synopsis; Your mother and stepfather have ruled over the kingdom since you were only a child. The three of you have always lived in harmony. You perform your duties to the highest honour, you are a beloved princess and a strong decision maker.
You thought they trusted you... but recently your mother and stepfather have been whispering more, they have been keeping secrets from you and excluding you from meetings you would usually attend.
You know there have been whispers of tension brewing in the north... and you've noticed the unhappy faces that frequent your castle more and more. But do you really need a bodyguard 24 hours, 7 days a week?
You've gone all your life with only minimum security and now you're being chaperoned everywhere by a Mandalorian?
What could you possibly need protecting from whilst within the walls you've safely lived behind all your life?
content; slow burn, anthology series, bodyguard au, warnings will be added separately on each part; dividers by @/saradika-graphics
notes; this is my first series of any kind so rbs + comments would be extra appreciated so i know im not completely failing LOL >.< i plan to write at least 4 separate parts. they will all be labelled by the day they occur in universe, for a simple way to see how din + reader's relationship develops. thank you for reading!! 𔘓
[ wc ; tbc (my goal is above or around 10k total) ]
ᡣ𐭩 The Question - Day 1003
Din asks you the question that's been on his mind since the moment he told you his name. But are you finally ready to leave behind the city you've lived in all of your life? - wc; 1164
ᡣ𐭩 The Meeting - Day 1
You're ambushed by the presence of the Mandalorian at breakfast. Your mother insists you're in need of a bodyguard, even behind castle walls. She forbids you from leaving the grounds and refuses to answer any of your questions. What is going on? - wc; [?]
ᡣ𐭩 [unnamed part] - Day 346
You celebrate your 25th birthday with the Mandalorian at your side—your first birthday in which you're forced to stay at home instead of celebrating amongst your people in the city. But your bodyguard has a surprise up his sleeve that he hopes you'll enjoy just as much as your usual celebrations. - wc; [?]
ᡣ𐭩 The Proposal - Day 572
Your mother is keen to strengthen the hold your family has over the kingdom—the tension in the northern districts is rising to its breaking point. What better way to show strength and bring that familiar warmth back to the city than with a royal wedding. - wc; [?]
synopsis; Din asks you the question that's been on his mind since the moment he told you his name. But are you finally ready to leave behind the city you've lived in all of your life? ˎˊ˗
content; bodyguard au, mutual feelings, royal reader, Din calls reader My Lady
notes; this is part of my faltering winds in the lavender fields series, but it can be read as a standalone. it also acts as prompt 14 from my reputation event because inspiration struck + i just ran with it. enjoy!
[ wc; 1164 ]
The pit-patter of raindrops on the windows and the slight rustle of leaves from the low winds are the only sounds to be heard as Din stands opposite you, waiting with bated breath. He's nervous. His hands shake silently at his sides but he forces them to still—stretching his fingers wide before bundling them in the fabric of his coat.
“Mando–Din…” You correct yourself, the use of his name seems more correct given the circumstance. “I've told you before, this place–this world–I do not need you to save me from it.”
The rain continues its heavy onslaught, the leaves and flowers in the garden behind him must surely be getting battered. Din is glad for the building's overhang, glad he advised you to put on a cloak before your daily stroll in the garden this afternoon.
He clears his throat before speaking, although his voice is still strained. “I do not wish to overstep…” He hesitates.
You see his fear in the way he's holding himself—drawn inwards as if he's ashamed. When you move a step closer to him the rain begins to hit the top of your head and your outstretched hand.
“My Lady, please, stay ba–” He starts, more concerned for your own well being than his own. His lack of urgency to remove himself from the fierce rain storm is proof of this.
He wants to touch you, to push you back under the protection of the overhang, but he doesn't dare—too afraid of what his hands on your body would mean now.
“No,” you whisper, bringing one of your hands up to rest on his chest.
You show no hesitation, there's no fear in your eyes as your other hand grabs hold of his and holds it tight. You will him not to move away from your touch, hoping your conviction shows that you aren't scared of these new blurring lines.
“There is no need to be so formal,” you continue, “we're alone in this garden, Din. It's okay for you to use my name.”
He nods and you smile before speaking again. “And,” your hand squeezes his gently, “I fear that if you do not use my name now then your offer—your wish—for me to run away with you will not seem as genuine, and I may decline if you do not seem so very keen to whisk me away.”
Your words are teasing, familiar, like a joke between two childhood friends who are trying to bridge the gap between what once was and what is. The smile you give him is warm, but Din recognises that forced look on your face—the one he sees most often when you speak with leaders from neighbouring districts.
“I see…” His attempt to match your teasing falls flat and he watches as the smile slowly drops from your face. He wishes he could reach out to you with a gloveless hand, to cup your face and wipe your tear away before it cascades its way down your cheek.
Bong.
The clock chime breaks you both out of your shared world—Din thinks he may simply die when your gaze is torn away from his helmet.
Yet the world still turns.
You pull away from him suddenly, as though his touch burns and Din cannot stop himself from wincing.
He's at a loss for words—not for the first time in your presence—so he does what he always does, what he's paid to do. He looks after you.
“Come,” he says. And he walks you backwards until you're fully protected by the overhang again. Your eyes are glued to the floor but you thank him silently with a nod.
The rain has only gotten heavier the longer you've been outside. What was once low rustles and soft pattering is now fast gusts that threaten to tear the leaves from their branches, and large puddles beginning to form in the plush grass and flower beds. There's a pang in your chest as you remember all the times Din has walked with you through these gardens. Memories of your 25th birthday make the sting behind your eyes worsen considerably, although those times seem like a world away now.
“Din…” You whisper, eyes finally meeting his helmet again—little do you know your gaze is piercing his eyes directly and causing a teenage-like blush to cover his cheeks.
“I know–I do–that you don't need saving, you've proven this, and told me so, many times over.” He speaks in a low voice, “but it has been my job, my duty, to keep you safe for all these years and I-I was going to leave without telling you this… But then your parents… and the gala–the way you were spoken to.” His fists clench at his side and he takes a shaky breath, but his helmet stays trained on you. “No. I wouldn't–I couldn't–leave this place without speaking what I was certain would go unspoken between us. What I thought would go unspoken even once this contract was over and I was to leave these grounds never to return. Or see you again.” He swallows thickly, the thumping in his chest gets louder and louder.
You tilt your head, your eyes somehow swimming with confusion and with the knowledge of what he's about to say. You smile again. And Din feels the overwhelming familiarity—this is a real smile, with real warmth, and real happiness behind it.
Your smile refuels his confidence. And when he speaks again, he speaks with such conviction you almost melt. “So, yes. I want you to run away with me. I want you to get on my ship and leave with me, never to return.” His gaze burns through his helmet, it leaves you buzzing with electricity. “Your parents… w-we could arrange visits. Leaving here wouldn't have to mean never seeing them again, if that's what you wanted.”
Your heart sings at his words, but you force yourself to wait for him to ask again. You think that if he just pushes past the discomfort, shows you—tells you—how badly he wants to be free with you, then maybe your mind can be changed…
This thought is like a slap across the face. You stand straighter, mind racing.
Could you really leave this place? Your home?
“My lady.” Din says. You open your mouth to correct him, but he doesn't give you a chance to speak. “Will you run away with me?”
The question sits heavy between you, the air is thick with desire and longing.
Your fear of leaving your home has disappeared—evaporated into the rain clouds above you.
You no longer worry about what your mother will say.
“Yes.”
One word. Simple, elegant, but it carries the weight of a thousand unsaid things.
I trust you to take care of me.
I will follow you wherever we must go to give ourselves the future we deserve.
You are the only person that knows who I truly am.
faltering winds din loves to call you his flower btw. the first time he does is the night he punches out 3 trespassers for attempting to disrupt your evening stroll in your gardens. you ask him if everything is alright when he reappears round the corner with spots of blood on his armour after disappearing 5 minutes earlier and he says
"i apologise for interrupting our conversation, my flower, i can assure you that im all yours now.
and yes, im fine, thank you for asking--will you please continue to tell me about these budding purple flowers?"
