Nov 10, 2023
Masterlist Post
Thought it was about time I put together a Masterlist of fics I've written :)
Please see below the cut!
Requests are currently open :)
seen from Malta
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Australia
seen from France
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malta
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from South Korea
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
Masterlist Post
Thought it was about time I put together a Masterlist of fics I've written :)
Please see below the cut!
Requests are currently open :)
Series:
Digital art tag - #Simper-arts
Writing Tag - DaniWrites
Spice is denoted by RED, angst by BLUE
Yai'mol - Sev x F!Jedi OC Cin, Scorch x F!Jedi OC Cin
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Mar'eyce - Delta Squad x Jedi!OC Jerra - Masterlist
Requests:
Hardcase x Jedi!Reader - Prompt: “Can we please kiss? I’ve been wanting to kiss you since we left that place.”
Hunter x F!Reader - Prompt: First Kiss (Hands on Cheeks)
Echo x GN!Reader - Strawberries
Fixes x F!Reader - Prompt: I thought I lost you
Shorts:
The Return (Missing Scene) - I'm Sorry (Season 3 Spoilers!)
Been Too Long - Echo x F!Reader
Passing - A letter from Omega (post series)
What a Sight - Echo x F!Reader (inspired by an amazing edit by @isthereanechoinhere96)
Flutter - Hunter x F!OC - (Pregnancy Fic)
The Beach - No Pairing (based on @amorfista's amazing art series)
Left Behind - No Pairing - Scorch (Republic Commando) centric fic about remembering brothers.
Completed:
Marching On - A one shot continuing @dystopicjumpsuit's amazing Martyrs and Kings fic. Kix x Maree Finall (F!OC)
Mirror, Mirror - Hunter x Shapeshifter!OC x Echo (written for @anxiouspineapple99's Halloween Party 2023)
The Hunt - Vampire!Fives x F!Reader (Halloween '23)
Taking Notes - Vampire!Tup x Vampire!Reader (F) (Halloween '23)
Not Alright - No Pairing (Post Plan 99) (AO3)
In Progress:
Returns - Fives x F Jedi!OC - On hiatus (AO3)
Phases - Echo x F!OC - On hiatus (AO3)
Additional:
Bad Batch Season 3 Fan Content
Gregor's Cookbook
Mar'eyce: Chapter 13
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Mando OC Kaiyah Awaud
Word Count: 4.5k
Rating: M, 18+, no younglings. This is a mature fic.
Warnings: Language, canon typical violence, no beta, too much Mando'a, and Gideon.
Author’s Note: This covers The Believer and some of The Rescue. I apologize in advance for the weird formatting (dumb only ten images a post rule) and... The rest of it.
Summary: Din wasn’t sure how to respond to Mayfeld’s statement, but he knew he was wrong. He wasn’t desperate, just different.
Read from the beginning: Mar'eyce Masterlist
If you asked Din Djarin, The Mandalorian bounty hunter, and leader of his clan what the past fifty-two hours entailed he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Not anything past the terror and rage. His absolute determination to do what needed to be done as quickly as possible. Then Morak happened and Din didn’t think he could ever forget that.
Mayfeld was running his mouth, talking about ruling and being ruled. That Mandalorians were no different than the Empire, the wars and bloodshed all meaning the same thing. Power, undiluted and incorruptible. It was strikingly black-and-white for someone so grey. Din knew Mayfeld was wrong, that Mandalore fell because of the Empire, the weak rulers, not because of what Mandalorians were or believed. Din knew Arumorut and the Mandalorians there, that their power came from the people and the trust they had in their leader. Mandalore never had that, at least in his lessons.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Din had never been one to listen to ramblings and Mayfeld’s conjecture about his life and people was grating. “You and I are nothing alike.”
“I don’t know. Seems to me like our rules start to change when you get desperate. I mean, look at ya. You said you couldn’t take your helmet off, and now you gotta stormtrooper one on so what’s the rule? Is it that you can’t take off your Mando helmet, or that you can’t show your face? ‘Cause there is a difference.”
Mayfeld was somewhat right, Din was different now then he had been when they first met. He was learning about different Creeds and mandokar, something Kaiyah talked about all the time.
To her, the right stuff is what made Mandalorians and making sure you were worthy of it, working on mandokarla, was the most important thing. If a Mandalorian was wearing armor without mandokar, that was where she would step in. If they weren’t honorable, loyal, or a defender then they were dar’manda and didn’t need their armor. For Kaiyah it was simple, she was all those things so she was Mandalorian.
Din was trying to meet her in the middle, relax a little, but every time he would try to eat with her - the easiest way for him to break the ice - Kaiyah would look away, leave the room, obviously give him space. He appreciated the gesture and under normal circumstances it would be a non-issue, but this was his soulmate. Someone he cared for, deeply, and wanted to share things with them. He had given her his name, the one that he would share with her someday and while he was nervous about showing his face to someone for the first time in thirty years, he was… Excited.
Din had The Covert, people to share in the collective highs and lows, but this was going to be his clan. His person, the one that would be there for all of them. They wouldn’t be separated by Jedi, exposure, nothing would take Kaiyah away from him. It was why he had to get her back. She was his and he was hers.
Din wasn’t sure how to respond to Mayfeld’s statement, but he knew he was wrong. He wasn’t desperate, just different.
"Mrs. Djarin? Mrs. Djarin, there you are. I have to say, regardless of the circumstances, I am very pleased to meet you. My name is Moff Gideon."
Kaiyah blinked away the bleariness from her eyes, shaking her head slightly to knock away the double vision. The Imp in front her containment field, Gideon, is not one she had ever met before. The dark skin, greying hair, and lanky armored body did nothing to jog her memory but the name itched in the back of her mind. Din mentioned him, once and only once with minimal detail. He was ex-ISB with a vendetta against Mandalore and supposed to be dead on Nevarro, blown up by a detonator on his TIE fighter.
Gideon looms over her from her prone position despite the crimson electrical field. Kaiyah gets the first good look of herself since she was taken hostage on the light cruiser as she went to stand. She’s armorless, not surprising, but Gideon has left her with nothing. No gloves, no boots, her hair is out of the braided style she usually wore it in.
Gideon cocks his head in mock worry, a frown on his face, “Are you missing something, Mrs. Djarin?”
Kaiyah doesn’t deign to respond. It’s rhetorical and stupid. It's also not Kaiyah's first time in integration and probably wouldn't be the last. She does what she was taught and keeps her fucking mouth shut.
"You know what happens to snitches!"
She’s just had her first encounter with a Imp officer. She didn’t say anything, she promises, she pinky swears. They caught her, she didn’t see them, it was an accident.
"Ro, stop. Secrets keep us safe. All of us."
Even at eight, Kaiyah and Ro understand the weight of what's being unsaid.
The Rebels we do and don't know.
Ba'buir.
Armurot.
Civilians.
It is heavy, the silence, the knowledge, that if they let anything slip it would mean ruination.
"Say nothing and do less."
So that's what she does. This Imp won’t get an ounce of her, no reactions, he will use it all against her on the chessboard that is - at least in his mind - diplomacy.
“How was your rest, Mrs. Djarin?”
She looks the Imp right in the eye, letting them marinate in the silence until he breaks it.
“Well,” Gideon smacks his lips, looking almost confused at her muteness. “Our medics had to take off the armor to set your wrist. Nasty thing, a compound fracture in your forearm from the detonation. Mandalorians will do anything for family, won’t they?”
She can’t help the twitch that goes through her body when the Moff family. He has Grogu here, she knows he does. Who else would be after him besides this piece of garbage? Gideon was a big gun, someone who got things done according to Din.
He smiles at her reaction a slow, too-wide thing, “You’ll be happy to know the armor is safe, as is The Child. So safe in fact, that it’s right here with you. Now I can’t make the same promise for your armor as I can for him, but let’s call this a token of my good will.” The Imp flicked his cape to the side, showing a standing case full of her armor, the red light making her armor seem darker. Red and maroon instead of orange and purple. Honor and power instead of shereshoy and luck, all polished and put together it looked almost like a memorial or a shrine.
“I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Djarin.”
Drinking with Valin Hess was the worst experiences of Din’s life. He didn’t like drinking under normal circumstances, it left him feeling disoriented and exposed. Now, he was feeling that way for an entirely different reason. He barely took off the armor to sleep and shower, preferring to keep most of it on or near him in case of an emergency. The only person to see his face, besides himself, in three decades was a melted down IG unit on the lava flats of Nevarro and now a mess hall full of Imperial officers.
“I could blather on about ‘to health’ or ‘to success’, but I’d like to do somethin’ a little less rote. Where you from, Brown Eyes?” Hess asked, looking Din straight in the eyes. The only person to ever get it right over the years was Kaiyah, everyone else veered a little too far to the right.
Din had a lump in his throat the size of Coruscant and has dry as Tattooine, he had been burning all day. The burning in his wrist from Tython was gone, replaced by nicks and scrapes in his fingertips from something - more than likely someone hurting Kaiyah. Gideon was going to take her only weapons from her, healing her, then doing it again.
“How ‘bout a toast to Operation Cinder?” Mayfeld shrugged.
The two Imperials reminisced, though that would be a strong word for it. The sharpshooter was getting angrier with each passing second and Hess was getting suspicious. This wasn’t where Din wanted to be, needed to be. They needed to be on Fett’s ship, they needed to be gone, they needed to get his aliit and this was unnecessary.
Din tried to get Mayfeld to back off, shaking his head. If they could just toast, drink, and leave then Mayfeld could do whatever he wanted. Din didn’t care if he killed the Imperial in his sleep, blew up the mine, just as long as they kept it quiet and fast here right now.
That didn’t happen, of course it didn’t when Hess started rambling about freedom and order and power yet again. The only thing he didn’t expect was Mayfeld to shoot the man right in the chest, in the middle of the mess with a million witnesses.
The Imp was back.
Kaiyah had been marking time through the vents. Every six hours, without fail, some kind of air would start pushing through the vents. The rush of air was her only companion as she looked at her armor. She cataloged every piece with her own eyes, getting as close as she dared to the warbling field. She named every piece in Basic, Mando’a, and every other language she knew, then did it backwards. Kaiyah wandered around her half of the divided cell, not that there was much to see. A bench long enough for her to lay down on, to the right a toilet and some kind of rainfall spout, no shower head or handle. If they wanted her to bathe the Imp would have to give the order and let water fall through clear to the lower floors.
In a strange way, Kaiyah was flattered. They really pulled out all the stops to make sure she couldn’t escape. Or get to Grogu. Or Din. Well, she could always get to Din, it would just be painful on both ends and cause unnecessary panic.
As she paced in time with the seconds she counted in her head - never out loud, saying nothing and doing less - Gideon entered during the third vent cycle.
“Su cuy'gar, Mrs. Djarin.”
Kaiyah didn’t stop her pacing, even though Mando’a was coming out of this barve. He didn’t deserve to speak it, he shouldn’t even know it, but she couldn’t do anything about it now.
“I apologize for our less than optimal dinner services. Please, sit. Don’t stand on ceremony on account of myself.”
Out of her peripheral she watched as a trooper set up a travel desk and set down two trays, one on the desk the other on the floor. “Red gourd soup with haarshun bread. To drink we have kri’gee, all the things to remind you of home,” Gideon explained before he began digging into his food. He didn’t spare Kaiyah a glance as he pushed the tray through the red divider using the toe of his boot. By the time it got to her side the food was charred and the liquor was gone leaving only a smoking, super heated mess.
Gideon grimaced looking down at the bowl, “It doesn’t taste the same. It never does with Imperial cooks. They just don’t get draluram the way Ordo did.” He looked up at that moment, seemingly embarrassed about a faux pas he meant to make. Ordo was a Mandalorian name for a Mandalorian clan and Gideon didn’t seem like the kind of Imp who made mistakes, unless it was on purpose.
Waving away the tension he created, Gideon continued, “He was my personal chef, in another life. He could make anything and I took full advantage of that.”
He stayed for nine hundred seconds, fifteen minutes, eating in silence until he wiped the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin and stood, bowing shallowly to Kaiyah, “Ret'urcye mhi, Mrs. Djarin.”
Kaiyah waited for five minutes by her count until she started poking around. She wasn’t entirely sure of the schedule the Moff was setting up but he wouldn’t be coming back this cycle, there was no reason to. He had played his hand and would try again tomorrow, at least Kaiyah hoped by the display he made. Stripping her of her armor, eating her food, speaking her language, Gideon was planning to disrupt her or get her angry. It felt like he was digging for something, but what she didn’t know what.
He could always try to throw her off in other ways, visit her once an hour or send someone to check on her, he could make sure she was never alone and he more than likely had a video feed. Kaiyah could see parts of his plan but not all of it and it was frustrating. It seemed like he had every step planned out for her to fall into some kind of trap but she wasn’t sure of what kind.
Her only hope was to be faster than the troopers and get to a escape pod. Din would grab her armor for her because he was coming back for her, for the both of them. From there Kaiyah could scrap the pod for parts, get them shelter and food. Din would find them, he had to. With that thought in mind she headed for the shower, the only place that had anything she could possibly use to escape.
She kept up with her counting as she dug around the drain and the shower head, pinching, twisting, pushing, and prying to get it out at the expense of a few new cuts and broken nails. Metal became hot through the field, there was a chance she could shape the metal into something else, or if it was thin and sharp enough she could use it like a throwing dagger, killing Gideon. But that was a long shot, escape first, kill the Imp second.
Without warning warm water rains from the shower through the grate, “If you would like a shower Mrs. Djarin, all you had to do was ask.”
It wasn’t Gideon, but a woman. Lower pitch, rigid language, definitely an Imp, but a woman. “Seriously? Scheduled showers?” Kaiyah asked, wet, annoyed, and embarrassed that she has to talk to someone to get basic necessities.
“Not scheduled. It’s voice activated, or, if you were feeling polite you could always ask.”
Kaiyah scoffed, “I’m not asking for a shower.”
“There are five minutes of warm water. Your meal is coming down in ten.”
Three days. Three days since Din had felt anything from Kaiyah. No new injuries, small or otherwise. He couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t think about eating, he had no ship. The only thing Din could do was think. And think. And think.
What favors could he pull in? Who was an ally? What were there strengths? There was no way that even with how good Shand and Cara were that the three of them were enough for Gideon. Peli wasn’t a fighter, neither was Karga. Not for the kind of fight they were picking. There was no way Fett was leaving his ship, the Imps would get rid of it first before picking them off and they needed a ride off the cruiser.
In his darkest moments, Din thought of killing Moff Gideon. How good it would feel, especially after that message. He knew what he was saying to the kidnapper. They meant more to him than he would ever be able to put into words. Din thought about what he would do, how he would do it. He wouldn’t take his time, that was too easy. He wouldn’t be merciful, that was for the gods. The Moff had taken Din’s family and he was going to show him pain. Make him wish for death -
“Mando? Mando, you there?” Cara asked waving a hand in front of his visor.
“Yes. You were saying?”
“Is there anyone else? Anyone we can find?”
Din shook his head as he flipped through the map of the galaxy. He couldn’t get The Covert dragged back in this, he had learned his lesson about that. If Arumorut got involved it would be Nevarro on a huge level. So many would come above ground for only the worst to happen. “No. The Covert went underground, I can’t find them before…”
No one needed to finish that sentence.
“There’s no one else? No one like myself or Boba?” Fennec questioned from her seat.
Ahsoka was gone in the wind, Din wouldn’t be able to find her again without Bo-Katan. That was it. A Mandalorian above ground and had it out for Moff Gideon. She could keep the saber all he wanted was his family, his people, safe. Din started looking through the Outer Rim and called out to Boba, “Start scanning for assaults on the Imperial Remnant. Any starships that have Mandalorian names.”
It goes that way for the next hundred or so hours. The disembodied woman would let her know when food was coming down and sent new clothes after her flight suit got soaked in her first ‘shower’. Gideon showed up for the third meal, which Kaiyah assumed was dinner, without fail, every day.
On her third day, if it could even be called that, she broke. Nothing was working, the grates were welded to the floor, water was worthless against electricity, the panels on the wall held nothing besides bulbs, she couldn’t even find the speaker that the Imp was talking through. She couldn’t do anything if she tried.
“So why the Empire?”
“Why the Rebellion?” the woman asked.
“What the Empire was doing was wrong. Subjugation is wrong. People deserve to live their lives free.”
“That’s rich coming from a Mandalorian.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Kaiyah gritted out.
“Well, your kind fights wars based on nothing for nothing. Your planet is glass. Your kind has never fought for anything but scraps of land for a title that doesn’t even exist anymore.”
Kaiyah couldn’t argue against that. The Mandalore Mandos did do that, between Death Watch and the New Mandalorians there wasn’t much left. Arumorut was easy: respect The Creed and you can stay. Don’t be a shitty person and you can stay. If you weren’t, well, it wasn’t like Ba’buir Nejaa would let them leave and tell everyone about them. They did what they had to to protect their aliits.
“The Moff will be dining with you in five minutes.”
Din watched as Cara walked off the passenger ship carrying Pershing. The pilot deserved to be shot for mocking her pain. There was no way to cope with that kind of loss besides marching on. Hoping that you do something to see them all again.
Selfishly, Din wished that he could have something that Cara did. Something that would kill that kind of pain, he knew it after Nevarro and while he was too small to remember Mandalore he had heard the stories. He wished it for Kaiyah too, he had seen her laugh off too many glassy eyed looks and thousand meter stares. Heard her nightmares and commiserated in her pain. He wished that they both had something to suffocate, kill that feeling, fill that gaping, sucking wound and be whole again.
Kaiyah was losing her mind. She had to be. She was laughing at an Imp’s joke. This was rock bottom. Insanity. There was no coming back from this.
“I know, it’s awful. It was my brother’s favorite joke, it’s so stupid.”
“No, don’t say that. It’s pretty good, honestly. Where’s your brother stationed?” Kaiyah asked as she wiped the corners of her eyes trying to remember how to breathe again. The two had been doing this since their first conversation. Kaiyah would usually start rambling because it was boring as hell to be stuck there and the Imp wasn’t Gideon so it was a plus in her book. There were no deep questions after their first conversation, both choosing to keep details vague and anecdotes funny.
There was a pause, “He was on the second Death Star.”
Even though Kaiyah was the only one in the room it still felt like all the air was sucked out of it. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t be, he’s not dead. I know it. We’re twins, I would know if something happened to him.”
The ache twisted farther in Kaiyah’s gut. She knew where the Imp was coming from. She could find Ro anywhere, at anytime. She could feel him like a limb, if he was gone she would know. “I get it,” Kaiyah cleared her throat. “I’m a twin too.”
“Really? I feel like it’s rare to meet one, I never have before.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy, they ended up having twins too. Just carrying the family line,” Kaiyah laughed.
“You don’t have any kids?”
Her fists clenched on top of her knees, “I do. You have him.”
“The Moff will dining with you in ten minutes.”
It didn’t feel like ten minutes. It felt like eternity and the blink of an eye, her perception was all skewed even as she kept count. Seconds were nothing if you had no comparison.
Bes'bev blared through the speakers and Kaiyah jumped up at the sound. It wasn’t a particularly soothing kind of music as the end of the flute was cut off and sharpened to a point, when the bes’bev wanted to be it was shrill, demanding, and annoying. Gideon swished through the door a moment later, as he show cased a bottle of wine.
“I apologize for the late night. Some things came up, but I figured we could share a nightcap.”
Kaiyah barely held in her scoff. She didn’t know what time it was unless someone deigned to tell her. Gideon rambled about nothing, choosing to inform her all about the history of ‘this kind’ of music, where the rice was from, why its legs are more pink than true red.
Then the field turned off. Blinked out of existence and her chance at escape was in her grasp. Kaiyah charged, tucking herself for a tackle to bring Gideon down and book it to Grogu, get off this stupid ship and get safe. Then the field was up again, red hot and jumping, crackling with a frenzy. The electricity stopped her because there was no way she was stopping herself in time. Holding her forearms to her face, she gritted her teeth and made her scream a groan as too many volts swarmed through her body and she dropped to the ground.
Gideon scolded her from his seat, “I thought we were passed this. I wanted to build trust with you like you have my captain. How wrong I was, acting like the savage you are.” He pushed Kaiyah away from the field with his boot, rolling her just centimeters from the living red energy as her body recoiled.
“I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Djarin.”
Din nearly dropped to his knees in the Slave. Bo-Katan had her nose in the air as she surveyed their surroundings, Cara was taking her sweet time uploading the plans, and Pershing was fidgeting in cuffs all while Din’s stomach dropped. It had been four days. Four days of silence, no more scrapes or cuts or broken bones. Gideon got his message, Din knew he did, but he didn’t think the Moff would do something like this in retaliation.
Din needed both Kaiyah and Grogu alive. He wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise. Overlapping images swarmed his mind as he thought of who he would be without his runi. Kai was suddenly replaced with himself. It would be so easy, so understandable, to put down the armor, become a recluse, barely do the minimum it took to keep himself alive. Din wouldn’t be what Grogu needed, not that he was now, but at least the kid was safe.
What if Grogu was hurt too? Din didn’t know. He wouldn’t know until he got them back. All of a sudden the anxiety he was pushing away suffocated him. Every terrible thought, outlandish and otherwise was now a reality.
Grogu harvested of not just his blood but scrapped for parts like a droid.
Kaiyah burned to a crisp but kept alive.
Both of them sold off to slavers. Separated by two different buyers.
Neither of them there.
A fake cruiser.
Only one of them there.
Din having to choose who he would save. Kaiyah would force him to pick Grogu.
Gideon being a figment of Din’s fucked up imagination.
His breaths were getting shorter. Something was wrong with his heart. What was happening to Kaiyah? Something grabbed his shoulder and Din broke the hold, grabbing the wrist and squeezing.
“Mando, what the hell?” Cara gritted out, trying not to make a scene in front of everyone. Which was exactly was he was doing.
He dropped Cara’s hand as soon as he grabbed it, “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”
“Mrs. Djarin, we’re being boarded. They are obviously here for you,” the disembodied Imp woman sounded like she was just talking about the weather. It was impressive that she managed to sound that collected and Kaiyah told her as much.
“Thank you. It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Djarin.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it that but -“ Kaiyah’s sentence hung in the air as the red electricity disappeared again. It had only been twelve hours by her count but she wasn’t risking getting shocked again. She had stayed curled up on her little bench far, far away from that thing.
“A group of four is heading to the bridge. Good luck.”
Not willing to bite the hand that fed her, Kaiyah took off. Her bare feet slapping against the floor as she started to pound on the control panels close to her. This was the brig, it had to be, Grogu had to be close. Plastoid clunking together alerted her before the tinny voice ever did, slipping in a alcove she pressed herself to the wall, “We’re heading to the bridge now.”
***
Din felt her before he saw her. She was somewhere nearby, not even close to the brig, this was cargo and storage. Kaiyah was right next to the Death Troopers. Moving down the hall, he followed her, feeling along this new connection before he saw her, peeking out from a corner in no armor, not even her flight suit, just some loose baggy clothes that they would give someone before medical testing or exams.
“Kaiyah!”
***
Translations:
Mandokar: the ‘right stuff’. Epitome of Mandalorian virtue, a blend of aggression, tenacity, and lust for life.
Mandokarla: having the ‘right stuff’. Usually by showing mandokar, a compliment from a Mandalorian.
Dar’manda: not being a Mandalorian, someone having lost their soul.
Shereshoy: Lust for life and much more, living life to the fullest.
Aliit: family, clan.
Su cuy'gar: Hello. Literally, you’re still alive.
Barve: Legends, slang for pig.
Red gourd soup, haarshun bread, kri’gee: Broken down, it’s basically squash soup with matzo and a malt liquor from hell. Kri’gee is awful to put down with a bitter taste, leaves you with a nasty hangover and being able to not complain about said hangover is a sign of Mandalorian fortitude.
Draluram: Vivid, used only to describe food.
Ret'urcye mhi: Goodbye, literally ‘Maybe we’ll meet again’.
Ba’buir: Grandparent
Bes'bev: A shank flute
Fun Fact: Mando wine is made with rice and grapes, it’s a red wine, kinda gives me Bordeaux vibes based on very minimal Google research, but I dunno. I don’t drink red wine it’s icky.
Osi'kyr: exclamation for surprise or dismay, I’m choosing to use this as ‘oh my, god’ but who knows if I’m right.
Mar'eyce
Mar'eyce [mah-RAY-shay] - discovery, something found at last, a state of heaven
It is the middle of the Clone Wars.
Delta Squad have been assigned their own Jedi Commander after their capture of the Prosecutor, with the Grand Army of the Republic wishing to keep their skillset close at hand.
Their travels together, their bonds, their troubles and trials, all while fighting a seemingly never ending war and keeping their own balance, will test them all to their limits.
Masterlist:
Introductions: WIP Art: Jedi OC Jerra (art by the amazing Kira Ghore who is not on tumblr but will link her site when she is done with it!)
-*-*-
Actions and Consequences (F!Jedi OC x Delta Squad) Chapter 1: Resolute Chapter 2: Heroes Chapter 3: Vode An Chapter 4: Blame Chapter 5: Reconciliation Chapter 6: tba
Mar'eyce: Chapter 12
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Mando OC Kaiyah Awaud
Word Count: 2.8k
Rating: M, 18+, no younglings. This is a mature fic.
Warnings: Language, canon typical violence, angsty, too much Mando'a, too many italics. As always, no beta.
Author’s Note: I have no excuses for how late this is. I lost motivation and it kinda felt like it was done if though it isn't. I don't know if that makes sense. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! This covers some missing scenes of The Jedi and The Tragedy.
Summary: It was so hard. To wash his ears. To put him to bed. To step away. To not grab him. To not run. Far and fast and away.
Read from the beginning: Mar'eyce Masterlist
“I just don’t understand. I don’t get it,” Kaiyah groused as she paced the belly of the Crest. “We do all that work for her, for Vor- Grogu -and she won’t train him?”
Din gave a weary sigh from where he posted up against the counter, arms crossed over his chest plate. This was a discussion that Kaiyah had been pushing the closer they got to the end. She was of the opinion that Grogu should stay with them, had been since the beginning, that he already had his people and Din didn’t need to go finding anyone, that it wasn’t breaking The Creed and they would raise him as their own, like her buirs did with Ro. “We have a lead, it will work out.”
Barreling over his statement Kaiyah continued rambling, “I don’t get it, ‘I’ve seen what it does to the best of us’? So wouldn’t it be more helpful to help him?”
Din attempted a noncommital grunt, but they both knew he agreed.
“He’s so powerful but because he has us, he’s weak? Untrainable?”
“That’s not true and you know it, Kaiyah,” Din said sternly, trying to cut off the discussion before it started.
She felt Din’s shoulder move under her head as he shrugged, “The kid - Grogu - needs his people, we can’t train him the way he needs to be trained. We’re doing the right thing.” He said with all the conviction of a man who knew he was wrong. Who was trying to convince himself of the right thing.
Kaiyah stopped next to him and slumped against his shoulder, her forehead knocking against his pauldron. “I know. I just… I’m trying to wrap my head around it. The Creed,” she swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat. The Creed. Not mine, not yours, ours. It wasn’t something she ever really had to think about before, not in any real way at least, every Mandalorian she had ever met was of Arumorut blood, “Says that there is strength in numbers and family. Loyalty. How do the Jetti survive by being islands unto themselves? It sounds lonely.”
“Are we?” she whispered against his arm. “Is Grogu going to be taken care of when we find this stranger?”
“He will be safe. That is the important thing.”
“Safe and loved aren’t the same thing. Will they let him have friends? Will there even be other kids around? Is he going to be clothed and fed well? Does he already have too many ‘attachments’?” She sighed, her own humid breath bouncing back in her face. She was tired of the every growing loop they were finding themselves in. There was no meeting in the middle on this. Kaiyah was a guest, no matter that she was his soulmate. She joined this quest at the end, purely under the agreement to help, not hinder. “I’m worried, Din.”
“He will be safe, Kaiyah,” Din ground out. He didn’t want to have this discussion. Not again. Not when they just ended up in the same place they always did.
In the way that Kaiyah had heard of new parents nesting, she too was packing, organizing, rearranging, dismantling, and rebuilding anything she could get her hands on in the Razor Crest. She had promised both Grogu and Din to get Grogu to his people, to somewhere safe, let him live in peace like he was always supposed to.
He was also safe here.
He was cared for here.
With them. His aliit.
Their ad’ika has peace here. Kaiyah had peace here. But, as Din reminded her, she was being selfish. So she prepped. She packed. She pushed it all down and did what she was supposed to and thought of all things that their ad’ika might need.
What if Grogu was on Hoth for training? He would need a heater. She could make one, probably. So she did.
What if it was rainy wherever this strange Jetti took him? Grogu would need the appropriate clothes. She waterproofed his limited closet.
What if he needed someone to talk to? Advice or just missed his buir? She recorded Din talking, just in case. She knew that there was no way that Din would let her get a holovid or take pictures, for everyone’s safety, who knew what the price of the father and son’s bounties were now, but it was a voice recording. It wasn’t a big deal. The two of them would always know that while he was here, Grogu was giggly and mischievous and always wanted a full serving of tiingilar even though he could barely get through one bite. Grogu might not have that luxury. He should know that his buir loved him endlessly.
“He’s come so far. I’m so proud of him,” Din told her the night she recorded him. It was easy to get him talking about his ad’ika, all she had to do was say ‘Grogu’ and Din immediately went into a story about how he recognized his own name and how smart he was, all things she knew but was happy to hear again and again and again. “He moved the sphere all by himself today. He took it and gave it back using his powers, I wish you were there to see it, Tran’ika. He’s amazing.”
Kaiyah wasn’t upset to have missed it, she knew that Din was hoarding everything he could the same way she was practically giving everything away. Who knew what was going to happen? Who knew if they were ever going to see Grogu again? The Manda wasn’t in the habit of giving those answers, no matter how much Kaiyah prayed. She knew, Din knew. It was take what you could, keep what you can for them and Grogu was their treasure.
It didn’t take long to get to the seeing stone but the hours seemed to drag by. When they sat down for mealtime - Kaiyah’s and Grogu’s at least, Din still ate separately - it was the last one. Somehow, in the sinking pit of their stomaches, they knew. They knew it was the last chance to know Grogu, as their ad’ika, as their aliit, these were the last few precious moments pouring through the hourglass of their time together. While the adults understood, Grogu seemed unfazed, cooing and mumbling his way through the meal he showed no hesitation. The root vegetables were poked and mashed beyond recognition, the broth was sloshed, and it was aay’han.
It was perfectly normal and yet something seemed to grip their hearts and clench their fists around the muscle. Kaiyah worked with their ad’ika on his numbers, having given up fully on colors, Din spent time in the cockpit with him. It was what they did every sleep cycle. It was so hard.
To wash his ears.
To put him to bed.
To step away.
To not grab him.
To not run.
Far and fast and away.
Kaiyah wasn’t sure what she expected when they broke Tython’s atmosphere, but it wasn’t what it was. For a sacred Jetti place it was… Boring. Arid. Scrub land as far as the eye could see with sandstone and dirt to break it up. It wasn’t magical or holy in the way that Kaiyah thought Jetti were, there were no devotees or caretakers on the abandoned planet. No pilgrims making their ways up the shale and boulders, or the less devoted taking the easier but much more dangerous route of a dried out river bed up to the henge.
Din couldn’t land on the telepathic rocks so, one in each arm, he took all three of them to the top with his sen’tra. It was no less terrifying than when he did it on Nevarro and she was still worried about the weight limit he seemed to not care about. As if he could sense her clenched jaw and the anxiety sweating out of her, he said that they would fix her sen’tra soon too. That she had been too long without it, which she had, but she wasn’t exactly gung ho on having it again.
Din narrated everything to Grogu like normal, asking if this was Jedi, if he was seeing anything, asking him what was going on, all like a good buir did as Kaiyah got in some light jabbing. Nothing to wound, but enough that Grogu snickered and Din sighed like he was annoyed but they all knew he wasn’t.
If this is the end, at least it’s on a high note, Kaiyah thought to herself mid-giggle. At the sound of a ship landing, both adults stopped short. Shoulders tensed, hands hovering over weapons on high alert, binocs adjusting, heat sensors flashing, trying to get a read on who found them, how many, what were they armed with.
“What the hell is that?” Kaiyah asked, bewildered by ship rotating to land on it’s back.
“Nothing good,” Din gruffed as they scanned for anything or anyone close by.
They had turned their backs for one minute, not even that, as Din got the closest to anxious Kaiyah had ever heard him as he turned back to their child, “Time’s up, kid. We gotta get out of here -“ he stopped short, making Kaiyah turn as they both gaped at the blue energy surrounding Grogu. He didn’t look like he was asleep, honestly it looked like their baby was meditating, some otherworldly deep connection on his face even as Din tried talking him through a plan
“You go, I’ll stay. You have a sen’tra, it makes more sense,” Kaiyah cut him off, tone broking no argument as she moved her eyes back to the strange ship, heat and binoc flicking through the desert at a rapid pace. “I only have eyes on one, but keep safe, alright?”
Din nodded hesitantly, keeping his visor on Grogu even as he knocked his helmet against hers in a kiss, “I’ll see if I can buy you some time. Don’t go where I can’t see you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Djarin.”
He nodded once, decisively. Kaiyah could see how he put away the worried parent and brought out Mando, the warrior, protector, and leader of their mission. Manda help whoever thought they could get through him.
“Come on, ik’aad. I’m right here, come back,” Kaiyah coaxed as she moved closer. She wasn’t sure what the energy was surrounding Grogu but it felt like something she shouldn’t touch. It was humming, thriving with some kind of force. Kaiyah couldn’t keep an eye on both Din and Grogu, the angle of the slope was too steep, she had to be right at the edge to see what was going on with her runi and her ad’ika needed her more right now.
Stopping at the edge of the force field Kaiyah bent to his level and tried again, urgency poured through the vocoder, “Grogu, come on. We need to get home, we gotta help buir.” She felt ridiculous, there was no way he could hear her over the humming and whatever Jetti possession he was going through right now, but she had to try. Something was brewing, some deep pit in the soul of her was gnashing at her insides. This was wrong, they shouldn’t be here, they needed to get home, now.
Kaiyah’s panic only grew as she heard another ship break atmosphere. Swallowing back the juvenile panic she repeated her buir’s mission mantra: Don’t look back, don’t look, keep your eyes on the objective. Everything else is a distraction.
Hesitantly, she reaches a hand up to the blue, swirling energy. She didn’t know what could happen if she touched it. Was it protection? It didn’t look like it was hurting him, just keeping him someplace that wasn’t here and she needed him here, they needed to leave. “Grogu,” she pleads near whispering, bartering. “Vor’ika. Gedet'ye, olaror yaim. Mhi linibar bah slanar, gar buir linibar mhi - linibar gar.”
Kaiyah can feel the sweat break out across her neck as blaster fire and artillery start going off. She’s nauseous and shaking, they are exposed up here and she can do nothing to protect Grogu if a stray missile hits them. She can’t see anything and she can’t leave him. She squeezes her eyes shut as the ground shakes beneath her.
Why can’t he hear her? What is going on? Clenching her hand she pounds on the energy, “Haar'chak, Vor’ika! We really gotta go -“
Kaiyah is suddenly in the air, hitting the ground hard and sliding across the dirt and loose pebbles from the crumbling sandstone. The landscape beneath them is full of red blaster fire and pock marked dirt. Standing up she adjusts her helmet as she frantically searches for Din.
He’s nowhere. She can’t find him - can’t see him - she corrects. His armor is a beacon and if that fails, she would feel him. "Vor'ika!" Kaiyah shouts, wildly switching tactics from soothing and pleading to desperation and demands.
“Come on! We’re leaving now!” She yells as she glances around the stone, knowing that there's no point in looking for an off switch that doesn't exist, that Kaiyah herself gave Din shit for.
"Why would a rock have an on switch? It's a rock, Din. I don't even think Jetti magic accounts for that."
A third ship is in the atmosphere, she hears it and suddenly there’s pain. Not the mind numbing, near death kind. Not the blaster burns or the knife scrapes. Something hitting beskar. The shove-like, mottled bruising force of blaster on beskar.
Kaiyah curses, running out of ideas, she thrusts her kad into the glowing blue sphere and thinks she is making ground despite the durasteel blade, up until it snaps in half and she goes flying. Tumbling ass over kettle Kaiyah flips herself into a slide and starts running back.
It feels like hours, time she knows they don't have, as the cycle repeats itself.
She bangs her fists and is shoved back.
She shoulders her way through and is thrown.
Runs at it, hoping beyond hope that the momentum will carry her to her ad'ika. She hits the stone slabs behind her.
Curses herself repeatedly for not bringing the beskar spear. Brushed Din's gift of a gift off, saying she didn't need it, it was his, the 'nice lady' gave it to him. "It completes the look, you know. Couldn't ruin your very scary beskar aesthetic."
All of which at the time were true. She didn't need it, she hadn't really needed an arsenal all these years away from, well, everything.
Something thunders in the air, screeching metal and explosion and Kaiyah thinks she has one last run before something happens. Knows deep in her bones she doesn't. Has had decades of war and scrapping and fighting for her peace to understand the shift. Has to try anyway. She wouldn't leave Grogu behind. Couldn't.
Kaiyah makes it halfway to him when the globe disappears and Grogu flops to his side, exhausted and purring in the soft snores only a baby can make.
A metal arm constricts her stomach and lifts her.
Oh, hells no.
Grogu is snatched by a droid that Kaiyah has never seen before. They are tall, all black, and sleek. She doesn’t have to question that these are Imperial made. They are all the same, with their lifeless, clinical look and red hot triangular eyes.
She doesn’t have time to think over her plan. Her dumb, idiotic plan. She’s never done this before, has never had a reason to. White-knuckling her pommel she takes a deep breath and flips it to a reverse grip before she yells as she throws a wild haymaker at the droid’s head, releasing the glowing red sensor on the bottom of the hilt.
The world slows and for one terrifying moment she wonders if the Manda is laughing at her. If bombs can expire. If there was one still even in there. Then, suddenly, there’s a screech and heat that Kaiyah swears she can feel through the beskar. She goes flying above the flaming wreckage.
She has no way to judge as far she has been thrown, how far above the ground she is. She didn’t expect this outcome. To be thrown above everything instead of to. All she knows is that her wrist throbs accompanied by some horrible grinding sound, she can’t see Grogu, has no idea where Din is.
Her visor fogs up, all hot and wet air that is being recycled back in her face. She’s crying. Why is she fucking crying?
Kaiyah doesn’t have an answer, can’t even fathom one as a different Imp droid grabs her freefalling body and jolts as it’s thrusters push them up. The movement shocks something in her and she jerks, squirms, until she realizes that there is no safety net for her now. She has no sen’tra, Din is standing there looking up at her with a human woman, dark hair and black clothing at his side.
Like everything else today, she hopes and prays. That that woman is a good person. That he doesn't come get her. That her and Grogu will be close, in the same cell. She'll be fine, all Cruisers are the same. It would take her a few hours on a bad day to get to an escape pod. She can do this, stay safe, as long as he does too.
Translations:
Buir: Parent
Aliit: clan, family
Ad’ika: little one
Jetii: Jedi
Tiingilar: Hearty, spicy stew (or casserole according to Legends)
Tran’ika: diminutive of Tranyc, or star. If that isn’t the right way to make nicknames in Mando’a, please let me know.
Manda: heaven, collective soul
Aay’han: moment of mourning and joy
Sen’tra: jetpack
Ik’aad: baby, child under three
Runi: soul, poetic
Vor’ika. Gedet'ye, olaror yaim. Mhi linibar bah slanar, gar buir linibar mhi - linibar gar: Little Green. Please, come home. We need to go, your parent needs us - needs you.
Haar'chak: Damn it
Mar'eyce Masterlist (Soulmate AU Din Djarin x Mandalorian OC Kaiyah Awaud)
Mar'eyce (mah-RAY-shay): Discovery, something found at last, a state of heaven.
Warnings for the fic: Canon typical violence, language, soulmate lore, talks of scars/scarring. Each chapter comes with its own warnings, but just to be safe this fic is 18+. No small lurkers, please.
The story of soulmates has been passed down for generations in the clans. When the Mando’ade swear their creed the Ka’ra pick another for you. Your “perfect half”, supposedly you know them through your shared scars.
For Din Djarin, it was always a legend, a myth. It wasn’t real, but then again, Jedi weren’t either.
For Kaiyah Awaud, the myth is real. Everyone has a soulmate, some believe it dictates standing in the clan.
When Din needs Mandalorians to help him on his quest to find The Child’s people, The Armorer tells Din about a rumored clan that might be able to help. When he gets there, it’s nothing like he’s expecting. The clan doesn’t cover their faces, they abide by soulmate laws, and their leader isn’t even leading. How are these zealots going to help him?
Kaiyah helps her buir, Kai, lead their people. She can’t do much else when she doesn’t have a soulmate. Rumors of her being dar’manda aren’t new, but with the added tension of Kai’s lack of leadership and flippancy for clan well-being, people are looking for an answer. Not to mention the influx of militant Mandalorian refugees from Nevarro.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Mar'eyce Introduces:
Extras, moodboards, and character backgrounds on your favorites in Mar'eyce.
Kaiyah Awaud
Arumorut
Ro Awaud
Kai Awaud
Ilyah Awaud
Mar'eyce Moodboard #2
Mar'eyce: Prologue
Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x fem!Mando OC Kaiyah Awaud
Word Count: 335
Warnings: Canon typical violence, talk of scars/scarring, swearing, some soulmate lore, a lot of Mandalorian lore (thank god for wookiepedia). T rating. Author's note, translations, and Mandalorian lore at the end.
Tall tales are nothing new to Mandalorians. Myths, legends, rumors, and gossip follow them everywhere.
“I heard Mandalore’s abandoned. Something about the air being toxic."
"I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he's a Gungan. Is that why yousa don't wanna show your face?"
“Fett’s still alive? No chance, poor bastard died in The Dune Sea.”
“Mando’s crazy. Rizzi got too close to the helmet once, took their hand clean off. I swear it on my mother, man. Stay away from that guy.”
The myths of Mandalorians are everywhere, even in their society. Stars being the councils of kings long past, The War of Life and Death, even Manda, are all myths. Something to believe in past themselves. Din understood those stories, even if he didn’t believe them all, but the ones he could never wrap his head around were soulmates. You swear your creed and the Ka'ra got to decide who your “other half” was so you could be “the perfect Mandalorian, together”, finding each other through matching scars and pain like some kind of fucked up compass. By the time Din was a teenager, he knew better than to believe those stories; they were for children and romantics.
Most adults knew this, but some still held out. Either through staunchly waiting for their soulmate, trying to rationalize similar scars as matching scars, or just using it as a pet name, it didn’t matter. It was a story that was not going to die anytime soon.
While Din didn’t believe the stories, something still piqued his interest every once in a while. Random scars that he should have remembered getting, like the burn on his back. Hurt like a bitch and the worst part was that happened on his first hunt, knocked him on his ass, complicating his Guild entrance. When he got back to The Covert no one had any answers, every Mandalorian had a few weird scars, and besides, bounty hunting is a complicated profession.
Translations:
-Manda: Many meanings, but in this fic it will refer to the first translation of "heaven" or "collective soul". The second translation is being a Mandalorian in body, soul, and mind. The third is overarching, guardian-like, supreme.
-Kar'ra: Star. Also a myth, in which the past Mand'alors and cultural leaders live and guide current rulers from the stars.
Mandalorian Lore Stuff:
The Taung were the first Mandalorians and were very religious, they believed in The War of Life and Death (Akaanati'kar'oya) and waged ritual combat as a way to worship their destroyer god against the god of sloth. Originally the destroyer god (Kad Ha'rangir) was supposed to represent change but the Taung took it a little (a lot) too far and eventually came to believe that being a warrior and war itself was divine and started conquering the galaxy. Eventually they became more chill (mostly because war sucks and the Taung were going extinct) and they moved away from the obsession and into more of a philosophical approach and started treating Akaanati'kar'oya and Ka'ra as parables. Most current Mandalorians typically believe in the Manda and in Legends a lot of Mandalorians believe that the easiest way to get into the collective soul-heaven is through being the word semi-literally and becoming some kind of guardian.
Author's Note:
That was a lot of lore-dumping about Mandalorians and not so much about how the system of soulmate-ness works in my universe, for which I apologize. I debated over making the prologue a lore dump in all aspects just to get it out of the way but that's too easy and you're too smart for that. Anyway, this note is just me being nervous about my first multi-chapter, mult-arc fic ever and if you are here for Chaotic Space Dads I'm very sorry, all that writing mojo has gone into whatever this is. I'm very excited for y'all to meet Kaiyah officially, I know OC isn't everyone's cup of tea but it turns out I'm really bad at writing second person and I won't make anyone read that from me, ever.
Mar'eyce: Chapter Five
Pairing: N/A for this chapter, no Din unfortunately.
Word Count: 2,756
Rating: M, 18+, no younglings, we got another heavy chapter
Warnings: language, violence, slut-shaming, weight-shaming, xenophobia & racism, gaslighting, spice/drugs, alcohol consumption, implied smut, and implied abuse. No beta, too much Mando'a like always. If I missed anything please let me know, I feel gross after being in Harbinger's head.
Author’s Note: I decided to try something far out of my comfort zone and write in the antagonist's POV. I knew Harbinger wasn't a good guy when I created him, but this gave me the creeps. Harbinger is the worst version of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. Take care of yourself first and foremost, if you need to skip this chapter please do. It's more a character study and background, if you want an abridged version of this chapter message me.
As always, translations and lore are at the end.
Summary: "Mandokar was different than mandokarla for a reason. Nobody could be taught mandokar, they were born with it."
Read from the beginning: Mar'eyce Masterlist
The easiest way to get a Mandalorian to do anything was to make it seem like their idea. Too stubborn to do what was good for them, too dense to understand their own goals. It was why the entire race was in shambles. It’s why Harbinger had to fix it.
It took a long time to create the plan. Everything had to be in place, done at the right time. It was the most intense production he had ever put on and it needed to be perfect. One error could cause the whole thing to come apart and spell disaster for him. Though his reputation seemed… Flawed in certain eyes Harbinger cared a great deal about what people thought of him, and to lead his record had to be expunged. Redeemed. Cultivated to mirror what everyone thought they needed.
He honestly expected more of a fight. Kaiyah would be his biggest competitor, he knew that from the start. What he wasn’t expecting was everyone to be so keen to solve her so she could solve their problems. Any admirers she might have had ten years ago weren’t so fond of her now. No marriage, not even prospects. Hadn’t gone looking for anyone, some even gossiped about her being dar’manda, it was rare but it wouldn’t be the first time someone might have been skipped over. Especially since Kaiyah’s family line left little to be desired, who comes back from war soft?
The entire family had come back too weak to do what needed to be done. Arumorut had been fine, ran well under the rule of their old alor, Nejaa, while Kai was too busy fighting in a war that didn’t concern Mandalorians. The family had come back without their matriarch, which was expected. Not everyone survived a thirteen-year war, to be frank, it was a miracle any of them came home. It was the first wrench in his plans to rule.
As Nejaa’s nephew Harbinger would be first in line for the leadership role if none of their family made it home. They had been training him, apprehensively. Nejaa’s contact with their family was turbulent at best and they would always get skittish when Kai hadn’t contacted them for a few months. The training would pick up around then and stop when Kai or Ilyah made contact and the cycle would repeat itself.
It was maddening and Harbinger had said so. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, like any good Awaud it was best to say what you were thinking. There was no room for shyness in the family, in the culture. It was eat or get eaten. If you weren’t going to take it, whatever ‘it’ was, someone else would.
Nejaa had just arched one of their thick, dark brows at him and asked Harbinger if he became alor what would be his plans for Arumorut. It was an obvious answer, make them stronger. Better. Capable. Expand their reach, the town was getting too large to be kept a secret for much longer. A thousand people were hard to hide. His ba’vodu asked for clarification, where would they expand? How would they expand? Townships, a kingdom? Would Harbinger personally see over every person's well-being or bring in other leaders?
Frustrated, Harbinger shouted that he didn’t know but how they were running Arumorut wasn’t working. They were better than this hiding was for hut’uun, Mandalorians fought their problems. Nejaa had turned back to their datapad and nodded, saying that he should figure that out and hadn’t ever called him back for training again. Kai’s family had come back a few months later and the then sixteen-year-old Kaiyah had taken his spot as their protégé.
The town had accepted it quickly, Nejaa had spoken up about wanting to retire and Kai had disappeared, making Kaiyah the obvious choice for their next chieftain. It didn’t help that she would do everything in her power to upstage Harbinger. Coordinating town projects, bringing in extras of everything, including people, by taking up the mantle of her mother and freeing slaves.
When Harbinger tried to do the same it went unnoticed, or worse, he was turned away and figured out she had already beaten him to the punch.
“Kaiyah brought some in fresh this morning, she always brings the best cuts. We’ll take this though, once it's dried out it’ll make good rations.”
“You don’t have to do that, Kaiyah got it done last week.”
“Kaiyah brought our family together, made it whole.”
“I can’t believe how much has gotten done around here since Kaiyah’s been home.”
Kaiyah, Kaiyah, Kaiyah. It was all he heard. All the time. The bitch was taking what was supposed to be his. Everyone was fine with Harbinger leading, but grateful for Kaiyah’s wisdom. Harbinger would have been okay at the job, but Kaiyah was better. Kaiyah wasn’t shit. After four years of this garbage, he had finally gotten fed up with how much she was taking from him. Harbinger decided to have a drink, clear his head. Just to get the buzzing to stop. Just to have one thing for himself.
Of course, that was when the second wrench hit his plans.
Surrounded by his friends and bolstered by the ale he had let some of his opinions known. Those that weren’t born Mandalorian, weren’t Mandalorians. If you were adopted in, fine more fodder was always needed, but you weren’t ever going to be as good as a bred Mandalorian. Mandokar was different than mandokarla for a reason. Nobody could be taught mandokar, they were born with it.
Using the first example that came to mind, Harbinger picked Ro. The Twi’lek medic was fine, good at his job as Nejaa’s other hand. They had taken Ro under their wing to teach them more about healing, something that might be beneficial to Arumorut in the long run. Everyone knew Twi’lek healing baths were great for a reason. Ignoring a few grunts of disapproval and spurred on with shouts of encouragement, Harbinger kept going.
Ro was a healer because he didn’t have mandokar, he would never. It didn’t matter at what age Kai had gotten him because it would never be enough. Unless Ro was a half-breed, which he might have been, had anyone gotten a look at his lekku? What kind of a Twi’lek only had one? Maybe Ro was a worse Twi than Mando to lose something that important.
In hindsight, it was his fault. Harbinger hadn’t cleared the catina since the last round, if he had he would have been quicker on the draw. Then Kaiyah would have that ugly scar and not him. He still wasn’t sure how it even happened, one second he was on a barstool laughing at something that was obviously a joke -you were only a bad Twi if you were bad at sex- the next he had that fat bitch’s entire body weight on his chest, pinning him to the ground as she tried to carve his face off.
Luckily his squad pulled the dinii off him in time and Ro was on standby with a medkit. The wound was too much for bacta, it needed stitches that Harbinger should probably have been put under for. It sliced through the edge of his mouth and up his cheek, Kaiyah screeching in the background that if he thought he was so funny he should wear his jari'eyc smile forever.
When Kaiyah had finally been shoved out of the bar, Ro gave Harbinger his options. Be taken to the medcenter in town to be sedated and stitched up or put his face back together on a catina floor with nothing. Harbinger choose the latter. He wasn’t letting anyone put him to sleep so revenge could be taken. Sighing, Ro shook his head and offered the only advice he could, “don’t scream.”
The only thing Harbinger could confidently say went well for him that night was that he didn’t make a sound. Took what he was offered and didn’t look too far into it. Neither did Ro from what he could see, just did his job and left. Gave instructions on injury care to Harbinger’s not injured, now sober friends and left them to their night.
His squad dropped him off at his doorstep and never talked to him again, saying that Harbinger ‘wasn’t right in the head’ to be thinking that kind of stuff. Zaalbar - the Wookie catina owner - had banned everyone involved in the fight from her bar, it had been ten years and Harbinger still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to go back. Kaiyah got to go back though, he had seen her take that massive blue Mando to lunch. Fitting that the only person who could ever stomach being around her wasn’t even a true Mandalorian.
The days following the catina incident found Harbinger quickly became an outcast, whispers of his statements and exaggerations were spread faster then wildfire. He needed to leave, get away from these di’kut who didn’t understand what being a Mandalorian meant. Not like he did, he was born to be a Mandalorian, he would be the pinnacle of all their achievements.
He found Zac and Nadiya first, years after he had been ousted from Arumorut. They were spice users - glitterstim was their particular brand - trying to jump him for credits because of his beskar. Harbinger had to scoff at that. Beskar. One of the many things that were taken from him as a rightful, true Mandalorian. The Empire had stripped Mandalore of the metal, using it in their weapons, jewelry, and clothing. Anything they thought to add beskar to had it, a status symbol of their hand in his genocide. Harbinger wore durasteel, just like every other Mandalorian left in the galaxy. The addicts wouldn’t get what they wanted from him, but he could get what he needed from them.
Zac and Nadiya were too old to take the Verd’goten, they were maybe a handful of years younger or older than him. Drugs wrecked havoc on the body and Harbinger swore he would never touch the stuff, he was the prime of a thirty-year-old Mandalorian, the perfect specimen of Mandalorian.
The two leeches didn’t need to know that his offer of a ‘new leaf’ wasn’t real at all. They would never be real Mandalorians, not just because of their birth but the fact that they never swore the Resol’nare, never took the Verd’goten, never did anything a true Mandalorian would do and that was by design. They were just… guard dogs, enforcers. An impromptu part of the plan that ended up working out for him.
Harbinger got the two clean, healthy, and strong for what was upcoming. They were just a stepping stone for the next chapter of Mandalorian success, doing what needed to be done to get Harbinger to the final goal. And they nearly had Nadiya had found Sonja and Zac had been tracking what Mandalorians he could, reporting everything back to Harbinger.
While Zac and Nadiya were not part of the original plan, Sonja always was. Harbinger needed her to carry out the vision he had. His success-their success-hinged on Sonja being around and all she had to do was stand there. Sonja was truly Maker sent, the youngest daughter of some moisture farmer on a backwater skughole who couldn't wait to get rid of her. Harbinger had a suspicion that she wasn’t just ‘shy’ like everyone advertised but she never told him so he never knew. All he cared about was the fact she seldom spoke, did what she was told, never needed to be asked twice, anything and everything he could need or want out of her was freely given.
It was disappointing at first, finding out she didn’t have mandokar or mandokarla, but she more than made up for it in elbow grease and pleasure. The ship was spotless, food was readily available and delicious, her body open to him whenever he wanted, his armor was scrubbed down every night by someone other than himself. And she did it all without speaking a goddamn word. It was beautiful.
With Sonja in tow, Harbinger doubled down on trying to find more Mandalorians. It was harder than ever before. Concord Dawn was a ghost town, the moon half gone because of The Republic or Empire, it didn’t matter. Mandalore was populated, in a way. Slaves were forced to pull whatever beskar flakes they could from the planet’s crust while the Imperial Remnant tried to hold on to some of their strength. No Mandalorians in sight though. It was like the entire race had gone underground, so it was time for the backup plan: hope Kaiyah never got married.
Zac and Nadiya had scouted Arumorut, confirming what Harbinger knew and everyone was figuring out ten years too late. Kaiyah was worthless. Not even the manda knew what to do with her, the Ka’ra had abandoned her without a soulmate or a second thought while Harbinger and Sonja were on a pseudo-honeymoon of sorts. He wasn’t sure if Sonja wanted one, or what they were, just that it was something people did and his wife should get used to a life of luxury. She was going to be his queen after all and queens got whatever they wanted.
Things were finally looking up for him since he left Arumorut. He was thriving, married, and about to rule the planet he once called home. Kaiyah was still single, lonely, completely stagnant in the life she decided to lead. Harbinger couldn’t believe that Arumorut had been suspended in this transition of power for so long. It also happened to work in his favor, sometimes a push was all a person needed.
Harbinger was good at pushing, the best. He knew what people needed and how to give them that. For Zac and Nadiya, it was money or drugs and because he was a good ‘friend’, he could afford to float them. Then when the money ‘ran out’ he had not only their trust as a ‘friend’ but a better option for them: make the best money doing bounty work, together. Three people on one job meant bigger jobs, better credits. Then when they had ‘proven’ their prowess to the Mand’alor they got the honor of being a Mandalorian like him.
None of it was real or worth anything, never had been. Plastoid alloys and silver words for eyes and ears wherever he needed them. Now Arumorut had something to give Harbinger and all it took was gentle steering in the right direction. Pointing out the complacency in their lives now, questions like:
“Alor? Kaiyah finally got married?”
“Why hasn't she been out to find them?”
“Well, isn’t that a job for the alor?”
Then he offered up his resume, showing just how green the grass is on the other side.
“This is my wife, my riduur, my greatest love. Sonja.”
“I can’t believe I found her, I’d nearly given up all hope. I thought I was scouring the galaxy looking for myself when all I needed was her.”
“Let me take care of that for you.”
Finally, Harbinger would offer a listening ear. Solutions from the ‘outside perspective’.
“Wow. That’s awful. What did Kaiyah do, she is the alor after all. Kai still is? I haven’t seen him yet. Oh… Well, it’s good of her to help out where she can, I guess.”
“It’s nice of Arumorut to pick up the slack in Kai’s stead, I’m sure being alor is a very time-consuming job. He hasn’t left his house? Today? In fourteen years? Wow… Still, good to help our vod in their time of need.”
“You need to take that directly to the Awauds, they’ll help out. Kaiyah’s on a mission? What about Nejaa? They don’t handle these things anymore? That’s weird. Let me take a look at it.”
Time was a fickle mistress, it was hard to keep her happy. Harbinger had figured out long ago that Time was a harp to be plucked, pulled, and caressed with intention. Once he had been gifted the harvest she could bring in when he was patient with her… It was intoxicating.
Kaiyah had become the pretender, a puppet decreeing the motions her coward father wouldn’t with no drive to put Arumorut first. If she truly cared about these people she would have gotten married, would have proved herself to them. Kai would have too, instead, he was curled up in his house, wasting away and becoming a specter in his own life. What kind of leader could he be if he never spoke a word, never rallied the people to be better than this?
Mandalorians didn’t just survive, they won. And Harbinger was going to show them how, beginning with Kai.
Translations & Lore (in order of appearance):
dar’manda: soulless
alor: leader
ba’vodu: aunt/uncle
hut'uun: coward, the worst insult
Mandokar: the ‘right stuff’
mandokarla: having the ‘right stuff’
dinii: lunatic
jari'eyc: ugly, wrecked
glitterstim is in the family of spice, apparently it gives you telepathy and harvested from spiders. Don't do drugs, kids.
di’kut: idiot
Resol’nare: Six tenants. I came across this really cute rhyme to help kids learn the Resol'nare in Legends so I now bestow this little piece of fluff to you. "Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader—all help us survive."
Verd'goten: Coming of age hunt, usually taken around 13
manda: heaven
Ka’ra: stars, but in this sense we're using the myth of the ruling council of fallen leaders. For lore in this story, the Ka'ra reside in the manda and choose your soulmate for you.
riduur: spouse
vod: sibling, mate
Mar'eyce: Chapter One
Pairing: Din Djarin x Mando OC Kaiyah Awaud Soulmate AU
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Swearing, canon-typical violence, and soulmate bond/scarring, drinking and food mention, medical check up. If I missed anything, don't hesitate to reach out and I will correct the warnings. No beta, we die on this hill.
Author's Note: Hey. It's been a minute. I've decided to redo this chapter because I wasn't happy with it so if you've seen/read chapter one already, no you haven't. Lore dumps and translations at the end. Reblogs, likes, dropping by the inbox to come say hi, all of it is appreciated. Dividers and moodboard by me. Happy reading!
Summary: "That a perfect Mandalorian, someone who had their other half, someone that the manda had flawlessly created, wouldn’t be driven by greed or pettiness."
Read from the beginning: Mareyce Masterlist
“Kaiyah? Kaiyah, come in. Where are you?” The comlink on her vambrace kept going off, but no one answered. No one knew where she was.
“Come on! That’s cheap, ba’vodu! I’m going to tell Ba’buir Nejaa!” Tann screamed down the ‘field’, a dirt spot that was at the edge of the settlement where they all played meshgeroya. The young Twi’lek flipped a green lek over her shoulder in a huff at her ba’vodu doing yet another victory lap.
“Sorry, I can’t hear you! I can only hear winners, these are winner's ears,” Kaiyah winked over her shoulder at her moody niece and the cohort the eleven-year-old had. Most were at that age when they wanted to be treated like adults since they were two years away from their Verd’gotens they had decided that since they were almost adults it was just as good as being adults.
Holding her elbow, kicking the dirt, Tann looked as sad as she could. Her aunt usually fell for the tooka cat eyes and if she did this time then they could finally win one round. “Ba’vodu, come on. You don’t need to brag about it.”
Kaiyah jogged up to her niece from down the field, “Alright, alright. We’ve been playing for an hour, let’s wrap it up. Ba’buir is going to be on my ass for that paperwork soon and I know that most of you are sluffing training.”
Various huffs and groans of teenagers and pre-teens filled the air, all of them complaining about something that was “like, totally unfair” at their age. Laughing to herself, Kaiyah started to replace some of her armor, ignoring the commlink that was blinking with missed messages. As she tightened her pauldrons into place, pressure filled Kaiyah’s head and her eyes started to water. It felt like someone had crushed her head into a wall and knocked the wind out of her in one go.
A burning sensation pricked all across her face before all the pain and pressure seemed to come out of her left eardrum. A tinny ringing sound became the only sound she could hear and she hit her knees, grasping at her injured ear.
Something in her chest didn’t feel right, her arms and legs were on fire, and trying to catalog all of her injuries felt useless at this point. Something bad had happened and suddenly from the way it felt. Tapping at her vambrace to get ahold of someone Kaiyah’s chest ached. It felt like a bantha had stomped her chest, whoever in the galaxy was on the brunt end of this had to be going through hell.
“I’m not covering for you, we aren’t kids anymore, Kaiyah,” Ro drawled. Ro was her brother and best friend, he had been with her through thick and thin. They had affectionately been called ‘twins’ throughout their lives, even if Ro wasn’t bui'tsad and their birthdays were months apart. As a stocky blue Twi’lek it was fairly obvious to anyone that even though Ro and Kaiyah weren’t blood-related, they were still family. Their place in each other's lives was decided long before they were born.
“Field. West, west field,” Kaiyah groaned. She was lucky that breathing wasn’t difficult for her, just painful. The ache in her chest turned to sharp pressure on every inhale and she couldn’t say much else before Ro started going down his list of questions.
“I’m on my way, keep me on the line. Tann?”
“Fine.”
“Just you?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Damned soulmate decided to fight something bigger than them,” Kaiyah exhaled in a rush.
“Is breathing painful?”
“No, I’m pe-peachy keen. Don’t worry ‘bout m-me.”
She could hear the eyeroll over the comm as Ro muttered something to whoever he was with. “Ba’buir is coming with me. We’ll get you squared away, just keep stay on the line.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes now. If Ba’buir was coming then that meant half the town would follow. The two best medics in the settlement weren’t called away for nothing. Tann decided to save the day, pushing her lime green lekku behind her shoulders she kneeled beside Kaiyah and took over as a messenger between her buir and ba’vodu.
Going into her best calm medic mode, a skill Tann no doubt picked up from Ro, she answered all of her buir’s questions with efficiency. Repeating whatever medical jargon she could from the bare bones set up she had, Kaiyah’s heart rate and a catalog of injuries were done by the time everyone else got to the field.
And by everyone, Kaiyah meant everyone. Her entire family rush the dirt-packed clearing, Ro rushing forward in his teal armor, one blue lek noticeably absent with medical kit in hand was followed by Ba’buir. They were the family’s leader as well as Arumorut’s alor and Kaiyah was supposed to be following in their footsteps at some point if her soulmate ever turned up. Dagon was not far behind, Tann’s Edalinare and Kaiyah’s brother-in-law, the tall willowy Zabrak man in flowy clothing headed straight for his daughter, carefully clearing the way without letting her feel underappreciated.
“I’m fine, Ro, Ba’buir. Leave it. It just caught me off-guard,” Kaiyah shrugged off the blue Twi’lek and tan human hands re-checking vitals, shining lights, and prodding just to see if it hurt. “Just let me stand up, please.” The ringing noise hadn’t let off and it still felt like she got face fucked by the ground, but nothing was burning so that was a start.
Nejaa shoved their stubborn granddaughter back to the ground, making direct and intense eye contact with her, “Don’t move until I tell you to. You can’t blame us for being a little paranoid.”
“Ba’buir’s right. Chest pain isn’t usually associated with bonds,” Ro cut in as he took Kaiyah’s blood pressure, ignoring the double meaning of their grandparent’s statement. Soulmate bonds were tricky, especially if the pair hadn't met yet and Ro knew it was a sore subject. “Lightheaded? Dizzy?”
“No. I’m honestly feeling a lot better,” she grunted as light was flashed in her eyes again.
“Did you eat anything today?” It honestly didn’t matter which medic asked the question, it was the same answer.
“Yes. Fruit and caf. Was just about to go for lunch.”
“You can’t put off the budget, Kaiyah. It’s important to run Arumorut. You have to take the duties you do have seriously,” Nejaa badgered.
Annoyed, she sighed through gritted teeth, “I know, Ba’buir. I was getting to it.”
“Before or after you spent hours ‘getting lunch’?”
Fully standing and brushing off the incessant scrambling, Kaiyah grabbed what was left of her armor and weapons, “With lunch.” Stalking off she made her way back to her house on the other side of town, shutting herself inside to be left alone.
Days like today made Kaiyah hate Arumorut. According to some super old tradition that Ba’buir Nejaa still upheld, the alor had to be with their soulmate. For her buirs that meant being married, for Ba’buir it was that they had found them, lived with them, had a child with them, but ultimately lost them when they decided to go different ways.
Since Nejaa and Kai had found and been with their soulmate they could technically lead, even if the soulmate wasn’t around. Supposedly, the tradition kept things fair, kept alors from overreaching and taking people or places that didn’t belong to them.
The problem Kaiyah had wasn’t even really the whole having a partner thing, she got why the rule was still in place. That a perfect Mandalorian, someone who had their other half, someone that the manda had flawlessly created, wouldn’t be driven by greed or pettiness. She wasn’t mad at soulmates, it was just everything surrounding that.
It was that every time she got a new scar it was like not all hope was lost on the Awaud family. That she could still carry the legacy her parents and grandparent had built, that she was always a good alor. When the scar eventually faded and there was still no soulmate that had fallen out of the sky or when she came home from a mission alone, it was back to her being dar’manda, a failure, laandur.
It was a cycle she couldn’t escape and days like today were just a stark reminder of that fact. The gossip had spread before she even got home she was stopped, commented on, and blessed in the ten minute trek back to her house.
A seventeen-year-old newlywed tried to give Kaiyah advice on how to find her soulmate.
A decrypt Mando had ‘prayed’ over her for guidance, whatever that meant. Mandalorians didn’t pray.
Someone had not so jokingly stated that with scars like that it would be no time at all until their dumbass land squabble got resolved. Kaiyah could have solved it months ago but there was a reason she didn’t touch it in the first place.
She tried to see it as the clan wasn’t out to get her, wasn’t trying to displace her based on the fact that she had been nearly thirty years single. They wanted - needed - an alor and it was her legacy. It was her path. It was what the Ka’ra had decided on. It was what Arumorut wanted for her. Most of the time she could brush off the remarks, she could keep going, doing what good work she could. She had been doing it for fifteen years and what she was doing now wasn’t going to change when she got this galaxy altering soulmate.
It had also been fifteen years. Kai’buir was missing to his people. He hadn’t left his home, hadn’t said a word to another person in just as long. Kai’buir hadn’t officially led his people since he had led them to The Rebellion and Arumorut had been patient with the Awauds for too long. Kaiyah appreciated that and if she was in their shoes she would also want someone to step up and lead, especially if they had been training for it during their buir’s silence.
It was just so humiliating that what she was right now wasn't good enough. She was a decorated war hero by the time she was thirteen and had run multiple ops since being home. She had been doing this job tirelessly for almost twenty years. She was a good alor and everyone only saw what she couldn't do. It wasn't like she had decided to stay single, she wanted to have someone everyone else did.
She was one of the very few people in town who went home alone, slept alone. Did everything alone. Kaiyah had tried looking early on, it wasn't like her scars were ones that just anyone would have. Mandalorians lived hard lives and Rebel Mandalorians lived a life even harder than that, to say her scars were unique would be an understatement. No one ever matched, not even people she thought she had something of a spark with. After one too many disappointing partners Kaiyah finally gave up. If the Ka'ra wanted them together it would happen just not on her timetable.
As the chronometer on the wall announced the twenty-eighth hour, Kaiyah’s mind refocused on the stupid budget she had to balance.
Arumorut was a fairly self-sustaining community, anything extra went to the clan so no one had to worry about much of anything. Medicine, food, water, and weapons were all provided to the people of Arumorut. Some people ran businesses and the catina in town was a popular hotspot but everything the town needed it had.
This meant that once a week a ‘budget’ was needed to be balanced and prepared for the next week. It was a checklist that made sure the food bank had enough food, the water tanks were full, and everyone who needed supplies had them. It was the most important part of being alor, but it was also the most boring part.
Kaiyah was awful at record-keeping, math without action wasn’t her strong suit. Anything without action wasn’t her strong suit. Show her how to do something and it was no problem, she could do physics under blaster fire, rattle off the export of every planet in a system during a dogfight. Force her to sit down and look at just the raw data, she was useless. It took her a whole day to get this budget done because of that situation. No matter how much she pushed for a different one, for people to do their Maker damn bookkeeping, it never got through.
Because she wasn’t alor.
Because she didn’t make the rules.
Because this was the way it was always done.
Sighing, Kaiyah bent over the holopad and got back to work. She had to push all through the night to get it to Ba’buir first thing in the morning but it was done. For now. As Nejaa scanned over the information and made notes on what could be moved or exported, they dropped threw a detonator into Kaiyah’s plans of sleeping and sluffing.
“Harbinger’s coming home. Should be at the dock this afternoon, I can’t welcome him back because I have clinic this afternoon. You’ll have to do it.”
Kaiyah reared back, shaking her head in disbelief, “Absolutely not. I’m not doing shit for him.”
“He’s your cousin,” Nejaa pointed out, looking up over their half-moon glasses.
“He’s lived here before. I’m sure he could figure it out.”
“It’s custom.”
“It’s bullshit.”
“He’s family.”
“He’s chakaaryc,” Kaiyah growled.
“It’s also been ten years, you’re both adults and this is not a debate. Be on standby for his arrival.”
At noon exactly the docks commed Kaiyah to let her know that Harbinger’s ship was in the atmosphere and that they had to clear space for “Stella”, apparently, she was a “big girl”. Harbinger wasn’t even on the surface yet and he was making her skin crawl.
As Kaiyah made it to the docks she did a scan out of habit. Arumorut’s docks were unique because the town was pushed up in a pseudo-valley of sorts. A mountain to the north gave them the advantage of foothills to hide in and convert to docks but meant an uphill trek to reach the ship. It was a sacrifice they all were willing to make to have them close by and not scoured for parts or homes by scoundrels and animals. The docks also gave jobs to those who were mechanics or mechanically inclined.
Her scan stopped when Kaiyah spotted her cousin was stepping off his ship. Harbinger Awaud was best described as a mid-thirties know-it-all prick. Barely a few years older than Kaiyah, he was still gangly and awkward-looking in his armor. His face pinched and angular, the short military cut he hadn't changed in the decade he was gone highlighted the sharp points of his face. She always thought he looked like he needed to take a shit but couldn’t leave the conversation.
“Cousin! How good to see you, after all this time,” Harbinger smiled. The scar on the left side of his mouth pulled strangely at the movement, forcing the smile to tug wider on one side.
Kaiyah knew he was lying because she had given him that scar ten years ago. There was no way in any hell that he was happy to see the person who cut his face open after he called Ro a leech sucking the greatness out of the once great Awaud family just because Ro was adopted. Harbinger had left Arumorut not long after the altercation and Kaiyah couldn't say she was sorry to see him leave.
“Harbinger! Glad to see you back home. Find everything you were looking for?”
There was something that was always a little off about him, even before he left like he thought he knew something everyone else didn’t. It usually came off as smug and arrogant but there was something else, something off-putting about Harbinger in general. However, if he wanted to play this diplomatic route she would let him, he hadn’t directly offended her yet.
Kaiyah guided his small group off the dock on one of the foothills and down to the settlement, Harbinger having come home with something of an entourage. A small, mousy woman clung to his side, holding the edge of his cape. She had a matching scar on her face that was mostly covered with her long black hair. It was much longer than any Mandalorian dared to keep their hair, especially since she wore it down.
It made Kaiyah pause in her mental bashing of Harbinger. This woman was not a Mandalorian, not that she would ever judge that Dagon wasn't a Mando either, it was just interesting to see someone who had touted that born Mandalorians were the only right Mandalorians come home with the opposite of what they preached.
Following the couple, there were two more Mandalorians. A man and a woman followed the couple, their armor matching Harbinger’s in various shades of maroon. The man had blue in his armor and the woman had white, but Harbinger wore nearly head to toe maroon. He had repainted in his time away, covering the green and brown.
They didn’t take off their helmets to greet Kaiyah and Harbinger didn’t bother introducing them. It raised some alarms in her head, this posse of power. Harbinger was always popular somehow, but this felt different from friends following each other across the galaxy. It felt like soldiers waiting for orders.
“Yes, I have found quite a few things in my travels,” Harbinger pulled the woman under his arm while they walked, “This is Sonja, my riduur. Sonja, this is my cousin, Kaiyah. Say hello.”
Sonja shifted under his arm and waved to Kaiyah, tucking herself into Harbinger’s side after the task had been completed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I hope you enjoy Armuorut, Sonja. And your friends?” Kaiyah nodded behind them to the other couple.
“You don’t need to worry about them, they’re just here for a layover,” Harbinger dismissed her question. It was a tad insulting, not enough to pick a fight over, especially not with her precarious cling on leadership. Just generally demeaning as Harbinger usually was. Kaiyah not so secretly hoped he would put another boot in his mouth and give her a reason to kick him out of Arumorut once and for all.
The town boasted nearly every walk of life and creed. New Mandalorians walked beside those that carried the creed and even people who never swore Resol’nare lived here. It took a lot of diplomacy and patience but Ba’buir Nejaa wanted Arumorut to be what Manda’yaim couldn’t be for them, someplace safe for everyone, not just some.
Kaiyah was fine with it, everyone had to be to stay, but for her and Ro it was especially easy to intermingle with most people since they had grown up in The Rebellion and not in Arumorut. Because of how many faces changed and plots were uncovered in her childhood Kaiyah was quick to judge who was a good jogan and who wasn’t. It didn’t hurt that she was usually right, either. People had a lot of tells and tells repeated themselves, it was an easy pattern for her to see once she noticed that there weren’t a lot of good liars, or people, in the galaxy.
Arumorut was one of the last truly safe places that no one knew about for a reason. Not many people could live the way they did and very few Mandalorians were willing to live alongside people who ‘wronged’ them or ‘weren’t right’. Harbinger had been one of those Mandalorians, he openly and brazenly stated his opinions on foundlings and non-human Mandos for a while before Kaiyah had taken him down a peg or two.
People like him were bad for Arumorut, Kaiyah thought they were bad for the culture as a whole, that people who thought like Harbinger were those creatures who were constantly eating themselves. Nothing good would ever come from something that destroyed itself.
Trying her best to lead like her Ba’buir would, Kaiyah guided the group back into town and got Harbinger and Sonja settled into Harbinger’s old home, at the insistence of her aunt and uncle who claimed that their son would be home soon his house had been maintained in his absence. The two unnamed Mandos were settled into rooms at the barracks, since Harbinger claimed they were only there for a layover they wouldn’t need a home.
The town was buzzing with Harbinger’s return, the entire situation was fuel for the fire of gossip and Mandalorians were good at it. Bounty hunters, bodyguards, and mercenaries were all in the business of being up in someone else’s business and it transferred to their personal lives. Secrets weren’t kept in Arumorut, they couldn’t be, it was best to assume that if one person knew, everyone knew.
Another thing Mandalorians were good at was parties. It wasn’t a well-known secret that Mandalorians played as hard as they worked and with Harbinger announcing his marriage there was no better time for one. A bonfire was thrown together for the next night and most of the town greeted Harbinger with open arms. How many were honest about that would remain to be seen but for the time being everyone wanted to know what the prodigal son had been up to since his not so graceful departure and Harbinger was happy to entertain.
Ale and food were supplied by everyone and kids ran circles around each other in between sets of music and dancing. It was packed like Arumorut tended to be and Kaiyah was standing off to the side of the bonfire, the sweet spot right between the ale table and the dancers. Ro and Dagon were next to her, all of them keeping watch over their family.
“Who do you think is next?” Ro asked, adjusting his one lek as he leaned against his husband. He knew that Dagon had to have some information on the town that he was dying to share.
“Come on, Ro. We all know the Beviin girl is planning on purposing to their partner soon, I wouldn’t be shocked if it happened tonight,” Kaiyah scoffed, brushing a tuft of hair off her face.
Dagon nodded along with Kaiyah, his dark ponytail swishing with the movement, “Yeah, we’ve all known for years that they’re each others runi. They’ve both turned eighteen recently so I’m sure Kashida - the Beviin’s girl - is just waiting for the perfect moment. Greer has their first mission soon too, next week I think. And this is all assuming they haven’t eloped already.”
“Who do we think eloped?” Harbinger interrupted. He had his arm around Sonja’s shoulder again. Kaiyah hated it. It looked like he was holding her in a headlock, dragging her around with no care. Even though he was technically considered an Awaud, none of the ones here liked him and decided to give him the cold shoulder. When no one answered the question Dagon took the lead, saying that it was just some young people in town.
“Oya! I wish them many years of happiness,” He looked down at Sonja and squeezing her to his side slightly. It looked awkward, like it was supposed to be a hug but ended up far from it. “It feels just like yesterday we got married, right riduur?”
Sonja nodded silently, looking at Harbinger like he hung the moon and stars. Kaiyah didn’t get how she could think that but he was her cousin, not her riduur.
“Have you found your riduur yet, Kay?” Harbinger asked, looking up from Sonja. It wasn’t like he would know, he had been gone for a decade and it was a fair question, but the way he said her nickname sent a chill up her spine.
Her buir had given it to her, saying that two Kai’s was two Kai’s too many and she really should have thought that through when Kaiyah was born. She hadn’t been called ‘Kay’ since buir died. And Harbinger had just spoken it, out loud, in nearly fifteen years and said it in the most condescending tone.
“No, not yet, Harry. The manda works in mysterious ways.”
Harbinger’s face changed and Sonja drifted behind his body. It was a brief flash, like a mask dropped, the eyes going cold and empty before he laughed loudly and suddenly, clapping Kaiyah’s shoulder a bit too hard. In response to the outburst, Ro stood to his full height beside Kaiyah, moving Dagon fully behind him. Dagon was tall for a Zabrak, he was nearly head and shoulders taller than Ro but he didn't wear armor, and based on where this was going he would need it.
Before anyone could say anything or step in between the Mandalorians, the night shift captain called for the alor. Ba’buir Nejaa met the captain in the middle, standing a few yards away from the group. Kaiyah stepped around Harbinger and resisted the urge to shoulder check him, no matter how much she thought he needed it. Whatever soul searching he told people he’d done wasn’t true, something much worse happened in Harbinger’s time away.
The shift captain went to Ba’buir and whispered something in their ear, Ba’buir nodding along. They brought the captain’s ear to their level and whispered something back, Kaiyah on the sidelines of the conversation. She was used to this, it never really mattered how much training had been put into Kaiyah. She wasn’t a leader and according to the rumors she wasn't supposed to know about, she would never be.
Ba’buir leaned over to Kaiyah after the captain had taken off, “We received an emergency comm from Nevarro. I don’t know how many are coming, the captain said they refer to themselves as a ‘tribe’. What do we have open?”
Kaiyah rattled off the numbers from the budget she finished a few nights ago, taking away the barracks that the two new Mandos had taken they had roughly twenty houses and thirty barracks. The food supply was a little iffy, less than they would like for a group of refugees coming in. Water was the same but they would be fine and everyone donated a little extra when refugees came in.
Vlemoth Port - the planet that Arumorut resided on - was strange in the way it was arctic and sub-tropical at the same time. It just depended on what side you were on and lucky for them Arumorut was on the sub-tropical side. It was easy to harvest water from the humid air, or even purify it from the nearby rivers. Hunting was easy on this side too, meat was never in short supply and if they could stretch the donations it would be fine.
Ba’buir nodded, there wasn’t much else they could do about the situation, especially with a few hours' notice, “We’ll head up there now. Try and get a head start on the organization for aliits and a headcount.”
Kaiyah mentioned that they should air out the houses and personally took on the tasks of setting up the homes. Who knew how long they had been shuttered? What if the newcomers would want to eat or shower after Maker knows how long in space? After a quick plan was made and a few more hands were shuffled into helping Arumorut got to work.
Din sat a moment beside Kuill’s grave. Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to do today. The Armorer, IG-88, Kuill. They had all sacrificed for his miscalculations and risks, even if they knew that death was an option on the table. It was bittersweet knowing that he had some of the best people in the galaxy by his side and that that number was substantially less now. Everyone had done what they could and were loyal to the end, even if the endings weren’t what they expected.
Din took the win where he could, the Imps weren’t chasing the newly minted clan anymore and Din had a pretty good lead on some Mandalorians that might be able to help The Child get home thanks to The Armorer. A hidden clan on the planet of Vlemoth Port was the next step and that meant the mission could be over before it ever began.
It could have been the near-death experience, the kid saving him again, or all the mistakes made today but it was another reason Din was reflecting. The kid was strong, stronger than he had originally thought. Healing Karga and throwing the fire back were no small feats, especially when no one else could have done anything about it. Going even farther back, when the two had first picked up Cara and the arm wrestling competition had gone wrong was the kid protecting him.
While Din knew more than ever that finding a Jedi was the top priority now, he also knew that a switch had happened. He never really saw himself as a caretaker and was always so worried that every choice was the wrong one that the thought of ever separating from the kid wasn’t a concern of his, he had made it a quest to get him settled somewhere safe. Din might not have known a lot about kids but he knew that following him across the galaxy with the target that was on his back was no way for ad’ika to live, no matter how old they were.
The thought of the kid being away from him now? He couldn’t fathom it. There was no part of the galaxy that the kid was going to be in that Din wasn’t following. Wherever the kid went, Din was going to be there too. They were aliit now, it was The Way. He selfishly let himself hope that this clan wouldn’t know any Jedi, that maybe Din could keep his aliit for a little bit longer. He allowed it for about thirty seconds before he boxed it up and shelved it at the back of his mind, this wasn’t about what Din wanted or didn’t want. This was about getting the kid home.
After adding the new names to the remembrance he sat the kid in the Crest’s co-pilot’s chair. As Din moved through the pre-flight checklist he had done a million times he heard the kid chewing on something. Glancing over he looked at the womprat, “What do you got there?”
Fishing the Mythosaur necklace of the kid’s mouth, he spoke out loud, “I didn’t think I’d see this again. Why don’t you hang on to that, might need it where we’re going.”
Translations & Lore (in order of appearance):
ba'vodu: aunt/uncle
ba'buir: grandparent
meshgeroya: limmie or bolo-ball (the Star Wars version of soccer) literally meaning 'the beautiful game'. A Mandalorian obsession, even going so far as to call it 'the other national pastime'.
Verd'goten: coming of age hunt, usually taking place at 13. It tested a lot of things, overall it was mostly fighting and survival, once passed the Mandalorian was considered an adult and was treated equally within the clan. I feel weird writing 13-year-olds as 'adults' but when you need as many soldiers as you can get, I guess it makes sense?
Bui'tsad: Biological family, rarely used.
buir: parent. Mando'a gets tricky here because it's usually a gender-neutral language. There isn't much difference between what we would consider 'feminine' words and 'masculine words like mom/aunt/grandmother and dad/uncle/grandfather. It is stated though that mothers were usually presented with 'buir' vs fathers where the first three letters of the father's name in front of 'buir' (example would be Din would be Din-buir, his female spouse would be buir). I'm not entirely sure how this would work with gay parents or nonbinary parents, please let me know if you have any ideas because I have both in this story and I'm Struggling.
Alor: leader, chief
Edalinare: Zabraki, family.
manda: collective soul or heaven, being Mandalorian in body, mind, and spirit.
dar'manda: state of not being a Mandalorian. Not an outsider, but having lost your culture. I usually use it in the meaning of soulless, since a lot of Legends Mandalorians thought that anyone who hadn't taken the Resol'nare was dar'manda. Kinda Catholic that way.
laandur: delicate, fragile. Usually used as an insult meaning pathetic and weak
The 28 hour days is a thing on Vlemoth Port. I would die. How do you even organize a 28 hour day?
Chakaaryc: Rotten, low-life. Usually describes someone of dubious ethics.
maroon is the armor color to symbolize power, green is duty, brown is valor.
riduur: partner/spouse.
Resol’nare: Six tenants of Mandalorian life.
Manda’yaim: Mandalore
runi: soul, poetic use.
Oya!: lots of meanings, literally being 'let's hunt!" it's always positive and triumphant. Usually, it's in the context of 'cheers!'
Aliit: family
The remembrance: said daily it means, 'I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal' typically followed up by the names of those you've lost.