Chapter 6: The Reality

The ride back to Din's home was just as nerve-wracking as the trip out, but this time, there was a palpable shift in Din's mood. His worry seeped through the glinting armour as he operated the vehicle with intent, pressing on the accelerator and pushing the vehicle to what appeared to be its top speed. I hid my discomfort as much as possible, covering my face as best as I could, my knuckles quickly becoming white due to gripping the vehicle's frame.

"Are you okay?" I called out, squinting through the dust and sand as I twisted my head to face him. It was at that moment that I wished I also had a helmet. That would've been damn practical right about now.

"I wasn't expecting them to return so soon," he replied, grip tightening on the wheel, spine stiff. "Something must've gone wrong."

Though I was not at all privy to their plans against this Grand Admiral Thrawn, or what this particular group of Mandalorians had sought to accomplish, I knew the precise feeling that was coursing through Din's veins at the moment: the uncertainty of whether shit had gone sideways, especially when lives had been placed on the line to ensure mission success. It was a shitty feeling that could quickly eat away at you if left unanswered. Din's body somewhat softened as I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, though the tension within him, and around us, remained.

We were met by a pair of guards originating from the entrance of Din's home. They jogged with haste to the side of the vehicle as it powered off, then stood stiffly at attention. Din wasted no time and hopped out as soon as the vehicle was at rest. "Where are they?"

"Some in the control room, some in the infirmary, Mand'alor," the Mandalorian in yellow and silver armour reported. I immediately recognized him as the young boy who had been ordered to follow me during my first few days here. Though he tried, he was unable to hide the uneasiness in his voice. "Their ships have been badly damaged. There are crews attempting to repair and salvage them as we speak."

With purposeful strides, we followed Din as he headed directly towards the infirmary first. The various cries of pain became more audible and potent as we drew closer, eliciting a constricting feeling in my chest. Din's footsteps quickened.

The scent of injured and dying warriors fresh from a battle was distinct, yet no words could ever adequately capture the fetid stench of bodily fluids, filth, and fear that infected the infirmary. The once stark white room was filled almost to its capacity, its floors riddled with blood and dirt, as though the warriors had brought the battle with them. The bodies of Mandalorians that lined the room were in all states - some with only minor cuts and scrapes, while others were brutally mangled and barely clinging to life. Even those who were only mildly injured delivered combat first aid to those more severely wounded as the sole medical droid worked as quickly as it could to properly treat all who were there.

Growing up, and even to this day, I bloody hated hospital settings - especially field hospitals - for this very reason. Every memory that I'd ever had of hospitals was riddled with death and despair; never once had I experienced a newborn, or a friend or family member beating their disease.

It was always just loss, every time.

Pushing through the discomfort, and able to control my rising emotions for the time being, I rushed towards an unhelmeted, untreated Mandalorian woman who was lying down upon the same bed that I had once lain in. She screamed in pain through ragged breaths, clinging to her right leg, as rivulets of tears streamed from her light brown eyes. Through the dirt and blood that marked her comely features, I assessed that she wasn't that much older than me.

"Hey, hey it's okay." Not immediately seeing the supplies that I needed, I ripped a part of my shirt off with all of my might, then tied the long piece of cloth upon her thigh as a temporary tourniquet. The gushing blood from her calf stirred up a gagging reaction, the sickening feeling raging in my gut. Taking a few seconds to control the dry heaving and catch my breath, I managed to fight off the sensation and focus on the task at hand. Through a whirlwind search, I finally found a pack of gauze in one of the nearby drawers and quickly handed them to her. "Press this upon the wound as hard as you can, okay? Don't take the pressure off."

She nodded with a sob.

"Aurora."

I followed the sound of Din's voice, turning. Along with the two guards who we had come with, he himself was tending to the wounded, on his knee near the entrance. He held up a small object. "Catch."

I caught the metal container with my left hand. "What's this?"

"Bacta. Spray it on the wound."

I did as he instructed without question. In a matter of seconds, the woman's expression began to relax, her breathing eventually normalizing. Whatever this medicine was, it was working - and rather quickly at that. After a few minutes, I checked her pulse with a pair of fingers, then the heat on her forehead with the back of my hand. Relief filled me. "You'll be alright. Just rest now."

She grabbed my outstretched hand, squeezing tightly. "Vor entye."

I gave her a smile and nod in return.

Eventually, the screams began to die down, now replaced by quiet murmurs. I told myself that it was due to the fact that we were successfully treating the wounded; I didn't stick around long enough to find out whether any of them had succumbed to their injuries. Whether you knew someone or not, death was death; and, when it occurred as a result of battle - despite being an expected outcome of war - the emotional impact was that much more severe.

After I had finished in the infirmary, I made my way to the control room under Din's request. As I approached, the two guards who stood at the entrance made way for me to pass, even hitting the control panel to open the door for me. Though I gave them questioning glances alternately, they didn't make eye contact and remained as straight as rods as I walked by. Not having enough control to hold my tongue, I hissed under my breath, "I'm not the Mand'alor's lover, you know."

The guard in red and orange armour burst into a stifled snort of surprise, probably not expecting me to say anything at all, as the door whooshed closed behind me.

There were now only two Mandalorians in the space. I made my way to Din, who was conversing with a blue and grey armoured Mandalorian woman in front of the large, circular map table. She had shoulder-length, auburn hair, held back by a silver band upon her forehead. Her face was angular and oblong, cheekbones prominent. Though her frame was slight, her posture was solid and regal. The distress, though she attempted to conceal it, was prominent in her battle-hardened eyes. Her brows knit together as she regarded me. "Who's this?" she asked Din, her tone hard.

"A friend," Din said simply, gesturing for me to join them. "Aurora, this is Bo-Katan Kryze, my General and chieftain of Clan Kryze. Bo-Katan, this is Aurora Guerrero." As we nodded to one another in greeting, Din adjusted the holographic image of a grey-toned planet in front of them with two fingers and continued, "So what happened as you entered the atmosphere?"

"We were ambushed," Bo-Katan reported with a shake of her head. "They knew we were coming." Tense, she rested her hands on the edge of the table and released a curt sigh. Frustration lined her tone. "We knew where they were going to be. We were prepared. Yet, they somehow knew what we were going to do."

"We can't underestimate Thrawn," Din said, as though through tight lips. "He's mastered strategy. Tactics. This is why no one has been able to get close to him."

"I know." A forlorn expression flickered upon Bo-Katan's face for a split second. "It's just...I thought we had a shot this time."

They continued to speak with one another further as I remained at Din's side. A part of me felt as though I should retreat, as this was a matter between them, but it was the uneasiness that was now radiating from Din that made me stay.

Scouts, led by Bo-Katan, had been sent on a reconnaissance mission around the planet of Mandalore. Conducting a recce was essential for any type of offensive. It provided combatants with critical information of the ground so that they would particularly know where the enemy was and what they had to fight with. Without a recce, they'd be going in blind; shooting from the hip, as it were. So, Bo-Katan and the others had intricately planned the approach and believed that it was foolproof. Yet, as I knew from personal experience, no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy - and this was unfortunately true in their case.

"We regroup, and we try again," was Din's response, his stance firm. "We need to ensure that we are prepared for the siege. We can't give up. Not now."

Bo-Katan agreed with a rigid nod. As their conversation concluded, her curious gaze landed upon me. "I feel like she has a story."

Din turned his attention to me as well. As he summarized my plight, Bo-Katan's expressions ranged from confusion, to disbelief, then to wonder. Her eyes fell upon me several times throughout the account in silent assessment, as though I was a mystery to unravel, but said nothing and waited for Din to finish.

When he did, she then began to pace, deep in thought, her hands clasped behind her. "There is a prophecy in the sacred Mandalorian texts," she recounted, gaze distant. "It has been foretold that a chosen one - one who is not born of Mandalore - will rise and bring peace to the Mandalorian people. To Mandalore itself." She stilled and lowered her head. Her fingers curled into fists. "I had always believed that this chosen one was my sister, Satine - and yet, Mandalore sees no peace. It has seen more war, death, and destruction - now more than ever." Her emerald eyes shifted to me. "If you have indeed come from another galaxy, and fate has brought you to Kalevala, to the Mand'alor, during our hour of need…"

I quickly shook my head, thinking of all of the religious texts back on Earth, and utterly unconvinced of my ability - or fate - to be some kind of redeemer. "But these texts, these prophecies...you can't take them all literally, right? They're meant to have a deeper meaning. A lesson."

"Perhaps," replied Bo-Katan, appearing to be equally unconvinced, "but, if it is mere fiction, then how do you explain how you have come here? Why you are here?"

"Coincidence?" I offered with a shrug.

Din shook his head as he crossed his arms tightly. "There is no such thing as coincidence."

Tough crowd.

I sighed. "Magic, then."

Din and Bo-Katan shared a look.

"I've already spoken with Ahsoka. I'm hoping that she'll provide us with answers when she returns," Din relayed. "For now, let's all get cleaned up and get some rest." His stare fell upon me, as though finally seeing my tattered state. "And we'll get you some new clothing."

(V)(V)(V)

I washed my hands in a refresher down the hall of my room, idly watching the blood and dirt swirling in a melange of red and brown with the draining water. Adrenaline continued to course through me, pervasive, making my hands uncontrollably shake. Searching for some stability, I gripped the sides of the metal sink, drawing in a breath and attempting to slow my heart rate. Throughout our response to treating the injured, I had teetered on the brink of panic, yet, thankfully, managed to keep a straight head. Now entirely feeling the weight of that experience, coupled with the long day, I reached for the stack of clothing upon the counter in sluggish movements.

The Mandalorian clothing that I'd been given most closely resembled a sleeveless, mid-thigh length sheath dress. White leggings completed the outfit. The dress itself was rather form-fitting, the soft texture of the fabric hugging my curves; though, it felt surprisingly comfortable. Black stitching outlined the waist and v-shaped neckline, the design exquisite. It had been a long time since I'd worn anything resembling a dress, and it felt quite nice. Content with my state, and ready to finally get some rest, I exited the refresher.

"It suits you."

I nearly jumped out of my skin, a shrill cry piercing the air through gritted teeth. Out of reflex, I hurled my soggy towel at Din in a form of defence, which he expertly caught with his left hand. "Dammit, Din! You can't just sneak up on people like that!"

He flung the towel across his right shoulder, crossed his arms, and coolly leaned upon the hallway wall. "I'm not sneaking around. This is my home."

"Uh huh. Rub it in." I rolled my eyes, unimpressed. "Night."

As I passed him with a wave, he began, "About what happened earlier…"

Already half asleep, my mind went blank for a split second as I halted mid-stride. Was he talking about the 'infirmary earlier' or the 'temple earlier'? Regardless, I really wasn't in the best mindset to talk about either at the moment. A part of me still couldn't block out the images that I had seen of the injured Mandalorians sprawled throughout the infirmary, while another part of my brain seemed to want to replay what had transpired between me and Din at the temple...overlooking the sea...the perfect goddamn backdrop for me and him to…

An inner shriek of irritation.

Get a fucking grip, Aurora!

What are you, a fucking schoolgirl?

"Thank you for what you did for the injured Mandalorians," he continued, moving to my side as my inner battle raged on, thankfully unbeknownst to him. I hoped to God that my neutral expression held. "Given your background, it must not be easy to see that side of war."

He had pegged me right yet again. Perhaps he, too, had the power of telepathy. "Even though it was uncomfortable, it was just...instinct. The right thing to do under the circumstances, despite personal emotions." Out of habit, I glanced down at my hands, seeing if the trauma of it all was still visible. My fingers flexed, then balled into fists. "To be honest, though, I didn't know if I could stomach it. But I'm glad I was able to help, even if only a little."

"You did." He gave a small nod. "Have a good night."

"Oh, wait." I took quick steps towards him, plucking my towel off of his shoulder with a short laugh. "Can't let you run away with this, eh? Good night."

His gaze was like a cloak on my form as I began to walk down the hall once more, attempting to move as normally as possible despite wobbly legs. Perhaps it was all just fatigue. Though, for some reason, a tinge of nervousness bubbled within me. As though I had stolen something forbidden and was anxious about being caught. When I approached my door and heard nothing else, I released a breath, beginning to relax. As my hand reached for the control panel, however, he called out:

"What did you want to do?"

My spine abruptly straightened, hand lifting off of the controls. "What?"

His footsteps echoed until he stopped right behind me. Another strange jolt ran through my body. "You didn't finish what you were saying at the temple," he reminded me, his tone light. "You wanted to do something. Just curious what it was."

Shitfuckshit.

I swirled on my heels as any practiced soldier would do to face him, an impish grin implanted on my countenance. Poker faces, however, were never my strong suit. "Oh, you know, it's not that important. Oof, it's super late." I feigned a yawn, even stretching out my arms above me for good measure. As inconspicuously as possible, I began to jab at the controls with my left elbow, praying that the door would open. Any fucking second now. "Okay, well, see you in the morning!"

"I see," he said, as though accepting that non-explanation. A shrug. "It just seemed like you were thirsty for me, that's all."

With a nod, he began to casually walk back to his quarters, leaving me standing in the hallway, mouth agape.

(V)(V)(V)

One would think that anyone of royal stature would be treated as precious commodities; only going out when safe, their strict schedules made for them, their every move watched and controlled. Though Din did have guards, who never failed to watch him like hawks unless he specifically ordered otherwise, he seemed to have more freedom than any regular royal. This freedom even included partaking in the physical training, just like any of his people, as they placed heavy importance on fitness and combat skills. Din's participation was even admired, the reverence from other Mandalorians emanating from them whenever he would join.

They really weren't exaggerating when they said that being a warrior was part of their religion, their way of life.

The Mandalorians were an interesting people. They practiced their craft, day and night, honing their skills. Aside from their warrior spirit, one of their most admirable attributes was the importance that they placed on family, which included raising young ones - naturally born to them, or adopted - with the values of duty, honour, respect, and compassion. It was ingrained in them at an early age to be loyal to your clan and to always be willing to lend a helping hand. It was uplifting to learn that individual selfishness and greed were severely frowned upon. Everyone was to act in a way that ensured the success of the clan; they were always to be in service to the Mand'alor.

By extension, that was how wars were won.

Actually off duty for once, I was finally able to watch hand-to-hand combat sparring sessions at the main training grounds on a late afternoon, with Din set to participate in the opening round. As excitement coursed through my veins, seeing as I'd clearly not been able to attend any type of game or event in a while, I meandered through the herds of people, with Grogu on my heels, until we made it closer to the front row. The eager buzz of the crowd built gradually as Din and his opponent, both clad in full Mandalorian armour, faced off at the centre of the outdoor space.

As the sparring began, a light squeal sounded at my feet.

"A-too?" Grogu extended his arms up towards me.

I eyed him fondly. "You want up for a better view?"

His tri-fingered hands opened and closed in response.

"I'll take that as a hell yes." I scooped him up with a laugh, then ensured that he was settled comfortably in my arms.

Cheers and cries rumbled around us during the match, echoing in the distance throughout the training grounds. Din and his opponent's movements were lightning-quick, each agile blow thrown with purpose and vigour, their grunts of effort and heavy breaths weaving with one another's. Through Grogu's own enthusiastic cries and bobbing, I squinted in curious assessment, intently following their fluid, practiced movements. "She's leaving her left side exposed a lot," came my external musing as I adjusted Grogu in my grip.

"You see that, too, do you?" An older woman in orange and silver armour, helmet tucked under her arm, smiled up at me. Her short, white hair was tousled in the wind as she took a closer look at me, golden-speckled eyes narrowing. "Ah. So, you're the each'trannach."

I smiled with a teasing gesture to my plain, unarmoured form. "Whatever gave that away?"

A chuckle came from her thin lips as she extended a cordial hand to me. "Freya. Freya Vennlig. An elder of Clan Eldar."

"Aurora Guerrero." I took her hand with a nod. "Nice to meet you, Freya."

The sparring round came to an end with a rousing cry throughout the space. I looked up just as Din's opponent removed her red and gold helmet. Her wavy, blonde hair fell to just beneath her shoulders, sea blue eyes shimmering in mirth. Upon closer inspection, her square, angular face was beautiful, lips full with a button nose. As she regained her breath, she beamed at Din with a laugh, jogged over to his side, and shared an embrace with him.

They seemed...close.

It was then that I recognized her as the same woman who had confronted me at the cantina all those weeks ago. Given our rather heated introduction, and coupled with the manner in which she and Din were currently interacting, something simmered within me and I couldn't help but ask, "Who is she?"

"That's Vera Beroya, chieftain of Clan Awaud." Freya grinned with pride, wrinkled hands clapping excitedly. "Oh, when those two marry, it will be a wedding for the ages!"

My heart skipped. "What? What do you mean?"

"Clan Awaud is one of the strongest Mandalorian clans in the galaxy. Should the union between Vera and the Mand'alor come to fruition, as many have been eagerly awaiting, that would indeed be a marvelous day for Mandalorians far and wide!"

"So, it would be a political alliance."

Grogu curiously twisted his head to face me then, his large ears twitching throughout his silent observation.

Freya nudged me lightly, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, it shouldn't just be about politics or war, dear. It's the meaning behind their union that would be legendary. Our peoples have been divided for so long that their union would symbolize the dawning of a new era. The gods know we need it. I can see it now: more Mandalorians uniting under one Mand'alor. One royal family, if you will. One cause."

"I see." I said curtly, straightening my spine. "Their union. It has been arranged?"

Freya shrugged a shoulder with a tilt of her head. "Some say it has, some say it hasn't. No one really knows for sure. The Mand'alor has the final say in the matter, surely. Though, rumour has it that they're both quite taken with one another." She glanced at them contentedly once more. "They do make a rather fine couple, if I do say so myself. Both strong, brave, and loyal. Mandalorians would lay down their lives for both of them in a heartbeat."

I continued watching the sparring sessions as others began to compete, though no longer found enjoyment in it.

Fine couple indeed.

(V)(V)(V)

Vor entye - Thank you

(V)(V)(V)

A/N: Suckerpunch to the gut, Aurora, woo! I'm kidding. But I'm an evil author, what can I say? This is but a taste of what I will put myself (and you, my lovely reader) through throughout this rollercoaster of a fanfic! Not that I always enjoy torturing my characters, but fighting for what you want is so much more fun, right? Plus, if it's easy, is it even worth it?! XD

As always, thank you so much for all of your love and support. You guys honestly keep me going. Lots more to come. Happy reading!

#thirstyfordin

xx IFHD