Chapter 5: The Adjustment

Din's solution to gaining the trust of his people was to slowly integrate me into their society and way of life.

What he failed to mention, however, was that this solution oddly resembled indentured servitude.

"Each'trannach! Got another batch here for you!"

A large sack of various, filthy weapons were placed almost reverently in front of me, the chorus of clangs and rattles noting its ample contents.

It had been an early start to the day. Imbued with discipline, fighting-aged Mandalorians had risen with the sun, as they seemed to always do, undertaking hours of combat training without a sliver of complaint within assigned training areas throughout the settlement. In fact, they even seemed to view this practice as an honour; a duty that was theirs to fulfil to the best of their abilities. Designated trainers, identified by their red, intricately-marked pauldrons on their left shoulders, would oversee the series of events throughout the day, ranging from hand-to-hand combat, to knife fighting, to weapons ranges. They would go through their gamut of weapons in their arsenal, often shifting what they trained, and always challenging one another to do better; to give it their all, then more. They must always be prepared for the enemy, Din said; their strength was their survival.

With the sun incessantly beating down on us on another scorching day, I wiped the sweat from my forehead with an equally sweaty forearm, surveying the ever growing piles of equipment to clean with a prolonged breath. How do Mandalorians go through so much equipment in so little time? And why did it always seem like they took a goddamn mudbath while they were training? "Thanks, Plikt. Can't wait for the next batch!"

Noting both the sarcasm and the growing workload himself, the dark-haired Mandalorian man, roughly in his early thirties, grimaced. "We gotta run out of equipment to dirty at some point, right, each'trannach?"

Each'trannach. Foreigner. Outsider. A rather endearing term that they had started calling me, spreading through the settlement like wildfire, as the days passed. It wasn't a bother, though; at the end of the day, they were at least now conversing with me and not just about me. I raised an oil-stained cloth towards his direction, akin to a toast. "Here's to hoping."

He threw a small salute of thanks before jogging off into the distance, back towards the main training grounds, dirt and sand dancing in the wind in his wake.

I was no stranger to hard work - particularly work that was considered to be rather menial. Here, on this planet, this galaxy, I was no longer a Captain; a rank that, normally, garnered a certain amount of given respect...despite being told that you didn't actually work for a living. My old life had been traded for this one so that the Mandalorians could see that I wasn't a threat. The days were long and the nights were short - strangely not that different from life back on Earth - but, despite the position that I currently held in this society, amongst these people, I was thankful. Along with their trust, I needed - wanted - to earn my keep as the search for home continued.

"Hey, Grogu," I twisted my head back with an exhale, pointing to nearby supplies a few meters from us, "do you mind grabbing the cleaning solution for me? The grey canister over there?"

Din had said that, despite not being able to form intelligible words, Grogu was able to understand basic instructions. And, despite being a whopping fifty years old - which was a difficult concept in itself to internalize - he appeared to function at the level of a human toddler. Though, as I spent more and more time with him and Din, I began to wonder whether it was a language barrier issue more than that of intelligence.

...Or, as Din mentioned, he could just be stubborn!

He babbled something in return as he waddled towards the stack of cleaning supplies on the ground. For a few moments, he merely stared at the array of choices, then looked back. "Meh?"

"Yeah, the grey one."

A series of blinks my way. Then, he turned his attention back to the supplies, regarding each one separately as though seeing what was on the menu.

He began to reach for a screwdriver.

I shook my head, extending a hand out to him. "No, Grogu, that's a screwdriver. I need the grey canister. The only grey canister there."

A sound of confusion from him.

Perhaps he didn't understand the word 'canister'? I sighed with a smile, slapping the dirt off my trousers as I stood. "It's okay, little one, I'll -"

I froze abruptly, seeing as the canister was now floating right before my face at eye level.

"Holy seven pound baby Jesus!" I staggered back with a grunt, lightly tripping on some rifles.

Remaining near the supplies, Grogu kept his eyes closed and tri-fingered hand extended, as though pushing the canister closer to me with an invisible force.

Holy. Motherfucking. Shit.

Powers.

"Grogu," I breathed out, snatching the canister from the air as though afraid it would disappear. A part of me wanted to check if there were wires of some sort, but what was the point? Clearly, Grogu wasn't a magician. "That's...bloody brilliant."

He giggled happily, seeming to be rather pleased with himself.

Portals. Telepathy. Telekinesis.

What else did this galaxy have in store?

Whatever else it did have in store, a part of me hoped that I'd find out now, seeing as my brain seemed to be comprehending - or accepting of - everything. It had become blatantly clear, very quickly, that rules were different around here. What was the point in fighting it?

Feeling rather proud of the little green guy myself, and feeling as though I was going to melt like a witch, I coaxed him into taking a short siesta in the shade with me. Hearing absolutely no protest from him, Grogu lay down at my side, using my thigh as his pillow, as I lay back upon a tree, arms crossed, and placed a piece of cloth over my eyes.

Our much-needed break was short-lived.

"I see working hard somehow turned into hardly working."

"Hmm?" Though now finding it difficult to do so, I languidly opened an eye, peering up at Din's curious glance. "Hey, where I come from, there's such a thing as 'breaktime'." My other eye opened as I threw him a challenging stare. "Unless you don't have that kinda thing here?"

Grogu, who continued to lay on his back, little hands clasped on his belly, piped in with a coo, then closed his eyes once more as though agreeing wholeheartedly that breaktime was certainly needed.

"That's right, Grogu, you tell your dad!" I smirked, eyeing Din in triumph. He only shook his head in reply. I sat up entirely as he took a seat beside me. "Those in your inner circle seem much nicer to me. I must say, it's rather...unexpected."

Din cleared his throat, resting an arm on a bent knee. "A few of them believe that you are my...companion."

My face exhibited severe displeasure, stare deadly. "Your...what?"

He then made tiny circles with his gloved hand, now emanating a tinge of embarrassment. "You know. My…"

I pursed my lips, my expression expectant. "Still waiting for you to say it."

"...lover," he finally finished, then sighed. "It's fine. It takes suspicion and attention away from you."

Not sure that being the Mand'alor's perceived lover would actually take attention away from me. My gut reported that he might have solved one problem and just created another. I've lived a little. People desire power, and Din's position was all about power for the Mandalorians. Someone, somewhere, probably wanted that - either as a result of actually being Din's lover, or taking the power from him outright. Being a position of power was always precarious. I didn't know how Din could do it. Nevertheless, it was rather enjoyable watching him squirm. "Uh huh. Do go on, your majesty."

"You shouldn't have any more trouble with guards either."

"I can handle the guards. But I'm sure that rumour is going to make some of your subjects quite envious."

"What do you mean?"

My head slightly reared back as I threw him a sidelong glance. "Are you serious?"

He still seemed quite confused. "What?"

I gestured to the groups of Mandalorians in the distance. "Don't tell me you don't see a bunch of your subjects always gawking over you everywhere you go!" As though to prove my point, a few glanced over in our direction, shyly eyeing Din and giggling amongst themselves as they made their way towards the training grounds. I nudged him with an elbow. "See? It's plain as day. Where I'm from, we say that they are thirsty for you."

"Thirsty?" he repeated unsurely. "Thirsty equates to...attraction?"

"Oh yeah," I confirmed with a sharp nod. "Usually the naughty kind, in fact."

"I do not seek such attention," he stated with conviction, shaking his head.

"You don't need to," I smiled at him. "Even if you weren't Mand'alor, I'm sure people and creatures alike would still be attracted to you. You have this...thing about you. Can't really describe it."

He seemed genuinely curious. "Did you just confirm that you are...thirsty...for me?"

My eyes grew wide. "Uh…"

Booming shouts that echoed in the distance garnered both of our attentions. Din and I shared a look as we stood, with him taking the still groggy Grogu in his arms. As we drew closer to the commotion at the main training grounds, alarm ripped through me. Two completely unarmed boys of about ten years old were mired in hand-to-hand combat, fists and legs equally flying, goaded on by the group of teenagers and adults alike who surrounded them in a circle. "Hey, stop that, you two!" To my distress, my cry fell upon deaf ears. I grabbed Din's arm. "You have to stop this!"

He shook his head. "Aurora, they are just training for vert'goten…"

"This isn't right! You can't have children fighting one another like this!"

With a placating gesture to those whose attentions we'd caught, Din pulled me back from the crowd, his footsteps quick. "Maybe not where you come from, but this is our religion. This is the Way."

So...I was the one being intolerant?

As I watched children rightly pommel one another?

Unable to settle my upset, I cursed under my breath, storming off from the forced fight.

(V)(V)(V)

A couple of light raps sounded at the steel door of my room as I began to settle in for the night. Not expecting any visitors, particularly at this hour, I opened the door mid-way and slowly poked my head out in curiosity.

"Peace offering?"

On the other side of the threshold, Din held a metal tray with a plate of food, utensils, and a cup of dark liquid. Though he was always generous in sharing nourishment and resources, and though we certainly had our share of minor skirmishes and cease-fires, this was the first time that he had enacted such a personal 'peace offering'.

It was rather...charming.

"You didn't have to." I smiled, opening the door entirely and retrieving the tray respectfully. "I will have this later."

"I didn't see you for the rest of the day. Didn't think you'd eaten yet." He shrugged. "Plus, you seemed pretty angry when you left the training grounds this afternoon."

"Well, you're a smart man, Mr. Djarin." I regarded him approvingly, placing the tray on the table at my side. "Food does make everything better!"

"Please. Call me Din."

"Thank you...Din."

"The foundlings," he began, moving to my side in easy strides, "those children that you saw this afternoon. They are Mandalorians not born Mandalorian, but have been adopted into our culture. They were training for vert'goten, a traditional rite of passage. Should they pass the trials, they will be accepted into our society as adults." He paused for several moments, as though surveying my reaction. "Being a warrior is part of our creed. Learning how to fight is the only thing keeping them alive."

I appreciated Din's effort in explaining the intricacies of their customs and was understanding of their religion and culture, but it was still difficult for me to accept outright what they were expecting of those boys, of all of the other foundlings. The ones from that afternoon were even apparently a little older than those who were just starting out on vert'goten. "But they're still children, Din. They need to be treated as such. To live as such."

Almost imperceptibly, Din's hands balled into fists. "Tell that to those who slaughter my people."

Perhaps it was my own ignorance that clouded my judgement; my lack of lived experience similar to that of Mandalorians. I was lucky enough to have been born free, to have had a childhood, to have been able to make choices out of my own free will throughout my life. But what if things had been different? Had I been subjected to nothing but war, fearing genocide on a daily basis? Would I still feel the same way? My brows knit together as I placed a steady hand on his forearm. "It seems like I still have a lot to learn about you and your people."

After a few heartbeats, he tilted his head to the side. "Come with me. I'd like to show you something."

The night was clear and crisp, our surroundings singing a soothing lullaby as we passed through. Din gestured for me to hop into the passenger seat of a two-seater, roofless vehicle of sorts; it looked almost like a large, silver bumper car adorned with three thrusters at its rear. He started the engine as I settled in, flicking on a series of switches and pressing upon buttons on the multicoloured panel between us.

His head twisted to me. "Ready?"

"Yes." I eyed him questioningly. "Are we...going for a ride?"

"You'll see."

I should have known - I should have bloody known - that riding this vehicle was going to be yet another blasted experience on its own. As soon as Din accelerated forward, my hands gripped the side of the space car - or whatever they called this thing - in right panic, my hair wildly dancing in the air in every direction. "I can't...feel...my face!" I sputtered, now covering my squinted eyes with my forearm as we raced through the sleeping desert plains.

"We're not even going that fast," Din called out, appearing to eye me judgingly.

"Not fast?!" I cried out incredulously, finding that everything around us was just a huge, painted blur. As though I were on some very strong drugs. What the hell was he talking about? We must be going around 300...no...400 kilometers per hour. At least. "Are you sure you can even see where you're going?!"

"Yes."

"If we die, I'm going to kill you!"

"You know, threatening the Mand'alor - even with a threat that doesn't make sense - could be punishable by death."

"Well, that won't matter if we're dead, now will it?"

Din shook his head, seemingly more in amusement rather than agreement.

It was difficult to tell how long it took to reach our destination seeing as it was difficult to even know where the hell anything was throughout the ride. However, at some point later that night, Din (thankfully) slowed the space car and maneuvered the vehicle to stop in front of a grand flight of stairs.

As he turned off the engine, he appeared to look at me, surprised. A lone finger gestured to my head. "That's a good look."

Through the meagre exterior lighting, I eyed my reflection on his helmet, seeing that my hair now looked like I had been electrocuted. "Ugh. You're a pain!"

As I followed his lead, we marched up the stone steps into a soaring, stone and marble structure. It resembled a veritable pantheon, consisting of an enormous, main hall with beautiful, elegant archways that reached to the heavens in praise. Dim lights guided our path forward, some spotlights highlighting the intricate designs and idols within. The walls were adorned with larger-than-life images depicting what appeared to be stories of the Mandalorians. Though the weathered markings bore their age, it did not erode or diminish the stories that they meant to portray, the mysteries that they whispered.

"This temple has been sacred to Mandalorians for many years." Din's low voice echoed through the space, joining the song of our soft footfalls. The reverence in his tone was clear. "These images depict not only the history of the Mandalorians here on Kalevala, but of the Mand'alors of time past."

"The rulers of Mandalorians." The wall was rugged beneath my fingertips as I traced the images in admiration. I turned back to Din. "So you're part of the bloodline of these rulers?"

A curt shake of his head. "Only a Mandalorian deemed worthy could claim the title of Mand'alor, bestowed upon them when they have won the Darksaber in battle. If Mandalorians did not agree with a Mand'alor's abilities or authority, others could make a claim for the title as, by creed, it is a Mandalorian's duty to ensure we have a strong leader."

"You've defended your title?"

"At first, I didn't," Din shrugged. "Even tried giving it away."

"What?"

"Leading a people, gaining back Mandalore...I wasn't interested in any of that - the responsibility, the power. Caring for Grogu was my only priority."

"Looks like I wasn't the only one given a responsibility that I hadn't asked for." I gave him an empathetic smile, turning to face him entirely. "But look at you now. Leading your people. Protecting them. It's admirable."

"It's taking some getting used to...especially since I'm still new to all of it," he admitted. "Not what I thought my life would be."

There didn't seem to be any regret in his tone; there was more acceptance than anything. But perhaps that was because of his sense of duty; because he believed it was honourable to be the leader of his people, personal feelings be damned. I wondered genuinely: "Does it get lonely?"

"What?"

"Being Mand'alor."

He pondered the question for a few moments as a comfortable silence passed between us. "Depends on who you ask. Before all of this, I was never one for company anyway."

As we walked through the exterior of the grounds, side-by-side, the view that awaited us took my breath away. The temple was perched upon an escarpment overlooking a neverending sea, as though guarding over it. The velvet sky was glittered with what seemed like millions of twinkling stars, molding into the distant horizon of the lapping water. I took a long inhale, relishing in the cool, salty breeze, finding complete serenity in our surroundings.

Din crossed his arms upon his broad chest, surveying the scene before us. "I apologize that we still haven't made much progress on getting you home. You must miss it terribly."

My stare fell to the marble ground. "I do. I mean...I've moved so many times in my life that it can be hard to say where exactly home is; but, I've learned that home isn't a place. It's wherever the people you love are."

"You are close with your family?"

"My mother. I was her only child. I've always been close to her. She raised me as best as she could, working her life away just to put food on the table." I met Din's gaze. "I...never knew my father. That's why I find it very touching whenever I see you and Grogu together. You seem to love each other very much."

Din nodded. Then, his head slanted as he regarded me. "I admit I thought you had brain damage when you first came to. Saying you were from another galaxy…" he trailed off, regarding the sky, "...I didn't think something like that was possible."

I extended my arms out with a smile. "Well, here I am. And I could say the same thing. We on Earth are still on the fence about other lifeforms beyond our own planet. ...Well, do I have a story for them…"

"After what I experienced with Grogu, what I learned about my own people...it makes me realize how much I don't know. But it shows me that lots of things are possible." His stare landed upon me once more. "It gives me hope for this war."

I took a step closer to him. "This threat that you're fighting against...I guess it doesn't matter which planet or galaxy you're from. There will always be a battle between good and evil. The oppressors and the oppressed. It binds us in a way." My head shook. "There will always be another war. Always. People displaced. Lives lost and changed forever. Don't you get sick of it?"

"Being a warrior is part of our way of life. Our religion," he stated, pride evident in his tone. "We do it to survive. To fight oppression. Mandalorians have lived in the shadows like womp rats, pushed to the edges of the galaxy because of who we are. That is no way to live."

"No, it isn't. It isn't right."

"And you?" He looked down at me. "What do you fight for?"

I sighed. "Well, the soldier in me says for Queen and country. But, to be honest, I don't know anymore. I joined the military when I was young and idealistic, wanting to serve a greater purpose, thinking that I was fighting to liberate the oppressed. To help those in need. To do something more. But fighting someone else's war...you tend to lose yourself. Especially when all you see is greed and hatred."

"So, your people...they are free?"

I nodded. "Mine are, yes. But not everyone on my planet is."

"It is honourable of you to sacrifice for others. Like when you risked your life to save me." Din took a step closer to me, voice tender. His soft breaths were now audible. "You are very brave, Aurora."

The electricity within my fingertips was striking as I placed an open hand upon his armoured chest. "So are you."

I had only meant to touch him for a brief second; however, my hand lingered upon him, having a will of its own, absorbing the coolness of the metal beneath. The knot within my stomach grew tighter, breaths becoming shallower, as silent moments passed. My heightened senses began to focus only on him. On the distinct scent of rain, forest, and metal, all coalescing into something intoxicating. On the strength and vigour of his form, conspicuous even beneath the armour. In a steady manner, my fingers trailed upwards until they traced the edges of his helmet, touch thorough, curious.

Transfixed, I imagined then who was staring back beneath the t-visor. Who was now taking another step closer, eliminating the space between us, running his gloved fingers down the sides of my arms, making my body tremble. Who was now gripping the sides of my shirt, pulling me towards his warmth with visible need, seeking the full contact of my body upon his.

But did it really matter what he looked like? What lay upon the surface?

When something else - something that I couldn't explain - was drawing me to him?

My cheek pressed upon the side of his helmet, the clashing warmth and coolness fighting for dominance. "Din?"

"Yes?" He coiled his arms around my waist, fingers discovering the skin beneath my shirt, as though mesmerized by what they found there.

"I want to -"

"Mand'alor. Mand'alor, come in, over?"

Breaking from the trance, our stares fell to the transmission emanating from Din's vambrace. He pulled back, taking the heat with him, and pressed a button on his left forearm. "I read you loud and clear. Go ahead, over."

"Mand'alor, Bo-Katan and the others have returned."

(V)(V)(V)

A/N: Gotta say, I really enjoyed writing that chapter. It's one of my faves thus far! It's longer than usual as there was a lot to develop at this point, and it just made sense to keep it all as one chapter. I always enjoy writing the beginning chapters of fics. Laying down the plot, exposing characters, dropping breadcrumbs, building tension… it's all so much fun!

As usual, I'm totally enjoying all of your feedback. I didn't really know if people would enjoy my vision, but it's good to know that you're loving the story so far! Like I've said, it's a little "out there", but I totally write what I want to see in the show (thank you, fanfiction, for making this possible!).

Lots more to come, especially love & war, because those are my fic specialties! (And I know you all want more of that Din love, don't you?! Let's start the hashtag #thirstyfordin LOL!) Thank you for all of the love! Happy reading. xx IFHD