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The Armorer used to say that every foundling arrived carrying two things.
A past they did not choose.
And a future they would have to earn.
Din had earned his future.
The past…
That took a little longer to make peace with.
⸻
Growing up in the covert had been…
Complicated.
He loved it.
He truly did.
It had saved his life.
Given him a family.
A purpose.
A name.
But loving something didn’t mean it had been easy.
Din never quite fit.
Not because anyone said he didn’t belong.
Well…
Not everyone.
Mostly because he always seemed to exist one step out of rhythm with everyone else.
He was the fastest runner among the foundlings.
He was also the quietest.
He grew taller than the others years before anyone else did.
He was also the most sensitive.
By nine, he could outshoot children several years older than him.
He also still flinched whenever thunder rolled across the sky.
He protected the littlest foundlings.
Made sure they ate enough.
Helped them with armor straps they couldn’t quite reach.
Walked beside the ones who cried after difficult training days.
That kindness…
Unfortunately…
Made him an easy target for older children looking for someone different.
Most ignored him.
Some respected him.
One…
Absolutely did not.
⸻
“Paz.”
Din sighed as he entered the training yard.
The older boy was already waiting.
Arms crossed.
Helmet tucked beneath one arm.
A smirk plastered across his face.
“Morning, crybaby.”
Din didn’t answer.
That usually made things worse.
But answering made them worse too.
He hadn’t figured out which hurt less.
Paz stepped in front of him.
“You know…”
He leaned closer.
“You’re not really one of us.”
Din looked at the ground.
“They just felt sorry for you.”
Silence.
“Pathetic, really.”
Din stepped around him.
Paz followed.
“You gonna cry?”
Silence.
“Oh right.”
Mock realization.
“You only cry when it storms.”
Several other teenagers laughed.
Din kept walking.
⸻
Another day.
Another training exercise.
Rain hammered against the roof of the cave.
Thunder cracked overhead.
Din’s shoulders tensed involuntarily.
Paz noticed immediately.
“Oh look.”
He pointed dramatically.
“Everybody.”
“Our fearless warrior’s scared of the weather.”
More laughter.
“It’s just thunder, Din.”
“What?”
“You think the sky’s gonna get you?”
Din hated that his hands shook.
Hated it.
Even years later, thunder still brought him back to another day.
Another explosion.
Another sky on fire.
Another family he’d lost.
He couldn’t help it.
Paz never understood that.
⸻
“Why are you always hanging around the little kids?”
Din looked up from helping a six-year-old tighten his vambrace.
“He needed help.”
Paz rolled his eyes.
“Or maybe…”
He smirked.
“You just belong with them.”
“You act like a baby anyway.”
The little foundling beside Din frowned.
“Leave him alone.”
Paz barked a laugh.
“Oh.”
“The babies are defending you now.”
Din simply finished fastening the armor.
Then stood.
“Ready?”
The little boy nodded.
Together…
They walked away.
Paz called after them.
“Coward.”
Din never looked back.
⸻
As they grew older…
The insults changed.
The jealousy didn’t.
When Din graduated first in combat training…
Paz threw his helmet across the forge.
When Din earned his first true piece of beskar…
Paz spent three days refusing to speak to anyone.
When Din was chosen to lead a teenage hunting exercise…
Paz complained through the entire mission.
“He shouldn’t be in charge.”
“He barely talks.”
“He only got picked because everybody feels sorry for him.”
The Armorer ignored every complaint.
So did Stanz Vizsla.
Which only seemed to make Paz angrier.
⸻
For years…
Din couldn’t understand why.
He worked harder than anyone.
Kept his head down.
Never bragged.
Never celebrated victories.
Never rubbed them in anyone’s face.
He simply…
Did his best.
It wasn’t until much later…
Long after he’d become an adult…
That he finally understood.
Paz hadn’t hated him because Din had done anything wrong.
Paz had been afraid.
When Stanz Vizsla brought home another foundling…
It hadn’t just changed Din’s life.
It had changed Paz’s too.
Suddenly…
His father had another son.
Another child to teach.
Another warrior to be proud of.
A frightened little boy didn’t know how to say—
“I’m scared you’ll love him more than me.”
So instead…
He said—
“You’re not really one of us.”
Children rarely have the words for fear.
They usually borrow anger instead.
Understanding that didn’t erase the hurt.
But it made it easier to forgive.
⸻
By twenty-five…
Din had become the covert’s head hunter.
One of the youngest ever chosen.
The announcement had barely finished echoing through the forge before Paz walked out.
He didn’t congratulate him.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t complain.
He simply…
Stopped speaking to him.
Weeks turned into months.
Months into years.
The silence settled between them like stone.
Din figured…
Maybe that was simply how brothers were.
Rocky.
Competitive.
Stubborn.
He didn’t know any different.
⸻
Then…
Years later…
Everything changed.
Because one day…
Din came home carrying a tiny green foundling.
And not long after…
Paz had a son of his own.
Ragnar.
Something shifted.
Not all at once.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Almost too gradually to notice.
Paz still grumbled.
Still rolled his eyes.
Still acted annoyed whenever Din visited.
But…
He also started asking questions.
“How’s the kid?”
“He eating enough?”
“He still climbing everything?”
Din noticed.
He didn’t mention it.
⸻
The real change came one afternoon on Mandalore.
Ragnar and Grogu were playing together.
Running through the courtyard.
Laughing.
Grogu stumbled.
Before Din could even stand—
Paz was already there.
Scooping the little green boy up.
“You alright, little warrior?”
Grogu nodded.
Paz set him gently back on his feet.
Then ruffled his ears awkwardly.
Din blinked.
Paz caught him looking.
“What?”
“…Nothing.”
“What?”
“I just…”
Din smiled.
“I’ve never seen you be gentle.”
Paz snorted.
“I’ve always been gentle.”
“You punched me through a wall when we were sixteen.”
“You deserved it.”
“I really didn’t.”
“You probably did.”
Din laughed.
Actually laughed.
Paz looked startled.
“So…”
Din folded his arms.
“We’re just pretending you didn’t spend twenty years tormenting me?”
Paz scratched the back of his neck.
“…I was kind of an ass.”
Din raised an eyebrow.
“‘Kind of?’”
“…Fine.”
“A huge ass.”
Silence.
Then—
“I thought…”
Paz looked away.
“My father would stop needing me.”
Din’s expression softened.
“I know.”
“I didn’t then.”
“But…”
“I know now.”
Paz nodded once.
“I’m sorry.”
Three words.
Twenty-five years late.
Still…
Exactly when they needed to be said.
Din smiled.
“It’s alright.”
“No.”
Paz shook his head.
“It wasn’t.”
“I should’ve been your brother.”
“I spent years making sure I wasn’t.”
Din looked toward the courtyard.
Grogu and Ragnar were laughing together.
Perfectly unaware of old wounds.
“Be theirs.”
Paz followed his gaze.
“What?”
“The brother we never figured out how to be.”
Paz watched the boys.
Then nodded.
“I can do that.”
Din believed him.
Because people could change.
He’d seen it.
In bounty hunters.
In criminals.
In entire planets.
And apparently…
Even in stubborn older brothers named Paz Vizsla.
It didn’t erase the childhood Din had lived.
Or the hurt he’d carried.
But it gave them something better.
A future neither of them had known how to build as boys.
One where their sons would grow up not as rivals…
But as cousins.
As brothers in everything except blood.
And somehow…
Din thought that was exactly the ending two frightened foundlings had always deserved.