Finally, a new fic!! This is an original fairy tale set in Naboo, written in the style of Grimm’s/Andersen tales! It was so fun to write, a genuine pleasure and a great exercise!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/38635410
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Araé gazed up at the beautiful face far above her, and her heart was touched with pity, both for the goddess and for the people who depended on her light.
“My lady,” Araé said, “Please, do not weep any longer. I will retrieve your ring, if I can.”
If you have sent me a drabble request recently, rest assured that I am working on them! But this one popped into my head and I just had to get it out. Hope you enjoy!
“Master Skywalker, are you quite alright?”
Luke jumped a little and opened his eyes. There were several faces turned towards him, including one very familiar silver helmet, and Mon Mothma, the Chancellor, was looking at him with a concerned frown.
“Yes-- forgive me. I was, uh. Meditating.” Luke gave a small smile, doing his best to radiate serenity. “Jedi stuff, you know.”
Next to him, Leia snorted into her cup of caf, and Luke, without looking in her direction, kicked her in the shin. She kicked back, and he bit back both a grin and a hiss of pain when her sharp heel bit into his ankle. Further down the table, Din stared at him-- Luke could feel his gaze boring holes into the side of his face, even through his visor-- but Luke didn’t so much as glance at him, for fear he would burst out laughing.
“Alright,” the Chancellor said, casting him a dubious glance, before turning back to her notes. They were seated at a long table with a podium at one end, where the speaking senator could stand to present their debate. Leia had explained to Luke that the Imperial Senate, and before it the Senate for the Republic, had been much larger and much more ostentatious, with each planet’s representatives occupying their own pod, and the Chancellor (and then Emperor) stationed in the center. But the New Republic, much reduced in number by the Empire’s destruction, had no need for so much space, not to mention that Mon Mothma was not inclined to show off her power the way Palpatine had been.
“As I was saying,” Mothma said, “The next order of business for today’s discussion is the potential integration of Mandalore into the New Republic.”
Luke sat up a little straighter, and saw Din and Bo-Katan Kryze do the same further down the table.
Mothma reached down and pressed a button on her podium, which activated the holo display in the middle of the table. A glowing image of Mandalore, along with a description of its exports and imports, flickered to life above their heads. Mothma turned to Din and Bo-Katan.
“Mand’alor Djarin, I understand you have some reservations about joining the New Republic. The senate will hear your opinions, and then we will open the floor for discussion.”
Din nodded, and Bo-Katan stood up from her chair and made her way to the podium, Mothma took her seat with a look of expectation on her face.
“I am the representative for Mand’alor Djarin,” Bo-Katan began. “I will be taking over the discussion for him.”
Luke had met Bo-Katan once or twice before this, during his regrettably brief trips to Mandalore with Din, and he had never failed to be impressed by her dogged dedication to her planet. Din had explained that Bo-Katan had initially wanted the Darksaber and title for herself, but had been slowly won over by Din’s commitment to Mandalore’s people, and Luke knew that now they considered themselves allies, if not friends. She handled the questions the senate posed to her with a grace that reminded Luke of Leia at her best. Luke knew he didn’t have the head for politics that the two of them had, and neither did Din-- they were each of them much more suited to tests of skill that involved blasters and lightsabers, rather than battles of will and elocution. No wonder, then, that Din was allowing Bo-Katan to take over the discussion.
Luke was brought out of his musings and back into the conversation by the sudden swelling of indignation throughout the room.
“How can we be sure of Mandalore’s loyalty?” a senator a few seats away from Luke was saying. “A planet of bloodthirsty warriors will surely turn on the New Republic as soon as they have gotten what resources they need from us.”
Bo-Katan scowled and opened her mouth to argue, but another senator cut across her. “We need some way to guarantee Mandalore’s loyalty to the New Republic.”
“And what, exactly, do you suggest?” Bo-Katan said, her voice dry as Mandalore’s deserts.
A Nautolan senator a few seats away stood up. “I propose a marriage,” they said, a look of smug satisfaction on their face, “Between the Mand’alor and a party loyal to the New Republic.”
The room went silent, all heads turning to Din, who was sitting ramrod straight in his chair.
“I don’t think--” Bo-Katan started, before yet another senator cut her off.
“That would give the spouse’s home world too much power!” they said, and murmurs of agreement sounded up and down the table. The senator continued. “We would need a neutral party to agree, one without allegiance to any one world in particular.”
Suddenly, a few of the faces around Luke were turned in his direction.
“Perhaps the Jedi?” the same senator said, and Luke couldn’t take it any more.
He burst out laughing.
Next to Luke, Leia dropped her face into her hands, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bo-Katan do the same. The senator who had spoken looked affronted.
“If you don’t like the plan, Master Skywalker, simply say so, there is no need to---”
Luke waved a hand and sucked in a few quick breaths. “I apologize. The plan, uh, has its merits,” he stifled another giggle, “but, I’m afraid, the both of us are already spoken for.”
The senators’ stares turned to Din, now, who huffed a sigh so loud even Luke could hear it from where he sat, distorted as it was by Din’s voice modulator.
“We’re already married. To each other.”
Leia made a muffled scream of frustration into her palms as the room around them erupted into pandemonium.
I can’t kriffing believe you! She yelled in his head, and Luke reached out to pat her on the knee, doing his best to be consoling even as he grinned in delight.
Sorry, he returned, though he knew she could tell that he didn’t feel a bit remorseful about this. It was rather sudden.
“Order!” Mon Mothma shouted into the podium’s microphone, and Luke looked up to see her standing at the podium next to Bo-Katan, whose arms were crossed and who was glaring daggers at Din.
“Our apologies, Master Skywalker and Mand’alor Djarin. We were not aware of your nuptials. Congratulations to you both.” Mothma’s voice was calm, but her brow was creased with frustration as she glanced at Luke, who did his best to look at least a little contrite. “I believe, at least, that that settles the issue of Mandalore’s loyalty to the New Republic. Are there any other issues at hand?”
Luke looked back over at Din as the arguing started up again, this time over exports or imports or something that he, frankly, didn’t really need to listen to. Din looked back at him, and Luke could feel his radiated amusement even from this distance. Luke grinned at him, and Din tilted his head in the way that Luke knew meant he was smiling back.
At least, he thought to himself, we don’t have to hide anymore.
I still haven’t forgiven you for not telling me, Leia interjected, though her thoughts were tinged with fondness. He glanced at her, and she smiled softly and took his hand. Congratulations, she said, and he squeezed her hand in thanks, neither of them paying any attention to the senate’s ongoing debate around them. He definitely owed her a night together, just the two of them.
Yes you do, she thought, and he laughed and squeezed her hand again.
I promise, he said, and she laid her head on his shoulder as they let the continued chaos of the senate’s discussions whirl around them.
I was reminded of this little snippet that made ppl on the Dinluke server sad so here ya go, my Tumblr beloveds. Sorry.
—
Luke eyed him for a moment before he said, “You’re the ex-stormtrooper.”
Finn blinked. “Yes. I am. How did you—?”
Luke smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It turned his face into something tired and sad. “You’re used to wearing a helmet. You don’t control your expressions the way others do.”
Finn nodded slowly. He supposed that was true— he’d been used to not having to hide what he was feeling when there had been a mask of unfeeling plastoid to do it for him. He must be doing the same now, but out in the open where anyone could see.
Luke was old, with plenty of gray in his beard and lines on his face, but he hadn’t truly looked it until now. He seemed to be thinking of something, eyes not seeing Finn, and that sad smile was still there, lingering at the corners of his mouth.
“I—“ he stopped, and sighed. “I knew someone, once. He did the same thing.”
Din watches Senator Organa as she stalks up to Luke, tense and wary. He doesn’t trust the New Republic, even with Cara acting as a marshall for them now. Who knows what this senator will do, small as she is?
The senator stands with arms crossed, glaring at Luke with irritation in her eyes. Luke shifts from foot to foot, apparently sheepish, and ducks his head with a smile. Din blinks in surprise when, suddenly, Organa grins and pulls Luke into a hug that he enthusiastically returns. Luke kisses her cheek before he turns to Din, smiling, and says, “Din, this is Senator Leia Organa. My sister.”
Din is very, very glad for his helmet as he stares at Organa for a second. Luke has told him plenty about his sister, including a particular story where she strangled Jabba the Hutt to death with the very chain Jabba had enslaved her with. Din had heard murmurs of the Huttslayer before he and Luke ever met, whispers in the seediest underbelly of the outer rim. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but this woman, who barely comes up to his shoulder and is wearing a fine Corellian silk gown, wasn’t exactly it.
She holds out her hand for him to shake, and as he does so her eyes flash in approval. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mand’alor.”
“You as well, Huttslayer.”
Leia blinks several times, her mouth open in an ‘oh’ of surprise, before she grins, wickedly.
“Oh, I like you,” she says, and turns to Luke. “You’re keeping him, right?”
Din watched Luke as he settled next to the pond. It was clear and pure water, the type that let you see right through to the bottom, to the smooth stones and plants that poked through, reaching for the sunlight streaming through the water.
There was a brook nearby, trickling into the pond— Din could hear it, just on the edge of what his helmet could pick up. He could also hear Luke, so soft he wasn’t sure Luke even realized he was doing it, singing under his breath.
Din sat back and just watched. Luke had a small smile on his face as he trailed the fingers of his left hand through the pond, sending ripples dancing across the surface. The song he sang was in a language Din didn’t recognize. There was something haunting and aching about it, but it also held a note of hopeful joy, and Luke smiled a little wider as he reached what sounded like the chorus, his voice growing louder.
Din waited until the song tapered off and Luke stared across the surface of the pond, eyes soft and thoughtful, before Din spoke, nearly whispering, just loud enough to be heard, but not enough to truly break the stillness around them.
“What was that song?”
Luke blinked a few times before he looked over at Din— as if he had forgotten anyone else was there. He sighed, and shifted so that he was leaning against Din’s side, his head on Din’s pauldron. His voice was slow and thoughtful as he spoke.
“It was a song of thankfulness for Ar-Amu. A song about the value of water and what it means.”
Din waited, looking out over the water.
“Ar-Amu is the Mother who watches over and protects the slave people of Tatooine.” Din must have jerked at that, because Luke reached out to put a comforting hand on his thigh plate. “I was never a slave, Din, don’t worry. But I was raised knowing my history.” He sighed. “My father, and his mother, and her mother, going back as far as I know of, they were all born slaves. My aunt and uncle made sure I knew that, and that I was never ashamed of it.”
Din reached out to clasp Luke’s hand. “Good.”
Luke nodded. “That’s where our name comes from, actually— Skywalker. It’s the Basic translation for the Amavikka’s name for the trickster, the ‘slave who makes free’. Ekkreth.”
Din mulled this over. “So are there many stories about Ekkreth, and Ar-Amu?”
“Oh, absolutely, and about Maru the water giver, and Leia, the Mighty One—“
“Leia?”
“Yes, she’s a fierce Krayt Dragon, one of Ekkreth’s children. It’s rather fitting, isn’t it?”
Din thought of Luke’s twin, how even Bo-Katan and Fennec respected her, and nodded.
Luke smiled at him and reached out to trail a hand in the water again.
“It’s been years since I was last on Tatooine, and nearly a decade since my aunt and uncle died. But every time I see water like this, I can’t help but wonder what they would think. You’ve been to Tatooine, you know-- water is so scarce there. That’s why it’s sacred, to Ar-Amu’s people, and why it’s said that slavery will end when rain falls on Tatooine. My aunt and uncle raised me knowing the stories, and the language, and I can’t ever take water like this for granted.”
Din nodded again, and closed his eyes behind his helmet as he remembered his own parents, his village, the memories brittle with age. “I don’t-- I can’t remember much about my parents or my homeworld. I don’t know what legends or gods we had. I’m glad you know yours.”
Luke smiled softly and reached up to press their foreheads together, before settling against his side once more. They sat together and listened to the brook babble, and to the soft call of the creatures in the trees around them, as the evening darkened into dusk.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
New fic!!!
Summary:
Din stands in front of that imposing wooden door for a long, long time. His fingers tap his anxiety out on his leg, a quick, stuttering pattern. He steels himself, lets out his breath, and does it again. Finally, he raises his fist, and he knocks.
“Me’ven?”
The question is snappish, grumpy, and Din pauses for a beat, two, three.
“Me’ven?” Irec says again, louder this time, closer to the door. Din inhales.
“I— I’m sorry, Ori’verd, I just thought– you’d like some company.“
Din is ten years old and misses his parents and his planet. He finds a new friend in the covert’s tunnels.
*peaks over counter* could I possibly have....some Luke whump with Din being protective? *Ducks back under counter*
@ameliajessicawilliamspond
Hi!! Sorry for the delay... I hope this fill meets your expectations!! It's so fun to write Luke whump, tbh. Poor bby. I went a little nuts with it, like always...
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When they finally found themselves cornered, Grogu cowering in Din’s arms and Din weaponless, ready to defend the child to the death-- it wasn’t much of a choice for Luke to step forward and surrender himself, and let them take him. They descended on him like the birds on Tatooine that would wait for a creature to be close to death, and then swoop down for the kill. The troopers dragged him forward, away from Din and Grogu, and the last thing he saw before they hit him with a stunner was the look on Grogu’s face. The last thing he felt was Din’s fury and fear, roaring from him through the force like wildfire, before it cut off abruptly along with the rest of Luke’s awareness.
He had no way of knowing whether what they were doing to him was what they would have done to Grogu, or if they were devising new and even more cruel methods just for him. He found it didn’t matter much. If what they had planned for Grogu was even a sliver of what they did to him, it was worth it. Even if they hadn’t been planning to hurt or experiment on the child at all— and he doubted that— but even if they hadn’t, just keeping Grogu from feeling alone and scared, the way he had way back when Moff Gideon had kidnapped him and held him on that huge star destroyer, it was worth it. It was all worth Luke’s sacrifice.
The cruel med droids, stripped of all personality and wielding scalpels and hypos full of unknown substances; the cold-eyed officers and scientists who wouldn’t come near unless Luke was trussed up, force suppression cuffs on his wrists and a double dose of suppressant drugs burning in his veins; the troopers who stood, silent and unmoving, at the door to his cell, two inside and two out, watching him, never giving him a moment alone, even when he screamed and retched and shook… All of it was worth keeping Grogu safe. Keeping Din safe. Their family, their small clan, it was what mattered. Nothing else.
In the dark of the night, when he lay on the cold durasteel bench of his cell under the eyes of two stormtroopers, blasters held across their chests in warning, Luke felt that perhaps this was penance as well as sacrifice. He stared at the troopers, the white of their armor gleaming dully in the dim lights overhead, and considered just how many of their brethren he had murdered. There were those who had been aboard the Death Star, of course — by far his worst, most heinous act — but there were also those who had fallen by his blade, or his blaster, or by Rebel plots he helped to fabricate. He reached out, in the small gaps of time when the suppressants started to wear off and circumnavigating the cuffs was bearable, and felt the troopers’ small threads of light brush against his mind, considering just how many other threads he had snipped. Surely enough to weave hundreds of miles of fabric, within the Force. So many beings— and in the Force, it did not matter their affiliation or creed, they lived just the same— whose lives he had cut short.
The officers who presided over the scientists’ experiments definitely knew who Luke was. They watched with stiff shoulders, with hands fisted in rage... but they hesitated, and they didn’t look him in the eye. Din had told Luke about Gideon, how he had tried to kill himself when he realized Luke was there on his star destroyer, and he supposed these officers viewed him in much the same way. A power both feared and respected, something strange and monstrous, a dark cloaked figure that flitted through Imperial nightmares. A truly fitting form for Darth Vader’s son.
Time passed in hazy, half-acknowledged spurts. The artificial light of the cruiser’s cell block never shut off, and the trooper’s schedules seemed to be random; he watched them with as much awareness as he could muster, but never seemed to be able to latch on to a system that would tell him how long each day was. Even their experiments and interrogation seemed to be done at random intervals. Sometimes he would go what felt like days with only the two troopers for company, and at others he was shaken awake in the middle of sleep and dragged off hours after their last session.
It was during one of these sessions-- woozy from drugs, from lack of sleep and food, from the constant blank nothingness the cuffs forced on him-- that something changed. Luke was strapped to a table, doing his best to ignore the scientist speaking into a voice recorder by his side, not thinking about what they were planning, when the room shook violently around them, his stomach rolling with the movement.
The officer standing at Luke’s head looked up, frowning. “What…?”
He was cut off by another shudder and a distant boom that reverberated down the cold steel hallways outside their room. The officer’s eyes, from what Luke could see, were wide-- he was worried.
“Keep going,” he snapped at the scientist, and stalked out of Luke’s view. He heard the door whoosh open and closed again, and they were alone.
Luke had long since stopped trying to fight the straps that held him down, but now he couldn’t help but thrash against them and hope that somehow they were looser today than usual, somehow he could pull himself free…
“Stop that!” the scientist snapped, even as the room shook yet again and a tool rolled off his tray of instruments and clattered to the ground. He lacked the fear that the officer had shown; he was brutally efficient, continuing to measure out a hypo full of an unknown substance, holding it up to the light with calm, unconcerned eyes. He grasped Luke’s arm and injected the hypo as the sounds of explosions outside got closer, and the sound of booted feet running on durasteel echoed louder and louder down the hallway. He turned and looked Luke in the eye, as he had never done before, just as whatever he had injected started to burn.
“You killed so many, Skywalker.” He said, still calm and collected, but now with eyes that shone with fury, “It’s only fair, don’t you think, that we get to strike back?”
Fire was in his veins, under his skin, burning him from the inside out.
Luke screamed.
______
The scream that echoed down the hall froze Din in his tracks.
He felt, rather than heard, Leia stumble to a stop behind him. He could hear only that scream-- unending, agonized, and horrifically familiar. It sent ice down his spine and through his heart, and he felt himself running again before he really realized it, sprinting flat out towards that voice, Leia on his heels.
He skidded a bit when the ship shook with another explosion-- Boba, Fennec, and Axe were having a bit too much fun with the explosives, but as long as Bo-Katan and Koska were still able to keep the ship flying, Din couldn’t find it in himself to care much. The door opened with a quick blaster shot to the keypad, and he and Leia ran in and stumbled to a stop as one. Horror welled up in his throat.
Luke was strapped down to a table, thick bands around his forehead, arms, and legs, and his hands were bound in front of him in what looked like force-suppression cuffs. He was screaming, thrashing against his bonds, eyes open and tracking some unseen terror. A man stood over him, arms crossed and an expression of sick satisfaction on his face as he watched Luke writhe. He turned to face Din and Leia with no sign of fear.
Leia raised her blaster and stepped forward, face twisted in a snarl. “What have you done to him?”
The man-- a scientist, judging by his clothing and the room, which held instruments and tools that turned Din’s stomach to contemplate-- looked at Leia with cool, calm eyes.
“Only what he deserved.” Behind him, Luke gasped something that may have been a “No!”
Din snarled and before Leia could react, lunged towards the man and punched him full in the face. He howled, hands flying to his nose, and Din hit him again, and again, until he sagged in his grip, unconscious, and Din dropped him to the floor. He stepped over him and reached out to cup Luke’s face in his hands, watching him breathe through clenched teeth, whines and moans of pain slipping through. He didn’t seem to see Din, but he seemed to register something; he turned his face towards where Din stood, even as his eyes rolled in their sockets.
“He shot him with something-- it’s probably causing him pain,” Leia said, holding up a spent hypo-syringe, face grim. “I’ll see if I can find what this was; maybe we can figure out how to help it.”
She turned towards a cabinet along the wall that held all sorts of horrible things, chemicals and liquids that seemed distinctly menacing. Din looked down at the cuffs around Luke’s wrists. It was so wrong, seeing him cuffed and bound like this, and he couldn’t stand it. He pulled the Darksaber from his belt and thumbed the activator.
Leia whirled at the sound of the blade extending, and barked “Wait!” just a second too late-- the Darksaber cut the connection between the cuffs, and a wave of energy exploded outward. Din dropped.
There was a presence all around him… slimy, oily, uncomfortable darkness, brushing up against him, making him shudder even as he walked calmly next to a hulk of a man in black armor…. Rage filled his thoughts as he struck out with his blade, struck the figure that taunted him, that threatened his sister…. His blade sliced through his father’s wrist, a mirror of his own maiming…. He tossed his saber aside, facing the Emperor, watching rage twist that horrible white mask of a face…. And then, pain, everywhere, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but writhe underneath it, couldn’t get away…. And his father looked on, watched as he died….
Din gasped as he was wrenched out of the vision, sitting up from where he had fallen onto the floor, staring up at Leia, who was slumped slightly over Luke, hands on his wrists. When Din pulled himself to standing, he saw that she had managed to get another pair of cuffs around them. She seemed to sense his disapproval, and shook her head, eyes never leaving Luke’s face.
“He’s too out of it to shield, right now, and he’s too powerful to have the cuffs off while he’s unaware. I’m guessing you saw what I saw?”
Din nodded slowly, and she sighed, reaching out to brush trembling fingers across Luke’s cheek, doing nothing to smooth out the agonized expression he still wore.
“He’s told you about our… our father? About the Emperor?”
“That--” Din’s voice cracked, and he tried again. “That was a memory.”
“I believe so. I wasn’t there-- I was leading the fight on Endor with Han and Chewie. But he told me afterwards. And I would know Palpatine’s face anywhere.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back up, steel in the set of her jaw. “Let’s get him out of here.”
They made quick works of the straps, and it was worryingly easy to lift Luke into his arms. He still struggled against whatever he saw and whatever he felt, but Din held him fast to his chest as they hurried back down the shining steel hallway and towards where they had entered. He could hear the sounds of blaster fire as they got closer, and Leia moved to block the two of them, blaster in hand. Din shifted Luke in his arms, tucking him a little closer so that he could reach his vambrace, and primed his whistling birds. He sent a quick, silent prayer of thanks to the Manda that he had found the Armorer again as he felt them rise and click into place.
They hurtled around the corner, Leia already firing at a stormtrooper who was grappling with Boba, and he whirled around as the trooper dropped. Din’s whistling birds flew, and five other troopers around the room-- one about to slam Axe into the ground, another huddled around a corner taking shots at Fennec-- fell with howls of pain.
“Djarin! Princess! You found him?”
Boba seemed to notice Luke writhing in Din’s arms as he said it, and he cursed even as he ducked a shot from another trooper. “Get him to the ship! We’re nearly done here. I’ll comm Kryze, we’ll meet you there.”
He clapped Din on the shoulder as he passed, and Din nodded his thanks, hurrying after Leia.
The Falcon was waiting for them, and Din quickly laid Luke on one of the tiny bunks, stuffing a blanket along the edge of the wall so that Luke, if he thrashed too much, wouldn’t hurt himself.
Leia slid down the wall opposite, coming to rest with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.
“I’m never letting him out of my sight again,” she groused, looking up at Din through her hands, flinching when Luke groaned again. Her eyes were so weary, it hurt Din to look at them. He looked down at Luke from where he sat at the edge of the bed, and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, watching him flinch and gasp.
“I… he told me about the Emperor, and what happened on the second Death Star. But I never guessed it was that bad... “ Leia trailed off. They sat together for a few long minutes, the only thing filling the silence of the ship the sound of Luke’s pain. He seemed to be tiring-- he hadn’t screamed for a while now, and his thrashing had quieted some. Din prayed that it was just the drugs wearing off, and not exhaustion forcing him under.
“I’m going to go get ready to take off as soon as the rest of them are back,” Leia said, rising to her feet and brushing soft fingers across Luke’s cheek once more. Din felt himself slumping a little as she left, closing the door behind her, and he reached up and released the seals on his helmet.
“You’ll be okay,” he whispered to Luke. He gathered Luke into his arms and kissed his forehead, ready to wait out the rest of this nightmare along with him.
