happen again, regardless of if she was his ally or enemy.
Silently, Paz stood up and left, disappearing back into the crowd and leaving Din alone with his thoughts.
His mind was a mess.
So many revelation in such a short space of time.
He tried to sort through it all. The Mythosaur. Bo and Paz’s childhood. The assumption they were together. His own muddled feelings for her. The threat that had been levelled at him. None of it made much sense, not until there was a crunch of sand behind him, the footfalls soft, and he knew without turning who it was.
Bo-Katan sat in the space Paz had left, picking up his discarded bowl and examining the contents critically. “This isn’t the baby raptors we brought back, is it?” Grogu pushed himself up, going straight to her lap and cuddling into her middle, Bo’s fingers finding his ear as the child purred.
Din hoped not, but he’d seen questionable creatures cooked at the Covert. “I’m not sure,” he said truthfully. “It doesn’t taste too bad though. Grogu enjoyed it.”
Beside him, Bo laughed softly, Din smiling at the sound, wanting to hear it more often. The knowledge he would never treat her badly came to mind again, not as shocking as before, but warm and comforting. “Grogu enjoys eating dung worms. I wouldn’t entirely trust his culinary choices.” He could hear the smile in her voice, even if the thought of everything the boy ate occasionally made her feel sick.
Din chuckled, finally turning to face her, his focus going straight the shiny, silver pauldron reflecting the firelight. His laughter faded at the sight, the Mythosaur standing proud on the steel. He struggled to speak for a moment, the thought of her not telling him what she’d seen again came to his mind, the disappointment with it. It was short lived. He realised now that Bo was still unsure, that her telling the Armourer was her seeking her own understanding of what had happened, not her trying to keep secrets from him. She was still finding her feet again, still working through how everything had changed in the last weeks. “It’s very silver,” he finally said. “Why didn’t you get it painted to match the rest of your beskar?”
Bo’s helmet tipped to the side, and he knew her well enough to know that she was surprised. “I didn’t think you had any paint here. The Armourer never offered any, she just attached it.” Not that she felt the need to change it.