For over the course of a thousand years, Maz Kanata had welcomed travelers ranging from all walks of life to her castle off the shore of Nymeve Lake on Takodana. Every visitor was treated to the quirky rhythm and blues of a live band and offered an array of exotic foods with a wide assortment of brew on tap.
Droids, pirates, bounty hunters—the castle was a common ground where both hunters and the hunted mingled in a stringent 'No violence' atmosphere. Those merely seeking shelter were accommodated for a single night's hospitality; which was mostly individuals with dead or alive prices to their heads.
However, for others passing through, the castle was simply home away from home.
Just as the sun breached the eastern skyline, Rey woke on a cot inside one of the castle's smaller rooms that Maz reserved for her. Per her usual request whenever she visited Maz's castle, the room facing Nymeve Lake promised a striking view of vibrant pinks and oranges bleeding with the heavens' natural blue, and the crystal clear waters below provided a stunning mirror-reflection of its beauty.
Aside from a cot that was anything but pleasant to sleep on, there was a wooden footstool Rey had used as a perch for her helmet, the twin Westar 35 blaster pistols and smaller weapons she kept on her person - for safe keeps.
Typically, when in transit from one destination to the next through hyperspace, she would set the autopilot controls and kick back in the pilot seat of her ship Slave 1 for a quick snooze. Being a highly sought after bounty hunter meant she was always on the go. Staying in a room with bare-minimum furnishings was equivalent to staying at a luxury hotel on the city planet of Coruscant—and she could've done just that if she had wanted to. She had more than enough credits stashed away inside the ship's one of many hidden compartments to afford all of life's lavish pleasures.
But, in a way, though, Takodana reminded her of home. While Takodana's forested palette was vastly different than the jungles and agricultural land on Concord Dawn, there was a sense of familiarity that connected this temporary environment in the Middle Rim to that of her youth in the far outskirts of space.
Drawing a breath of fresh air as a soft breeze drifted through a lone window inside her quarters, Rey sat up and swung her legs over the bed's canvas ledge, her boots firmly planted to the stone floor beneath their rubber soles. Where there should have been a dash of zest and sweetness lingering in the air she could only smell centuries' worth of grime wafting through layers of rock. Her compulsion for wanting to pause and listen for the sound of cashews being ground in a modest sized kitchen shortly down the hallway was a habit she'd never been able to break.
Instead of hearing her mother prepping what ingredients were required to make her father's favorite traditional Mandalorian dessert uj'alayi, there was only the steady song of her pulse. Regardless of how disgustingly sweet the pastry was, Rey would have given anything to taste that hearty mixture of dried fruits and spices smothered underneath tooth-rotting syrup.
And she'd happily barter every last credit attached to her name if it meant she would get to spend another minute with her parents again: particularly her father. Throughout the prime of the Galactic Empire, Boba Fett was notoriously the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy among smugglers.
But to Rey, he was her hero; to him, she was always ad'ika.
Rey was the little girl who sat upon the top step of the stairway outside the entrance to the Fetts' bungalow every day after school. The little girl who'd rather practice her marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat skills than play make-believe scenarios with dolls, like other girls her age. The girl who fancied getting her hands dirty and winding up to her neck in ship grease and aviation fluid than fussing about conventional feminine hygiene.
Her mother, Sintas Vel, a retired bounty hunter much like her husband, had most often failed at succeeding to persuade nine-year-old Rey to come indoors for dinner before her father arrived back home from work, now as a Journeyman Protector of Concord Dawn under the alias Jester Mereel.
And it wasn't till she'd finally caught sight of the Fetts' landspeeder beyond the high-rising rows of grain at the forefront of the plantation when she made an effort to leave her spot. She could almost predict the exact question he would ask her the moment he exited the speeder, it'd come down to the very same routine between the two of them since the day she started grade school.
"First thing's first," Fett began, the navy, silver-trimmed Mandalorian helmet still in place on his head modulated his gruff voice. His glove-concealed hands reached up to remove it as the conversation progressed. "How was school?"
This was when she normally replied with 'just peachy,' or sometimes it was just plain and simple 'peachy.' Apparently, she'd inherited her father's inability to speak beyond 3-word sentences at times. That's what her mother said, anyway. But today's story required a bit more use of the 26-letter alphabet.
Worrying the sandy-colored linen of her tunic between her fingers, Rey quietly trailed alongside him, scuffing her boots in the dirt during their slow strides back to the house. She waited until his helmet was off before she answered. It was easier to judge his initial reaction that way when it was a topic that would likely end with one of two very different outcomes: ground her or applaud her for living up to the reputable last name.
"Other than the thousand-word essay I have to write explaining why it's not okay to push my peers around, peachy," she finished shrugging as if it were precisely that.
Simply peachy.
Concurrently, father and daughter paused in their tracks. Reluctant a tad, Rey lifted her chin, and her hazel eyes connected with his weary brown. The chrome-plated, armor crafted of Mandalore's finest (and strongest) beskar metal covering his chest reflected the blazing rays of the sun, highlighting his neutral face and its impressive number of scars; each unique in its tale as to how it came to be on Fett's naturally-bronzed skin.
"Reyna."
"Yes, father?" She bristled, laying her ignorance of the matter on thick.
Rey was perhaps the only person, other than her mother, of course, in the entire galaxy who was aware of the compassion and love that Boba Fett retained. Beneath the iron-clad figure before her was a man who she often saw struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy following a life of constant violence. As if she was able to sense that inner conflict of his, every day she made it a priority to somehow be that light in his universe-a light so powerful it was capable of anchoring that shadow of his former self in the past.
Most often than not, it got the job done.
"We've been over this before, ad'ika," he sighed, nonetheless pleased at the news. "Over and over..."
"I know," Rey huffed as her lanky arms crossed over her small chest. "But he asked for it."
Fett's head cocked, an eyebrow quirked. "How so?"
Rey scrunched her nose at the remark she'd received earlier in the day regarding her latest hairstyle-—bobbed, with longer locks framing pudgy cheeks. "He said that my short hair made me look like a boy now."
And to a girl who hadn't reached puberty yet, such commentary was like saying the world was ending tomorrow. Her father, however, was unaffected by her response and remained steeled in his expression.
"Tell me somethin'." Momentarily his eyes darted to the horizon in thought. "This boy-what were you wanting in return?"
Rey scoffed. "Respect?"
He nodded then as if to agree. "And do you think savages are deserving of respect?"
Eyes broader than the circumference of a harvest moon, she couldn't help but gasp at the sneer. "What? I'm not a sa-."
"You had a choice, Reyna." Gone was all nicety in her father's tone. Clamping her mouth shut, Rey bit the inside of her lip as he took a step closer to her. With the hand free of his helmet, he jabbed a finger once at her shoulder without ever making contact. "And you chose physical force-push, shove, violence is all the same no matter how you choose to word it. Utilizing words for words though doesn't make the fight any less effective. Neither does it make you weak." Rey held her breath as he hesitated and swallowed. His voice proceeded then to soften. "Do you understand?"
Rey bowed her head curtly, blinking. "Elek, buir."
"Jate," he grimaced, nodding also. "Demanding respect through absolute force is but a coward's way of taking esteem that he hasn't earned, ad'ika." Assuringly, he lifted the hand that scolded her and clasped her shoulder lightly, eyes trained on hers as he spoke. "You can not take it; you earn it. No daughter of mine will ever be raised a coward. She will be strong. And a leader." To prove his next point furthermore, her father raised his helmet and pressed the dome of the headpiece to her chest. "And she will wear her armor with honor, as a true Mandalorian should."
Rey held her father's stare as the words began to sink in. And for the first time, she understood. He hadn't earned the label as the most feared and respected hunter in the galaxy for no apparent reason. She wanted to be as strong as him in both body and mind, too. Releasing the loose hold on her tunic she accepted the helmet from his grasp, her eyes fell from him to see her own reflection staring back in its visor. She imagined the day when she had Mandalorian armor of her own, crafted by her own pair of hands, and pouring every ounce of herself into making it hers.
And she would wear the emblem of Clan Fett with pride.
"Whenever that will be," she grumbled within a sigh.
"Whenever you decide it's time to grow up, ad'ika." He gave her shoulder a squeeze before he pulled away. "And as for the kid, if he ever calls you a boy again-tell him that Boba Fett says he can kriff off."
Eyes widening in surprise this time, she looked up at him and laughed. She saw what she could have sworn was the hint of a smile tugging at a corner of his mouth as he took a sidestep towards the house.
"Don't tell your mother that."
Twelve years later, Rey could still remember the exact words her father had said to her that day: it was the last discussion they ever shared—before the attack came. Before she had to watch everything around her rupture into flames and disintegrate to ash. Before she was forced to become an adult instead of living out those years of adolescence remaining, with a family whom she cherished more than anything else in the world.
And before she was left completely and utterly alone.
All that remained of her life on Concord Dawn was the knowledge and wisdom her father had branded inside her memory. And among those few possessions that endured was her father's ship Slave 1. They should have destroyed that, too, she had most often thought.
Slave 1 had served her well when the moment to enact on that yearning for revenge arrived. That moment when she had the man responsible for her parents' deaths wishing he had killed Boba Fett's daughter, too. Rey was fifteen when she took her first life, and not once did she ever assume he had family or a life that he was leaving behind. There was only this incredible-almost liberating-emotion welling inside her when justice for her own loss was served. And she never looked back on her decision to pursue the precarious life of a bounty hunter, like her father.
But now…
Furrowing her brows at the signature T-shaped visor of her helmet, Rey couldn't help but now question the choices she'd made. She wondered what her father would have to say if he were still alive. Would he be proud of the young woman his little girl had become? Would he find her worthy of the ivory armor with accents in mahogany that she'd crafted herself?
Tucking the helmet safely underneath the crook of her arm, so many what-ifs began flashing through her mind as she strode quietly down the dusky corridor towards a downward-spiraling stairwell, and yet she knew the answers would always be a mystery.
Her parents were gone. Her father-her mentor-was gone.
Other than the company of her own shadow, Rey had accepted the cold, bitter truth long ago that she would forever and always be alone. Such as the life of a bounty hunter, she supposed. What happened to her family was a solid indicator that bounty hunting and domesticated life could never coincide.
Well, at least, when she was in the presence of Maz Kanata, she wasn't alone.
Taking her last step from the stairway and into the bustling tavern, Rey spotted the little woman almost instantly amongst the ruckus and vapors of early bird travelers. Keenly aware of silence flourishing at the back of the bar as occupants began to take notice of the only person in the room who was dressed in Mandalorian armor, Maz greeted Rey as the Mando purposely claimed a seat at an isolated corner table.
"Maz," Rey nodded as the woman approached, placing her helmet down on the table in front of her with a sigh.
"Good morning, child." A diminutive smile spread underneath the pair of oversized specs on Maz's face. "Sleep well, I hope?"
Setting her arms on the table and automatically threading her fingers, Rey shrugged her shoulders. "Peachy."
Maz's smirk widened. "You Fetts always were such sparkling conversationalists," she stated blithely, a trace of sarcasm in her tone. "You're more and more like your father every time I see you."
Knowing that Maz was always rather fond of her father should've made the compliment easier to accept; however, she found that even the assurance of a lifelong family acquaintance still hadn't been enough to ease her doubt. Thankfully, the pitiful smile making a single corner of her mouth curve was enough encouragement for Maz to continue with the seemingly one-sided conversation. "Anyhow, I know you're a busy gal these days. Would you care to have something to eat before you go?"
Now that was a question she could definitely answer. "Sure."
"Picky?"
Bottom lip puckered slightly, Rey's head shook no. "Surprise me."
Giving the bounty hunter a grunt in satisfaction, Maz turned on a heel and strode over towards an area in the tavern that was partially hidden by a stone barrier. Minding the gauntlets covering her forearms, Rey crossed her arms over her abdomen and made herself comfortable on the wooden chair, waiting patiently for Maz to reappear. Minutes later, she saw the little woman reemerge carrying a squared platter with a mug of freshly-brewed caf, a bowl of warm porridge, and a saucer packed with a meager assortment of fruit.
"Nothing grand that an inn would've served you," Maz lightly stressed, placing the tray of sustenance on the table directly in front of her guest. "But it'll hold you til afternoon at least."
Rey smiled appreciatively. "Thanks," she murmured in a voice that barely struck above a whisper. Straightening her spine in the chair, she extended a gloved hand for the cup of caf.
"Off to anywhere special today?" Maz asked as she sat down in the empty seat opposite of the young Mando.
Rey shook her head no at the dark liquid that filled the cup between her palms. "Not really," she replied after a beat prior to taking a sip of its content. Her body sighed the second she tasted the caf's bitter yet sweetly enhanced flavor. "Wherever duty beckons me, I guess."
"Could hire you to stick around here full-time and help with some of these goons if you'd like," Maz suggested, casting her thumb over a shoulder to a random circle of patrons. Here it was, shortly after sunrise, and they were clearly three sheets to the wind: if their boisterous cheers and wobbly forms while standing in place was any indication.
Rey stifled a snort as she lifted a brow in their direction. "Giving you trouble already, huh?"
Maz rolled her eyes. "Nothing other than the usual riff-raff that comes from having to deal with every moof-milker in the galaxy under the same roof. It was always great whenever your father visited back in the day," she chuckled. "Nobody ever dared to stir up problems then."
Rey could only offer Maz a nod in response as she leaned over the table to exchange her caf for a handful of colorful fruit. It'd been years since she felt the need to cry at the mentioning of her parents. Now was one of those times where she just wanted to cave and let the dam behind her eyes break loose. A companionable silence was shared before Maz attempted to speak again. Rey blinked away the tears in her eyes before the other woman had a chance to notice.
"It is awfully weird, though," Maz hummed in a voice that sounded unusually despondent than normal. "Don't you think?"
Frowning, Rey lifted her eyes from the plate of fruit, noting the knowing expression growing on the elderly woman's face. "What's weird?"
Maz folded one arm over the other on the table. "How it's possible that the only man who survived the Pit of Carkoon was killed so easily by an amateur hunter."
Rey groaned as if meaning to say that the answer was blatantly obvious. "It's precisely how the old saying goes, Maz," she sneered, shoving a plump grape into her mouth. "There's always bigger and better fish in the sea."
Maz shook her head. "Rey," she began cryptically, "mah oear bukee..."
Before Maz had a chance to enlighten more on the notion, there was a sudden loud crash that sounded like glassware smashing against the castle's stone floor rising from somewhere at the back of the tavern. While Maz looked severely agitated by the interruption, Rey couldn't help but feel relieved.
"Never mind," Maz grumbled as she rose from her seat. Pointing a finger at Rey, she turned and took a step in the same direction as the fight. "Hold that thought."
The tavern was surprisingly busier now than it was when Rey arrived earlier that morning. With her eyes only, the bounty hunter followed Maz for a short distance as the elder determinedly wove in and out of the swarm of bodies before Rey lost track of her host completely.
That was when she felt it.
A peculiar sense that she had gained the unwarranted attention of someone else inside the tavern. Though what surprised her was that it wasn't the slightest bit alarming. Whoever was watching her seemed curious and—something else that she didn't quite understand.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have ever prepared her for the sense that her lungs had been completely siphoned and drained of oxygen when her eyes finally landed on his.
