The Once and Future King

[Liera Buraaisuh]

AN: The Mandalorian based time travel fix-it fic with Force Sensitive Din Djarin.

Chapter 1

Chasing a Zeltron to a blasted out planet was not the worst hunt he had been on, but it was certainly one of the more annoying ones. If it wasn’t for the fact that Fett had given him this job in exchange for a ship he would have passed it by and found a better hunt. Now, Din knew that Fett had wanted to gift him the ship. After all that had happened with the Imps and Grogu the new ruler of Tatooine had been willing to give him just about anything.

But it was Din who had refused to be gifted.

It wasn’t about owing Fett or anything simple like that. It was a matter of pride. Din wanted to prove he could move on after Grogu, after everything that had happened. No matter what had happened he was still a beroya and a mando’ad, and Din needed to prove that not only to Fett but to himself.

So here he was on another weird planet he knew nothing about stalking the oddly perceptive Zeltron who had evaded capture as if he could read minds. For all he knew, the man could- seeing as there was a rumor he had some of the same powers as the kid.

The kid… his son Grogu. He wondered how his little womprat was doing with that jedi… was he learning well? Was he eating properly?

His thoughts snapped back from their wandering when he heard something moving off to his right. Din knelt behind a chunk of singed rock, turning up the sensors on his helmet. The sound was gritty, staggered, a long scrape and the tumbling of stones. As it became more muffled he realized it was coming from slightly below him.

Clever.

Not clever enough.

Finding the opening to what appeared to be some sort of network of catacombs he switched his helmet to night vision and cautiously crept inside.

The walls were made of a softer stone that gave when he dug his fingers in. Pulling out his small utility knife he made a marking low on the wall, close to the ground. If this truly was a network of catacombs then there was no telling how twisted and confusing they could get. Better to mark his path, just in case.

He made his way through the winding, cramped, space until it gave way to wider corridors. The soft reddish earth slowly giving way to actual stone.

When it became apparent that his knife would no longer be able to make marks on the walls he pulled out an oil stick instead. It was made with animal fat and plant dyes and meant to stain whatever it came into contact with. That way even if an animal licked it off the surface of whatever had been drawn on would still be stained with color. On the way back he would cover the marks over completely, obscuring whatever marks he had made so no one else could follow his trail.

Entering a wide hall his steps faltered as the near silent sound of his own footfalls echoed back to him. The air felt old, dead, and oppressive. A shudder ran through him as his helmet swiveled this way and that, trying to find the danger he could feel raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

It felt like some large creature was slumbering nearby, restless and just waiting for something to rouse it enough to come alive.

There was a sound that was not a sound ringing in his ears, like air pressure. A low hum began to build and for a moment Din thought he had activated some old trap. But just as suddenly as the pressure had appeared, it vanished. There was a tug on his belt and he nearly jumped in surprise, hand going to his weapons to ensure they were still there.

The moment his hand brushed the darksaber the low hum tripled in volume and he felt as if his teeth would rattle out of his head. There was a feeling of warmth spreading up his arm and he snatched his hand away from the weapon as if burned.

“Stop!” He hissed through clenched teeth.

To his surprise the thing quieted down with a vague feeling that Din was almost afraid to name.

Lately it was as if the damned thing had a mind of its own. He’d been told it was a weapon sacred to the Mandalorian people, that winning it in a duel meant he was the new ruler of Mandalore. But no one had told him it was alive.

He might have thrown it at Bo-katan’s head and made his escape if he’d known. Yet every time he’d tried to toss the thing away he’d hesitated and eventually returned it to his belt.

Turning his attention back to his hunt he found traces of a heat signature and followed it deeper into the hall, stopping at intervals to mark his way back.

When he reached the end of the hall there was a large stone door. It towered above him, nearly twelve feet in height if he had to guess, and was carved with intricate swirls that were mesmerizing to follow with ones eyes. The way they crossed over one another in a pattern, as if the very universe was being woven before his eyes, was a distraction that almost got him. Only the sharp hum of the darksaber was able to break him out of whatever trance the door had put him into.

Pressing his lips into a thin line he reached for his spear. Something deep in his gut told him that his prey was just beyond this door.

Slipping inside with his spear in hand he had to switch the visor setting on his helmet as he came upon a lit antechamber. Stalking cautiously through the room he noted the odd markings all over the walls, like some sort of writing, but tried not to focus on any of it. Just in case it had the same trap as the door.

Peeking into the next chamber his eyes went wide in surprise. The walls were made up of murals with thousands of tiny crystal pieces embedded into the rock. They followed the same pattern as the strange swirls on the door outside and yet somehow they seemed… more.

But he had no time to focus on the walls as he was suddenly shoved, hard, and nearly toppled over. Across the room the Zeltron was glaring at him, arm extended and trembling slightly.

The man had moved him from across the room. Was this more weird jedi magic? The rumours about him must have been true then.

“G-get away from me!” They yelled, voice strained with fear. Din buried the pang of regret at having to take in one of Grogu’s people but… a job was a job and his honor was now at stake.

“Come quietly and there won’t be any trouble.” The hunt had been long, the man had to be tired by now. It wasn’t as if he had been a warrior before fleeing. He was an accountant owned by Jabba before the Hutt had been killed. He had secrets that Fett wanted. “I’m not here to hurt you, just come back to Tatooine with me and-”

“No!” The man snarled, fear and anger warring on his face. “I won’t go back to being a slave!” The invisible force that had shoved him before returned with a vengeance. Din was slammed into the wall with a grunt of pain, though he kept his grip on his spear.

The Zeltron held him there, looking unsure of himself as his face screwed up in concentration. A bead of sweat trailed down his red face, dark purple hair wild and unkempt.

The low hum started again. This time it felt as though it were rattling his entire skeleton. Small points of heat pressed into his back and there was a sharp gasp. Din nearly stumbled as the press against his chest disappeared. Shifting his grip on the beskar spear he readied himself for a fight. All around them the tiny shards of crystal began to shimmer, as if alive, and he swore he could hear whispering just outside the pick-up range of his helmet.

“I swear to you that you will not be made a slave. Fett abolished the slave trade on Tatooine.” The Zeltron took a step back, eyes darting about the room like a spooked fathier.

“You’re a bounty hunter! I can’t trust you! Not if you work for Fett!” Din grit his teeth and tried to make himself relax. There was still a chance he could talk the man down from doing… whatever he was thinking of doing. Something desperate no doubt.

“I’m Mandalorian, my word is my honor.” The Zeltron didn’t look convinced and Din… couldn’t blame him. After meeting Bo-katan he had come to realize that not all Mandalorians were honorable. Even Fett had admitted to working for the Empire as a bounty hunter.

It had been a revelation that messed him up for a time. But Din was a survivor and he refused to let something like a shaken worldview stop him. He had to move forward, he had to keep going.

Distracted by his own thoughts once more he wasn’t quite prepared for the hard shove that sent him flying backward. He slammed hip first into a pillar and heard the clang of metal against stone. Between them the darksaber clattered to the ground.

The Zeltron’s eyes widened, glued to the hilt of the weapon. Din hauled himself up and bolted toward it, hand outstretched. Before he could close his fingers around the hilt it rattled on the ground before flying into the Zeltron’s hands.

Even the Zeltron looked surprised.

Activating the darksaber they gaped in surprise at the black blade that crackled with energy. Din grabbed his spear and grit his teeth. “Put the weapon down, we don’t need to fight.” The Zeltron looked at him and something in their eyes told him they weren’t about to listen.

Dark energy clashed against beskar as Din shoved all memories of his fight with Moff Gideon to the back of his mind. He forced himself to focus on the target before him, pushing his emotions aside. When this job was finished Din would have a ship that belonged to him and him alone. He could find the scattered remnants of the covert and maybe one day… he would see Grogu again.

With that thought as motivation to not only win but keep the Zeltron alive he fought with tightly controlled violence. All of his strikes were disabling without being damaging. It wasn’t hard, it was clear the Zeltron had never trained with a sword let alone the lightswords the jedi used as weapons.

Shoving the butt of the spear into the man’s chest to wind him he twisted the hilt of the darksaber out of his grasp. It flew into the air between them, that deep hum returning as it flipped end over end. Din reached out his hand just as the Zeltron did and cursed as it wobbled midair. Yet, inexplicably, the hilt slapped into his gloved hand. Closing his fingers around it there was a sound like a clear chime, reminiscent of beskar hitting beskar and resonating.

The Zeltron’s eyes widened as a wave of heavy sensation pulsed out from the darksaber, causing the crystals in the walls to pulse and glow in time.

Like a heartbeat.

“What… are you?” The man’s voice was a whisper as he stared up at Din in a mix of horror and awe.

“They are the Mand’alor. Jatnese be te jatnese. The best of the best.”

[Liera Buraaisuh]

(Chapter 1 Cont.)

Din stiffened as a low female voice came from behind him, the Mando’a spoken flawlessly. Turning his head he froze in confusion.

What was a Mandalorian doing down here? And how did they know who Din was? Was it because of the darksaber?

“Mand’alor te Udesla.” She called him, a fist over her heart and an amused tilt to her oddly pointed helmet.

Her armor was of a strange design that he had never seen before but he could tell it was made of beskar from the winding unpainted lines on her bracers. Overall her armor was black with dark green and deep blue accents. Justice, duty, and reliability. A long black cloak lined with fur at the collar stopped about an inch from the ground, covering over her pauldrons and any signets she might have.

“Wh-who are you!?” The Zeltron asked.

“No one you need be concerned with, apprentice.” The figure lifted their hand and waved it toward the Zeltron. “Sleep.” Instantly his target crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Din poked the man with the butt of his spear to see whether or not he was actually asleep or just faking it. When he was certain he wasn’t being tricked he turned back to the other Mandalorian.

He opened his mouth to speak but was uncertain what to say and closed it again. With a chuckle the woman stepped forward and Din was surprised to see she was actually taller than him, though not by much. “I can see you are having trouble. Let us start with introductions.” Squaring her shoulders she looked down at him. “I am Tarre Vizsla, Mand’alor te Kar’tigaanyc.” Din tensed in surprise. So many thoughts were racing through his mind.

There was another Vizsla, were they related to Paz? They called themselves Mand’alor, did that mean they would take the weapon from him? Was he going to have to duel them as well or could he actually just give it back? And lastly… “The star touched?” He asked aloud. For some reason that was the thing his mind had fixated on, rather than the far more important questions.

A feeling of amusement that was not his own swept through him and he flinched. In his hand the darksaber felt warm even through his glove and his hand tightened around the hilt subconsciously.

“It is what our people used to call those who could use the force. Those like your son.” Din bristled at the mention of Grogu. How in the fierfek did this stranger know about his son? “Peace, vod, I mean you and your child no harm. I would never hurt an ad. It is not the Way.” Hearing those words eased something deep in his chest. After everything that had happened to him in the last six months it was a relief to speak with someone who followed the Way.

“If you’re the Mand’alor then this belongs to you.” The hilt hummed in his hand as he held it out to the stranger. It was a risk, giving such a weapon away, but his gut told him he could trust this warrior. With an amused tilt to their shoulders Vizsla held out their hand and Din was relieved as he finally, finally, was able to give the damned thing away.

The hilt landed on their open palm and Din startled when it fell through. Before he could try to catch the weapon it stopped falling and rose to float above Vizsla’s hand. “Duty is not a burden discarded lightly, nor responsibility so easily abandoned.” They held out their hand and he stared at the innocuous looking hilt. Carefully he wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it from the air. Vizsla retracted their hand with an air of approval.

“What are you? Some sort of ghost?” There was a flash of amusement and Din scowled.

“I am an echo of the Mandalorian Jedi who built what is now known as the Darksaber. I put my heart and soul into crafting a weapon that would aid both of my peoples. That kind of dedication leaves its mark on a crystal like the one inside my blade.” So he was either talking to an actual ghost… or Din had finally cracked. “I know it must seem far fetched to you, considering your upbringing, but I am not a figment of your imagination.” Reaching up Vizsla brushed her fingers against his helm and he swore he could feel the touch against his temple. It was so affectionate and maternal that he had to bite his lip not to tear up. “I came because I felt the call of a true Mand’alor for the first time since I fell dormant.”

“I never asked for this.” Vizsla chuckled.

“Some are born great, some strive for greatness, and some,” she nodded at the darksaber, “have greatness thrust upon them.” Din growled in frustration as Vizsla’s shoulders shook with mirth. Then her shoulders stopped and she stilled. A feeling of melancholy came over her suddenly and Din felt as if his chest was being constricted, it was like he couldn’t breathe. “Mand’alor te Udesla, I have seen what has become of our people. My homeworld destroyed, our people scattered, our culture in tatters. My brothers and sisters in the jedi are nothing more than myths barely spoken, betrayed by the ones they trusted most.” Din swallowed at the overwhelming grief pressing down on him. It was as if he were seeing his own grief mirrored in someone else.

“What do you want me to do? I’m just one beroya. I’m no leader.” Tarre let out a small huff of laughter.

“That is where you are wrong. You have all the makings of a great leader for our people, if only you would just see it in yourself.” He shook his head.

“I can’t… I just…”

“If you will not lead then who will?” Din slumped forward slightly.

“Bo-katan?” It was the first name that came to mind, even if the very idea rankled. She was the one with the drive and the ambition.

Tarre hissed and Din jumped. “Bo-katan is a twice traitor who will impose a tyrannical rule over our people. The only Mandalorians she will accept are those who do not stray from the path she has lain before them. Few would choose to follow her, and fewer still would be able to walk that path.” Din swallowed hard.

“Fett?” The feeling he got this time was regret, regret and sadness.

“Boba might have been fit to lead once but his own grief, anger, and cynicism have made him reject the role of Mand’alor. Made him reject the very idea that he is Mandalorian. Even if you offered, he would never accept.” Those were the only two people he knew that might have been worthy.

“…Paz?” It rankled a little but he knew the other was strong, strong enough to lead.

“My descendant has too much anger and pride in his heart to accept his own faults. He has been corrupted by the twisted teachings of the remnants of my clan, a clan I would disown were I alive today.” Din tried to wrack his brain for anyone else but he was drawing a blank.

“…I don’t want this. Please.” As his voice cracked on the final word he felt warmth bloom in his chest, comfort.

“Then that leaves me with no choice. I must do what is best for my people.” A shiver of dread ran down his spine and he took a step back, wary.

The humming that had been present ever since he’d entered the lower levels of the catacombs rose in volume and Din grabbed at his helm in pain. All around him the crystals in the walls had begun to shine like beacons, blinding him as the vibrations in the air made him feel nauseous.

“There is one who is worthy of me, one who never had the chance to wield me as they should have.” Tarre’s voice echoed inside his mind, drowning out everything else. “You are an honorable man, Din Djarin, I have no doubt that you will do what is right.” It felt as if he was standing in a raging river, the pressure against his body unbearable as he tried to draw breath. “One more thing.” The voice felt farther away now, muffled almost. “You will never be alone.”

The world exploded into light and Din’s entire world descended into darkness.

Gasping for air he bolted upright, head whipping around as he blinked away the spots in his eyes. All around him he found piles of junk and trash. Was this… an alley?

He sat there for a good three minutes, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was no longer underground. Panic overtook him as he realized the ghost had been real, and they had performed some sort of strange magic on him. Moving to stand his arm smacked against something solid and he heard the telltale chime of beskar. With a sigh of relief he picked up his spear and used it to haul himself off of the ground.

He was surprised when the usual aches and pains that came from the myriad of healed injuries he’d sustained over the course of his years as a beroya didn’t make themselves known. What the hell had the ghost done to him?

“Gev!” The sound of an angry young voice shouting in Mando’a distracted him. Down at the other end of the dark alley he saw two tall armored forms and a third much smaller form.

“Listen up you little brat, you need to learn about respecting your betters.” The moment the blow landed and the child fell to the ground with a pained groan Din saw red. Gripping his spear hard enough that his knuckles cracked with the strain he stalked toward the two cowards who would dare to harm a child. The fact that they were wearing armor didn’t even register to his mind other than something to be aware of.

The boy rose to his feet and spat blood onto the armor of the one who had struck him. “Hut’uun!” Din could sense a grim feeling of satisfaction from the child as his attacker snarled and grabbed onto the front of his shirt.

The child made for a good distraction and in that moment Din struck. The butt of his spear slammed down on the coward’s hand, making them yelp and release the child. Stepping out of the darkened alley he placed a hand in front of the child and motioned them to step back. Eyes wide the kid hesitated, looking at the dead end alleyway before reluctantly backing away.

“Shabuir!” The coward swore, cradling their damaged hand against their chest. The second enemy turned away from watching the street, pulling their blaster. With barely a thought Din used the spear to knock the blaster out of their hand and kicked them dead center in the chest. They let out a winded wheeze before he brought the spear down on the section between pauldron and gorget. There was a sickening crack as their collarbone gave under the force of the blow and a gurgling sound as they fell to the ground.

“Ceraden! Who the shab are you?” Turning to glower at the one who had struck the child he motioned at the one on the ground.

“Take your friend and go. If I ever catch you striking another child this will be nothing compared to what I will do to you.” The coward took one good look at him, beskar spear and all, and scrambled to haul his friend off the street. The two of them stumbled away, muttering curses, and Din finally began to relax.

“Shab, you’re strong.” Turning to look back at the kid he tilted his helmet curiously, though he frowned slightly.

“Language, adiik.” The kid snorted and wiped at his face, smearing blood along his sleeve. Din let out a huff and attached the spear to his back before reaching into a pouch and pulling out a square of cloth. He held it out to the child who blinked at it for a moment before taking it and using it to stem the bleeding of his lip.

“What’s your name? What clan are you from?” Din stiffened, uncertain what he should do. The child obviously spoke Mando’a and as Din glanced out into the street he could see many people walking about with partial or full armor on.

Was this some sort of Mandalorian enclave where they felt safe enough to remove their helmets? Or were these Bo-katan’s kind of Mandalorians?

“They usually just call me Mando or Beroya.” The kid frowned, dark eyes wary. Din let out a sigh and crouched so they were closer in height. “But you can call me Din.” The smile he received was enough to make the risk worth it.

Stars dammit, he was such a sucker for children.

“M’Jaster.” The boy said with a wide grin that promised trouble. “Jaster Mereel.”


Mando’a

Mand'alor te Udesla- Mand'alor the Unflappable.
Mando’ad- Mandalorian
Beskar- Mandalorian Iron
Beroya- Bounty Hunter
Vod- Brother/sister, comrade.
Gev- Stop it!
Hut’uun- Coward
Shabuir- Bastard
Shab- frell
Adiik- Child between the ages of 3 and 13.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 2

The boy who had called himself Jaster Mereel was a pretty scrappy little kid. At only ten years old he had a lot of fight in him for one so small.

Once their initial greeting had been over with the kid asked if he was new to the city and reluctantly Din nodded. A bright grin crossed the kid’s face. “Usually I charge for tours of the city but for you I’ll do it for free! Besides, you’re not an outsider.” He said, motioning toward Din’s armor with a look of awe. Biting down on his bottom lip so as not to chuckle he gave another nod and stood. Again he noted the distinct lack of pain in his joints, his left knee in particular. The knee that had been busted on one of the rare jobs he’d absolutely botched.

“I’d appreciate it.” A low gurgle caught his attention and the boy flushed beneath his messy brown hair. “How about somewhere affordable to eat first?” He asked, looking down the street so as not to make the kid feel any more self-conscious. The kid mumbled something under his breath before holding out his arm. Din looked down at the square of cloth and grimaced at the blood coating it. “Keep it. I’ve got plenty.” It wasn’t even a lie. He was so used to Grogu making an absolute mess of himself when eating that he still had a habit of carrying around a pouch of wipes and cleaning cloths.

“Uh, right. Kay. This way!” The boy grabbed his closest wrist and tugged on him. Din huffed and let the kid lead him out onto the main street. If he didn’t want to go all he had to do was stop and the kid would probably fall backward onto his shebs. “So this is the biggest post office we have, but it’s usually really busy and the Journeymen Protectors use it a lot so anyone from the Dim uses the one of Akth street.” The child prattled on but Din was only partially listening to him.

From what he could see of Jaster the kid was far too skinny for his age and height. His clothes were patched and at least a size too large, his hair was uncut but it was at least clean, and his shoes were wearing out. The idea that a kid had not only been struck by an adult but seemed to react as if it was a normal occurrence made something inside him twist painfully. The picture he was getting wasn’t a good one and he had to wonder what kind of backwards world he had found himself on where there were dar’manda wearing armor. As they walked none of the adults looked twice at the child. It could have been the symbol he saw stitched onto the shoulder of the kid's tunic but what it meant he had no idea.

The rest of his focus was on the people around them. Everywhere they went people stopped and stared at him. It wasn’t unusual, a Mandalorian Beroya in full beskar’gam made entirely out of beskar was exceptionally rare. He was a little out of the loop when it came to galactic politics but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he looked like a threat and target all in one. What was unusual was just how awestruck they seemed to be by him. There was fear, there was always a little fear, but it was overshadowed by an emotion he couldn’t quite pin down.

“We’re here, alor!” The boy cried, stopping the two of them in front of a local eatery. Din shifted his attention back to the kid and shook his head.

“Just Din, kid. I’m no one’s boss.” The boy gave him a cheeky grin and excitedly pulled him inside.

At first the staff hesitated, looking as if they wanted to toss the boy out. One look at Din standing behind him quickly squashed the option as they offered the two of them a booth.

Sitting down on the fairly clean bench he realized that this was an actual diner, rather than a cantina. Looking at the kid he should have known someone his age wouldn’t take a stranger to some seedy underground bar. Unfortunately it didn’t look as if they had any private rooms for him to take off his helmet to eat either.

When the waitress arrived she looked between them with a smile so fake he wondered why she’d even bothered. “What can I get for you?” He motioned at the kid.

“Whatever he wants and something cold to drink, with a straw.” Both the boy and the waitress looked at him oddly for a moment and he shifted awkwardly in his seat, not wanting to explain.

“I’ll have the special, and a milkshake!” The kid beamed at the woman who clicked her tongue at his loud tone, jot down their order, and headed toward the back. Jaster’s dark eyes watched him for a quiet moment. The intelligence he saw in them was almost unsettling. “You don’t want to show your face.” He said quietly. Din flinched, his hands curling into tense fists on his lap. The boy was perceptive for his age. “It’s fine.” The waitress returned with his drink and set it on the table near him. The boy watched her from the corner of his eye, waiting until she was out of earshot before speaking again.

“Either you’re a criminal and you saved me anyway or you’re a duke or something and trying to hide it.” Din had just taken a sip of the jogan juice when the kid spoke again and he choked when some of it went down the wrong tube. His momentary flailing almost knocked the glass over and some of it spilled onto the table. Jaster snickered at him and Din glared as he wiped up the mess.

“A duke?” He asked incredulously. The kid scoffed at him, crossing his arms and leaning back in the seat.

“Well, duh. What else would you be? You’re wearing pure beskar and carrying a spear! It looks like it matches your armor so it’s probably beskar too.” Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

“I could just be lucky.” Din countered as he leaned forward over the table, lowering his voice. “I could have stolen it.” The kid rolled his eyes.

“If you stole it the Manda would never accept you. The past Mand’alor’e themselves would declare you dar’manda and wouldn’t let you in.” Din swallowed as dark eyes stared up at him, judging him. “Anyone who would steal beskar armor and wear it without shame wouldn’t help a kid like me.” He stated, as if it were a well known fact. “Besides, the armor looks like it was made for you. If you’d stolen it then it wouldn’t fit right.” He pointed out easily.

Din couldn’t help but to smile. The kid was wicked smart. “What if I stole the ingots and threatened someone to make it for me?” The kid had the nerve to actually grin.

“Fat chance! If you stole it every bes’goran would know! You’d have to be an utreekov not to know each bes’goran stamps their own ingots. One look at them and any other bes’goran would beat you bloody. Not to mention whoever’s clan you stole from. Everyone tied to their House would be after you.” Din felt his chest constrict as the boy continued talking. He was acting as if there were enough armor smiths and clans around to actually enforce those kinds of things. “I gotta go.” The kid said suddenly, sliding out of the booth.

“Where?” Din asked in confusion. The boy pointed toward an area behind him and Din leaned out of the booth to look. There was a sign for restrooms. Ah. “I’ll watch for your meal.” The kid smiled and scampered off, dodging around a couple of patrons who were getting up from their table. He shook his head and settled back into his seat only to jump as a familiar form sat across from him.

“Cute kid, isn’t he?” Din gaped at the specter, who was looking a lot less solid this time around.

“I-” She shook her head at him and raised a finger to where her lips would be if she took off her helm.

“No one but you can see or hear me, and I don’t need you to speak out loud to know what you’re thinking. Just pretend you’ve answered your comm.” Clenching his fists he took a deep breath before calmly doing as he was told.

“That boy, Jaster Mereel, is the one I sent you here to find.” Din bristled.

‘And where is here?’ He thought bitterly.

“Concord Dawn. To a time before the purges.” His eyes widened. He followed her gaze as her helmet turned to look out the shaded window. Seeing all the people walking around freely in armor…

‘How the kriff?’ Vizsla laughed openly.

“I couldn’t have done it without the temple, one of the last remnants of the Holy City. You should have seen it before the Empire blasted NiJedha off the surface of the moon.” She turned to look at him, her helm canted slightly. “I suppose now you will be able to see it, if you so choose.”

‘I don’t care about that. I just want to go back to my son.’ There was a feeling of regret and Din knew he wasn’t going to like what came next.

“Grogu… at this point in time he hasn’t even been born yet.” She admitted. “He won’t be born for another twenty years at least.” Din felt as if his heart was breaking.

‘Why!?’ So many emotions were running through him he didn’t even know where to begin. Maybe he should start with the gaping hole where his son’s presence should be.

“Calm yourself, Mand’alor te Udesla.” Following the tilt of her helmet he sucked in a sharp gasp of surprise. Beside him the darksaber was floating off of his belt, humming angrily. “When you were a child your presence in the force was much brighter. But someone must have recognized the danger you were in and chose to seal your ability to touch the force away.” Din bit down on his tongue to keep from speaking aloud, he didn’t care about any of that. He just wanted to return to his son.

“Din.” Hearing his name spoken so gently, with such regret, made the raging fire inside of him dim. “I didn’t send you back just to save Mandalore. Before I became Mand’alor I was a Jedi. They are my people as well. If you help me save Mandalore it will in turn save the Jedi. Grogu can grow up in a world where he would not be hunted. Where he could learn and grow with other Jedi adiike. For someone who can touch the force it is important to be around others who can guide them.” His shoulders sagged. That was the whole reason he had given up his son in the first place.

Vizsla reached over and he felt a faint warmth as her hand pressed against his chest plate, almost as if it weren’t there. “By the time Grogu is born you will know enough to train him in the force. This I can promise you.” Din looked at her, radiating confusion. “You are force sensitive and in need of training. That is why I still remain, and why I was only able to partially heal you.” Din froze.

‘Heal?’ Vizsla nodded.

“Time means nothing to the will of the force. While the temple had enough power to send you back through time there was only enough left over for me to turn your own biological clock back, rather than heal the wounds you had already sustained. At this moment you are about twenty standard years old.” Din felt as if he was about to have a breakdown.

Best to ask something else.

‘So… what do I do now?’ What was it this ghost of a former Mand’alor wanted from him?

“Are you okay?” Turning to blink down at Jaster in confusion he looked back at the seat across from him to find Vizsla gone. Letting out a sigh he motioned the kid to sit back down and tapped the side of his helmet where the internal comm was normally located. The boy nodded and hopped up onto the seat. “Something bad?” The way the kid hunched in on himself to make himself seem smaller made Din want to comfort him.

“Something happened to a friend, but they’ll be okay.” As the kid relaxed and started to pelt him with more questions about his kit the food finally made its way to the table.

The way the boy fell on the burger reminded Din of those days when he and the older teens went hungry, just so the younger kids in the covert had a little more. “Slow down or you’ll just make yourself sick. Plenty of time, kid.” Jaster swallowed his current bite and contemplated him quietly for a moment before he took Din’s advice.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

(Chapter 2 Cont.)

When the kid was finished his meal he shifted in his seat, eyes darting around warily as if expecting something to happen. When the boy spied the waitress from before he ducked further into the booth and glanced at the door.

Oh.

He should have known. The kid looked like a troublemaker and it was obvious he didn’t have any credits.

“Stay here.” He ordered, voice gentle but firm. The boy startled and looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly.

Getting up from the booth Din went to the counter and quickly paid for the meal. He was lucky they took different currencies, and that he was smart enough to always keep a sufficient amount of funds on him at all times, especially after the Crest had been destroyed.

He tried not to think about that. It was in the past… or the future. Either way it didn’t matter now.

Once everything was squared away he came back to the booth and smiled when he found the kid still there. He motioned toward the door. The kid slid out of the booth and followed him outside, shoulders relaxing when no one tried to stop them. Din snorted in amusement before he sobered. Whoever was taking care of the kid wasn’t doing their job, not if he was a frequent dine and dasher.

“So… where to next?” The boy stood there a little awkwardly, though he hid it well behind a wide grin.

“Some place I can sleep.” He suggested.

The boy turned away from him suddenly, looking down the street. “This way.” He said confidently, though it sounded a little hollow, and started walking. Din followed him with a concerned frown, wondering what had come over him.

As they walked down the winding streets his worry only grew as the boy’s hands clenched at his sides. Feeling as if he had somehow caused the rejection-anger-disappointment that seemed to cover the kid like a cloak Din reached out and gripped his shoulder gently to stop him. Spying another alley he tugged the kid inside and crouched.

“What’s wrong?” His helmet scanned the street, as if he could find the reason the boy had become so tense.

“Nothing.” Jaster said sullenly, crossing his arms. Din sighed.

“I can tell you’re mad.” He hesitated. “Did I do something?” There must have been a hint of insecurity in his voice as the kid slowly looked up into his visor.

“No… just-” The boy uncrossed his arms, one hand coming up to rub at his arm nervously.

Several things happened at once.

First, a sudden and intense feeling of being watched came over him. Second, there was a loud yell from his right. Third, a heavy weight landed on his back, forcing him to one knee if he didn’t want to fall on his face. And lastly, someone swung a piece of wood at him.

“Get away from him you shabuir!”

Bringing up his arm he blocked the piece of wood, which shattered on impact. Reaching back he grabbed whatever, or more likely whoever, was on his back and yanked them off of him, tossing them aside. Standing he reached for his blaster before the height of his attackers finally registered.

“Wait! Haj, Dax, Mala- gev!” Jaster dove between them, arms in front of him to stop what Din could now see was a group of children. Immediately his hand fell away from his blaster and he looked over at the one he had thrown off of him. Another child.

Din felt sick to his stomach- he had attacked a child! Even knowing he had only been defending himself he couldn’t help the guilt and worry that rose inside his chest.

“He’s a good guy, haat!” Jaster was still speaking as Din pivoted on his heel and strode over to the fallen child, kneeling once he was close enough. The kid stopped rubbing their shoulder and stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Adiik I- ni ceta. Are you okay?” His voice shook slightly and he hesitated as he reached out, worried his help would be unwanted. The child looked between him and Jaster for a moment before tentatively taking his arm and letting him help them to their feet.

“Uh, I’m okay… I mean, I kinda jumped you so…” He nodded in understanding and released their arm. Jaster grumbled as the other kids came closer, no longer interested in a fight.

“Anade, this is Din. He saved me from some shabuir’e JouPros.” Din let out a disgruntled noise and gave Jaster a disapproving look for his language. Even through the helmet the kid must have recognized the look as he shifted guiltily on his feet. “Uh, Din, these are my vode.” Din felt his heart clench in his chest as he got a good look at them. All of them were wearing clothes that were less than adequate and were far too skinny.

“This is Saviin, she/her.” He motioned toward a pale purple twi’lek girl who grinned at him, her sharp teeth pricking her bottom lip. “And her sister Mal’afan, also she/her.” A second twi’lek, this one with blue skin, smiled brightly and waved, looking at his armor curiously. They didn’t look much older than Jaster.

“That’s Hak’ruul’ujak. They go by they/them.” The kid made a simple hand motion at Jaster and Din perked up slightly. It was a gesture of thanks. Looking at their headscarf, mouth covering, and goggles he figured they must be distantly related to a Tusken tribe.

|I will honor your name.| He signed at the child. The kid straightened in surprise before he felt something about them brighten.

|You speak the language of the Children of the Dunes?’| Din nodded.

|I stayed with a tribe of the Children for many suns.| He admitted easily.

|Do you know the Song?| Din was surprised at the formal greeting and shook his head.

|I do not know the Song.| The child nodded, expecting his reply.

|Then we seek it still. I will find the song, or another will find the song, but the song will be sung in this year or in another year.| It was an old ritual, a way to show that both parties were non-hostile. The lost Song was sacred to all Tuskens and no one would dare reference it if they didn’t come in peace.

“Uh, Haj?” The child turned to Jaster and Din was surprised at the raspy voice that came from beneath the cloth covering the lower half of their face.

“He is a friend. My clan would welcome him into our compound.” The other kids looked up at him in surprise.

“Woah, that’s so wicked!” Jaster snorted and playfully pushed the blonde boy next to him.

“This is Daryx. He’s a pain in the-” at Din’s stern look the boy faltered, “behind.” The children all snickered at the boy as he pouted at them.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” He said quietly, trying to seem less threatening.

“Your armor is so cool!” The blue twi’lek said with excitement, bouncing in place. “Is it all beskar?” Din chuckled.

“It-” A shuffling sound and a wail caught his attention and he spun around. At the other end of the alley, up a set of fire escape stairs, was a small child with dark hair and dark eyes.

“Eli! What are you doing here?” Bolting around him Jaster stampeded up the stairs to the child and gathered them up in his arms. The child clung to him, babbling happily as the boy returned to the group. “Why is Eli here?” The fierce scowl on his face was adorable, if concerning. Give him ten more years and it would be something far more intimidating.

“She wouldn’t stop crying for you and the ba’jur’ade were all busy.” Caretakers? Did none of these kids have families besides the Tusken child?

“Ora’bod!” The girl agreed easily, hanging off of Jaster’s neck and staring up at him. “Shiny!” Jaster sighed and glared at the other kids for a moment before shifting the toddler in his arms.

“Din, this is Elenore Mereel, my sister. Say hi Eli.” The girl waved her arm at him, smile bright.

“Su’ci!” The slurring of the simple Mando’a greeting made him chuckle.

“Su’cuy adiik.”

As Din looked down at the group of children, Mandalorian children, he wondered again who was supposed to be taking care of them. Who let a group of kids, all younger than twelve by the looks of them, take a three or four year old out into a bustling city without adult supervision? Normally Din wouldn’t have worried, because any Mando’ad worth their armor would see a child and instantly protect them. But after what he’d seen earlier with Jaster he didn’t think it was very safe for the kids to be wandering around. Especially with the little girl.

“So if you weren’t being stolen, what were you doing?” Jaster huffed and moved his sister’s hand away from his face as she tried to show him something and miscalculated the distance.

“The usual. Was taking him to Tarvi’s…” The boy quieted for a moment before looking up at him. “You asked, I mean…” The boy’s cheeks flushed slightly and Din cocked his head to the side, waiting patiently for the boy to gather his thoughts. “Tarvi owns the inn I was taking you to. You’re not going to need me after that… right?” There was something unsettling about the way the kid watched him, eyes dimmer than before. As if Din was about to disappear entirely.

It was a look of someone who thought they were about to be abandoned… again.

Din swallowed down all the foolish things he wanted to say and simply nodded.

“I wanted to book a room early, but I also need supplies. If you know where I could buy them I’d appreciate it… Someone stole my ship.” He shifted on his feet, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable lying to a group of children. But it was for the best. He couldn’t just tell them he was from the future and that a magic Mand’alor had rudely tossed his shebs into an alleyway in the past.

There was a faint feeling of amusement from the darksaber, which was still hidden beneath his cloak. He scowled at the feeling from the safety of his helmet, thankful the children couldn’t see his face.

“Really?” The blonde boy said, eyes wide. “Who would do something dumb like that?” He asked loudly.

“Someone already dead.” Din grumbled honestly before freezing.

He shouldn’t be talking that way in front of a group of children. Not that they seemed bothered by the statement at all, assuming he meant to kill the thief and perfectly accepting of that idea.

Jaster’s sister squirmed until the boy sighed and put her down, taking her hand firmly in his. The sight of it reminded him so much of himself and Paz, back when they had been on much better terms.

“Why isn’t your armor painted?” Blinking away thoughts of his own tumultuous childhood he looked at the purple twi’lek, who cocked her head to the side as she looked him up and down.

Din didn’t know what to say. His first answer probably wouldn’t have made much sense to them all things considered. Beskar wasn’t easy to paint, it required a special kind of paint that had been expensive and hard to find outside of the covert. “I haven’t had the time between jobs.” He said, giving them the simpler yet no less honest answer. After all- unpainted beskar was, in its own way, a statement.

“I could take you to one of the bes’goran’e.” Jaster suggested. Din glanced down at his bracer and the empty chambers where beskar needles should sit.

“After I find a place to sleep and somewhere to work.” The boy nodded and tried to hand his sister off to the blue twi’lek girl. The child let out a loud wail and clung to his waist, sniffling miserably.

“Come on Eli, you need to go to Mala.” The boy said gently, trying to uncurl her fingers from his tunic.

“No!” The girl said stubbornly, shaking her head violently and clinging onto him even harder. The boy let out an exasperated sound and looked at his friends for help.

Din cleared his throat and gained everyone’s attention. “She can stay, I won’t be bothered.”

Jaster relaxed and hugged his sister to him. “Vod’ika, stop crying. Din said you can come too.” The little girl sniffled a few times before peeking up at him.

“Haat?” Din crouched down so he was closer to the girl and smiled, letting everything about his posture read as positive and friendly.

“Yes. You want to stay with your ori’vod, right?” She nodded frantically. “Then you can come too.” Force of habit had him reaching over and patting the girl on the head, as he might do to one of the children of the covert. The little girl beamed at him and latched onto his arm.

“Up!” She demanded. Din looked over at Jaster who was trying to hide a smile.

“What do we say, vod’ika?” The girl’s face screwed up slightly in concentration.

“Get’e?” She asked, looking up at her brother. Jaster snickered.

“Gedet’ye, Eli.” He looked at Din and nodded his permission.

The girl weighed practically nothing, though it was still more than Grogu. The moment she was in his arms she clung to his armor and snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder. Din adjusted his hold carefully so as not to hurt her and looked down at Jaster. “The inn?” The boy nodded and turned to his friends.

“I’ll be back later. Cover for me?”

“Sure thing, Jas. But we can’t stall them all day, not with Eli gone.” The boy grimaced and nodded.

“You gonna be okay?” The blue twi’lek asked, glancing over at Din in a way that might have been discreet if he wasn’t so used to catching small details like that from his hunts.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” The kid waved off her concern with an easy smile.

The kids gave their own good-byes and turned to go.

|May we both live to meet again.| The Tusken child signed.

|Suns and sand watch over your tribe.| The child gave him a slight bow and followed the other children out of the alley, leaving only Din, Jaster, and Jaster’s sister behind.

“Come on, Tarvi’s isn’t far.” Exiting the alley with an extra child, and Jaster in a far better mood, the three of them received some strange looks from those who passed by. Jaster didn’t seem to notice as he started pointing out more places of interest.

Eli supplied her own commentary as she babbled, small hands grabbing at everything within her reach. She was particularly intrigued by his cloak and he had to untangle her hands more than once.

At least she wasn’t going for his spear.

“This is it!” Jaster said, stopping just in front of him. The boy turned and held out his arms for his sister, who Din relinquished easily. The girl made a noise of distress that tugged at his heartstrings. Thankfully clinging to her brother calmed her some. “We’ll wait here.” The boy said, hiking his sister up in his arms. Din nodded in understanding.

Before he entered the inn he glanced back once. Jaster was murmuring to his sister, pressing his forehead against hers and smiling with the innocence of youth.

Din turned away, ignoring the faint huff of impatience in the back of his mind.


Mando’a

Shebs- Backside, rear, buttocks, can be used for back of a building. Also ass.
Dar’manda- To be declared soulless, no longer a Mandalorian.
Alor- Boss, chief, leader.
Bes’goran/Bes’goran’e- A smith, or smiths, that work specifically with beskar.
Utreekov- Empty headed, an idiot.
Adiik/Adiike- Child/Children between the ages of 3 and 13.
Shabuir/Shabuir’e- Bastard/Bastards
Gev- Stop, stop it.
Haat- Truth, truly, honest.
Ni ceta- Literally meaning ‘I kneel,’ used rarely as a groveling kind of apology.
Anade- Everyone, everybody.
JouPros- Disrespectful term for the Journeymen Protectors, the planetary police force of Concord Daw.
Vode- Siblings, companions, comrades in arms.
Ba’jur’ade- Caretakers, child-minders.
Ora’bod- A mispronunciation of the word Ori’vod, meaning elder sibling. Also used for friends who are older than the speaker.
Vod’ika- Younger sibling, also used for close friends who are younger than the speaker.
Mando’ad/Mando’ade- Mandalorian/Mandalorians
Get’e- A mispronunciation of the word Gedet’ye, meaning please.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 3

The inn Jaster had brought him to could easily be described as quaint. It was obvious from the low lighting and the width of the doorways that it was meant for those who lived their lives in armor. The reception area was a little alcove with a couple of doors leading into the back of the building, probably storage or an office. The ground floor was an open canteen with a couple of more private looking booths spaced out along the back wall. The ceiling was high, not enough for anyone to use their jetpack but enough that he could vault over a couple of tables if he had to.

“Su’cuy jatne vod!” Din switched his focus to the elder human woman whose hair was plaited back in a long braid. Seeing the partial armor they were wearing made him twitch and want to turn his gaze away. It was a knee jerk reaction that he was going to have to get over.

It was hard to come to terms with the fact that he had been raised in an abnormal situation compared to other Mandalorians.

“Su’cuy. I’d like to rent a single room for the next week.” The woman blinked at him for a moment, seeming a little taken aback.

“You aren’t one of my regulars.” Din stood still as he was scrutinized. “Who told you to come here?” There was a wariness to her now and Din could hear some of the noise behind him quiet down. He could feel the eyes of the patrons inside the canteen as they stared at his back.

Din hesitated for a moment and wondered if naming the kid would cause trouble. The boy seemed far too sincere for this to be a trick of some sort.

“Jaster Mereel.” The proprietor’s face split into a grin.

“Ah, that’s surprising. Jas’ika doesn’t normally warm up to strangers that quickly.” Din shrugged, wondering why that mattered. “One room for the week. You want meals added onto that?” He frowned slightly.

“As long as I can take them in my room.” The woman’s hands stopped moving as her eyes snapped back to his armor. Din tensed before remembering he had no distinguishing marks besides his signet. Ever since they’d gone underground the Chief of the covert had forbidden distinguishing markings on armor, another way to keep everyone safe, hidden. The only markings he had were the blue triangles the Al’goran had painted on the back of his gloves. Since it had been her decision to add them it hadn’t been commented on by the Alor.

“That can be arranged easily enough.” Writing something down in a ledger, how long had it been since Din had seen an actual paper book, the woman hummed to herself. “How are you paying?” Din grimaced as he pawed through all the currencies he had. He should have asked Jaster to take him to a currency exchange first but he doubted the kid knew what that was yet.

It was only Boba’s good sense for the galaxy at large that had him carrying a credit chit on him at all.

“Hmm.” The woman grabbed the credit chit and scanned it. After a moment she handed him the screen so he could see the transaction information. He accepted the transfer and was handed a keycard with his credit chit. “If you’re staying I can send something up to your room.” He shook his head.

“No, thank you.” He gave her a polite nod and made his way back out into the street.

Once outside he immediately noticed the absence of the two kids and panic seized him. Sure, the kids weren’t his responsibility, and yes, he wasn’t their parent, but the fact that they weren’t where he left them made his insides wriggle with nerves.

“Over here!” Turning toward the familiar voice he frowned when all he was met with was a street filled with strangers. “Look up!” Doing as he was told he sighed in relief when he spied the kids. They were sitting on the balcony of the next building, hiding in the shade. A small staircase in the narrow alley between the buildings explained how they’d gotten up there. “You done?” He inclined his head and Jaster brightened. “Come on El’ika.”

The kids came down to meet him and once again the little girl demanded to be picked up. With a chuckle he lifted the girl into his arms and shifted until he could carry her without issue. Jaster watched him quietly for a moment and when Din looked down at him more openly the boy looked away, almost as if embarrassed.

“Where to next?” The boy asked.

Their first stop was a local supply store. While Din wandered around with Eli, seeing what he had to work with for the future, Jaster spoke with the clerk at the counter. He tried not to listen in but the way the clerk had eyed him was a little… unsettling.

“Everything alright, Jas’ika? You have a fat lip, what happened?” There was an undercurrent of worry and anger in their voice and Din found himself relaxing slightly. This mando’ad, at least, was someone he could trust not to hurt a child. At least by the sound of their voice.

“Some Journeymen caught me on my way back from Lyur’s place. Decided to rough me up.” Din took a deep breath and let the anger wash over him. This was not the right time to get upset. The confrontation had happened, Din had stepped in to help, and now Jaster was safe… for the time being.

“Ka’ra, child, are you okay?” There was a small laugh and Din turned his helmet slightly so he could see the boy.

“I’m fine. Din saved me. He used his spear, it was wicked!” He felt a wave of heat all the way to his ears and quickly went back to looking over their stock. He hadn’t used his whipcord lately so there was no need to pick up more but his flamethrower was almost empty. He grabbed a couple of cannisters and some meal bars on the way to the counter.

“Just these for now.” The man stood straighter as he approached and quickly rang up his order, side eyeing him and the little girl who was falling asleep on his shoulder.

Her earlier tantrum and all the excitement afterward had finally caught up with her.

As he was standing there he noticed some small bags of local sweets. Grabbing two he tossed them on the counter with his other items. The clerk eyed him for a moment but added the total together and took his credits easily enough.

“Is there a currency exchange nearby?” Jaster looked up at him in confusion, Din figured as much.

“There’s one on Pali street. Hold on.” Ducking below the counter he pulled out a local map. “We’re here.” He trailed his finger down the street they were on and stopped at a crossroad. “You’ll want to take your first right, then follow the road until you see the Trade Guild. Take the next left and it’s only three buildings down. Can’t miss it.” Din nodded, taking a quick holo of the map with his helmet.

“Vor’e.” Picking up his items he stashed them in his many pouches and motioned Jaster out ahead of him. The boy went without complaint and they found themselves back out on the bustling street.

“So what’s a currency exchange?” Din smiled.

“Not every planet uses the same credit system.” He pulled out a disc of calamari flan and a couple of golden wupiupi coins. “This is currency from Mon Cala and Tatooine.” The boy looked fascinated as he touched the blue and white disc, startling slightly as it squished beneath his probing fingers. He grimaced.

“Weird.” Din let out a small chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“A currency exchange will take your credits and calculate it into local currency for a small fee. It’s a useful place to know for anyone who travels through the black.” Jaster’s eyes turned calculating and Din wondered what the boy was thinking of. Slipping the foreign money back into his belt he started walking toward the first street the shop-keeper had indicated.

“If you’re giving tours for credits you might want to add it to your stops.” The boy grinned in understanding.

Aw hell, the kid was adorable.

He felt an echo of the same sentiment in the back of his mind and a press of affection for the boy. He sent back a prod of annoyance, somehow, and felt amusement in return.

Damned ghost.

“Come on, kid.” Jaster rolled his eyes at him but hurried to keep up with Din’s long stride. He slowed so the boy could keep pace, chiding himself for not realizing sooner that the boy had practically been jogging to keep up with him before.

They made their way to the exchange and he sighed when little Eli complained about being handed over to her brother again. Loudly.

“Here.” Reaching into his belt he pulled out a meal bar and two candies. “Make sure she finishes the bar first.” He instructed to a wide-eyed Jaster.

“Yeah, sure.” He left the kids and went into the exchange.

It was the same as anywhere else, really, and although he grumbled about the exchange rate everything went smoothly. By the time he was finished and back outside he spied Jaster and his sister sitting on a bench nearby, both enjoying their candy.

“Where to next b-Din?” He blinked at the stutter and tilted his head slightly in curiosity. There was a rush of amusement from Tarre, and Din hoped that her training included keeping her out of his head for kriffs sake. Jaster flushed slightly but didn’t say anything else, bouncing his sister instead much to her delight.

“Home for you. Where I’m going next kids aren’t exactly welcome.” Jaster’s smile faltered and his shoulders sank slightly.

He felt guilty as the boy nodded and got up from the bench, hitching his sister higher in his arms. Stepping closer he easily took the girl from her brother and let her settle back against his shoulder again.

“It’s not far, I can take her and just go…” Jaster muttered, not looking at him.

“I want to see where you guys live.” Din chose his next words carefully. “That way I can get you to show me around more. I’m still new to the city, after all.” The boy’s expression brightened.

“Sure, but it’s not, I mean…” Jaster clenched his hands into fists and went quiet.

“What’s wrong, kid?” He shook his head and started walking.

“You’ll see.”

[Liera Buraaisuh]

(Chapter 3 cont.)

The walk back was in relative silence. The lively boy giving off feelings of guilt, anger, and shame that made Din clench his jaw so he didn’t say anything stupid.

What the hell had these kids been through?

The building they came to was quite large, and clearly part of a wider complex. Outside was a jungle gym with a large group of children laughing and chasing each other around, playing some form of ‘bounty hunter’ no doubt. As they passed the fence that looked designed to be used as cover there was a shout. Din’s head immediately turned toward it, itching to grab his blaster and defend himself.

“Jaster Mereel!” The words had the distinct tone of a reprimand and the boy in front of him flinched, giving off more waves of guilt. “Where have you been?” The figure stopped suddenly as they finally caught sight of Din and their face paled. Their eyes went to the little girl in his arms and he could see the tense lines of their body, defensive and protective.

At least someone seemed to care about these kids.

“I’m sorry Ba’jur’ad Ixis. I went to help out at Lyur’s place and-” The woman knelt and lifted his chin for her to inspect his face. Din almost reached out to pull Jaster closer, away from the woman, and was surprised at the sudden protective feeling that came over him. Obviously this woman was someone the boy knew, he was fine.

“Oh, adiik, what happened to your face?” The heated look he received from the woman made Din stand straighter, offended that she would even assume it was something he’d done. “And who are you?” Her tone could have peeled paint from armor.

“Din didn’t hurt me! I got in trouble with some jou- aruetiise and he saved me!” The woman’s expression darkened.

“And El’ika?” Jaster shuffled on his feet, looking guilty.

“She, uh, came with me.” The woman stared him down but Jaster’s mouth remained firmly shut. The kid wasn’t about to rat out his friends, even if it got him in trouble.

“Din, is it?” He inclined his helm. “Thank you for bringing the children back safely. I’m sorry if they’ve caused you any inconvenience.” The woman came froward and held out her arms for the little girl. He handed the girl over without hesitation.

The moment the girl was in her arms the caretaker relaxed.- the girl did not.

“No!” She turned in the woman’s hold and reached out for Din, straining to get closer. “Bui!” The caretaker looked down at the girl in confusion while Jaster let out a sound as if someone had forced all the air from his lungs.

It was a pained sound.

“No, Eli, that’s not buir.” Din stiffened in surprise. Jaster turned grief filled eyes on him and- oh. Oh hell.

The kids were orphans.

Din knew that look all too well. It was a look he had seen in the mirror for years until he was finally allowed to don a helmet and no longer had to stare at his own miserable reflection. No longer had to see how much he looked like the family he had lost.

After a moment of silence Jaster finally spoke up. “It’s the beskar’gam.” He admitted quietly. “Buir was a ver’verd. She almost never took it off. When we started to run out of credits she left us with elder Syff to do a job.” Din opened his mouth, wanting to tell the kid that he didn’t need to say any more; but he couldn’t form the words. “She never came back.” The boy crossed his arms and hunched forward, pain clear on his face.

The caretaker put a hand gently on his shoulder. “Come here, Jas’ika.” She said quietly and pulled him into a light embrace. The boy let out a sniffle and leaned into her hold for a moment before swiping at his face with his arm.

“I understand.” He found himself blurting out, to everyone’s surprise including his own. “My buire… they were… I was adopted into a clan by the verd who saved me.” The caretaker’s eyes widened slightly as she took a closer look at his armor.

Jaster looked up at him, a faint redness around his eyes. “No one cares who your father was.” The boy quoted.

“…only the father you’ll be.” He responded, smiling when the kid gave him a pleased look.

“Well, in any case.” The caretaker interrupted, looking a little flustered. “You two need to say good-bye. You,” she narrowed her eyes at Jaster, “have extra chores.” The boy let out a groan but didn’t argue. “Now.”

“Ret'urcye mhi, Din.” He nodded.

“K’oyaci, Jaster.” The boy beamed at him before the caretaker waved him off toward the building with a stern look. The kid took off, waving to a group of kids wrestling on the grass.

Din chuckled and turned to the caretaker. Reaching into his belt pouch he pulled out the two bags of sweets and handed them to her. “For the foun- children.” The woman took them from him with a faint smile.

“Thank you. It’s rare they get such treats.” Din frowned. If this was before the purges then why weren’t the children being taken care of properly? “I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way but… please don’t come back.” Din tensed, wondering what he’d done to make him unwelcome. “These kids have had a rough time of it and all they want is someone to take them in. If you aren’t serious about them,” she adjusted the little girl in her arms, “then I suggest you don’t get their hopes up.”

Din… didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never come across this kind of situation before. Where someone discouraged him from getting to know the foundlings.

‘They are not foundlings, Mand’alor.’ He almost jumped at the voice in his head but thankfully years of training kept him from showing his sudden discomfort.

“I see.” There was nothing else he could think of to say. It wasn’t like he was about to adopt the kids and he didn’t want to cause them further distress.

He turned to leave. “Wait.” He looked back at the caretaker, one brow raised though she couldn’t see it. “Which clan? Who should I thank for bringing them back to us in one piece?”

Din’s heart thundered in his chest at the sudden request. Only inside the covert or surrounded by allies was it safe to speak of ones clan.

‘Tell her.’ Din wanted to shake his head at the voice. ‘Trust me.’ Something warm flowed into his chest and his mouth opened, seemingly of its own accord.

“Djarin. Clan Djarin.” He could feel her surprise and curiosity from where he stood. It was so overpowering that he felt the instinctual urge to retreat. Turning on his heel he strode away from the orphanage as quickly as possible.

He needed to sit down and think about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

‘Good thing you already booked a room at that inn.’

Din growled. “Just shut up.”

In the back of his mind Mand'alor Vizsla let out an amused chuckle and disappeared.

Damned ghost.


Mando'a

Su’cuy- Hello, informal greetings.
Jatne vod- Sir, formal term used to address customers.
Al’goran- Made up word meaning Head Smith. This refers to the Armorer of Din's covert.
Alor- Chief, leader, boss. In this context it means Chief.
Ka’ra- Stars. A reference to the ancient Mandalorian myth that the fallen kings of Mandalore hold council in the afterlife, appearing as stars in the sky above Mandalore.
Vor’e- Thanks.
Adiik- Child between the ages of 3 and 13.
Aruetiise- Outsiders, foreigners, can be used to refer to traitors.
Buir/Buire- Mando’a is a non-gendered language so this translates to Parent/Parents.
Beskar’gam- Mandalorian armor made from beskar, Mandalorian iron.
Ver’verd- Mercenary.
Verd- Soldier, warrior.
Ret'urcye mhi- Maybe we’ll meet again.
K'oyaci- Hang in there.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 4

Heading back to the inn he caught sight of the proprietor who motioned toward a set of stairs beside the canteen that was almost hidden from sight if you didn’t go past the reception desk.

“I’ll send a meal up in about ten minutes.” She said with a smile. He nodded in thanks and turned to go up the stairs to the second floor.

It wasn’t lost on him that the entire building seemed designed to repel an attack from the outside. Sturdy doorways, alcoves one could duck into and use as cover, and even the spacing of the windows seemed to solidify the idea. For one there were only windows on one side of the halls. For another they were all narrow and looked out into the street at angles that made it difficult for anyone to shoot up into.

Finding his room at the very end of the hall he entered and glanced around for anything that might immediately seem out of place.

The room was a single, like he’d asked for, and was quite cozy looking. There was a sturdy bed with what appeared to be a knit blanket draped over the end and a pair of solid looking nightstands to the right and left. At the end of the bed was a metal trunk and when he cautiously opened it he found it was designed to hold both weapons and other gear. Opening the closet across from the bed his eyes widened when he saw the stand clearly meant to house armor. Shutting the door he turned to his left, toward the wide window with thick shutters. It was large enough that he could use it as a quick escape route if he needed to but the shutters looked like they could take a lot of blaster fire before they broke. In the corner next to the window was a heavy looking table in the corner with two artfully carved chairs. Next to that was a door to a fresher with a sonic shower.

Once his curiosity and feelings of precaution had been appeased he closed, and locked, the door to his suite. Leaning back against the door he let out a relieved sigh. So many things had been thrown at him in a very short amount of time and even with all his years as one of the covert’s top beroya he was mentally exhausted.

The door behind him shook slightly with the force of someone knocking and he stiffened before cautiously unlocking and opening the door a crack. A young human male stood there with a covered tray and smiled at him. “Su’cuy jatne vod, I’m from the kitchens. The boss said to bring this up to you.” Din relaxed a touch and nodded as he took the tray from their hands.

It was warm.

“Vor’e.” The young man smiled again and gave him a polite nod before leaving.

Closing the door he made sure to lock it once again. He went to the table and set the tray down. There was a waft of spices from under the cover and Din felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Lifting the cover off the tray he sagged at the sight of orange tinged tiingilar. In his first days with the mandalorians, before he even knew what being a mando’ad meant, he’d been given some yellow tiingilar. Coming from a planet where heavy spices were commonly used in cooking he had taken one bite and started to cry. It had shocked his poor buir into panicking, asking whether it was too hot and if he was in pain.

The memory made him chuckle as he cautiously discarded his gloves, looking at the window and the door with some trepidation. He told himself he was as safe as he was going to be for the time being and reached up to unseal his helmet.

“Hold a moment, please.” His fingers twitched and entire body went rigid with alarm.

How could he have forgotten that someone, technically, was with him in the room? There was a small sigh as Tarre reappeared sitting on the bed, arms crossed loosely and cloak pooling around her. The bed didn’t even dip, as if she were entirely weightless armor or no.

“I knew this would happen.” She muttered to herself. “You needn’t worry about breaking the Creed with me.” Din turned to give her an incredulous look. How would he not be breaking the Creed? “First of all, I am not alive in the most commonly understood definition of the word.” Din blinked and frowned to himself. She wasn’t exactly wrong, she was a ghost after all. “There is also the fact that you and I are going to be family.” He spluttered slightly.

“What? How?” That seemed pretty presumptuous of her.

She let out a chuckle and reached up to her own helmet. Din’s breath caught in his throat as the hiss of a broken seal filled the room. He wanted to avert his eyes but found he couldn’t move as long black hair with a faint reddish tinge spilled down the woman’s shoulders.

Golden eyes that seemed far more alive than anything he had ever seen before looked directly at him, as if they could see through his armor and directly into his soul. Her skin was a warm olive with golden undertones that seemed to make her glow faintly in the sparse sunlight coming through the window. Her features were sharply defined and almost masculine, with almond shaped eyes and well defined lips. There was a scar across the bridge of her handsome nose tapering to a stop below her right eye that looked to have come from a wickedly sharp straight edged blade.

It only made her look all the more beautiful and deadly.

“Both the jetiise and our own people believe that one who mentors is like a parent to the one being mentored. In both cases that bond solidifies and the two become like family. With the force such a bond will be a tangible thing, something that you will be hard pressed to ignore. As your teacher in the force I will become your master and you will be my apprentice.” She watched him quietly for a moment. “I will always remain with you, unable to leave until my purpose has been fulfilled. Unless you can accept the fact that we will be as close as family you will find no peace within yourself.” Uncrossing her arms she stood, looming slightly over him though she was only a couple of inches taller.

She reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “We are in this together, Din.”

It was the gentleness of her words and the feelings of comfort, safety, and understanding that finally allowed him to breathe. Fingers shaking he gripped the edges of his helmet and, like ripping off a bacta patch, he yanked his helmet off and set it down with a heavy thud of finality.

It took him longer than he’d like to admit to finally meet her eyes but when he did he could feel the approval and affection that swept through him as she smiled. Fingers gently brushed against his cheek and he closed his eyes at the ghostly touch, surprised at its warmth. “There you are, ner ad.” He blinked open his eyes at the declaration and she chuckled. “Yes, I would claim you as my child.” He frowned in concern.

Din had been gifted with three wonderful parents in his life and he didn’t know if he could handle having another one. After all this time he barely remembered the first two, his birth mother and father, only flashes of kind eyes and long silky hair. His buir was a more recent memory but had marched far away over ten years ago. The man with hazel eyes and a kind smile, despite his heavily scarred face and hands, always invoked a feeling of being safe in Din.

“Oh, Din’ika,” he startled slightly at the endearment, “I am not here to replace any of your loved ones. I am only a guide, a shelter, a place for you to put yourself back together and grow stronger for what is to come.” He swallowed and looked away from her face, so unused to simple kindness after being outside in the galaxy for so long. “Ni kar’tayl gai sa’ad, Din Djarin. If you will have me.”

He was quiet for a moment as his thoughts ran wild through his head. Taking a deep breath he let it out with a faint shudder, quieting the chaos that was his mind. After thinking about it carefully he finally made his decision.

“Lek. I… I would like that.” Tarre smiled at him brightly.

“Then we are family and you have nothing to fear. From this day forward I will guard you as I have all my children.” Din chewed on his bottom lip, wanting to ask but unsure whether or not he should.

“Will you… tell me about them?” There was a bright flash of joy and Tarre’s smile broadened into something more playful.

“Of course I will tell you about your siblings. Though they have long since marched away I have never forgotten them.” The woman motioned with her hand and the second chair at the table shifted backward. Din jumped slightly, eyes wide, and Tarre laughed as she sat down. “Eat, ner ad, and I will regale you with stories of the far past.” Taking his own seat he pulled the tiingilar closer and dug into the meal.

It was nice to eat so openly without fear, Tarre’s rich alto voice washing over him as she spun tales of siblings Din would never meet.

When he was finished his meal he put his helmet back on and left the tray outside his door, against the wall and out of the way. He eyed the fresher door then glanced over at Tarre, a faint flush of embarrassment on his face. She laughed at his expression.

“I will remain out here and guard the room, have no fear.” Feeling a little more settled he entered the fresher and closed the door.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

(Chapter 4 cont.)

Although the shower was a sonic the sink had actual water. Cupping his hands under the water he splashed some on his face and rubbed at his tired eyes. Looking at his face in the mirror his eyes went wide before he remembered what Tarre had said about his body. The young man that was looking back at him was like an echo of a memory. There were bags under his eyes from lack of proper sleep and his face was a little gaunt. The first couple of years outside the covert had been lean and he hadn’t taken the best care of himself then, more worried about the foundlings than himself.

It was Paz who’d taken him aside and reminded him that half starving himself would only end in him slipping up, making a mistake, and ending up dead. Then what use would he be to the covert then? What would his late buir think? And how would his death aid the foundlings? It had been the wake-up call he’d needed after his buir’s death and even if he and Paz still fought occasionally he was grateful to the big man for his guidance.

Taking a quick sonic he used the water from the sink to wash out the worst stains from his under layers and used the sonic to dry them. Once he was clean he entered the main room to find Tarre sitting on the floor next to the door to the suite, eyes closed and a peaceful look on her face. He hesitated for a moment, looking at the armor pieces in his arms, before coming out into the main room and setting them down on the table as quietly as he could.

Creeping silently over to the closet he opened the door and grabbed the armor cleaning supplies he’d spotted in there earlier. There was a set of tools in the metal box at the foot of the bed and he gratefully took those as well. A few of his systems needed calibration and some tweaks o make up for the slight changes in his body.

“You will have to visit an armorer soon.” He fumbled the tool in his hand and sent a heated look over at Tarre for startling him. The woman smiled at him and he could feel her amusement all the way from the other side of the room.

He briefly wondered how far away she could actually go from him before he could no longer feel her.

“I’ll go once I have steady enough work to pay them.” He groused. Tarre let out a low hum and just watched him as he fiddled with his armor.

“You’re very good at that.” He glanced at her then back down to his work.

“Have to be. There’s no one else when you’re on a planet in the middle of nowhere and something goes wrong.” Like his fight against the mudhorn that had earned him his signet.

“It is pure beskar?” He nodded as he fused two wires together and cursed when it sparked against his fingers. Flicking his hand to dispel the pain he let out a huff of annoyance before returning to his task. “That may cause a problem.” Din stopped and looked over at her in confusion.

“How?” Tarre waved him closer. After a moment of quietly considering her request he got up from the table and came to stand in front of her.

“Sit.” She instructed.

Din knelt and sat back on his heels, hands on his thighs. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and she shook her head as if amused.

That was okay, she always seemed to be amused with him for some reason.

“Beskar is one of the few substances in the galaxy that can deter the force. It is no wonder no one realized you were force sensitive if you’ve been wearing your buy’ce and never taking it off around others. It should have felt stifling, almost suffocating, but I believe the block someone put in your mind was enough to shield you from the worst of it. You would have felt cut off from everything to begin with.” Din swallowed hard.

When he’d first worn a helmet it had been made of durasteel. But after his buir’s death the armor had been stripped of color and melted down to distribute amongst the foundlings. Din was the only one who was not a child who had received a helmet made of pure beskar from his buir’s armor.

“He wanted you to have something of him if he ever marched onward.” The armorer had said, radiating grief and duty in equal measure.

The helmet had felt different from the durasteel he was used to. It was as if the world around him had gone quiet, the kind of quiet that sent a shiver of fear down your spine. But he had been filled with grief at the passing of his buir and thought it was only his grief that made everything feel off for the first few months.

Over time he had grown numb to the feeling and moved on with his life.

“Now that the block has been removed it will be more taxing on you to remain hidden behind your buy’ce.” Din felt panic rise in his chest. “Calm yourself, ner ad, there is an easy solution. You need to take your helmet to a proper bes’goran and tell them you need an allow known as Bes’ka’runi. They will understand and do the work discreetly.” He frowned.

“Star soul iron?” Tarre nodded.

“Star touched are mando'ade who wield the force, like myself, and star soul iron is an alloy that allows us to remain in touch with the force while also wearing beskar. It is not well known outside of the older clans and the bes’goran’e. At one time there were quite a few force sensitive mando'ade, but I fear that tensions between Mandalore and the Republic made our kind more inclined to hide themselves, rather than wield their power proudly as they once did.” Din tried to follow along but he knew that his lack of knowledge was hindering his thought process.

“Hmm, we will have to add history to your lessons it seems. I can sense your confusion.” Din’s face flushed slightly. “There is no shame in not knowing something, only in not wanting to learn.” Another old saying he knew well from his days as a child in he covert. “For starters I am going to teach you a simple meditation. From now on I want you to do this every night before you sleep. It will help keep you stable while you are learning to call on the force and over time your ability to find calm in any situation will be a boon.” She looked down at him for a moment. “But first you’ll need to change your position. Your legs will go to sleep if you stay like that for a full session of meditation.”

Din looked at how Tarre was sitting, legs crossed in front of her, and shifted until he was sitting the same way.

“Good. Now this first time I am going to lead you through what it should feel like. First we start with breathing.”

The next hour passed in the blink of an eye.

“You’ve done well, Din. Your natural affinity with shielding and hiding your presence will be very useful in the future. For now you should get some proper sleep.” Sagging forward slightly he blinked slowly up at the woman.

It felt as if he’d spent six straight hours doing drills. How was he so exhausted?

“You were channeling the force as you meditated. Such a thing takes a toll on the body. Like any other training you will feel weak and sluggish at first but over time you will grow stronger. Now go to bed, Din. You have much to do tomorrow.” With a small groan he got to his feet and made his way to the bed.

In his under layers he slid under the covers of the bed and fell back with a tired sigh. Reaching over to the switch on the wall he hesitated to turn out the light.

“Rest, ner ad. I’ll keep watch. A ghost has no need of sleep. You will be safe, I swear it.” Her words held more comfort in them than she probably intended but it was enough for Din to turn out the light and pull the blanket up over his chest, under his arms. As a precaution he slipped the knife he kept hidden in his sleeve under the pillow, one hand close enough to touch the hilt.

In the darkness of the room he felt himself drifting off, unable to stop his exhausted body and mind from falling asleep. Something moved in the darkness and a reassuring weight settled over his body.

“Good night, Din’ika.”


Mando’a

Beroya- Bounty Hunter
Su’cuy- Hello, informal greetings.
Jatne vod- Sir, formal term used to address customers.
Vor’e- Informal thanks.
Tiingilar- A spicy Mandalorian dish.
Buir- Gender neutral word for parent.
Jetiise- Jedi, plural.
Ner ad- My child.
Din’ika- Meaning Little Din. Ika is a diminutive, similar to the Japanese use of the word Chan.
Ni kar’tayl gai sa’ad- I know your name as my child. The words used in the Mandalorian adoption rite.
Lek- Informal word for yes.
Buy’ce- Helmet.
Bes’goran’e- Beskar smith, plural.

Idioms

Marching far away/marching onward- Someone who has died is said to have 'marched far away' and is believed to never be gone as long as someone remembers them.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 5

Waking up suddenly in an unfamiliar place was not completely unusual for Din. As a bounty hunter he’d had his fair share of sleeping in local taverns and camping outside. What was unusual this time around was the feeling of safety wrapped around him like the warm embrace of home.

Sitting up he blinked blearily down at the colorful knitted blanket he didn’t remember pulling over his body the night before.

“Jate vaar’tur ad’ika.” Standing in front of the window Tarre turned to smile down at him. “How was your rest?”

Right.

Everything from the night before came flooding back and he reached up to brush a hand over the back of his neck, a feeling of sudden shyness coming over him.

“Good morning… buir.” His cheeks warmed slightly at the gentle warmth and happiness coming from the ghostly figure. “I slept… fine.” He didn’t remember tossing and turning or any of the usual nightmares that plagued him when he slept in unfamiliar places. It felt as if he’d just closed his eyes and the next thing he knew he was awake again and wasn’t tired any more.

“Jate. Get up and wash your face before you put on your helmet. Someone should be coming up soon with your breakfast.” Din blinked at her in confusion as he slid out of bed.

“They are?” Tarre chuckled and reached over to run her hand through his hair.

How she was able touch him when she was a ghost wasn’t something he wanted to try and figure out before food, so he just leaned slightly into her palm.

“I can sense the pattern of their thoughts from here. The kitchen staff are already awake and making breakfast for everyone.” Yawning wide enough his jaw cracked Din shook his head to try and wake up faster, blinking rapidly to clear the blur of sleep from his vision.

Tarre pushed him gently toward the fresher and he went inside to splash water on his face and clean his eyes. Once he was a little more awake he checked over the parts of his armor he had been working on the night before and frowned.

It wasn’t like him to leave a job unfinished.

At the very least he was able to slip back into his under suit and don his helmet before someone came to stand outside the room.

Crossing the suite he unlocked the door and opened it a crack. Seeing the same server from the night before he opened the door with a polite incline of his helmet. The young man dropped his hand, poised to knock, and after a small look of surprise he smiled.

“Ah, good morning, jatne vod. I’ve brought up the usual breakfast. If there’s anything else you require, or you have any dietary concerns, please let one of the staff know.” Taking the covered tray carefully from the young man he nodded once.

“Vor’e, I’ll let them know.” Done their duty the young server gave him a short dip of the head and hurried off back down the hall.

Bringing the tray inside he locked the door and took a seat at the table next to Tarre, who was already waiting for him.

Hesitating a moment he reached up and took off his helmet, still not quite able to squash the feelings of guilt, shame, and embarrassment. His newly adopted buir clicked her tongue at him and brushed a hand against his cheek.

“You need a haircut soon, ner ad.” Din snorted, pushing the sleep crushed curls away from his forehead.

“My hair was shorter before.” He mumbled. Tarre just smiled at him.

“Ah, youth.” He gave her an annoyed look as he lifted the lid off the tray to reveal his breakfast.

Instantly he recognized the cooked grains drizzled with syrup and topped with fruit, a dark brown and red powder sprinkled over top. It was a simple meal, common amongst Mandalorians, and yet Din still felt his chest tighten. It had been a long time since he’d had proper cooked neral with uj’ayl.

Picking up a spoonful of the mixture he blew on it gingerly, wary of the steam that was coming from his bowl. As soon as the bite-sized portion touched his tongue he recognized the powder as a mixture of brown sugar and cinnamon. The cloying sweetness of the uj’ayl and the splash of color from the fruit made him hum in pleasure.

“Why don’t I start one of your lessons now, ad’ika? A simple explanation of the force.” Din looked up from his meal and slowly nodded, still a little apprehensive about all this space magic. “To begin, the force is in and surrounds all living things-”

By the time Din was finished his meal he had new information swimming around his brain. The idea that the force, what he kept thinking of as magic, was literally everywhere was honestly a little frightening.

“The ones the jetiise call Force Null are those who cannot interact with the force, they cannot feel its presence and it is harder for us to detect them. But it is not because they lack the force entirely, because it resides in all living things, but because they are so quiet that the noise of the universe drowns them out. There is too little for our own presence to latch onto and work with.” Din frowned slightly.

“Like Vizsla.” His buir gave him a curious look and Din flushed slightly when he remembered that she was also a Vizsla. “I meant Paz. He’s big but… sneaky.”

“Ah, yes. He has a very quiet presence in the force for one so large, and it is not entirely due to the beskar you both wear. The Vizsla clan has declined terribly since my time. Where once my children had access to the force and were proud of this fact, now my descendants try to quell any instance of it. Up to and including abandoning their own children.” The righteous anger he could feel bubbling up from the depths of his soul was easily drowned out by the fierceness of her own rage.

But just as suddenly as it appeared it was gone again, her expression smoothed back to one of near-calm.

Din looked at her in surprise. How had she been able to lose her anger so quickly?

His buir smiled at him and leaned over the table. “Feeling anger is acceptable, it is normal for sentients, but letting it control you will only lead to ruin. No one benefits from uncontrolled fury.” Din nodded easily in agreement.

“Living in the covert meant you had to keep yourself in check. Disagreements and sparring was okay, but true anger and actual fighting was banned. There aren’t enough of us left to let ourselves be divided…” he frowned, “weren’t enough of us left.”

It was such a strange revelation, to realize that Mandalorians were no longer an endangered group. Just outside the door were hundreds of them, living their lives out in the open.

Never knowing just how far they would fall in the not too distant future.

“Finish your breakfast and the repairs on your armor. We have much to do today.” Din grumbled slightly but picked up his spoon.

Who knew that an ancient warrior who once ruled the entire Mandalore sector would be such a mother tooka?

Once he had eaten and finished the last adjustments on his armor he clicked the pieces into place and shrugged his shoulders, moving his arms this way and that to test the feel of them. In the next four or so years Din would be getting a growth spurt. He knew because he’d already lived it. His armor was still built to his body but it had been subtly off in a way that was annoying at best and dangerous at worst. Now that he’d adjusted it all to fit properly he felt a lot better in his iron skin.

“So, what are we doing first ner ad?” Din let out a small sigh.

“Work.” He turned to look directly at her and he was certain she could feel his ire even with the helmet hiding his expression. “Someone left me with nothing.” Tarre gave him a look that was apologetic but he could tell that she didn’t regret what she’d done, only what he was going through now. “I’ll have to find something local and save up enough credits for a ship.”

“Hm. At least I can help with that.” Din tilted his head slightly in confusion.

How was a ghost supposed to be able to get him work?

Tarre chuckled at him, either knowing or guessing what he was feeling. “Another lesson on the force.” She said brightly, her grin widening when Din suppressed a groan. “The force guides us to where we are most needed, and it can also aid us when we are in a pinch. You aren’t quite ready to let the force guide your actions outside of battle so I will be your guide in its place.” Pulling her helmet out of thin air she put it on as Din made his way to the door.

“Aren’t you invisible?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“There are some with enough strength in the force to see me. I would rather not take the chance.” He supposed that made sense and nodded in understanding. “Remember, Din’ika, outside this room you may not speak to me aloud. But I will hear you if your intent is to speak to me.” He stopped a moment.

That was something he hadn’t thought about during the sudden upheaval of his life the day prior.

“Can you… read all of my thoughts?” A comforting hand came to rest on his pauldron.

“I can, and I could, but I won’t. Your mind is your own, Din. I won’t go poking around in it unless I ask permission during one of our lessons. I can only hear what you choose to project to me. If you ‘speak’ to me I will hear you because it is your intent. Do you understand?” Din stood there for a moment, thinking over her words.

It was a simple concept and he understood the words she had spoken and yet… when he tried to wrap his head around it he couldn’t help but feel the beginning of a headache forming.

“Not really.” Tarre let out a small sigh and Din flinched, hoping she wasn’t too disappointed. “But I trust you. You said you wouldn’t read my mind, and I believe you.” Tarre was part of his family now, and the only one who knew about the time he came from. They had to learn to live with each other and the first step was trusting her at her word.

“Thank you Din.” She said with a clearly cheerful tone despite the helmet making her voice sound far deeper and more mechanical.

Down on the main floor of the inn he stopped at the front desk. The owner looked up from her work and smiled at him. “Jate vaar’tur, how was your sleep? Was breakfast to your liking?” He nodded politely.

“Everything was fine, vor’e.” The proprietress looked pleased to hear it.

“So, what can I help you with?” Din took a deep breath and let it out quietly so it wasn’t picked up by the external mic.

“Can you tell me where the local Beroya Guild is located?” The woman’s brows furrowed slightly with a frown. Oddly it wasn’t one of annoyance, more like she was trying to puzzle him out and something wasn’t quite adding up.

“I can write down some directions for you.” He inclined his head in gratitude.

“Vor’e.”

As the woman turned away to quickly write on a piece of flimsy Din twitched when Tarre appeared beside him.

It would take some getting used to, her appearing out of nowhere like that.

“Smart thinking. Even without a ship there are bound to be local bounties you could take.” She said, a smile in her voice.

‘If I can even afford the entry.’ He thought with no small amount of frustration.

Din remembered how lean the first few years had been once he’d left the covert on his own to help support everyone. Even if he was a Mandalorian he’d had to start at the bottom like everyone else. Thankfully he already knew all the tricks to getting an in with the guild after his years of working with them.

He wondered how Karga was doing back in his time and had to quickly shut down the thought, just in case he began to wonder about his other friends and how none of them would have been born yet.

Cara, Vanth, Fennec, Boba, even Paz. The idea that he might never see them again weighed heavily on his mind.

There was a comforting warmth on his arm and he wrangled his feelings back in. Tarre nodded at him in approval before vanishing again.

“Here you are. I took the liberty of adding directions to the bes’goran, supply depot, and the local hospital as well.” Taking the folded flimsi Din nodded, grateful for the extra information.

“Vor’e.” The woman smiled up at him.

“Kih’parjai, I’m happy to help.” With that said she returned to her work.

Knowing a polite dismissal when he saw one Din left the inn and took to the street. Unfolding the flimsi he followed the instructions on the sheet easily and soon found the local bounty hunter’s guild.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

The building itself was unassuming, looking much like the buildings on either side of it. Normally he wouldn’t have been so worried about walking into the Guild, he had been a bounty hunter long enough to know what to expect. But this was a Mandalorian chapter of the guild, on a Mandalorian controlled planet. For all he knew they had different expectations.

“Just breathe, Din.” He rolled his eyes at the voice. He might be younger now but he wasn’t a child. Even if the thought of someone at his back was reassuring.

Steeling himself he raised his head, lowered his shoulders, and lengthened his stride. He affected a confident yet non-aggressive stance as he pushed open the door and stepped forward.

Coming inside he almost balked at the sudden and oppressive feel of eyes on his body. Even if he couldn’t see past the visors of their helmets he knew where they were looking from experience. It was instinct that told him he was being judged on his appearance and yet for some reason it wasn’t as harsh as he expected. Many took in the shine of his beskar armor and either ignored him or became even more intrigued by his presence.

Coming inside he walked past the tables of hunters and mercenaries with nary a glance in their direction. Din knew if he wanted anyone to take him seriously in a place like this he had to keep on his toes and be wary.

Just because they were Mandalorians didn’t mean he trusted them implicitly. They were not his family, they were not his clan or of his covert. They followed a different set of rules than he did and were used to living in a world where they didn’t have to hide every day of their lives for fear of being wiped out.

Stepping up to the bar, because there was always a bar in these places, he waited until the figure behind the counter was finished with the hunter they’d been talking to before him.

“Can I help you?” The figure in armor was a half-zabrak, judging by the horns hidden by their curly hair and the facial tattoos they bore.

It wasn’t obvious that they were sizing him up but Din knew it was just the way of things. So he nodded at them in acknowledgment before speaking.

“I’m looking for entry level jobs.” The bartender, who was most likely also the guild’s information broker, looked him up and down more obviously. Trying to get a rise out of him or make him react. Din just stood there, immovable and unbothered.

“Got a license already or looking to acquire one?” Din shook his head slightly.

“Looking to acquire.” There was a harsh laugh behind him and he turned slowly to look at the gray and scarlet armored hunter sitting nearby.

“Come on, kid, how old are you?” They asked as they looked him up and down. “Come back when you’ve grown into your armor a bit more.” He stiffened, eyes narrowing as he stared the hunter down. He could see the others in the room watching intently, gauging his worth by his reactions.

“I’ve passed my verd’goten and earned my signet.” He stated firmly, the mudhorn on his pauldron hard to miss even in the low light of the guild.

“Well, anyone can claim that now can’t they?” The hunter stood up, ignoring the low hiss and the grasping hand of their companion. “Where did you get your armor?”

Din bristled. He didn’t mean to let the words get to him, he knew it was a test, but what he went through to earn the beskar was still something he looked back upon with guilt and shame. He had been selfish and closed minded. Had almost become dar’manda by ignoring his instincts and thinking of the kid as just another job and not what he truly was- a child in need of protection.

“My helmet was reforged for me after my buir marched on, it was part of his armor. The rest I earned myself.” He could feel Tarre’s pride in him from wherever she hid when he couldn’t see her. All around the room helmets were nodding along with his words, understanding and accepting that what he said was true.

No one in their right mind would wear stolen beskar. Even Jaster, who was currently ten, had known that.

“So you think because you have that armor it makes you beroya material?” Din grit his teeth as the hunter stepped forward and into his personal space.

“I am a beroya, armor or no.” Din looked up at the hunter, refusing to be intimidated. He’d fought more intimidating things than a single bounty hunter.

The mudhorn and greater krayt dragon were the first things that came to mind.

The hunter watched him for a moment longer before they let out a chuckle. “Not so easy to scare, are you?” Din gave them a look that could have peeled paint. The hunter seemed to sense it, even through their helmet, and let out another laugh. “Come join us for a drink before they send you out on a job, newbie.” Din frowned.

“No.” The hunter stopped as the room became tense.

“Don’t be like that, newbie. It’s tradition.” Din shifted on his feet, widening his stance and letting his hand fall closer to his spear.

“Calm down, feel the room. They aren’t hostile but competitive. Just explain why.” Tarre whispered in his ear. He let out an exasperated huff too low for the external speaker.

“I cannot remove my helmet. It is not the Way.”

Rather than calming them down the excitement and interest in the room suddenly spiked, making Din feel even more on edge.

“Hey, you.” He turned to look back at the bartender. “If you want a license you need a reference from either another beroya of your clan, a previous employer, or a mentor.” They stated simply. “We won’t have any jobs for you until then.” Letting out a frustrated growl he inclined his head politely.

“Vor’e, I’ll be back when I have a reference.” At least this was something he had expected when he walked into the guild.

Turning he walked passed the hunter in gray and scarlet armor, keeping one eye on them in case they suddenly lashed out. When nothing happened and he was able to leave without getting into a huge brawl he heaved a sigh of relief.

‘Now what?’ He asked Tarre as he looked up and down the street.

“We let the force guide us.” Came her immediate answer.

‘And how do we do that?’

“Like this.” He felt something around him, like a low humming that was almost familiar. Beneath his kute his skin prickled and hair rose. It felt like being stared at by a large beast, ready to swallow him whole. “You need to keep calm, ner ad. Breathe through the sensation and understand what it is you are sensing.”

Doing as he was told he took a slow, deep, breath and let it out again, closing his eyes and embracing the calm and logical part of himself. When he opened his eyes nothing had physically changed. There were no new sights or sounds, nothing that really indicated where he needed to go. Just a vague feeling, a nagging in the back of his mind that he needed to turn right and start walking.

‘Right?’ He asked.

Tarre chuckled.. “If that is what you feel, yes. The force is as much an instinct as knowing when a situation is about to get dangerous.” He was about to nod in understanding but stopped himself in time.

He didn’t want to look insane standing in the middle of a street and talking to himself.

‘So I just… start walking?’ He felt her affirmation and with a bit of a skeptical air he turned and let the sensation lead him wherever it meant for him to go.

Walking through the city as the early morning faded into day he kept his eyes peeled for any more wild kids roaming around. He had seen a few walking with what he assumed to be their parents, looking well cared for, but he hadn’t spotted Jaster or his little group of friends. He assumed he’d see them closer to mid-day, when the markets he passed would be far more busy.

He almost missed the warning while his thoughts were off wandering.

“Din, stop.” He stopped dead in his tracks at the firm command, feet rooting in place and shoulders tense. “Over there.” His buir stated, appearing beside him and motioning toward a large warehouse area.

It looked like he had walked all the way to the warehouse district next to the spaceport.

“I’ve told you at least five times that if I ever caught you pulling this kind of osik I would toss you out on your shebs. You’re done! Get off my property!” Hearing the commotion he felt inexplicably drawn to the sound of the argument that followed. Normally he would have turned a blind eye to it, it wasn’t his business after all, but there was something… something telling him this was the opportunity he needed.

As he rounded the side of the building an armored individual slammed into his shoulder on their way past. When he turned to look at them they sneered at him before storming off.

“Shab. Where am I going to find a replacement so soon?” Din cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of the Chagrian whose body language was both frustrated and desperate. “If  you’re here for a shipment we’ve had a couple of delays.” The Chagrian growled when they’d finally noticed him.

“I’m not here for a shipment. I’m looking for work.” He stated evenly.

The Chagrian frowned and turned to get a better look at him.

“Skillset?” They asked.

“Hunting, hand-to-hand, slicing, some mechanics… and I speak multiple languages.” There were other things he was skilled with but he kept those close to his chest. Most of them weren’t immediately helpful in finding a job anyway.

“Hm. You look like you can handle yourself. Ever worked security before?” Din inclined his helmet.

“A few times.” Most of his skills in securing a location came from being on the watch rotation for the Covert. Some might consider that experience enough but he’d also worked for a couple of shady companies guarding their warehouses in exchange for much needed supplies. The bacta and medicine alone had been worth the monotonous work. Especially with the fever some of the foundlings had caught after one of the verde had come home sick without knowing it.

“Any references?” They asked.

Din shook his head honestly, shoulders sagging slightly.

“They were confidential contracts.” The Chagrian frowned, eying his spear, before they seemed to come to a decision.

“Good timing. I just fired one of my staff because he couldn’t keep his nose out of the shipments. I need a new security guard for the night shift. Interested?” Din couldn’t believe his luck.

“It is not luck, Din’ika, it is the force.” He heard Tarre’s words, even if he didn’t acknowledge them.

“Yes.” The Chagrian grinned and motioned him closer.

“Come into my office and we’ll talk details. The name’s Korrmigan of Clan Sumas, he/him.” Din inclined his head politely as he stepped closer and took the offered arm in a friendly clasp.

“Din of Clan Djarin, he/him.” The male stalled for a moment, his eyes flickering over Din’s armor and his spear once more.

“Well, Din of Clan Djarin, I’ll be more than happy to have you.” The male sounded excited in a way that made Din feel vaguely lost. There was something here he wasn’t understanding, some important piece of information he was missing.

As he sat down in the Chagrian’s office he pushed the feeling aside. He’d have time to worry about that sort of thing later. For now- he had a job to secure.


Mando'a

Jate vaar’tur- Good morning.
Ad’ika- Litttle one/Son/Daughter.
Buir- Parent/Mother/Father.
Jatne vod- Sir/Madam/Customer, not meant for military use.
Vor’e- Thanks.
Ner ad- My Child/Son/Daughter.
Neral- A type of grain common to the Mandalore system.
Uj’ayl- A thick scented syrup used in cooking.
Beroya- Bounty Hunter
Kih’parjai- Small victory/Don’t mention it/No problem.
Verd’goten- A trial of adulthood. It is different for each clan and individual but often involves a test of hunting, survival, and fighting skills.
Kute- Bodysuit/Flightsuit, something worn under armor.
Osik- shell/Crap.
Shebs- Backside/Rear/Buttocks, used for the rear of buildings and the backside of objects. Also used as an insult, meaning ass.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 6

The job itself didn’t start until after the sun went down so Din had some time to kill before his first shift. With no gear, no extra credits, and no ship to tinker with he felt adrift.

“Why don’t you rest before tonight?” Tarre asked in an understanding tone.

Din shifted on his feet, uncertain. Resting was a good idea, even if he’d been asleep not too long ago. But the watch hours weren’t that long, he’d be switching off with a new security guard when the sun rose. He’d had to stay awake longer than an entire day and night cycle before and besides- he was too restless to head back to his room.

‘No need, I’m fine.’ He sent back.

“I see… then why don’t we go gather information? You’re interested in the orphanage, aren’t you?”

‘Sounds good.’ He was curious why the caretaker would tell him to stay away, the reason they gave had sounded false. It felt like a half truth meant to discourage him without a full explanation. Raising children was a communal effort, especially when there weren’t enough buire to adopt a child and give them the proper upbringing or attention they required. With skills passed on from many different verde the children would get a well rounded education. Not every buir was good at every skill, after all.

Din felt the back of his neck prickle slightly and turned in time to let a hand swing past him. Staring at the armored individual he frowned when he recognized the symbol painted on their pauldron and chest.

It was the same as the two who had attacked Jaster the day before.

“Whoa, didn’t mean to startle you.” The individual said as they took a step back, holding out their hands in a clear sign they were unarmed. “I was only meaning to get your attention.” Din didn’t move, staring them down silently.

They let out a sigh.

“My name is Kalash, he/him, I’m with the Journeyman Protectors. There was an incident reported yesterday by multiple witnesses about a Mando’ad in unpainted beskar attacking and injuring two officers of the law. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Din tensed, both in worry and from the rising anger inside his chest.

If they were supposed to be the law around Concord Dawn then why in the Ka’ra had they attacked a child?

‘Ask him.’ Came his buir’s whisper again.

“What’s the law say about hitting children who can’t fight back?” His words were sharp and his anger must not have been hidden well enough as Kalash straightened.

“It depends on whether or not it was their buir. A buir can train their ad however they like unless it endangers the life of the ad or there are clear signs of abuse. If it wasn’t their buir? It would be assault and child endangerment.” He stated firmly, though he was clearly concerned.

Something nudged Din and he wanted to roll his eyes. “What does the law say about defending a child from an attacker?”

The man stood there baffled for a moment before cursing almost too low for the his helmet mic to pick up. “Those shabuire!” He spat furiously. After taking a moment to calm himself down his helmet turned back to Din. “Can you tell me about the incident?”

“You believe me?” That was a little surprising, honestly.

“I know those two, they’re a disgrace.” The disgust was plain in his voice. “They got in because of their Clan connections.” A faint feeling of anger shuddered through him and Din had the sudden realization that the emotion wasn’t his.

“Steady, Mand’alor.” Tarre whispered in the back of his mind.

Din shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment. Kalash seemed to notice and quickly reigned in his emotions.

It was so weird that Din could feel him doing it as it happened. Made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

“The child…” The officer started. “Are they okay? Are you their buir? Would you like to press charges?” Din blinked behind his visor, hesitating to answer.

The man seemed to notice his hesitation and stopped, waiting patiently for Din to decide what he wanted to do.

“The child- I… I’m not their buir.” Something about saying those words made his chest feel tight. “They’re doing okay now, split lip and a bit roughed up but okay.” Din took a deep breath and let it out to keep himself calm. Just thinking about how the two adults had ganged up on the kid in an alley made him furious.

“So you returned them to their buir then? Do you know if the buir would want to press charges?” Din grit his teeth. He didn’t know if telling someone who was in the same company as the two who had hurt Jaster was a good idea. But if those two could be stopped…

“The kid… they live at the orphanage.” The man’s shoulders tensed slightly before falling, almost in defeat.

“That would make things difficult.” Din frowned.

“Why?” He asked, more than a little curious.

“The caretakers aren’t allowed to issue challenges and none of them want to get involved in a dispute like this. They don’t have the funds for legal proceedings against even a small sized clan.” The man sighed and shook his head.

“Foundlings are the future.” Din couldn’t help but growl. “Anyone who takes care of a child should be fighting to protect them.” Kalash straightened and a sense of intense interest came over him that almost had Din stepping back involuntarily.

“You follow The Way.” He nearly whispered, as if it was some big revelation.

“I do.” He stood firm in that conviction, even if he’d had to remove his helmet multiple times in the past year. It had been done in defense of his ad, his only aliit at the time, and he knew there was no shame in that. Even if he had felt discomfited about it at the time.

“No wonder you attacked those two then.” Kalash muttered, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “No one who follows The Way would allow a child to be harmed, not when they could do something about it.” He let out a small huff that sounded like a laugh and turned his attention back to Din. “I’ll report this directly to the Alor at the base, the hunt for you will be dropped and those two will be punished.”

Din couldn’t believe his luck. How was it that this man could believe him so easily?

“It is the will of the Force, ad’ika.” Din rolled his eyes within the safety of his helmet. He still wasn’t sure whether he could believe in something like that.

‘You will understand in time.’ Came her amused whisper.

Din cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He said sincerely, hoping his gratitude was clear in his voice.

Kalash perked up and uncrossed his arms. Din could almost swear he could see the man’s smile. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad it was me that found you and not one of their friends. They would have given you trouble regardless.”

Din didn’t like the sound of that.

“In any case, can I get your name? It needs to go on the report so the case can be dropped.” Din bit his tongue before letting out a long sigh.

‘Names are big here, aren’t they?’ He asked his buir.

“Names are everything. One’s connection to aliit is part of the Resol’nare, you should know this.” He did. He had sworn the Resol’nare when he was old enough to receive his first helmet. Old enough to understand what the words meant. But thanks to the Empire they had needed to mask their numbers. Throwing around multiple clan names was a good way to get caught. By the time the Empire fell it was an ingrained habit.

“Din of Clan Djarin, he/him.” There was a bright spark of surprise from the man before it blossomed into understanding.

“Wow, no wonder they got their shebse handed to them.” The man laughed. “I guess they didn’t recognize you without a clan crest. Although with that spear they should have at least suspected.” He shook his head. “In any case, thank you for your time.” He turned to go and stopped, a feeling of sheepishness practically rolling off his frame as he turned back. “Oh, uh, I’m from the Vhehn Clan, by the way. If you’re ever in our territory feel free to stop by. We’d be happy to host you.”

And with that he was off, weaving through the crowd and vanishing in a sea of other armored individuals.

Din stood there for a moment, stunned and a little confused, as Tarre’s ghostly voice wheezed in the background.

‘Are you done?’ He prodded at her, crossing his arms.

“Quite.” She said after a moment, voice smoothing out into her usual calm alto.

‘Good.’ He was already close enough to breaking down and a ghostly voice in the back of his head laughing at him wasn’t helping.

“Come, ner ad, why don’t we find a public holoterminal and you can do your research. It will pass the time until your shift starts.” Din let out a small huff as he started walking again.

At least his interaction with the officer hadn’t been terrible, unlike the first instance he’d met the Journeymen. It really hit home just how diverse the Mandalorians around him seemed to be.

After some searching, he’d had to ask for directions in the end, he was directed toward a local tapcaf that had public terminals for use.

Din spent the time before his shift looking over the last years worth of news articles and notices for Concord Dawn. He saved a bunch of hololinks to his vambrace and decided that one of his first investments should be a proper datapad with holonet access, so he could study in secret.

“Look up the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” Tarre had urged. With nothing else to do he decided to indulge his buir.

The images took his breath away.

The Temple was absolutely massive, a city all its own. There were few images of the inside but from what he could see the place was sturdy, ancient.

“It was built around the peak of a mountain.” Tarre said beside him, becoming visible once again. “One of the most famous areas is the indoor gardens.” Din blinked and glanced up at her, though he didn’t move his head to do so. “We call it the Room of a Thousand Fountains. No one actually knows if there are one thousand of them or not but each of the gardens are beautiful in their own right.” There was a feeling in his chest he couldn’t quite explain, heavy and sad yet also light and pleasant.

It may have been nostalgia.

“One day you will go there.” She stated firmly, her voice filled with conviction.

Din wasn’t so sure.

“You will.” Her helmet tilted down toward him. “After all you will need to collect your ad eventually.”

Din’s breath hitched in his lungs at the thought of seeing his son again.

“Come, it is growing late and you don’t want to be late to your first shift.”

Grumbling he logged off of the holoterminal and made his way back to the warehouse district.

It was going to be a long night.


Mando'a;

Buir/e- Parent/Parents
Verd/e- Warrior/Warriors
Ad/Ade- Child/Children
Aliit- Family, Clan
Shabuire- An unpleasant or despicable person. (Plural)
Shebse- Backsides
Vhehn- Pronounced Feign, meaning Earthy/Earthen.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 7

Standing next to Korrmigan he looked over his new ‘co-workers.’ All of them were wearing full beskar’gam, which was a relief to see, and they each moved like competent warriors. Two of them shared the same symbol on their left pauldrons, some kind of stylized bird, and he assumed they were part of the same clan.

When the others were introduced by his new boss they removed their helmets to greet him. Din held back a reflexive flinch and kept his body as relaxed as possible, nodding to each as they stated their names.

The two with matching pauldrons were apparently a married couple, Lila, she/her, and Phal, he/him, of Clan Ronan. Both had the darker skin and curly black hair that was more common of those born on Concord Dawn.

The other two were Suik of Clan Nurn, they/them, who had straight brown hair pulled back into a bun with blue eyes, and Tura of Clan Huil, he/him, who had short cropped platinum blonde hair and hazel eyes.

Din had never heard of any of these clans before. The purges had wiped out so many all at once… it was almost overwhelming to think about.

“Not gonna take off your buy’ce, vod?” Suik asked, tilting their head curiously as their eyes trailed over his armor in a manner he found a little uncomfortable.

“You’ll have to get used to others asking, Din’ika. The Way is not followed by many in this era.” Tarre reminded him.

Din wanted to sigh in exasperation.

“I cannot remove my helmet.” He stated simply, much to the others visible confusion.

“Din here is from the Djarin Clan and follows The Way.” Korrmigan explained with barely contained glee.

 From the amount of surprise, awe, and curiosity coming off of them Din just knew he was going to have a headache later. Especially when Suik’s scrutiny turned into something much stronger, something Din didn’t really want to think about.

“I didn’t think those in the Djarin Clan left their compound on Manda’yaim very often.” Din ignored the statement, uncertain what he could even say in response. Was it important that they never left their compound? What did these people know about his clan that he didn’t? …and did this mean that his ba’buir was alive right now?

Din had known his buir was from Manda’yaim, had been born and raised there before the purges, but he didn’t know anything about the Djarin clan outside of their clan symbol, creed, and personal motto.

It was all his buir had been able to teach before he’d been killed in battle during the purges.

“Oh come on! Are you going to do the whole ‘mysterious stranger’ thing on us?” Suik asked with a roll of their eyes.

He must have been silent for too long, his thoughts whirling. Even so he still didn’t have a response for them.

“Suik, don’t you start! As long as he does his job I couldn’t care less about that sort of thing.” Korrmigan stated firmly. “If you lose me a new verd with your osik attitude I will be severely hacked off.” And with that Suik quickly shut their mouth and shoved their helmet over their head.

“Sure, alor. Whatever you say.” Even without the knowledge that he was sensing others emotions through the force he could tell that Suik wasn’t about to drop the topic, only wait for a better moment to try and get answers out of him.

He already felt tired just thinking about it.

From there Din was shown around the warehouse and given a map of the premises. Korrmigan went over his patrol routes and gave him the comm frequencies so he could keep in touch with the security room, where Lila and Suik were stationed to keep an eye on things. Phal and Tura had their own routes that overlapped with his own, that way they could make visual contact with one another at least once an hour in case something happened to their comms.

It was all fairly standard.

The night was quiet but Din knew from experience that quiet did not mean safe. He remained on guard for his entire shift, learning the routes quickly and making sure to chime in whenever Lila or Suik pinged him.

It was an uneventful night and when the sun finally began to rise he nodded at the day shift guard who came to relieve him. Korrmigan paid him for the day and told him to come back again that night. He’d be working four days on and two days off unless his boss needed him to fill someone else’s shift.

It was the easiest job he’d ever had.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Din nearly jumped as Tarre spoke. She’d been oddly quiet the entire night.

‘Where’ve you been?’ He asked, rather than dignify her remark with a response.

“I was with you the entire time. I only remained quiet so as not to distract you from your task.” She said with a feeling of understanding and pride.

Din was reminded, once again, that his buir wasn’t just some random ghost or figment; she had been Mand’alor. Of course she would understand his need for focus, even on a simple job like security. It was a matter of professional pride, after all.

“You should rest, at least for a while. I want to start teaching you how to consciously access the force and I can’t do that if you’re ready to fall over.” Her amusement and motherly concern was a bright spark in his mind and he couldn’t help smiling himself.

‘Elek, buir.’

***

Three days later and Din had a free night from work. With what he’d already earned from his security job he’d been able to buy an older model of datapad and download a whole host of study materials. Half of the files were about recent galactic history, centering around the Mandalore sector, while the other half were whatever he could access from the Jedi Temple under Tarre’s direction.

He’d tried searching for the Djarin Clan on the local holonet but other than registry entries and a basic rundown of their numbers after a recent census there was nothing of note. Din growled in frustration and his buir let out a small sigh.

“Did you really think the old clans would leave their information somewhere just anyone could find? They are a very traditional clan and keep to themselves for the most part.” Din paused, fingers above the keyboard.

‘You know about them! Why didn’t you say something?’ He asked, his inner voice tinged with annoyance.

“I know of them, Din’ika, not about them. The Djarin Clan is as old as the Vizsla Clan, if not older. But I have been asleep for a long time and other than the one verd I met when I was alive I have never interacted with them at length.” Din took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm as he deleted his search data and quickly erased his presence from the terminal.

His skill with technology was something he kept well hidden. It helped that others saw all of his weapons and assumed he was a brute. It was advantageous to have his enemies underestimate his intelligence after all.

He could feel Tarre’s fierce agreement laced with pride and flushed inside his helmet.

Walking back toward the inn, looking forward to reading the files he’d downloaded, he felt a spike of intent that stopped him in his tracks. A moment later a small body nearly collided with him and it was lucky his reflexes were good or the boy would have fallen on his face.

“Din!” Jaster grinned up at him, looking pleased to see him.

He could feel Tarre perk up and wanted to roll his eyes. She certainly had a soft spot for the kid, although that wasn’t too surprising. She had a soft spot for all children.

Almost as big as his own.

“Hey kid, what’s new?” He smiled when the boy’s eyes brightened.

“Nothing.” He said easily with no hesitation. It was the standard answer to his question that made a little more sense in Mando’a.

Din relaxed, glad that nothing had happened since he’d dropped Jaster and Eli off at the orphanage. “Good.”

“Where’ve you been? I went to Tarvi’s place but she said you were out a lot.” He pouted and Din smiled.

“Sorry, kid, I got a new job.” He didn’t really know why he was apologizing, Jaster was just a child he’d saved and brought back home. They didn’t really have a connection otherwise.

‘But you do.’ Tarre whispered in the back of his mind.

“Does that mean you’re gonna leave soon?” The boy frowned.

“No, it’s long term. I’ll be here for a while.” Ships were expensive and Din didn’t even have a proper place to stay yet. Food and housing costs were also a factor. It meant he’d have to take a second job or even some freelance work if he wanted to build up more funds. What he had now from Boba was an emergency fund and it wouldn’t last more than a month or two.

“That’s great! Did you want me to show you around some more?” The boy’s wide expectant grin and hopeful eyes had Din caving immediately.

“Why don’t you show me all your favourite places.” Din said before he could think twice about it.

Jaster looked up at him, eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure?”

Din held in a sigh and reached down to ruffle the kid’s hair. “I’m sure.”

At first Jaster looked slightly confused but as Din pulled his gloved hand back he could see the small pleased smile the boy tried to hide.

Honestly. If this was the kind of reaction Jaster gave after one small show of friendly affection from an adult, one he barely knew, then the adults in his life weren’t taking care of him like they should have been. The idea that the orphanage was telling people to stay away if they weren’t going to adopt a child was still ridiculous to think about.

How were the kids supposed to know what kind of adults were safe and what kinds of adults weren’t? Who was teaching them important life skills or giving them the attention they needed? A couple of over-worked caretakers wasn’t enough for a group of rambunctious Mandalorian children.

“Not everyone thinks the way you do, Din’ika. Now pay attention to the ad.” He bit his tongue and mentally shooed the thoughts away.

“Lead on, kid.”

As the two of them walked he looked down at the excited child who was chatting away about all the secret hangout spots he and his little friend group had found. “How are all your vode? Doing well?” He asked when the boy took a moment to breathe.

Jaster blinked up at him before he laughed. “They’re good. I left Eli with the Ba’jur’ade, Haj said they had to stay home today to help with a religious… thing.” The boy said with a mild look of confusion.

“Oh, I didn’t realize but today is,” he made the motion with his hands to indicate the ‘time of retelling,’ a sacred ritual performed once a month in most, but not all, Tusken communities. “It’s similar to Remembrances. The tribe takes time to remember their ancestors and honor the harsh lessons they’ve had to learn. Depending on how old the Tribe is it can take anywhere from five hours to an entire week.” Din thought about it for a moment. “The Jhor’ir’alrr Tribe takes three days to complete and at the end they name any children that have been born after the strongest or most cunning heroes of their tales.” By the time he was done reminiscing he realized that Jaster was staring up at him and giving off a feeling of awe.

“Kandosii! Can you show me more Tusken signs? I know some but I want to surprise Haj next time.” The boy’s excitement and sincere desire to surprise his friend by learning more about his culture made Din smile.

“Sure, I’ll teach you something new. What have you learned so far?”

Jaster’s grin grew wider and he quickly started going through all the motions and associated words he could remember. Most of them were simple greetings, farewells, and command words used by warriors and raiders out on a hunt.

“What about this one? Haj uses it all the time when referring to me.” He made a motion with his hand above his head and then drew it down his face, ending with curled fingers in front of his chest.

Din’s shoulders shook with mirth and he had to bite down on his lip not to chuckle aloud.

“What? D-did I do it wrong?” The boy asked, brow furrowing in concern.

“No, if you’re saying what I think you are, you did it perfectly. But that’s not one you should use, it’s for your friend when referring to you.”

“They said it meant something like ‘best friend’, what are they saying then?” The boy looked disgruntled and disbelieving, trusting his friend and wary of Din trying to trick him somehow.

Smart kid, and loyal too. “They call you ‘little chief.’ Your friend thinks you’re strong enough to lead them to victory and trusts you to be fair in your judgments during conflict.”

It took a moment but Jaster’s smile returned, along with that feeling of awe. “What about this one? They said I could use it for them.” Jaster placed his right hand on his left shoulder before bringing his spread fingers across his chest and dropping the hand to his side in a clenched fist.

“They are calling themselves your ‘first warrior of the tribe,’ it means they’re your second in command. At least for the warriors.” Din explained simply. There was a little more to it than that but… that was not for him to tell. If the Tusken child trusted Jaster enough they would invite him to their tribe and explain what they wanted to do. From there, if Jaster agreed, the two of them could have their bond as honor-bound warrior siblings solidified in the minds of the tribe. Until then Din would give only the most basic information to set Jaster’s mind at ease.

“They… they really think that?” The amount of disbelief and hope in the boy’s voice made Din’s heart hurt. Jaster didn’t seem to have trouble trusting others but it was obvious he didn’t have the best self image. The boy really couldn’t see just how mandokarla he truly was.

Reaching over slowly, in case the boy wanted to pull away, Din ruffled his hair gently. “Yes. Tuskens come from a harsh homeworld where every day is a struggle to survive. They are considered savages by most of the galaxy, but they are just doing their best to survive and keep their culture alive.” Much like the Covert. “Their honor is their life and they would rather cut out their tongue than lie.” He snickered as Jaster swatted playfully at his hand, although the boy didn’t actually object to the affectionate touch. “You have a loyal friend in Hak’ruul’ujak.”

“Yeah… I do.” He said with a bright spark of wonder. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.” Din said softly.

‘Ni kar’tayl gai-’ Tarre whispered, the first half of the adoption vow echoing in his mind. Din took a deep breath and pushed at the sensation until the words were nothing more than a faint buzz in the back of his head.

He was going to have words with his buir later.

“You said you could tell me something new to sign with Haj?” Jaster said, looking up at him as they turned a corner into the warehouse district.

“Uh, yes.” He agreed quickly. “Hold out both arms in front of you, like this.” He held his arms crossed in front of him, hands closed loosely and palms facing away from himself. Once Jaster copied him Din turned his arms inward so that the palms were facing his body and brought them in to thump against his chest. Once Jaster had completed the action Din nodded in approval.

“What does it mean?”

“It translates to ‘trusted friend,’ and in the Tribes it means you know that person will watch your back no matter what. Like a tal’vod.” In the Covert Din hadn’t really had a blood-sibling, someone sworn to guard your back even into the jaws of death itself. He knew he couldn’t swear something like that when he was the Covert’s only Beroya. But after giving up his son to the Jedi there had been one person he considered close enough, strong enough, to be his tal’vod and watch his back.

Even now, thrown into the past and alone, he considered Boba to be his close and trusted friend.

“You are not alone, ner ad.” He felt a sensation much like a gentle kov’nyn and had to take slow breaths in order to control his sudden urge to cry.

“You know a lot about Tuskens.” Jaster’s voice cut through his thoughts and for that Din was grateful.

“I spent a lot of time hunting on Tatooine, met them out in the wastes during the first few years as a beroya. Ended up saving a tribe from a pack of scyks and earning my place among them. I spent months learning their ways and they always respected my ways in return.” None of them had ever asked him to remove his helmet or go against his creed. “When they realized I was good at their language they started bringing tribe disputes to me as a neutral party. Over time they started to trust me and I found many tribes were willing to let me stay in their territory as long as I didn’t interrupt their hunts.” He shrugged and looked around, frowning at the dilapidated state of the buildings around them.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 7 (Part 2)

“How close are we to that favourite place of yours?” He asked as he eyed the mostly abandoned area warily.

“It’s just over there.” Jaster turned his attention to their surroundings and pointed at a smaller warehouse with chipped sandy paint and boarded windows. Din’s brows rose incredulously as the kid dashed forward and pulled a large piece of rusted metal out of the way. “Hurry up!” The boy hissed, waving him toward the gaping hole in the side of the building.

Din let out a loud sigh but did as the boy asked, crouching and climbing through the crumbling gap and into the old warehouse.

The moment he stepped inside he was met with two bright lights shining right into his visor. Thankfully the programs he’d installed in his helmet were enough to compensate and he wasn;t blinded by the two children.

“Woah, Jas! You actually brought him!” The boy, Daryx if he remembered correctly, pointed his light at the ground and bounced on his heels in excitement.

“I told you he’d do it! Now we can get help.” Din frowned at the blue twi’lek girl, Mal’afan he was fairly sure, as she came over to help Jaster hide the entrance to the warehouse.

Scanning the decrepit building he didn’t even need the advanced programs in his helmet to know that this place had been abandoned for quite some time, and was in complete disrepair. It was a health hazard for anyone, let alone a group of children with no supervision.

“What do you think, Din? It’s great isn’t it? We get all this space to ourselves and there’s lots of stuff to build things with!” Jaster grinned up at him and grabbed his hand, tugging him further into the vast cluttered space.

“Build?” He asked, letting himself be pulled by the excited child.

“Yeah! Our secret base. Come on!” Following the three kids further into the warehouse he noticed the kicked up dust all over the floor and the clearly broken containers that had been cracked open and had their contents stolen long ago. He doubted it had been the kids doing it, some of them had been left undisturbed long enough that moss was growing through the cracks.

The kids tugged on his arms to make him stop and he wondered when the blonde boy had grabbed his other arm. “Now, vod!” The blue twi’lek girl called happily.

The sound of a choking engine met his ears before there was a sudden clang and a yelp. Then, with the flicker of old lights that were wearing out from use, he finally saw what they were so proud of. All things considered it was an accomplishment for a group of five kids around the age of ten. Then again he knew that at his age he had been too busy learning how to kill in the fighting corps to have had time to build what was obviously a club house of some sort out of scrap.

“Where did you even get the welder?” He asked as he came closer and inspected the cobbled metal walls. “And who did the wiring for the lights?” Turning to the kids he was surprised to find them absolutely beaming up at him, save for the purple twi’lek girl who was scowling at a tear in her sleeve.

“Saviin found the welder in the trash. It works fine so I don’t know why someone would toss it.” Daryx said with a shrug. “And it’s not hard to get the gas cannisters with the money Jaster gets from showing aruetiise around.” The boy looked quite proud of himself for that. “And Mal’afan does the wiring, her hands don’t shake like mine.”

“What about all the sheets of metal?” He asked, turning to look down at the little group.

“There’s lots of junk around here. You just need a crowbar and a pair of strong cutters.” Jaster said with a grin. “Daryx is good at finding the right pieces.” The blonde boy flushed slightly at the praise and Din had to hold in another sigh.

They were all so proud of themselves that he couldn’t bring himself to chastise them for putting themselves in unnecessary danger. “That’s… pretty impressive.” He finally said, knowing exactly how awkward he sounded by the worried looks the kids were giving him. “But I think it could do with some improvements.”

Daryx scowled. “What kinda improvements?”

Din tilted his head in a way he hoped would be interpreted as amused. “Secret bases can always use better security.” He said with a smile. “Why don’t we turn this into a fortress?” If his ‘defenses’ ended up making the entire structure just that much more sturdy so it wouldn’t fall apart with the kids inside then… they didn’t need to know.

“Hand me the cutters, let’s go hunting.” The kids cheered loudly and gathered all their little tools.

Din wasn’t their buir, he wasn’t their aliit, he couldn’t really tell them what they could and couldn’t do. But if he could make everything a bit more safe he’d count that as a win.

“C’mon Din! You’re big, you can grab the stuff we can’t reach!”

“Alright, alright. Show me what you want and I’ll get it.”

***

After working on the little base for a couple of hours he convinced the kids to return to the orphanage and walked with them, just to be safe. He answered their questions as best he could and didn’t chide them for hanging off his body, except when Daryx accidentally grabbed his belt near the darksaber and he had to warn the blonde away from the dangerous weapons he carried.

There wasn’t anywhere Din felt safe enough to hide it so he was keeping it on his belt for the time being, hidden by his cloak as best he could.

So far no one had commented on it.

“That’s because I am shielding its presence.” Din jolted slightly at the reappearance of his buir and he could feel, more than hear, her bright laughter. “Have no fear that someone will see it and comment, Din’ika. I will keep it hidden as long as possible. You are not ready for a confrontation yet.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to know even if he could understand.

His buir just chuckled at him and disappeared once again.

Din walked with the kids all the way to the gate of the orphanage, where one of the ba’jur’ade was standing. The kids all greeted the caretaker cheerfully and headed inside the building. It was well before sunset so Din was feeling quite relieved that they would be safe.

Once the kids were gone the ba’jur’ad rounded on him. “Miss Ixis told us about you. How you saved Jas’ika from an attacker and brought he and little El’ika home.”

Din nodded. Those were things he had actually done, there was no reason to hide it.

“She also told me that she warned you to stay away from the ade unless you were planning to adopt one of them.” The younger woman’s eyes looked angry but there was a sense of expectant hope and exhaustion coming from her that made Din shift uncomfortably in his boots.

“I…” He took a moment to breathe deeply and calm himself before speaking. “I don’t have the means.” It came out in a near whisper but thankfully the helmet mic picked it up so the woman heard him.

It felt like cutting his own stomach open and performing a surgery with no anesthetic to admit that he couldn’t take care of the children. That he couldn’t help no matter how he wanted to.

“Then please don’t come by here again until you’re ready.” The caretaker said with a dejected air.

Din’s helmet tilted slightly but he refused to move. Something was telling him he should ask, some instinct his buir had been telling him not to ignore. “Why?” He finally blurted. “Children are the future. They should have adults around to help teach them, so they know what it feels like to be part of an aliit.”

The woman looked mildly stunned for a moment before she glanced around, as if worried they would be overheard. She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I’ll tell you because you saved Jas’ika, stars know that boy needs someone to look out for him.” She smiled sadly. “We aren’t governmentally funded at the moment. The Governor of Manda’yaim hasn’t been sending funds. He said… that if we were so determined to adhere to the old ways we should find plenty of buire to adopt the children… without their help.”

Din’s hands clenched at his sides. “You have no one looking after the foundlings?”

The woman looked at him slightly oddly but nodded. “What we get are local donations and a lot of the clans here are barely staying afloat after the new laws banned some of the more profitable mercenary work and shut down one of the manufacturing plants here.” She shook her head and sighed. “The largest donations come from Clan Vizsla, but they have strict rules about how we’re allowed to spend the funding and who is allowed to interact with the children. If we disobey…” She rung her hands before forcing herself to stop.

“…if you were to get a donation from another clan that could replace what Vizsla is giving you, one that didn’t have as many strict rules, would you take it?”

She looked surprised but nodded absently. “Of course. How are the ade supposed to find families that will care for them if they can’t interact with potential buire?”

“Thank you for the explanation.” He said sincerely.

“You’re welcome. Now that you know I hope you’ll heed Ba’jur’ad Ixis words.”

Din let out a small sigh. “If I see the ade out around town I won’t ignore them. But I won’t return here.” At least not until he could solve their funding issue.

The woman’s shoulders sagged in relief and she smiled. “Vor’e, Ka’ra watch over you.”

Giving a short nod he turned on his heel and let his legs lead him, his mind whirling.

“I can smell the smoke, Din’ika, what ideas are cooking in your head?” Tarre asked as she appeared beside him.

‘I’m going to approach other clans to see if we can match Vizsla’s donation. The rules they’ve imposed… they’re wrong. Something about all this is wrong.’ He practically growled, if only in his mind.

His buir’s shoulders drooped slightly and there was a feeling of deep hurt that ached in the core of his being. “My clan has fallen far from grace, I will not allow it to continue. Children are the most precious resource and to neglect them like this is unacceptable.”

‘We don’t have any allies.’ Din reminded her.

Tarre’s helmet tilted and he knew she was smiling down at him, it was not a nice smile. “I do believe you have an invitation to visit Clan Vhehn, do you not? That nice Protectorate seemed quite taken with you.”

Din bit back a groan. “Taken?” He asked, certain he didn’t want to actually know what she meant by it.

“Din’ika, we need to work on your observational skills when it comes to how people perceive you.” She said with an exasperated air. “That boy is attracted to you.”

Din froze as a flush crossed his face. That wasn’t- he wasn’t- he didn’t know- how was he supposed to- so many thoughts ran through his mind at once and it made him feel dizzy.

“Easy, Din’ika, deep breaths. You don’t have to return his affection, or even comment on it. It is up to the young man to make his desires known and to respect your choice if you decline him. Dar’baati, ner ad. It’s not as difficult a situation as you are thinking.”

He took a moment to let his heart and breathing calm down before he continued walking, looking around as discreetly as possible to see if anyone had found his sudden statuesque state odd. He wanted to hunch his shoulders up around his ears when he realized that he was being stared at. But he carefully forced his shoulders down and let his naturally long stride take him as far away from the stares as possible.

“We’re going to have to work on that too.” He heard his buire say with a chuckle.

‘What now?’ He asked.

“Interacting with others when you’re not on a mission.”

‘I’m fine.’ He frowned, not pouted, Din did not pout.

“Din’ika, until you can pass on the Dha’kad’au it must be you who leads the people. You can’t do that if any time someone stares in your direction you get the urge to fight or flee…” She paused for a moment before a pang of worry and hurt came across whatever bond their shared. “Oh, Din’ika, when was the last time you had a clan member to help you with your beskar’gam? To tend your wounds? To guard you while you slept?” The sheer gentleness in her presence almost made him tear up but he forced the feeling down as hard as he could.

‘It’s been… a long time. I was the sole Beroya of the Covert. I… was alone a lot. Then there was Grogu and we had to keep running…’ It was what he’d had to do to protect the foundling.

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now you need to meditate and sleep.”

‘Kind of early to sleep.’

“We’ll be doing a different kind of meditation tonight, you’ll want the rest.”

Grudgingly he accepted her word and turned toward the inn he currently called home.

By the time he went to sleep that night he had officially been in the past for one core standard week.

He had no idea what kinds of changes he had already brought to the future.


Mando'a;

Beskar’gam- Mandalorian Iron armor.
Buy’ce- Helmet
Vod- Sibling, companion, comrade in arms.
Manda’yaim- The planet Mandalore.
Ba’buir- Grandparent.
Verd- Warrior/Soldier
Osik- Excrement
Alor- Boss/Chief/Leader
Elek- Yes
Ba’jur’ade- Teachers/Caretakers
Mandokarla- Having ‘the right stuff.’ Being the epitome of Mandalorian virtues. Showing guts and spirit.
Tal’vod- Blood brother or blood sister, someone you trust that is sworn to guard your back in battle.
Aliit- Clan, family.
Dar’baati- Don’t worry.
Dha’kad’au- Darksaber.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 8 (Part 1)

It wasn’t difficult to find Kalash’s comm number, it was on a list of contact information for the local Journeymen Protectors. In Din’s mind that seemed like quite the security risk, but if it made his job easier then… well he wasn’t going to complain too loudly.

For the first few minutes when the comm was trying to connect Din couldn’t help but fidget slightly. It was so much easier dealing with Jaster and his little traat’aliit than it was Mando’ade his own age. Well, his new age at least.

“Hello, this is Journeyman Vhehn. How can I help you?” Startling slightly when the man finally picked up Din took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Kalash? This is… Din Djarin.” It was still so difficult to openly state his name. Yet with Tarre standing at his side, one hand comfortingly on his shoulder, he could admit it was getting a little easier each time.

“Din! It’s good to hear from you. Is, uh, is there a problem you need help with?” There was an echo of concern and anticipation in the man’s voice and Din couldn’t help how his cheeks slightly heated in response.

“I…” Tarre nudged him, urging him to go on. “Heard there was a local shooting range. I’ve never been there and was wondering… if you, uh, might like to show me… around.” It was a good thing he followed the Creed. It meant no one could see how red his face had become in that instance.

“Really!? I, ahem, I’d be more than happy to show you around. What day?” Beside him Tarre was practically shaking with mirth. Din wanted to send a glare her way but didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much her amusement got a rise out of him… even if she could probably sense it in the force.

“Tomorrow, if you have the time. I work nights so mid-day to evening would be best.” It wasn’t exactly a secret. Din had been seen coming and going from the warehouse district and Tarvi’s Inn for the last two core standard weeks.

“Tomorrow sounds great! I have the day off. Where would you like to meet up?” The young man sounded so eager Din wasn’t sure what to say at first.

“How about… Di’ajab’s diner?” It was a solid location that was between the inn he was staying at and the local shooting range. This way Kalash didn’t have to walk all the way to the inn to come get him.

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow around… an hour after mid-meal?” The man’s voice sounded excited, happy, and Din couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

“That works for me. I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow then. Have a good one, Djarin.” With that the man hung up and Din’s entire body sagged, like a puppet with the strings cut.

“You did well, Din’ika. Despite your… difficulty.” He could feel her amusement as it combined with a sense of pride and concern for his well being.

He was already getting better at differentiating between her emotions. It had something to do with the bond they shared in the Force and how meditating on it strengthened their connection. Like stabilizing a comm frequency so the other person’s voice came in more clearly.

“What are you thinking, ad’ika?” Without looking back at his buir, since he was currently in public, he shrugged slightly. It was a move that she would recognize but others would see as resettling his armor.

‘Asking him to come to the shooting range when I know he’s interested in me… it feels like I’m using him.’ He admitted after a moment of silent contemplation. ‘Just to get an in with his Clan…’

“Oh, my poor wayward ad.” His buir said with a slight shake of her helmet. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make an ally. I understand why it might feel like you’re using him, but in that same vein he is also going to use this as an opportunity to make your acquaintance. There is a kind of give and take to this, ner ad.” She said quietly. “And I can feel that you do miss having someone more your age to speak to.”

Din felt a pang in his chest, an image of green armor trimmed in red immediately coming to mind.

Stars did he miss Boba.

They’d been working together for about five months before he was sent after that zeltron and in that time they’d found they had more in common than not. Since the loss of his buir, and later the loss of his Covert, Din had not felt that close to anyone. Grogu, by virtue of him being an ad, didn’t count. He was a dependent, someone Din took care of. But Boba treated him like a younger vod. Din didn’t need to watch his actions around the other Mando, didn’t need to guard himself.

His relationship with Tarre was quickly approaching that kind of closeness but there was still something about it that wasn’t quite real. No matter how solid she made herself Tarre was still a ghost. She couldn’t interact with the world like he could.

“We’re here.” Looking up he realized he’d walked all the way to the local archives without noticing. He grimaced. He really needed to stop getting lost in his own head.

‘Time to get to work.’

“Yes. But don’t think we won’t be meditating later on this, child of mine.”

Din let out a sigh that thankfully wasn’t picked up by his helmet and entered the archives.

He could think about Boba and how losing his friend made him feel later. For now he had research to do.

***

Din let out a relieved groan as he slumped into a chair in his semi-permanent residence. He’d made a deal with Tarvi yesterday about renting the room long-term. Having to tell her that his ship and all his belongings had been stolen and then destroyed had been embarrassing to say the least. But she believed him, no doubt thanks to the real sorrow in his voice when he spoke about the Razor Crest’s demise.

‘I lucked out with this inn.’ He thought.

“It’s not luck, ad’ika, it was the will of the Force.” Tarre said with a chuckle as she slipped off her helmet and set it down on the table nearby.

Din stared at her for a moment, wondering how her helmet didn’t just fall through the table. “If you can touch things like the table… why did the Dha’kad’au fall through your hand when I tried to hand it to you?”

Tarre looked over at him thoughtfully as she sank into the other chair. “It is because it no longer answers to me.” She said simply. “While it was my partner in life it no longer responds to me the way a lightsaber might to their jetii partner.”

Din tilted his head, brows furrowed. “Why?”

Tarre smiled. “So curious.”

She leaned forward, elbows laying across her knees. “The Dha’kad’au has always been special. Ever since its creation I knew that one day it would choose a new partner. After all, the stone within it is like nothing the galaxy has seen before or since.” Holding out her hand she motioned for the weapon.

Unclipping the hilt from his belt he set it down on the table between them.

With a wave of her hand the Dha’kad’au pulled apart, baring all of its internal workings.

Din jumped slightly and leaned closer, brown eyes wide.

An oval black stone with gold and white sriations flew over to him and hovered in front of his face. Tentatively he reached out and plucked it from the air.

The image of something large, powerful, with horns and sharp teeth came to mind and he nearly dropped the stone in surprise.

“W-was that-?”

There was no way he saw that correctly!

“It was. This stone is one of a kind. It has a name that has been lost to time, only re-discovered when the Force called me to Manda’yaim.” Tarre waved her hand and the stone slipped out from between his fingers. It flew back to the floating parts of the Dha’kad’au and quickly the weapon reassembled itself. “It is the Sole Ruler’s Jewel, a pearl found inside a particularly large and cunning Mythosaur from the time of my ancestors, the Progenitors.”

Din’s mouth fell open. He’d heard the legends, but he could never decide whether he wanted them to be real or not. The idea of creatures larger than a Greater Krayt Dragon roaming around Manda’yaim… it just boggled the mind.

“This is no kyber, that will bond with a single jetii for their entire lifetime. It is a king among gemstones, one that chooses its wielder.” The weapon settled on the table in front of him and Tarre smiled. “The Dha’kad’au chose you, ad’ika. Not because you won a duel, not because you are of my blood, but because of who you are. One who cares deeply for our people and beliefs, who has compassion for those less fortunate, with the strength and conviction to back your decisions and the sense of honor to right your own wrongs.”

Din felt his heart thudding hard inside his chest and gasped, looking up at his buir. “Y-you know about…?”

“Yes, Din’ika. I know that you almost turned your back on that child. And I know you also gave everything of yourself to set things right.” Her golden eyes watched him and it was as if something heavy hung between them. “You can not take back what you’ve done, ad’ika, you can only ever atone for it.” She said solemnly.

“I… I’m trying.” He muttered, eyes falling to the Dha’kad’au between them.

A hand settled over his own and he swore he could feel the warmth from it as he looked up again. Tarre stared him in the eyes and gave him a kind smile. “I know, Din’ika. You have done well so far and I have no trouble believing you will continue to do well moving forward.”

Heat flooded his cheeks and he wondered when was the last time he had felt uplifted by sincere praise. The only one who had come close that he could think of in recent years was Boba.

“I am sorry, ner ad.” Came Tarre’s quiet voice.

Din looked up into her bright eyes. “For what?”

“For taking you away. For placing this burden on your shoulders.” She shook her head. “But the Force is neither cruel nor kind, it just is. I can no more deny its will than I can stop a planet from spinning.”

Din took a deep breath and held it for a moment, carefully examining his own emotions with the came calculated calm that came from a long life of practicality.

“I… forgive you.” He said honestly. “I can’t say that I’m fine with it and be truly honest.” He looked out the window at the street, all the Mando’ade walking around freely. “But I can’t say I blame you either.”

“Thank you, ad’ika- Din.”

There was a long moment of silence before Tarre stood. “Now then, I know you are tired, ner ad, so meditation then bed.”

Din let out a small groan but hauled himself out of the chair. He was no stranger to strict training instructors.

Tarre let out a fond chuckle as she settled herself onto the floor.

[Liera Buraaisuh]

Chapter 8 (Part 2)

Leaning against the outer wall of Di’ajab’s diner in the shade, arms crossed as he watched the street, Din tried to shove his nerves down into a tight little box. Tarre had disappeared to wherever it was she stayed whenever she wasn’t pestering him about training so for the moment he was on his own.

‘You’re never alone.’ He shivered at the faint whisper but relaxed a little. Knowing his buir was still around made him feel less anxious. Like having a vod at your back, except one that was incorporeal and could use jetiise magic. No would expect that. Except perhaps someone else who could use the force.

He saw the other man before the man saw him, which was a bit surprising considering his armor was practically a beacon. Vhehn’s armor was the same style as the other Journeymen Protectors Din had seen. The primary color was a deep blue, nearly purple, that sat on the border between luck and reliability. Around his visor was a deep orange that spoke of a respect for all life, while his bracers were striped with red for honoring a parent. The aliik was the profile of a curled horned bovidae in a pale brown within a downward pointing triangle in a medium green. Loyalty and duty.

The man’s helmet swiveled toward him and Din could swear he could feel the man’s excitement as he hurried over. “Verd Djarin! It’s a nice day for some target practice, wouldn’t you say?” There was almost a bubbling feeling around him that Din had to try to ignore, lest it distract him from what the man was saying.

“Vhehn.” He replied respectfully with an incline of his helm. “ Looks like.” He said as he pushed off of the wall and stood next to the Journeyman.

Now that he was in front of him, and not worried about trouble, he was able to get a better look. The man was broader than Din, with wide shoulders and a thick waist. Even under the bulk of his armor his arms were muscled, as were his legs. He looked like he could pick Din up, armor and all, and throw him if he had to.

“Uh… right. So the range is this way.” The man said, shifting on his feet a little awkwardly before he stared walking in the way he’d indicated.

Din sighed inwardly. He would have to try harder to actually hold a conversation with the man if he wanted this to work.

“Thanks for taking the time to show me around.” Din said as he fell into step next to the larger man. “I just bought a new rifle and need to test it out properly.” He motioned to the modified A-280 rifle on his back. He’d been surprised to see one of them in the weapons shop. It was nice to have something he was at least familiar with.

“Huh, don’t see too many of those around. Most folks around here use the Galaar line, although with the new laws the Governor of Manda’yaim passed recently we’ve been having some trouble with the supply lines.” The man mumbled a little bitterly.

“…the more I hear about the Governor the more I dislike them.” He said simply.

Kalash snorted. “You and me both. Did you hear they’re slowly raising the taxes for traditional families in Sundari and Keldabe? The only beings who can stay are merchants or those with ties to rich patrons. And the majority of them are baseline human.” He shook his head in disgust.

Din scowled. That was not the way he had been raised. Even if Boba had been right and the Covert was a bit… cultish… they at least had accepted all foundlings regardless of species.

A sensation like buzzing made him straighten slightly, his hand shifting to his belt where the Dha’kad’au was clipped. He could feel how it thrummed with anger and had to force himself to calm down, just in case it started floating or something else insane.

“You alright verd?” The man beside him asked, helm titled slightly down to where Din’s hand was obscured by his cloak.

“Fine.” He said quickly. “Just thinking about how wrong it sounds.” He said as he casually let his hand fall away from his belt. “We’re mando’ade, it doesn’t matter where you came from or what species you are. Only that you’re mandokarla and follow the Resol’nare.” Or in his case the Creed.

“Oya!” The man said emphatically, lifting his gloved hand and clenching it into a fist.

Din grinned and held out his own fist so that Kalash could tap their vambraces together in a show of solidarity.

The rest of the walk was a lot more relaxed as their anxiety drained away in light of their shared belief that anyone could be mando’ade… and that the New Mandalorian governor was an absolute bastard.

Coming up to a walled off section Din twitched at the sound of blaster fire. It was a relief to have somewhere to keep up his training. He didn’t want his skills to dull while he was biding his time.

“Come on, I’ll get you set up. It’ll either be Kenni or Danni in today. Never quite sure which one of them it is, since they’re twins and delight in making everyone guess.” Kalash’s mood shifted between annoyed and fond. “They even have the exact same armor design. Not mirrored. Exact. When they’re standing next to each other it’s like seeing double.”

“Useful.” Din pointed out simply.

“Yeah, sure, if you’re on a mission and need to obscure your numbers. But the two of them run a repair store and a shooting range.” Din could practically feel the man rolling his eyes and chuckled.

Entering the enclosed compound his head was on a swivel as he took in the three buildings and the wide open space. On the other side there was another walled off section and he wondered what it could be used for.

Following Kalash up to the first building he could see that it was shaded with an awning but otherwise was open to the air. There was a caged off section where someone was working on what looked like weapons repairs. They were slender yet tall, wearing primarily deep orange and pale purple armor. Their uncovered hands were a pale pink as their delicate fingers slid the final blaster piece home. The figure spun it in their hand before catching it and looking down the sights. Setting down the gun Din could feel a strong sense of satisfaction from them for a job done well.

So strong, in fact, that it made Din step back in confusion.

Were they also force sensitive?

Thankfully Kalash didn’t seem to notice, walking up to the counter and leaning across it to wave at the figure. “Hey, uh, Kenni? How’s business?”

There was a snort from the figure as they walked up to the cage door, pressed a button beside the door, and waited until the light turned green. They stepped outside and shut the cage behind them, waiting for it to beep and turn red again before turning to the counter.

“Sorry, Kal’ika, it’s Danni today. You lost your streak.” Came the amused feminine voice from beneath a sleek helmet.

“Haar’chak!” Kalash groaned, letting his head thunk onto the counter before lifting his head again. “Oh well, back to square one.”

Danni, as they’d identified themselves as, laughed lightly and Din found himself relaxing at the sound. They sounded so friendly, familiar, and he could sense nothing but amusement and fondness…

Din snapped himself out of the slight trance he’d fallen into and stiffened with wariness. Something had just tried to influence his mind. His buir had warned him about such things and had been helping him build up better mental defenses. If he hadn’t been working on that specific thing he might not have noticed until it was too late.

The figure behind the counter gasped and looked right at him. He could sense confusion, curiosity, and a small flare of upset before their presence smoothed out again.

“Kal’ika! Did you forget to warn your friend over there about us?”

Kalash’s helmet tilted slightly before he looked back at Din. Finally he seemed to notice how uncomfortable Din was and let out another curse. “Osik, I knew I forgot something! Din Djarin, this is Danni Moru’teh. She and her vod are zeltron’ade.”

Zeltron. Well at least that explained the overwhelming presence and the sudden feeling of familiarity. That and the pink skin was a bit of a giveaway.

“I’m sorry if I surprised you.” She said, feeling honestly contrite. “Wait… did you say Djarin?” She looked from Din to Kalash and back.

Kalash let out a chuckle. “Yes. Maybe you can pester him later, right now we were hoping to get some practice in today.”

Danni grumbled but there was an underlying amusement to it. “Alright, keep your kute on.” Tapping on a small console she looked up at Din. “Since this is your first time you have to register. I already got your name and clan so I just need a signature on this release form. It’s just your basic ‘I’ve passed my verd’goten, am legally allowed to own and wield a blaster,’ and ‘if something happens to me because I was acting like a jaro di’kut it’s not the Moru’teh clan’s fault.’ You know, all that legal junk.”

Din couldn’t help the small chuckle her comments pulled from him, even as he pulled his shields a little tighter around himself. For the most part zeltrons were a very open and welcoming species, they liked feeling happy and making others happy as well. He could sense no duplicity from her, only a desire to be helpful. So he quickly read through the form and signed before handing it back.

“See, Kal’ika? That’s something a smart verd does. Reads everything thoroughly before signing.” Danni teased as she took the form back.

“I came with my buir, Danni, they said it was fine and I believed them.” Kalash defended with what sounded like a pout.

“Alright Djarin, here’s the rules; one, no drawing weapons on anyone else while you’re in here. You have a problem with someone? You take it outside. Two, no unauthorized gambling or competitions. If you and Kal’ika want to compare scores later that’s fine. But if you want to start a proper competition you need to front the winnings and organize the details with myself or my vod. Three, we’re a business and can be quite busy. You can book time ahead in advance but if you skip out too many times we’ll revoke your right to book time. Four, when your time ends, it ends. Sometimes we have the space to extend your time, but if we don’t you will be asked to leave so the next group can come in for their slot. With me so far?”

So far Din was on board with the rules. They were fairly straight forward and sounded like common sense to him. He nodded.

“Good. Now for the fun part.” She said mischievously. “Kenni and I like to play a little game. One that Kal’ika just lost.”

Kalash let out a groan but it didn’t sound serious, more like he was playing along with Danni’s playful teasing.

“If you can guess which one of us is on duty when you stop by, you get a mark on the board.” She pointed behind her to a large list of names marked down with what he thought might have been chalk. Next to each name were one to four slashes. “Guess right four times in a row and you win some free ammo for whatever you’re planning to practice with for the day.”

Din perked up. Free ammo would be useful. Especially since he was currently on a budget.

“Since it’s your first time here, and Kal’ika spoiled your chance to guess, I’ll throw in some ammo for you.”

“Are you… sure?” He asked, not sure if he should accept that kind of hand out.

“Of course! Go have some fun blasting those targets to haran and back. Manda knows that Kal’ika needs the practice.”

“Hey! I’m a decent shot!” Kalash defended, giving off waves of embarrassment.

“Yeah, you are.” Her tone became lighter and she dropped the playfulness. “I’m just teasing Kal’ika. Besides, I know your specialty is non-lethal take-downs and hand to hand combat.” She looked over at Din and he could practically feel her eyes roam over his armor. “What about you, Djarin? I’d guess you’re proficient with that spear. No well trained mando’ad would walk around carrying a weapon like that if they weren’t skilled with it.”

Din shifted on his feet, feeling his face warm slightly. “I’m… decent. It isn’t my… primary weapon of choice.”

“Oh? Well you’ll have to let me take a look at your arsenal some time. Show me what your preferred weapon is.” There was a flash of heat in her words and Din ducked his head slightly, embarrassed.

“I think that’s enough, Danni.” Kalash said, stepping between Din and the zeltron to hide him from view. “This time’s on me. I’ll take some extra ammo for my Galaar-14 and some for an A-280 modified sniper rifle.”

Din was grateful to the other verd for taking the zeltron’s gaze off of himself for the moment. Honestly, he wasn’t used to so much pointed attention. Outside the Covert most sentients took one look at his armor and were either intimidated or outright scared of his presence. Inside the Covert they were raised to give each other personal space and privacy as well as they could in close quarters. Din was noticed because he was the sole Beroya but the Covert’s attention been a lot more subtle than these pre clone war mando’ade. Respect and gratitude for his hard work with little sparks of attraction and appreciation here or there.

But things were much different now. Not only could he feel a lot more, thanks to his newly discovered force sensitivity, but these mando’ade had never had to hide in sewers in order to protect their very way of life. They hadn’t been hunted to near extinction, their entire homeworld glassed by a looming monolith of sheer destructive power…

It was just so much all at once.

‘Calm. Safe.’ A feeling like a comforting hug enveloped his mind and he leaned into it gratefully. Tarre’s whispers were like gentle fingers combing through his hair, like his buir used to do whenever Din had a panic attack as an adiik.

“Alright. You’re in range two, sections twenty-three and twenty-four. You have it for an hour.” Ducking behind the counter she pulled out a couple of boxes that Kalash picked up and held under one arm. She leaned to the side so she could look past the other mando’ad to speak with him. “Kal’ika can show you the controls for the different target settings. Have fun!”

Without saying another word Kalash pointed his thumb to the right and began walking.

Din caught up quickly.

There was a long moment of silence where the man seemed to stew in his own thoughts before he finally looked up at Din. “I… sorry about her. Danni doesn’t really know when she’s overstepping. She’s a zeltron’ad, and they can be pretty, uh, amorous by nature. But it’s no excuse to make others feel uncomfortable.” He shook his head. “Even though she isn’t doing it to be malicious…”

Din could feel a nudge from his buir and wanted to grumble. Instead he inclined his head toward the other Mando. “It’s… fine. I’ve met zeltron’ade before. I know she wasn’t doing it to cause trouble or distress.” He took a deep breath and let it out again slowly.

“If it bothers you I can have a quiet word with her. She’s very respectful of others personal preferences and comfort levels. Well, as long as she knows what they are. She’s not a mind reader.” He said with a hint of a nervous chuckle.

Din wasn’t quite sure what to say but he could feel how Kalash just wanted to help, how he was just a genuinely kind person at the core. “Thank you.” Din said warmly. “I’d appreciate that.”

Kalash stopped suddenly and Din looked at him in confusion. “This is our section.”

“Oh…” He said, face warming beneath his helmet. He looked down the range then at the console before turning back to Kalash. “Danni said you’d show me how it works?”

The other man laughed and it was a pleasant sound. “Come on, range rookie.” He said, clapping Din on the shoulder. “I’ll show you the ropes.”


Mando’a;

Vhehn- Pronounced Feign, meaning Earthy/Earthen. (Kalash's Clan.)
Traat’aliit- Squad, team.
Aliik- Sigil or Symbol on armor.
Verd- Warrior, also soldier.
Manda’yaim- The planet Mandalore.
Vod, Vode- Brother/Sister/Sibling/Comrade/Compatriot, and the plural.
Mandokarla- Having the ‘right stuff.’ Showing guts, spirit, loyalty, and a lust for life.
Resol’nare- The Six Actions or Six Tenets that make up the basis for Mandalorian culture.
The Creed- A way of life that precedes the Resol’nare. It is considered quite strict with it’s tenets. Unlike the Resol’nare following the Creed is a personal choice.
Oya!- In this context it means something close to ‘Damn right!’
Me’vaar- Literally, ‘What’s new?’ Colloquially, ‘Are you alright/okay?’
Naas- Literally, ‘Nothing.’ Colloquially, ‘I’m fine.’
Zeltron’ad, Zeltron’ade- Zeltron, Zeltron plural. An empathic near-human species which naturally produce potent pheromones that enhance their attractiveness and general likability.
Verd’goten- Mandalorian rite of adulthood.
Jaro di’kut- Insane idiot.

Places;
Sundari- The new Capital City of Mandalore. Ruled by the New Mandalorians it is a domed city in the middle of a desert.
Keldabe- The old Capital City of Mandalore. Where the more traditional clans live.