Chapter Text
Din sat at the head of a long, low table. He looked back and forth between where Paz Vizsla and Bo-Katan Kryze were arguing with each other, but he was barely listening. It always went this way; their opposing views and approaches made them valuable advisors in Din’s search for some kind of balance, but the constant friction between them did not make for smooth discussions.
“If we want to rebuild, we need resources; it doesn’t have to mean anything,” Bo-Katan insisted hotly, and Vizsla shook his head.
“It’s a bad idea. He can’t handle that kind of distraction right now,” Vizsla grunted.
Bo-Katan scoffed and then turned to address Din. “It’s not like Tal’riduure are hostages. It’s no different from any other political marriage,” she insisted again.
Din shook his head after a long pause. “No. Reject it.”
“Ha! It’s not easy to go against that one,” Vizsla laughed through his helmet, gesturing to Bo-Katan, and then crossing his arms in triumph.
“The proposals will keep coming. King Tyrelis won’t be the last to suggest marriage, but he does make the most compelling offer in terms of a dowry,” Bo-Katan reminded him and then looked where the Armorer sat silently on the other end of the table. “Tal’riduure are a tradition, too.”
All three of them directed their attention to the Armorer, who nodded slowly.
“Several of those who have carried the Darksaber and called themselves Mand’alor accepted the sons and daughters of conquered planets as spouses or concubines,” she said softly, her visor directed at where Din was sitting. “But that is not an obligation of the title.”
“I’m not trying to convince you to take a dozen concubines, Din,” Bo-Katan said, leaning in and speaking quietly. “I am suggesting that you accept this one offer for a wife, and the resources that come with it.”
“Djarin couldn’t handle more than one; he’s half-dead anyway,” Vizsla grunted in response, and Din balled his hand into a fist and had to stop himself from going for his blaster. Instead, he cleared his throat and addressed the Armorer, ignoring the others.
“What do you think I should do?”
“I think,” the Armorer said slowly, “that you should not be alone. The temptation a leader faces to isolate themselves for the sake of impartiality is strong, and you must resist it. You may need support from a partner as we rebuild.”
“I have all of you for support.”
“We advise you on how to be a king,” she reminded him. “A partner would advise you on how to remain a man.”
Din sighed. “A Tal’riduur is a hostage.”
“Many of these women are royal and face the same fate with another man if you refuse,” Bo-Katan pointed out. “Look,” she continued, waving the letter in his face, “Nharia isn’t far; you’re not ripping her away from everything she knows. It says she’s been educated in Mandalorian customs and language her whole life. Of all the offers you’ve gotten, she’s the only one who wouldn’t be confused about who you are or why we live the way we do.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She would understand,” Bo-Katan insisted gently. “You wouldn’t have to justify your choice to wear your helmet all the time.”
“Would you still wear it with your wife?” Vizsla butted in, and Din waved both of them off.
“I haven’t thought about- I shouldn’t have to think about this.” Din could feel himself panicking. “There are more important things to discuss.”
Bo-Katan turned to the Armorer. “Would you permit him to remove it with his wife?”
“It is not about what I would permit,” the Armorer said calmly, still speaking to Din. “By Creed, it is not forbidden, and the choice will fall to you and you alone.”
“She’d always be an outsider. Blood tributes come from cowardice; she’s forbidden to take the Creed.” Vizsla finally sounded serious. Din may not trust him, but he trusted his convictions: For all his immaturity, for all his piggish behaviour, he was devoted to his ideals.
“There is bravery in leaving one’s home to marry a stranger,” Bo-katan suggested quietly.
“There’s bravery in getting a tooth pulled; that doesn’t make you a warrior,” Vizsla grunted back.
“Shut up, both of you,” Din growled through his helmet. “This is not a debate about what counts as bravery. I am trying to tell you that I-“
“They might have a point,” Vizsla admitted suddenly.
“Why?”
“Because you’re in a bad mood.” Vizsla gestured to where Din sat stiffly next to him. “Maybe if you had something warm to stick your cock in, you’d be less of an ass.”
Din had to stop himself from taking a swing at Vizsla. “We’re talking about a political union, not a cheap fuck,” Din spat, and Vizsla shrugged.
“Definitely not cheap; they’re ready to pay you a lot of credits to take a daughter off their hands.”
“And that’s why it’s a good idea,” Bo-Katan interjected again.
Vizsla was still chuckling. “Are you worried they’ll send an ugly one, Djarin? They all look the same from the back.”
“Watch your mouth, Vizsla. If you’re going to act like a mutt, I’ll treat you like one.” Bo-Katan pulled her knife and plunged it into the table in one fluid motion. “Give me a reason, and I swear I’ll-“
“Enough.” The Armorer raised her hand, and they both fell silent. Bo-Katan still was looking at Vizsla with disgust, but she too eventually turned her attention to the Armorer. “Din Djarin. We cannot make this choice for you. There will always be advantages and disadvantages to a course of action, you must decide. If you wish to accept this offer, I will go to Nharia and claim her.”
Din looked down at the letter, printed in neat, sharp Mando’a letters on thick paper. He’d never seen a message on paper before, and yet there it was: this flimsy thing that somehow carried the weight of all his responsibility as the new Mand’alor. Din felt himself nod. If it was what was best, if all of them agreed, then he had no real choice in the matter.
“Fine. I’ll accept this offer.”
The Armorer nodded and stood, abruptly signalling the end of the meeting.
“Very well. Nharia is not far. I will go there, and you will take the riduurok as soon as I return. Then we will hold a small celebration for everyone who is still on the planet to celebrate the union.” She left the room quickly, and Vizsla feigned a loud yawn as he stretched and got to his feet.
“It won’t be so bad Djarin, maybe you’ll get lucky, and she’ll be cute.” Din ignored him as he left, and when they were alone, Bo-Katan finally yanked her knife out of the table, and then reached over and squeezed his arm awkwardly.
“It’s the right choice,” she insisted, smiling gently, and he shook his head.
“Could you have done it? If you were in my place?”
Her face fell. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” Din stared her down. Even if she couldn’t see his face, he knew she could feel his gaze from the way she flinched. “Could you have picked up an innocent woman and brought her here, a hostage traded for credits and supplies? You’d let her wander around with someone like-“ Din cut himself off in the middle of gesturing to where Vizsla had sat.
“He wouldn’t dare,” she said quietly, but Din did not have her confidence.
“Keep an eye on her when she arrives,” Din insisted, and Bo-Katan raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a capable warrior, Din. You won’t need to me-“
“She won’t trust me.” Din let his words sink in and knew from the look on Bo-Katan’s face that she finally understood. No matter what this poor woman knew about Mandalorian life, no matter how prepared she was to join him in a marriage bed, she would not trust him. “She won’t,” he insisted. “But she’ll trust you. And so do I.”
Bo-Katan’s face softened, and she nodded. “What do you need me to do?”
“Look out for her. Keep her safe when I can’t. Keep her out of his path,” Din continued, gesturing to Vizsla’s vacant seat. “Because I don’t trust him.”
“I don’t think he would actually-“
“It doesn’t matter,” Din cut her off forcefully. “The way he talks is bad enough. If he didn’t have a right by blood to be here, I’d have-“
“I know,” she relented. “He’s vile. You have my word, I’ll watch out for her when she gets here, and I’ll happily castrate him if I need to.”
Din sighed and let himself smile weakly under his helmet. He believed she meant every word. For all their disagreements about the Creed, he admired her and knew he could trust her with this.
“They’re on their way,” Bo-Katan dutifully reported to him, thumbing behind her at the heavy doors that cut the main hall off from the rest of the world. “Armorer didn’t say how far.”
Din nodded. He didn’t have it in him to offer anything else. He knew that if he opened his mouth to speak, his voice would shake and betray his anxiety. Bo-Katan eyed him, like she was trying to read his mind behind his helmet.
“She’s pretty,” she said gently. “Or so the Armorer says.”
“Hmmm.” Din forced himself to sound like he agreed with her. Selfishly, he wondered for a moment what the Armorer considered pretty.
“I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise,” Bo-Katan repeated. “Will you meet her at the dock?”
“I don’t-“ Din faltered. Would seeing him waiting for her when she left the ship be a comfort, or would it terrify her? Should he offer an arm to help her disembark, or would she hate the idea of touching him? “I’ll just… wait. Here.”
Bo-Katan nodded, both of them watching the closed doors as she shot him a sideways glance. “I could meet her.”
Din breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes. Thank you,” he added. Admitting that he didn’t want to take the risk and scare his new wife felt like a weakness, but he knew Bo-Katan wouldn’t judge him too harshly for it. The soft heart that Vizsla seemed determined to rip out of him was not a failing in her eyes.
“What will you do tonight?”
“What?”
Bo-Katan turned back to him. “You know what’s expected of you. Both of you.”
“I don’t know.”
“You won’t have much of a choice. They’re holding the dowry, all the contracts and supplies until it’s consummated. It won’t be legal if you don’t-“
“I know,” he cut her off forcefully. “I’m aware.” I know what has to be done. Don’t lecture me like I’m a trembling virgin. This is so much more complicated than that.
“Have you decided if you’ll take that off?” She gestured to his helmet, and he shrugged.
“No.”
“No, you won’t, or no you haven’t decided?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Bo-Katan nodded thoughtfully. “I see. It’s not an easy choice.”
“No, it isn’t.” Din wondered if she could possibly understand, as someone who showed her face so easily. But he had no one else to ask. The Armorer would tell him that only he could decide. Vizsla would probably just make an obscene remark. “What do you think I should do? What would you… what would you want?”
She seemed to consider his questions seriously and paused for a long time before she answered. “On the one hand, it will probably be easier for her to accept you if she’s allowed to see you if she’s never been with anyone else. On the other hand,” she continued, looking him up and down, “I know it’s a difficult choice, for someone in your position. For you to consider sharing something that intimate….” She trailed off and then shrugged. “Maybe the two of you aren’t on such uneven footing after all. Maybe you just need to spend some time with her.”
Din snorted. “I don’t have time. We get nothing until I’ve—" The words got lodged in his throat, and he coughed to try and clear them. “I’m not allowed to take this slowly.”
Bo-Katan smiled sadly at him, and a second later, he heard the heavy, rumbling sound of the ship’s engines. “Be gentle. Be kind. I know you can be,” she said, pulling her helmet on. He nodded. She was right. He watched Bo-Katan walk towards the doors, this woman who was far more prepared to stand where he stood but who had come to support him in what was fast becoming his weakest moment.
She’s beautiful.
He was disgusted with himself for thinking that. He hated that his first thought when he laid eyes on his wife and hostage was that she was beautiful. That for just a moment, something primal took over, and he wanted to touch her. She walked proudly towards him, carrying herself with a grace he had not expected from someone in her position. Her hips swayed slightly as she moved towards him, and she did not look away from where he stood at the end of the hall. Her expression was cold, and the force of her gaze seemed capable of penetrating his armour. He felt his face growing warm and was grateful that she couldn’t see him blush. Not yet, anyway.
The moment she reached him, she turned to face him, and the shame hit him once again. There was fire and fear in her eyes; like a lamb that knew it was headed for slaughter but refused to go without a fight.
I did this to her.
He had to look away.