First and foremost, I can't fucking breathe.
Well, I do suppose it would be better for me to say that I feel like I can't breathe, and that particular feeling happens to be the only notable thing that I am experiencing the moment I find myself to be somewhat conscious and aware.
My ribs feel like they are sharp daggers poking into my already damaged lungs, keeping me from taking in a full breath—scratch that. I can't even take in half of a breath without feeling like my lungs might collapse and stop working.
Dank farrik, I really can't breathe—
I jolt awake and shoot up from the large bed that my unconscious body had been lying on moments prior to my abrupt awakening. My body practically folds in half as I try to catch my breath, but a large hand plants itself down onto the flat part of my chest while another hand clamps down onto the top of one of my knees, keeping me from sitting up any farther. Rough calluses on the person's hands press against my olive-brown skin, the pads of their fingers almost digging into my soft skin.
A cry of pain rips from my throat as a surging sting of pain rushes throughout my entire body—fire courses through my pulsing veins, setting ablaze each and every one of my aching limbs. I almost let out another rough cry, but I hold it in, clenching my jaw as my hands tighten into white-knuckled fists.
"Steady yourself, little one."
A large arm hooks around my shoulders, supporting the weight of my upper half as it slowly guides me back down to layout on the bed that I am currently set upon. I let out a quiet groan, feeling more and more pain surge through my tense muscles.
My eyes peel open and I immediately spot the infamous Boba Fett sitting beside me on the very edge of the bed, his old armor left entirely in absentia. I glance up at his unmasked face, my eyes trailing over the pale scars that line his rough skin and tracing the way his lips are turned down into a slight frown of frustration.
I believe that this is the second time I've ever actually seen his face. Even throughout the years of him hunting me down for the Empire, I never really had the chance to get a glimpse of the face that had been trying to kill me. In reality, the first time I had ever seen his face was back on Tython when he came around to retrieve his armor with Fennec.
Who would've thought that he would be helping me out in the end?
But that's not necessarily important right now.
"Where's Mando?" I rasp out, still feeling the stinging pain in my chest as I try to breathe and speak properly. Regardless of the pain, I'm glad that I'm still able to remember to call my husband "Mando" in the presence of another—
"Din is handling something right now," Boba answers in a gruff tone as he turns towards my leg to deal with an open wound that I don't remember having. My eyes widen and I look back up at his face, wanting to ask him why in the hell he knows my husband's name, but the sharp jab of pain in my lungs stops me from vocalizing my wonder.
"I feel like I can't fucking breathe," I say, shaking my head as I try to take another gasp of air in an attempt to catch my breath. "I think there's something wrong with my ribs."
"Well, if you can talk, you can breathe—"
"Boba!"
The older man sighs and leaves the wound on my leg alone. He places both of his hands on the sides of my rib cage, gently poking and prodding to feel around my heaving torso. He grimaces and hums in a low tone as he flattens the palms of his hands against my bare skin.
"Deep breath on three," he instructs. His short command makes me furrow my brows in confusion.
"Wait what—"
"One, two, three—"
I quickly set aside my confusion and take a deep breath, just as I've been instructed to do. He slowly eases his hands together, the pads of his fingertips almost digging deep into my skin. A cry of pain escapes me as he sets my ribs back into their proper places, only stopping when a firm pop echoes out from my torso. I take in a gasping breath after the pop, finding that it doesn't hurt as much to breathe anymore. Regardless of it not hurting as much, it still happens to hurt like an actual motherfucker.
"Motherfucking-Maker-forsaken-fuck!" I exclaim, slamming my head onto the hard pillow resting beneath me. Boba chuckles as he draws his hands away from my sides. "What the hell are you laughing about?"
"It's nothing of your concern, princess. I just forgot that you have the mouth of a Traskian sailor," he jokes dryly, scooting back down towards my legs to take care of the open wound he had abandoned earlier to fix my ribs.
"Funnily enough, I actually spent some time on Trask with a crew of sailors and I learned how to say fuck you, Fett," I snap, turning my head to the side to glare at him. He immediately meets my gaze, his intense stare practically challenging me to say something else if I truly dared. A wispy sigh escapes me as I mutter a quiet apology for cursing at him. He hums in acknowledgment before picking up a thin needle and thread that had been resting on top of my leg for the past few minutes. "Also, could you not call me princess? It brings back... it brings back unwanted memories from my Imperial days."
"Would you prefer it if I called you little one instead?" he questions, prodding at my thinning patience.
"I would prefer it if you called me by my actual name if that's even possible for you to manage," I say, bitter sarcasm dripping from my tongue. He glances at me for a few quick seconds, a small smirk plastered on his face.
Maker, he's just trying to get under my skin (and it's fucking working too).
I sigh and shake my head, deciding to focus on the low-set ceiling instead of paying attention to the annoying bait he's trying to draw me in with. My eyes glance around the room, trying to examine the area through the dim lighting coming from above.
"Where am I?" I ask, looking back over to Boba as he steadies his hands and grabs the calf of my leg nearest to him. You know, I really don't remember having a gash that deep there. Then again, I don't believe that I'd be able to label every single injury that I've received over the past few days, so I can't say that I'm surprised that I do have a gash that bad there.
"You are currently aboard my ship," he answers in an annoyed tone, making it sound as if I should have guessed that just by his very presence before me.
"Where's Din?" I ask, using my husband's actual name since it seems that Boba already knows it (for some odd reason).
"Freshening up. It's a shame that the moment he steps out, you wake up," he says, huffing a bit before sinking the sharp needle into my skin. I wince and cinch the sheets beneath me into tight fists in an attempt to keep myself from flexing my leg all that much. That would only make it more painful in the long run. "Your riduur hadn't left your side until Fennec and I practically forced him to move along after I assured him that I would take care of you in the absence of his presence."
"Speaking of taking care of me, it's probably a bad time to mention this—saying that you're currently stitching up my leg—but I have internal bleeding," I say, trying to stay as calm and relaxed as possible as the thread following the needle glides through the thin layers of my skin.
"Correction: you had internal bleeding," Boba says, not even caring to look up at me. I furrow my brows and my mind immediately flashes back to the way he had saved Fennec from the blaster shot she had received from Toro Calican back on Tatooine.
"Wait, did you turn me into a cool cyborg as you did with Fennec?" I question, silently wondering whether I'd be happier with a "yes" or a "no" from him.
"No, I did not. I didn't think your riduur would have appreciated it all that much," he says, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.
"Damn. That would've been a cool way to survive," I mutter, flicking my eyes down to where he's still stitching my skin back together. He chuckles and shakes his head. "What happened to Bo-Katan and Moff Gideon?"
"You're full of too many questions, little one," he says, humming a bit afterward in an attempt to stave off my question.
"Well, I'm sure you would be full of questions too if you had just woken up on a ship that's not yours after passing out for who knows how long," I say, letting go of the thin sheets as he ties off the final stitch. He grabs a long bacta patch and places it over the gash, pairing the path with the thin set of stitches.
"That was the second time you've torn those stitches in your sleep. Try not to tear them again, understand?" he says, looking back over to my face. I absentmindedly nod my head a few times, not caring to send him a proper form of acknowledgment for his medicinal plea.
I mean, what does he want me to say? I was unconscious when all of that happened; it's not like I had much control over what I was doing.
"Hey, fill me in on something, Boba," I start, shifting carefully to straighten my sore back out. He hums quietly, waiting for me to continue. "Why are you helping me?"
He stays completely silent, not daring to answer my short question as he stares back at me. I take his long-standing silence as my cue to keep talking.
"I'm just saying, last time we really interacted with each other, you were hunting me down for the Empire. I was a mere bounty to you. And now... now everything's flipped around and you're helping me without even asking me to beg for your assistance," I say, explaining my view on our interesting predicament. He continues to stay silent, making me shift uncomfortably. "Did the Sarlacc pit really change you that much? Or are you just trying to get your foot in the door to take Mandalore for—"
"I'm helping you because I still see the scared little girl that I used to have to chase around the galaxy all those years ago," he interrupts, finally answering my initial question after seconds of egging him on.
"I'm sorry, what?" I say, perking up a bit.
Did I hear him correctly?
"In my eyes, as much as you've grown, you are still that scared little girl that's trying to escape the Empire to find a life she believes to be better than her present," he continues as a small, taunting smile spreads over his face. "And it seems that you've finally found your so-called better life."
We fall silent, our eyes flicking away from each other's gaze.
It feels weird to hear Boba sound so soft, especially with me, of all people.
"Do you really only see me as a scared little girl?" I ask, frowning slightly. He pauses for a few long beats before answering.
"I don't, but it was enough to get you to stop talking," he answers, his taunting smile turning into a smirk. A glare sets in my eyes and I scoff at what he had said. He sighs before speaking again. "From what I've heard, you've become quite the hunter and an impressive warrior. Your riduur speaks highly of you."
"Oh, I'm sure you'd just love to see what I can do now that I'm an impressive warrior," I tease, my frown turning into a small teasing smile to match his own. He chuckles and shakes his head.
"Still snippy as ever," he mutters, slowly standing up from his seat on the edge of the bed. "Get some rest. I'm sure Din will be back in soon enough to greet you."
He walks over to the door and opens it up, but I stop him before he can walk out all of the way.
"Hey, Boba," I call out, looking over to him as he turns around to look back at me. I gaze over his scarred face, my eyes trailing over the deep scars that have evidently healed over and set as a pale color against his tan skin. A deep breath fills my lungs, seeping out in a quiet sigh. "I just wanted to say thank you for helping me. And before you say anything, I don't just mean thank you for helping Din track the kid and me down or for fixing me up when I was on my apparent death bed. I mean, thank you for not taking me back to the Empire when you probably could have just snatched me up at any given moment on our stupid little chase around the galaxy. Just... thank you for showing me a little mercy."
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he steps back into the room, letting the door slide shut in front of him. His notion almost makes me feel as if he were trying to undermine my (somewhat) meaningful monologue. Straining myself greatly, I manage to sit up, quietly wincing as my chest starts to sting with fiery pain again.
"Come on, what are you laughing about? I'm trying to be sincere here, which isn't something so frequent when it comes to me saying thank you to people who have tried to kill me," I say, tilting my head to the side while furrowing my brows.
"Do you really believe that after spending all that time incessantly chasing you around the galaxy that I made the decision to just simply let you go free?" he asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he turns around to face me properly.
I tense up a bit, trying to figure out how to answer his question. I'm sure it's rhetorical, but my mind so desperately wants to find some sort of answer for him.
"Well, yeah. You're the great Boba Fett and at the time—in your own words—I was a scared little girl trying to escape the Empire," I say, nonchalantly shrugging my shoulders. He shakes his head at my words, walking back over to the side of the bed that he had been sitting on earlier. He slowly kneels down in front of me, looking down at the ground before looking back up into my brown eyes.
"Listen carefully, little one, because I will only say this once and for your ears only," he says, keeping his intense gaze on my own. My shoulders relax a bit, feeling a little comfort from his quiet approach. "You were able to escape the Empire because you were able to stave off all the bounty hunters that Darth Vader sent after you, and that includes me. I didn't let you go. You fought for your life and earned your freedom. Take pride in what you've accomplished and in the life that you've created on your own."
I stare at him with wide eyes for a long time and all he does is stare back at me. I try to process everything he had just told me, and much to my dismay, he doesn't decide to stay for the entire time. He eases himself back up to his feet before walking back towards the closed door.
"Thank you," I say out of the blue, not looking up at him as he opens the door again.
"Get some rest, princess. You need it," he says. He walks out and the metal door slides shut behind him.
You fought for your life and earned your freedom.
A small smile creeps over my face and I ease myself back down onto the bed beneath me, letting my head rest on the tense pillow under my head. Boba's room is dark, but I can still see the low-set ceiling above. And as I lay in the darkness, I manage to spread my arms out, my fingers running over the surprisingly soft sheets and the light blanket resting atop my injured body.
The only thing that I can hear is the light humming buzz of the ship working its way through the galaxy. The low buzzing is comforting as the muffled sounds fill the entire room, almost lulling me back to sleep.
My mind slowly starts to wander, falling back into my thoughts of the kid as I close my eyes. My heart aches deeply from the loss of Grogu. My last moments with him were the aftermath of a battle, something that I wish could have been different. I wish I could have spent more time with him, watch him grow up a little more, train him a little more.
But he's safe with Luke now; I just have to trust that his words are true and sincere.
If anything, I'll just have to pester Luke enough to let me see him during his extensive Jedi training.
I feel myself slip away a little more, my last thoughts set on Din and Grogu.
-----
Waking up to a rhythmic beating of a heart, a steady draw and release of near-silent breathing, the subtle movement of the surface beneath me rising and falling are things that are quite peaceful to come around to. To go even further into detail, a large set of arms are wrapped around my torso, I'm leaned up against someone's broad chest, and a pair of legs encase the sides of my own.
It takes me a few moments to understand what I'm waking up to, and if I'm completely honest, the beating heart and quiet breaths almost lull me back to sleep, but a few whispered words manage to keep me awake.
"Ner cyar'ika, megin gar bah narir ti dar'manda?"
Din.
His voice sounds so soft and despondent like he's barely even holding onto reality as he speaks in a low, grave tone with his face tucked into the crook of my neck. He had asked me a question without even knowing that I'm awake.
Am I meant to answer him?
Probably not.
I shift around in his tight embrace, feeling my bare skin and a layer of bandages rub against the cloth of his shirt. From what I can tell, there are multiple layers of thin bandages covering the majority of my torso, binding my chest and part of my lower abdomen. A sigh slips past my lips as I tilt my head back, resting it on his shoulder.
"Dar'manda. I never learned that word," I say, my voice a little raspy as I mutter my words through my sleepy haze. Din sucks in a sharp breath, lifting his head as the steady rise and fall of his chest comes to an abrupt halt. Well, there's no turning back now. "What does it mean?"
He hesitates for a few long beats, holding his breath deep in his chest. He slowly lets the breath out and his grip on my waist tightens.
"A dar'manda is a Mandalorian that has lost their tradition," he answers, sounding upset about revealing the particular definition.
I hate that I don't know how to help him with this. It physically pains me to hear his soft baritone voice be struck with such bitterness and devastation all at the same time. I just wish that there was a way for me to fix it all for him.
I slowly reach one of my hands up behind my head, wincing quietly as I strain my muscles to reach farther back. My fingertips graze along the side of his face, feeling the fresh prickly stubble that's growing on the smooth surface of his skin, the textures being noticeably different.
"You shaved," I whisper with a small smile set on my face. The tips of my fingers trace his jaw before my hand lowers back down towards my lap. Both of my hands land on top of his arms, gently squeezing his forearms while the pads of my thumbs run over his tan skin.
I open my eyes, blinking hard a few times so they can adjust to the darkness of the room we're in. I look around a bit in an attempt to get a sense of bearings, but it's too dark to get a real feel of the room.
What I can tell, though, is that it's quiet—too quiet. I can't hear the quiet hum of the ship's engines, nor can I hear the whine of the hydraulics working within the ship's interior walls.
We're not on Boba's ship anymore.
When did we get off of his ship?
"Where are we?" I ask, silently missing the comforting sounds of a functioning ship.
"Yavin 4. Fett dropped us off earlier today while you were still unconscious," he answers, grazing his calloused fingertips over my bandaged torso. "Kes and Poe stayed up for a while, but they decided to head to bed a few hours ago."
"What happened after I passed out on the cruiser?" I ask, snuggling my head against his shoulder a little more. He stays silent for a few seconds before tucking his chin into the crook of my neck. Sliding down a little more, he places his lips against my skin, hiding his face deep in my neck.
"I'll tell you what happened later. For now, I have something that I want to show you," he says, propping me forward to make space for him to slide away from my form. I whine from the loss of his embrace. "Come on, I think you'll like what I have to show you."
His nimble fingers carefully wrap around my wrists, pulling me up onto my feet thereafter. I stumble over myself as my feet meet the cold ground, but I lean my weight into his warm body to keep myself from falling over.
While keeping an arm around my waist to keep me up, he grabs one of his shirts nearby, helping me slide the warm article on over my head. The long sleeves of his shirt cover my hands, but he pulls them back a bit, letting my fingertips peek through the ends of the material. His fingers then lace with mind and he leads me towards the bedroom door. It opens and he immediately starts to walk out, but I tug him back into the room, wincing at the slight pull of my shoulder. He glances back at me, looking a little worried about how fast I had stopped him.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asks, taking a step back towards my form.
"Aren't you forgetting your helmet?" I ask, tilting my head to the side as I speak. "I know that it's nighttime and it's dark out, but that doesn't mean someone can't be out there. What if someone sees you?"
"Someone's seeing me right now," he says, taking another step towards me. He sets his hands on my hips, pressing his front against mine. His soft brown eyes meet mine and a small smile flits over his lips. "And that's all that matters to me right now."
I fall silent, a smile pulling at my lips as I process his words of endearment. His hands slide back down to mine, his fingers lacing with mine again.
"Now, come on. I have something I want to show you," he whispers, pecking a quick kiss on my forehead. He walks out of the room with me in tow, making sure to go at a slow pace so I can keep up with his long strides. I glance back down the hall to see that Kes and Poe's doors are closed, lights clearly out thanks to the small cracks under the doors.
The house looks so dark, but it still feels... homey.
I miss Shara.
Our feet quietly tap against the wood flooring beneath us as we come to a short stop at the front door of the congenial house. Din kneels down in front of me, helping me slide my boots on. He pulls his own on before straightening back out and opening the door.
The chilly jungle air forces a shiver down my spine, making me shake and forcibly tick my head to the side. My arms cross over my chest, the palms of my hands rubbing over the skin of my arms in an attempt to find some sort of heat.
"Here," he says, kneeling back down in front of me. He turns his back on me this time around. "I'll carry you from here. It'll be easier on your body."
"I can walk on my own, Din," I insist, not wanting to trouble him. I wasn't the only one that had gotten into a fight on the Imperial cruiser. If anything, he's the one that received the worst damage from the Dark Troopers we had to face.
"I know you can walk on your own, but this will be easier on your body, cyar'ika," he says, barely glancing over his shoulder as he nods his head along. A small sigh slips past my lips as I give into his simple request.
I drape myself over his back, letting him hook his arms under my legs as he picks me up with ease. My arms rest over his broad shoulders, keeping me from tipping backward as he carries me around on his back. I tuck my chin into the crook of his neck, my eyes glued to the path he seems to be following.
My eyes flick towards the dark night sky, spotting a few of the bright shining stars as well as Yavin Prime peeking through the tops of the large jungle trees. I keep my eyes set on the sky for a little longer, the urge to fly a ship through the many sectors of the galaxy starting to tingle in the tips of my fingers.
I miss the Razor Crest.
Loving thoughts of the Razor Crest and all of the glorious beauty she held in her metallic frame before being blown to pieces start to fill my head, causing my lips to curl down into a frown. The Crest had been one of the first things that I had (legally) acquired on my own after escaping the Empire. I worked my ass off to buy her from a special ship dealer on Coruscant, but it was all worth it. In the end, I got a reliable pre-Empire classic, one that held memories of all the stupid bounties I had gone on as well as all of the memories of Din, Grogu, and I running around the galaxy together as a family.
A family.
We were a family.
The corners of my lips turn down into a deeper frown, but I quickly shake it away and look back towards the path in front of us.
Even though we had gone through a battle of sorts and even though it's quite late (or early, depending on how you look at it), Din seems to be as energetic as ever. A small smile is set on his face and his eyes are wide open, glued to the path his feet are following.
I can't tell if he's really feeling at peace or if he's just masking his feelings.
Most likely the latter.
"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice soft as I whisper my question.
"You'll see," he says, continuing on our way. "We're almost there."
I go back to looking around, trying to figure out where it is we're going through the darkness. The light shining from the stars above and from Yavin Prime barely light the path, making me wonder how he's easily weaving through the trees without stumbling over abnormal roots in the ground. I close my eyes, deciding to take in our surroundings without my eyes.
The nocturnal fauna of the planet quietly buzz, rustling some of the fallen leaves while trampling down on the short plants that line the damp jungle ground. The humid night breeze rustles the many leaves of the towering trees and the flowering bushes surrounding the gigantic trunks. The strong aroma of nature fills my lungs, making me smile and open my eyes.
It's comforting being back home.
"You know, you still haven't told me what happened after I passed out on the cruiser," I mutter, filling the (not so silent) silence.
"I'll tell you tomorrow," he says, letting a quiet hum trail his words to put me at bay. He starts to slow down and I look forward to see a familiar little cottage set in front of us. I immediately perk up at the sight of it, tilting my head to the side while shifting around on his back to get a better view of the structure.
"This is the house we wanted to buy," I say, turning my head to look down at him.
"I know," is all he says in response.
He continues on his trek forward, moving past the front of the house to the open backyard.
I've been looking into buying this house for the longest time because even though it's placed in the middle of the jungle where there's nothing but tall trees that block the beautiful sky, the trees actually clear up just enough in the backyard so you can see all the shining constellations above. Sometimes you can see the round edges of Yavin Prime.
We soon come to a full stop in front of something on the ground, making me tilt my head down to get a good glance at what it is. There's a long blanket spread out on the tall grass that looks like it's been clipped to a manageable length. In addition to the large blanket spread out on the ground, there are also a few other smaller blankets set on top of it. It's still considerably chilly, so I'm thankful for the extra layers.
Din slowly kneels down onto one knee, letting me slide off of his back. I ease myself down onto the comfortable spread, kicking off my boots as Din follows in suit. He grabs one of the spare blankets, pulling it over our forms as we settle down next to each other.
Through the clearing of large leaves and tall threes, the shining stars twinkle through the night sky. The air engulfing us is still considerably humid and thick, yet the temperature feels cold and perfect for hiding under a blanket next to my partner in crime. We silently stargaze side by side and I can't help but let a small smile spread over my face.
The entire environment radiates an intense sense of solace, making my body melt and my mind relax into the simplicity of just existing in a galaxy full of chaos and hope. Though, none of that matters when all you have to do is stare at the beautiful stars hanging above, doing nothing but existing just as you are.
"I miss him."
I look over at Din, but he keeps his eyes on the stars instead of looking back at me.
"I didn't think saying goodbye would be so hard," he says, letting out a quiet sigh after.
I swallow hard, not knowing how to respond to him just yet. I turn my body to face him and tuck my arm underneath my head. A quiet wince sits at the bottom of my throat as a surge of pain stings my ribcage. He glances over at me, meeting my brown eyes with his. The light shining from Yavin Prime gleams over his face, making it easy for me to see each of his features clearly.
"Do you think he's going to be okay?" he asks.
I stay silent for a few moments, letting him turn onto his side to face me before speaking.
"I think he's going to be just fine," I say, nodding my head while scooting towards his warm figure. He sets one of his hands in the curve of my natural waist, pulling me in a little closer to his body. "Luke's a good teacher. He's patient and when he's not being a sarcastic asshole, he'll actually take the time to help you with anything you may need. I think Grogu's going to be okay with him, wherever they are in the galaxy."
I miss Grogu.
The hand that had been resting on my waist slowly slides up, its fingers working under my shirt to skim over my olive-brown skin. I shiver from the gentle contact, but I lean into his embrace anyway. His hand slides down my back, the pads of his finger running over the many layers of bandages before stopping on a sliver of exposed skin. His fingertips prod a particular tattoo of mine and just by feeling out that specific spot on my back, I can tell that he's circling the small Yavin 4 that's inked into my skin.
"Is this really where you want to be?" he questions, catching me off guard.
"What?" I ask, furrowing my brows as I wait for a little more context.
"I mean, you're a New Republic fighter pilot and you own a famous club in Canto Bight. I've gotten a glimpse of where you could be living—a glimpse of the life you could be living," he says, letting out a small huff of a breath while shaking his head as if the subject really bothered him. "It's just... do you really want to be here on Yavin 4, living in a little house in the middle of nowhere when you could be living a life of luxury on Cantonica?"
I stare at him for a long time, feeling completely dumbfounded. I watch as his expression turns from a face of pure bitterness to one of complete sadness. Does he really think that I'd rather be anywhere but here with him?
"Din, I'm not sure if you understand this just yet, but"—I take a deep breath, slowly letting it out before continuing on—"as long as you are by my side, that is my life of luxury."
His eyes widen, making me chuckle and smile.
"Di'kut," he whispers in an astounded tone while shaking his head.
"Yeah, but I'm your fool," I say, shifting around so my front is pressed against his. A small smile finally tugs at his lips, gracing his face as I melt into his warm embrace.
I close my eyes, thinking about the term "life of luxury" and how it might apply to both of our lives. For me, a life of luxury would be one where I could live with him by my side for the rest of my years.
Who knows what he would consider his life of luxury to be.
He had mentioned living in Canto Bight with my high status as a life of luxury, but in reality, it would only be a materialistic luxury. Plus, he had mentioned it without even recognizing that he, too, has a higher status option under his belt.
I mean, I'm pretty sure anyone would say being the ruler of Mandalore is quite the luxury of life.
Then again, I suppose it all depends on how you look at it.
"I hate to mention it, but what are we going to do about you being the new ruler of Mandalore?" I ask, nudging his chest with my shoulder. He gently shushes me, leaning his head forward to press a soft kiss on my forehead. I sigh and sit up, struggling as I get myself all the way up. The blanket falls down to my lap, bunching over my legs. "Din, this is serious."
He pulls himself up as well, carefully grabbing my hands and squeezing gently. He leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. I close my eyes and lean into his touch.
"We just lost our son, I'm the new ruler of Mandalore, and you're a Grey Jedi that holds a high status on multiple planets who just went through absolute hell because of Moff Gideon and the Empire. I think we deserve a little break from the entire galaxy, even if it's just for one night," he says, letting a small sigh trail his words.
Gideon.
What the fuck happened to him?
I would ask, but I have a feeling that he'd just shrug the question off.
"I really thought I lost you again."
Well, he's just full of comments that'll catch me off guard tonight.
"You could never," I say, shaking my head while slumping my shoulders.
"But I almost did," he says, pulling away from me. I open my eyes and he immediately meets my gaze. "I watched you hit the water back on Morak, found out you had internal bleeding on the cruiser, and Fett almost botched the procedure—"
"But you didn't lose me and you're never going to lose me," I interrupt, flipping our hands around so I'm holding onto his instead. Everything he said runs through my mind, making me dip my head and chuckle lightly. "Maker, the galaxy just keeps finding ways to keep us busy."
"You can say that again," he huffs, rolling his eyes as I look up at him. We both let out a synchronized sigh, easing ourselves back down onto the blanket beneath us.
He cups my waist and pulls me onto my side so my chest is pressed up against his as it had been before. The hand on my waist then reaches up to my neck, fingertips grazing over my skin before pulling out the small metal pendant that had been forged into his signet. He messes with it a bit, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the cool metal.
"Grogu still has his," I mutter, tucking my arm under my head as my eyes flick up to look at his face. He hums quietly, sounding as if he were questioning what I had said. "Before Luke left with him, I saw the little signet that you gave him a while back around his neck. He still wears it."
"So he has a piece of me and a piece of you to remember us by," he says with a soft smile.
"A piece of me?" I question, not recalling what I might have given him. Unless a little bit of battlefield trauma and love counts as giving him something to remember me by—
"You give him your other lightsaber," he answers, playfully nudging me out of my thoughts. I hum and nod my head, finally remembering the moment that I gave Luke my other lightsaber for Grogu to take apart and use in the future. "I didn't know that you had another one of those things."
"I made the other one when I was younger and still training with my old master. I just didn't take it along with me when I escaped," I say, shrugging my shoulders. Memories of building my lightsabers with Darth Vader hovering over my shoulder flash through my mind, but I quickly push them away as Din starts to speak again.
"I promised that we'd see him again."
"And we will," I say, nodding my head. "I know we will."
A comfortable silence falls over us for a long while as we watch the stars above in the dark night sky. I try to keep my eyes open for as long as I can, but the calming sounds of Yavin 4's jungle, as well as the steady rhythm of Din's heartbeat, make it hard to stay awake. My eyes flutter shut and my body snuggles into his.
"Hold on, stay awake a little longer, cyar'ika. Then we can fall asleep under the stars," he whispers, gently shaking my form. I hum quietly, letting him know that I'm still awake as I open my eyes back up.
One of his hands cups the side of my face and he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I immediately lean into him, a spur of energy running through my veins from his tender notion. I roll him onto his back, carefully finding my way to straddle him while keeping my lips on his. He sits up and wraps his arms around my waist, squeezing my hips, but he stops when I pull away from him to let out a quiet wince of pain.
"Sorry," he whispers, easing his tight grips from my hips and opting out to settle his hands in the curve of my waist.
I rest my arms on his broad shoulders, pulling him back in for another kiss as his chest presses against mine. He wraps his arms around me again, one of his arms looping around my waist while the other sneaks under my shirt, his hands pressing perfectly against the tattoos on my back. He slowly pulls away, looking me in the eyes as his face hovers a few inches from mine.
"I love you," he whispers, smiling softly. I lean forward and peck a quick kiss on his nose.
"I love you too."
He slowly tilts back and lays down, tugging yet another blanket over our figures to keep us warm through the night. I rest my cheek against his chest, scooting up to tuck my face into the crook of his neck. He holds me tight, his fingertips grazing over my exposed skin and bandages. The rough pads of his fingers force a shiver down my spine, making me snuggle into him a little more.
"A Mandalorian and a Grey Jedi," he mutters, a little chuckle reverberating through his chest. "Who would've thought?"
I hum and shake my head in protest.
"Din and Mae Djarin," I say, closing my eyes. "That's all I see."
He chuckles and tilts his head down, pressing a long kiss to the crown of my head.
"Right now, that's all I need."
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Word count: 7082
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Translations:
Riduur: partner; spouse; husband; wife
Ner cyar'ika, megin gar bag narir ti dar'manda?: My darling, what're you to do with a dar'manda?
Dar'manda: a state of not being Mandalorian—not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul—regraded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade
Cyar'ika: sweetheart; darling
Di'kut: idiot; fool
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Note: And that's a wrap, folks! I'm sorry for taking so long on the grande finale, I really expected this chapter to be around 4000-5000 words and then it quickly stretched out to be 7000+ words. It took me a minute to really edit it and be okay with posting it, but it's finally here and ready for you guys to read!
Also, I just want to say thank you for reading and sticking around to the very end! I know it's been a really long journey (and an even longer wait) and I really appreciate you guys sticking around to see how it all turns out. It really means the world to me!
Anyway, I hope you are all doing well and I'll say it one last time, thank you so much for reading, and thank you for joining me on this amazing writing experience.
May the force be with you, always. <3
-Hades