Your Majesty
Part 2
Mand'alor!Din x Reader/OC (reader not described but has a Star Wars sounding first name)
Word Count: 3,358
Summary: Negotiations fell apart. You're there to stitch Din back together. And your boss, Lady Bo-Katan has an opinion on it.
Warnings: light angst, Hurt with lots of Comfort, stitches, mention of blood, mild panic attack. Fluff, reader imagines a sexual situation but no smut. Rating-Mature
Part One
You snuck into a security nook. The feed didn't give you an option to listen in. You weren't even supposed to see what you saw. It all went up in flames and it appears Bo-Katan lit the match. The negotiations ended in another Mandalorian dead by the Darksaber. The challenger was apprehensive, his clan almost had him talked down but you saw it all. Whatever was uttered from Bo-Katan's mouth triggered him. He removed his glove and slammed it on the table. Everyone stood after Din erupted from his chair, sending it flying across the room behind him.
You watched it all from the vantage point of the security lens, above the action. Din left his helmet on the table, ignoring anyone's attempt to hand it to him or tell him to put it on. His red cape fluttered behind him as he found his position in the grand room. Unsheathing the Darksaber. He was unreachable, he was somewhere you had never seen him go.
It was fast, Din dispatched his opponent with a skill and ferocity of the highest order. The challenger got one good swipe of his blade in, followed by a punch with the hilt. You couldn't tell how bad the injury was, but the red was obvious enough on the screen that it was bleeding profusely. A slice on the side of Din's head. You watched the group leave the room after the Krownest clan left with the body. Din ignored all attempts from Bo-Katan, pushing off any aide and stomping off…to his chambers.
So you find yourself outside the service door to his room. No guard stands by here, no need, only executive staff have access to the small back hall. They've been screaming. You've never heard it from either of them before.
I'm sorry!!! Dank Farrik Din! This is my fault! Fine! Yes! You are right!
Silence. You move your ear closer. Din's voice is deep, low, and calm.
"I am right. I'm the one that ends up bloody Kryze, everytime…and…I just…Can you leave me alone."
"Let me call the medic…"
"I'll take care of it myself. Get out."
"Din…"
"Get…OUT!"
Your heart is pounding. You've never heard him yell, well, not like this. You've never heard him angry in a way that sounded so hurt. The door slides open and your eyes meet Bo-Katan's. You can't believe the way you step past her to find yourself on the other side. Her expression is not one of surprise as the door closes in both your faces, leaving you in the Mand'alors chamber.
The air is charged and your hair stands on end. You turn to see Din with blood down the side of his head, spreading into the fine fabrics he's wearing, crimson streaks on his beskar. His eyes look dark, heavy, and brimming with tears as he stares at you. You could count each rise and fall of his gleaming, beskar covered chest as it heaves, each second filling a millenia. His eyes are daggers and his tears are venom.
"Get out Zoh."
His breath becomes quicker as does yours. His jaw tightens. Your heart beats louder in your ears, "No."
Each muscle of his face moves with his pain as the words are harder for him to repeat, "Get out Zoh."
You take two steps forward, and shake your head, "No." You tremble.
His lip quivers, "Please…Zoh." He glances away from you as he breathes his plea, "Go." The tears in his eyes spill out.
You move quickly, your arms outstretched, shaking your head, the lump in your throat crawling up, "No…I won't." You grip each side of his jaw and drag his face to look at you. His warm blood paints your palm red.
Din moves into you, throwing his arms around you as he breathes into your neck. Pulling you in for safety. He shakes as soft sobs pour from him.
"I've got you Din," You say gently as his weight collapses you both to your knees. His shin guards rattle and his warm body presses into you, his blood is on your clothes and face as you give him all the time he needs.
He breathes deep, "I shouldn't have done it. I should have refused but I…I was so, so angry."
You caress the back of his head, "He made his choice Din, they always do."
He pulls away from you, his brown eyes towards the ceiling as you both sit on your legs now, "Did he? Do they? What…is the point…"
You look at the clean slice that divides the top of his ear and opens up his scalp. It needs attention.
You stop worrying about the existential and help draw Din's attention to the physical. Pushing his face to the side you look at the vicious wound, "Does it hurt? Did he get you anywhere else?"
He tries to turn his head to look at you but you hold him steady, "What?...no…no I don't think so."
You pat around his abdomen where if he wasn't dressed formally he would have had more padding and armor on. You hurriedly run your fingers along his thick arms and neck,"Are you sure?"
"Yes–" Din reaches and takes your hands in his, softly, "Zoh…stop."
You look at him, a sadness settling into your face and voice, "Why didn't you wear your helmet?"
Din wipes his eyes with his gloved hands, he wipes the sweat off his brow back into his hair giving a solid wince when he grazes his wound. He doesn't answer your question. He begins to stand but he takes you with him. His strength helps you up from the floor with ease.
He marches away from you towards his refresher. You follow him. He's removed his gloves, splashing cool water over his face and head. Red droplets splash onto the mirror and the surfaces of the steel and gray stone palace fixtures. Glancing at yourself in the mirror you hastily use a towel on a rack to wipe his blood smeared on your face off. You find the med kit in a fresher cabinet and take it back into the room, setting it on the bed. Din stands in the doorway watching you prep the supplies you know you need.
He knows you know what you're doing. You were a medical aide before Bo-Katan called you into service at the palace. Din is silent as he strips himself of his formal wear and armor. Now in only his dress shirt and pants, his boots and shiny leg pieces are still in place. The king of Mandalore sits slowly on the edge of his bed.
He jerks away when your hands approach his head. The tension in your throat makes your voice whisper, "Din."
You begin to clean the mottled blood away, the short hair you hate actually makes it easier to see the damage and will make it easier to close.
Din hisses, "Shit."
"Sorry. I can go get a numbing agent."
"No…" he reaches for the fabric on your hip as you stand over him, he grips it, "Don't go…I trust you-" he unexpectedly smirks, "is my ear still intact?"
"Yes, mostly, I'll need to stitch it. You'll have a couple more scars to add to your collection, your Majesty." You stop and run the pads of your fingertips against the stubble of his jaw. The gesture eases his eyes closed. You lean down and press your lips to the top of his head. You pull away, "I'll be quick and try to…to minimize the damage. The thread will dissolve quickly. You should heal fast."
Din watches you closely as you sterilize your hands with a rub from the kit, thread the needle and coat the thread in bacta, "Lay down, you'll be less likely to jerk away."
"I'm fine to sit."
"I'm not fine, help me out."
Din sighs and lays on his side, squishing and gripping a pillow under his head. You stitch the slice on the tip of his ear back together. He barely flinches at each tug.
"Wear the close fitting hood under your helmet if you have to put it on before bed or you'll risk tearing these."
Din stops himself from nodding, his brow etched in discomfort.
"How's the pain, I can pause and get you something?" you squeeze his bicep gently.
"I'm okay."
You rub his shoulder, "That's why you're the king, tough guy." He smirks at that. The tension of the duel still hangs in the air but the ease and comfort of your company dilutes the atmosphere.
Your chest is in Din's face as you stitch up the gash that is several inches long, diagonal on the side of his head where his hair is buzzed close, "Does this mean you'll grow out this haircut?"
"What if I don't?" He wiggles to get comfortable.
You pull your hands away leaving the needle in his scalp, "Don't move!" You huff.
"Sorry," He glances at your face.
You hover back over him, "I think you will."
"Why's…ow-" he winces, "why is that?"
"Out of spite."
"Actually, it would be more spiteful to keep it. Display this scar any chance I can to show her…" Din gets lost in his thoughts as his eyes trail up and down your form.
"What…what did she say? I...I watched but couldn't hear." You're almost done closing it up, the puckered flesh in the stitches is swollen and unsightly, but should heal and look better quickly with the bacta you use. You snip off the last thread and turn away to put the needle up.
Din takes the opportunity to sit right back up and when you turn around he looks at you concerned, not for him, it's for you. "You watched? Zoh…I'm sorry you saw that." He rubs the stubble on his chin.
You put some ointment on your finger and focus back on your task, he winces as you gently dab it on his wounds, "No. I'm sorry. It wasn't my place or within my station to eavesdrop."
Din huffs, "Station." He tosses the word aside.
You're wiping your hands clean, "It's not. If anything you should reprimand me." You walk away and dampen a cloth to clean the blood left on Din's neck. When you turn around he is standing in the fresher doorway.
"What would that even look like?" He asks.
You start to wipe at his neck and slow your movement when you can't get the cloth under his collar. Din says nothing as he reaches up and undoes the fastenings of his shirt, tugging on the fabric to untuck it. He takes his shirt off and lets it drop where he stands. Your eyes try but fail at avoiding his chest looking at the dried blood along his collarbone. You wipe it away. He's warm, his smooth skin is a beautiful tone, he has a few scars where his armor doesn't protect him. The rag hits the floor with a smack as your fingertips explore an old scar on his left side ribs.
Din watches your hands, his forehead comes down and touches yours, "Kiss me again."
You breathe him in as your lips find his in an instant, magnetic and unstoppable. He holds your neck and waist, walking you backwards into the fresher,meeting the counter.
You pull your mouth away and lay your palms flat on his chest, "Din, you're injured. As much as I like this…I can't…"
He looks at you with a youthful discovery in his eyes, like he just found out he can do what he wants and break any rule. "It's not that–" he looks into the mirror behind you, "...bad." The man looking back is him, he knows that, but suddenly he finds himself outside of the reflection. His hair is still damp, a few traces of blood linger. The reflected man turns his head and examines the puffy stitched line of flesh on the side of his head. It looks surgical, the salve on top makes it glisten. His ear looks red and the black stitching, while delicate, you did as good as a surgeon, looks heinous. For a fleeting moment he thinks he should have taken advantage of his foundlings ability, save him the mild disfigurement and disgust.
"Is that…that's what I look like." He says it more than he asks it.
"What do you mean?"
He shakes his head carefully as his eyes wander, "I'm not sure. Nothing. You're right though." He clears his throat as he turns away from you. You watch him go back to the med kit. You try to ignore all the muscles in his strong back and the way they flex with every movement.
"What do you need?"
He stammers as he fumbles around in the supplies, "My…my head hurts. That's all."
There isn't any pain relief for a headache there. No doubt brought on by the injury and the stress. You have some in your room.
"I'll go get something."
He looks at you in a way that you know how to answer.
"It's fine. You're safe to shower with those stitches and I'll be right back. Okay?" You reach for his hand, "Hey, I'll be right back." He nods as he lets you go.
Taking the lesser known back halls you find Bo-Katan waiting outside your door.
"Your comm is off, so is his. Have you thought this through? What is it you're doing exactly?" She folds her arms. Her armor sits over her formal suit.
"Is that a question you should be asking yourself my lady?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm being a friend to the Mand'alor, my lady. There is no rule that says I can't."
"His friend…I'm certain that's all it is." She rolls her eyes. "I should have re-stationed you sooner. You're done here Zoh."
"You can't keep me from him," You look at her contemptuously.
"No. I suppose I can't but it won't look good either for me to pay you to sleep with the Mand'alor."
You scrunch your face at her and ignore what you want to say in favor of asking what you want to know, "It's always optics with you...What did you say? Why did the king end up killing again?"
"Bold Zoh." She starts to leave, she sighs, "I mentioned disappointing his father if he lost. It was wrong, obviously, I underestimated how badly the kid needed to prove himself and now he's dead…Din is scarred and I lost another clan." Her voice shakes in a way that has your empathy. "So…now I have to figure out how to make it up–" she shrugs, "Din was my friend first, Zoh." She swallows hard and walks away.
"Wait…you knew what you were doing. Leaving those datapads there."
"I just had to be sure I wasn't imagining things." She turns again to leave.
On your way back to the Mand'alors chambers you check in to see that Grogu had no issues going from school to his sleepover. The nanny said he seemed distracted a bit ago but has come back around. You know why, but of course kept tight lipped. You arrive back with a couple different remedies. He doesn't respond when you ring. Your cylinder won't let you in. Your stomach twists. You press again.
It opens. Din stands in a fresh flight suit, the upper undone. He sets his vambrace down and is placing the rest of his armor on its stand. He sighs, "Kriff, it's way after seven, I have to go get Grogu."
"No. He has an overnight party with the other children tonight. Remember you packed a bag this morning? I checked in, he's fine." You pour a glass of water from the in-room bar he never uses.
"Yes. I hope he didn't…no one has called so….He must not have sensed it."
You don't tell him what the nanny said. "Here, take these." You hand him the tablets and water. He takes them and swallows. "You showered?"
He nods.
"Let me see how my work held up." You hold his chin and he tilts his head. You frown, wishing you were better but your stitches aren't bad. "Why are you getting dressed? You need to lay down."
You walk over and turn down his covers on the large ornate bed.
Din wants to argue but his head is pounding and he feels nauseated. You're surprised as he quietly slips off the flight suit, now in nothing but his underwear. Does he have more of a head injury than you realize? He sits on the side of bed and rubs his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.
You watch him. He seems off. You're desperately trying not to look at his toned legs and every peek of flesh you're getting.
"Din?"
He looks like he is forgetting to breathe.
His hand goes to his chest.
"Din. Breathe."
He takes several quick breathes in, his unfocused eyes darting around the room. You follow the beautiful brown orbs as they search for an answer to a question that wasn't asked.
"Your Majesty." You say it firmly, bending to look right into his face. He makes eye contact. "Have you had panic attacks before?"
He nods yes.
"What do you do?"
He mumbles under his breath. He's counting backward from ten in Mando'a. He gets to ehn, three. "I'm sorry."
You sit beside him. Kicking off your shoes, glad you decided to forgo armor today in favor of conservative but casual attire. With the bag of remedy you brought with you, you open it up. "It's alright. I used to get them too after a fight."
"It's hard to imagine you fighting anyone," Din says as he explores his stitches with a fingertip.
"I'll fight you if you touch that again."
"It's…sorry. What's that?"
"Better bacta than what you had. I'll have to make sure they're equipping you properly." You dab the ointment on. He yawns as you do. You never in a million years imagined seeing The Mand'alor undressed, a panicked mess, wounded and yawning. You smile.
He notices, "You're enjoying this."
"No. I mean, yes. But I'm not."
"It's okay. I feel the same," he yawns again.
"It's the painkillers making you fatigued. Lay down." You hop up in the big bed rather than standing.
Din lays on his side, so his injuries face up on his pillow. You start to cover him.
"Will you stay?"
You don't respond. You're frozen, your thoughts are filled with the idea of ripping your clothes off and climbing on top of him, taking him. Feeling the bulge you noticed in his shorts inside you. Riding him up and down, watching all of his muscles flex and veins pop as you're wrapped around him tight.
"Zoh? You don't…if you're uncomfortable. I'm sorry, if…I shouldn't have…"
"I'll stay. You're hurt, you shouldn't be alone."
Din yawns again, he's facing away from you. You push your leggings down and slip your shirt off. Slowly you crawl under the blanket behind him. Your bare foot rubs down the length of his long leg and he lets out a moan. Your flat palm glides over his back and to his waist as you lay up against him. You lean on one arm, your fingernails carefully scrape up his back to his neck, you gently rub the muscle there before you run your hand up the back of his head. Mindful of his injury, his hair is soft and you were right it's still long enough on top your fingers glide through it. Din moans again.
He is groggy and mumbles into the pillow, "I'll be a different man with you in the morning Zoh-" he yawns, "as soon as I'm healed…you'll be the one…moaning."
You reach up to a small panel on the bed frame behind you and the lights go out. The moonlight beams through a narrow castle window and lands on you both. Your chest pressed into his back as you cling yourself to him. You lay your cheek on his back and then lay your lips at the base of his neck planting a kiss before responding, "I look forward to meeting that man."
.
.
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Part 3—>
