ILLUMINATE • din djarin

PART SEVENTEEN

The Mandalorian should've anticipated this.

He wasn't surprised when Ran and the crew turned the blaster on him and Venelia, and he cursed himself for not seeing it coming. He knew Ran; he knew exactly how that sleemo worked. Ran's only thought was of profit and got it by any means necessary. Venelia was a valuable asset, and when the Mandalorian didn't bring her in and the credits were nowhere to be found, Ran took matters into his own hands.

The Mandalorian should've thought ahead; should've made sure something like this wouldn't happen. But he knew why he hadn't.

He was distracted. Venelia and her quest had filled every crevice of his mind, unable to think of anything but her for weeks, day and night. Thoughts of her violet eyes haunted his dreams, and imaginings of what her brown skin would feel like without his gloves danced around his mind more often than he'd like to admit.

He was getting sloppy, and it had put the one thing he valued in danger. And he hated himself for it.

He held Venelia behind him, the feel of her chest against his back a reminder that his next move needed to be careful to ensure her safety. He had beskar, she didn't.

It wasn't just him anymore.

He felt her shift behind him as he calculated how this was going to go. Three bounty hunters – they were skilled enough to pose a threat, but not unbeatable. It was the platoon of stormtroopers that had him worried. Those bucketheads may be awful shots, but there were a lot of them – all it would take is one to hit Venelia and it would all be over. He took in a breath.

He was a Mandalorian, but he was only one man.

Venelia's shaking breath behind him brought him back to the present moment that would become a bloodbath with one wrong move. He knew she would be panicking – she'd expressed her worry and he'd dismissed it. If they got out of this alive, he knew he'd be getting an I told you so from the duchess and a lecture.

Her last encounter with stormtroopers had ended in tragedy, he was determined to ensure this one wouldn't.

"What the hell is this?" The Mandalorian asked, his modulated voice dripping in venom, his hand flexing his grip on the blaster as he kept it pointed at Ran. 

Ran gave a wicked smile and spoke nonchalantly, raising his voice over the whistling wind. "We heard from our lovely friends that the Duchess of Fidelis was seen on Olis, gathering allies and assembling an army to take back our planet. And I thought, 'how is that possible? Mando should've taken care of her by now, this should've been quick work for him.'"

Ran let out a laugh that was anything but humorous. "So, imagine my surprise when we hear that our dear Mando was also spotted on Olis, but not capturing the Duchess – no, he was standing alongside her, hell, dancing with her."

The Mandalorian stiffened. His eyes reluctantly dragged over to Xi'an, whose eyes were on Venelia with a look so menacing that he adjusted his body just in case she threw a knife at Venelia's head.

Ran kept talking. "So, the Empire came to us and said, 'hey, Ran, pal, can you lure the Mandalorian to a location where we can kill him and take the Duchess?' And I said, 'I sure can, but it'll cost ya'".

"Yeah?" the Mandalorian chimed. Ran was monologuing, which was good. Ran's ego was big enough that this gloating rapture would distract him whilst the Mandalorian figured out how to get out of this. Thankful for his helmet hiding his eyes, his gaze runs up the ridges of the canyon, of the rock and ice that sat just above half of the platoon. 

Ran continued, loving the sound of his own voice. "And Mando, let me tell you, it paid so well. And you'd think that would satisfy me. But no, what would satisfy me the most is killing you."