Welcome to Spoils of War and thank you for clicking on this story! I am writing it because Din's character is really beautiful and I wanted to see him in a romantic context with a partner just as interesting and nuanced as him. My OC Tala Stryker (not to be confused with the lovely Tala Durith!) could be played by Kelsey Asbille or Aditi Rao Hydari.

The story that follows will include a slow-burn romance, character exploration and development, lots of longing and softness, and a multi-faceted bond between the pair that will hopefully get you right in the feels. I know the premise might sound cheesy, but hang in there! You might be surprised :) The story will indeed cover the Grogu arc and include Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Mayfield, Bo-Katan etc - all the regulars we know and love - after about 10-15 chapters of original material.

Happy reading! I love reviews so please leave one if you enjoy the work that follows. Also feel free to PM me with any questions you have. May the Force be with you!

STORY DETAILS:

Rating: Rated M for violence typical of fandom and some explicit sexual scenes later.

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all characters from the franchise do not belong to me. This story is for fun only, no profits are being generated… only tears.

Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for The Mandalorian and some spoilers/rewrites from The Book of Boba Fett. The story begins 19 years before the events of the shows.

What to expect (spoilers for the fic follow): Enemies to friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, romantic but awkward Din, accidental marriage.

Pairings: Din/Original Female Character

Spoils of War
Episode I: The Girl

10BBY
(Nineteen Years Before the Events of The Mandalorian)

This was not exactly what Tala Stryker had pictured when she dreamed of freedom for all those years.

Hunched over in dingy clothing with her discarded safety helmet at one side and a pack of collected parts at the other, she was just a tiny dot sitting on the massive defunct Republic cruiser overlooking the junkyards. Even this high up, the hot air still stank of rust and hyperfuel fumes. Bracca was an endlessly abysmal planet covered with industrial junk and decommissioned starships. The only beings who lived here were those brave or stupid enough to do the treacherous work of salvaging parts and components. Tala's eyes wandered the massive shipbreaking yard below where scrapper droids and hover barges drifted around collecting and transporting parts like buzzing insects. With the waning sunlight casting an amber wash over the scene, it could have almost been pretty. Tala's eyes wistfully rose, eyeing a mass transit ship jetting offworld. Someday, she'd be on one of those leaving this place behind.

Almost half a year after accidentally winding up here, Tala had discovered the truth about Bracca: it wasn't a salvage planet. It was a prison. The Scrapper Guild controlled everything and made sure that most who worked here were financially subjugated with little prospect of escaping. What little credits one earned were quickly swallowed by a carefully designed system. There were fees for everything: equipment purchase fees, work permit fees, planet taxes, and the only "food" available was overpriced garbage. Most people who came here didn't leave, even if they wanted to. People who protested conditions had a tendency to disappear. Rumor had it they'd feed you to the fearsome Ibdis Maw if you caused any trouble. Hence why Tala caused no trouble and planned to keep it that way.

At the very least, Bracca offered an unintended haven to a person hiding from very dangerous and powerful people. No one would look for her here. At least, she hoped not. Still, she checked over her shoulder constantly and trusted no one. In half a year more, she planned to have scraped together just enough credits to pay for passage off this soulless rock. Until then, she resigned herself to a life of constant hunger and thirst and various dangers: falling to her death; coming across hazardous substances without protective gear; getting robbed or beaten up by other scrappers; a rigging explosion going wrong; heat exhaustion; getting trapped in the more dangerous wrecks; falling hundreds or thousands of meters into an abyss; being caught in a landslide or sinkhole; straying too close to the Ibdis Maw; and many more ghastly possibilities. Still. Even in this merciless environment working herself to the bone, she felt freer and more alive than she ever had back home on Vorus. So that had to count for something.

Tala unwrapped her daily portion and contemplated the dry, hard morsel briefly. Yes, hakk bar was sustenance, but it was not good, and it caused her jaw to ache from the vigorous chewing it took to choke down. Back home, the food had been never ending and sumptuous, imported from all over the galaxy. Anything she could have possibly wanted the servants would get for her. Father liked for himself and his family to eat only the best of the best. Thinking of him made her shudder.

Again, Tala eyed the sunset as her thoughts drifted. She didn't miss home. Instead, she dreamed of the home she would create somewhere out in the vast galaxy beyond. No real image came to mind, because she didn't know what a happy home or good life looked like. Only a bad one.

Patience, Tala. Good things come to those who are willing to work for the goal and wait.

Esha's words. The only true friend Tala had ever had. Inevitable sadness drifted in. Three years since Esha's death and it was still as painful as the day it happened. She wished Esha could be here too.

A soft sound to her left caused all nostalgia to evaporate and Tala jumped up in an uncoordinated rush to a crouch position as she snatched out her machete. Her uneaten portion went rolling across the slightly sloped starship by a meter or two. It was an old woman scrapper hobbling under the weight of the massive pack on her back.

"How did you get all the way up here?!" Tala sounded less composed than she'd like thanks to how genuinely caught off guard she was. She'd thought she would be left alone up here. It had been the point, in fact.

A teasing smile came her way. "How did you?" With a lengthy groan, the old woman sat a safe distance away and began to dig around in her pack. Tala had seen her before, but never close up. She'd appeared from the other side of the ship bridge, proving herself very spry despite her age. Tala relaxed somewhat but remained wary. "I've been climbing these wrecks for years," the woman commented offhandedly, then found and began to unwrap her portion while sending a friendly smile Tala's way. "Impressive you've learned how to scale for being here so short a time."

Short a time? Tala tried not to bristle. "I've been here five and a half months."

"Counting the days, are you?" The old woman sent over a conspiratorial smile. "I remember when I did that." The woman studied her gently, waiting. That's when Tala realized: conversation. This woman wanted a conversation. Tala hadn't had one of those in… well, she couldn't remember. And she wasn't sure she wanted to start up again, either. When she awkwardly said nothing, the old woman continued. "I was around your age when I first came here." Watery, faded eyes fell away from studying Tala to scan the metallic landscape.

It was hard to tell how the woman felt about her statement, but Tala felt immediately forlorn about the idea of spending decades toiling away here. As difficult as the Guild made it for workers to leave, Tala knew it wasn't impossible. While a lot of the riggers and hazmats and scrappers were ruffians who seemed suited to this type of rough life, the old woman had a gentleness to her that didn't quite fit. "… Do you like it here or something?" Tala asked, feeling the words slopping around thickly in her out-of-practice mouth.

The old woman cracked a grin, which was missing many teeth. "Blazes no. Does anyone like this useless scrap heap?" A frustrated sigh came as she finally finished unwrapping her portion with bony fingers. "Shorted again," the woman complained, then sighed as her small shoulders sagged. Tala peered over, seeing that her portion was much smaller than it should have been. That happened to her a lot, too. More injustice that all they could do was shoulder. Tala cast a hard look around. She had to stop herself from getting worked up about things she had zero power over. Being here was Vorus all over again in some ways.

The woman nibbled at her food with the corner of her mouth, the only place she had teeth left. Watching her, Tala feared she could end up the same way as this woman. It wasn't that Tala minded the hard work, she actually quite liked that aspect surprisingly. It was the loneliness that ate away at her. The lack of rest and beauty and gentle things. Tala had spent her entire childhood dreaming of having those things, and her spirit begged for them to exist. "Why do you stay?" she finally asked soft and cautious. "Don't you dream of something else? Something… better?" She found a slightly humorous joking tone, which reminded her of the imp she used to be as a child. "Somewhere the portions are a little bigger, at least?"

The woman sighed ruefully, betraying a lifetime of hope that had slowly died. "Dreaming only breaks the heart, dear. It's best just to accept things the way they are." She contemplated the remaining piece of her food and popped the entire thing into her mouth with determination.

Tala's little smile faded. There had to be more to life than just surviving. But maybe this old woman was right. Downcast now, Tala went and picked up the portion she'd dropped, inspecting it briefly for dirt. Conscience tugging, she looked at the old woman. If she gave this morsel away, she'd be hungry for a day more. She hadn't eaten since yesterday and was starving. Still… to look at the nameless old woman and know she was hungry and old when Tala was young and strong… her conscience won out and she acted before she could think twice. "Here." She walked over and shoved the portion at the woman.

The woman looked up at her in disbelief, suspicion passing over her face that faded when Tala's genuine offer remained. She took it with a touched smile and softer tone. "Bless you, young one. May your fate be different than mine."

Tala nodded with a weak smile, picked up her scuffed helmet, then cast a glance around and departed to begin the work of climbing down the wreck and bunking in for the night. She didn't like being out past dark when the really sleazy scrappers ran the scene.

Currently, Tala slept in a small burrow she'd created in the belly of a decommissioned LAAT gunship—a leftover from the Clone Wars. She'd found it one day while deep diving in the old levels. The warped old vessel felt hidden and safe, even though the scrap rats sometimes woke her up scuttling across the metal shell.

However, that day when she picked her way home through the familiar winding tunnel made by ships crammed up against each other, the small headlamp light taped onto her helmet suddenly hit nothingness where the LAAT should have been. Tala stopped, then gasped and staggered back with a lurching stomach as she realized she was right on the edge of a giant abyss that hadn't been there earlier.

"No, no, no…!" Tala breathed in disbelief. Her sharp, short breaths echoed in her pounding ears as her mind confronted a very shocking twist. Her tiny haven was just gone. With it, her extra items of clothing and tools… and most importantly, her lifesaving medication. The one she had no hope of obtaining on Bracca. Everything inside her sank as a sort of shock she had never experienced suffocated her. Maybe she would die here after all. Moments like this invited her to give up and choose the way her mother had. It would be easy. The yawning abyss invited her to leap in and never have to worry about anything ever again.

Tala took a couple of seconds to steady her hard breathing as she came to grips with her new reality. She backed away from the ledge slowly on robotic limbs then steeled herself, squared her shoulders, and doggedly returned the way she'd come with angry, scared tears in her eyes. Until she had no other choice, she'd keep going. No matter what.

Four Days Later

The old Corellian freighter bombed out of hyperspace, jetting to a smooth, slow glide. Din Djarin's head rose just a fraction. Behind the concealment of the helmet, his eyes took in his destination: Bracca. A dull metallic circle hanging bleakly against velvet outer space.

Din activated his bounty puck. The flickering image of his target appeared in blue: Tala Stryker. A young woman with olive skin, dark hair, and pretty features. In the image, her expression was defiant and stony and her appearance was rich and immaculately groomed. Bring In Alive the small text underneath her name blinked repeatedly in red. Din switched the image off.

The girl—that's all she was at eighteen years old—was no criminal. Well, not yet anyway. She was just the daughter of one. Leon Stryker was a very powerful arms dealer who maintained control of his home planet Vorus. The Stryker family had maintained this corrupt control for generations and had amassed a lot of wealth and power along the way while trampling the weaker beneath themselves. Din took jobs for all sorts of clients, but this was his least favorite kind: the smarmy, predatory, overlording scum who couldn't handle their own business. He guessed he couldn't resent them that much because they did keep him employed. Still. He had his opinions, and he'd be glad to find this girl and hand her over.

Din couldn't shake the off feeling he had about this job. He figured it was because of who he was working for. But the pay was just too good to refuse. A million credits. The kind of bounty he'd dreamed of securing when he first began this career less than five years ago. This was the kind of finance that would sustain the Tribe for a year or more. That's why executing the job flawlessly was tantamount. Not that Din was one for masterplans or overthinking. He had no patience for sitting back and examining every possible angle of combat. Taking action and relying on instincts was best in his experience. With that in mind, Din leaned forward and flicked switches on his console, then made for approach. The sooner he apprehended this Tala Stryker and got the credits, the better.

Later

Under the blistering sun, Tala pushed a hovercart with several open containers through a narrow walkway in the scrap yard. Here, piles of discarded parts formed small hills that a grid of footpaths cut through for access to the compactor. It was an especially loud sector thanks to enormous pistons hissing and the gigantic compactor slamming metal parts into shattered bits. Each time the machinery crushed, the earth shook from impact.

A scrappy Rodian pushing a cart in the opposite direction passed Tala too closely, and one little jostle suddenly had a container of her carefully collected parts flying as the container tipped over. Incensed, Tala yelled something at the offending sentient then squatted on sore joints and began the laborious task of hauling pieces back into the container. She was out of patience and feeling worse every day from missing her medication. She could go without it for a while and survive, but all she needed was one bleeding cut that was bad enough and she was a goner. The thick boots, gloves, helmet, and full-length flight suit she wore protected most of her skin, but still. It only felt like a matter of time around this treacherous place before she found herself cut open and on the way to dying.

Stressed, hyper vigilant, and angry at everything, she finally finished gathering the pieces into the fallen container and hauled it up with a huge, unflattering grunt. At her full height she froze, because someone had just come to a stop directly in front of her and that someone was tall, imposing, and armored head to toe. A Mandalorian—a faceless warrior. Fear struck her like lightning and all her limbs went numb.

"Tala Stryker." The Mandalorian's voice was unexpectedly mellow and dulcet. Her name out of his shielded mouth terrified her. She immediately understood why he was there. "I've come to collect you."

A single thought took over her entire body and mind: run. In a flash of movement, she threw the container of parts at him and then raced in the opposite direction. He pursued, slowed down by the container by only a spare second or two. Tala cut to the left and scrambled up an incline of metal siding parts, stopping to kick shuddering sheets down at him from the top. Then she slid down the other side, barely keeping her balance before leaping onto another pathway, sprinting toward the compactor this time before cutting to the left again then slamming into an unassuming Twi'lek who was already cursing her as she scrambled up. As she panted and looked back in terror, she saw the Mandalorian approaching steadily. She turned to run, then realized she'd cornered herself between the only way out, the compactor, and gigantic piles of junk too high to climb.

Her skin flamed hot with panic and resolve. She was going to have to fight. With a shaking hand, Tala whipped her machete out from the holster at her back and assumed a ready stance as terror coursed. Every secret combat lesson whipped through her mind in a blur, and Tala tensed, trying to identify any weak points in the very armored approaching man. The Mandalorian didn't even give her the chance to try her hand at close-quarter combat. He raised a fist at her as he strode closer and an in-armor grapple latched onto her machete with a tug then yanked it out of her grip. Weaponless and cursing herself in a panic, Tala backed up. Behind her, the compactor slammed so loud and hard that every single muscle and sinew vibrated. Despairing, Tala looked at the compactor platform behind her where junk was crushed, the raising compacting panel preparing to slam down again, then back at her quickly gaining adversary. She saw a window of a couple seconds. Without thinking about it any further, she leaped onto the danger of the platform and sprinted down the length with a scream, leaping off again the second she was to another pathway. Not a second too soon either, because the compactor slammed shut with a riotous rumble even as she rolled on the ground and pushed to stand breathlessly.

Without bothering to wait, Tala sprinted the pathway away from the compactor, convinced that the Mandalorian was right behind her the entire time. And, the next time she checked over her shoulder, indeed he was. Every swear word she knew surged across her mind as Tala's frantic eyes searched the chaos for some way to escape. She spotted a light transport barge nearby piloted by a droid. The small vessel was moving, but so fast that she couldn't catch up. She commanded every ounce of speed she possessed as pushed herself faster then leaped onto the barge and collided sidelong with the droid, taking control of the transport and gunning the engine to zoom away—but then the transport gave a shudder and Tala's balance was almost lost as the Mandalorian grabbed onto the side of the barge just a few feet away from her. Holding the steer control with one hand, Tala yelled as she stomped on his feet. He yelped, but he didn't let go. In fact, he began to climb up.

Tala began to veer wildly and sideswipe into any junk that she could, rewarded with clanging sounds and sparks as his armor took impact. But he still didn't shake off. Instead, he began to haul himself up. "Blazes' sake!" she yelled, torn between being exasperated and oddly impressed at his persistence. Running out of options to escape him, Tala yanked off her helmet and lobbed it at his head with every ounce of brute force she knew how to use. A terrific ding! was her reward, and the sight of his head jerking back—but he kept coming. Kriff! With flying fingers, Tala locked navigation and punched the speed as high as it would go, then jumped off into the unknown, not even sure where she was going. Luckily, solid ground wasn't far. Aches and pains exploded all over her body as she tumbled through an uncontrolled roll on a rough duracrete surface. She just barely managed to lift her head and watch as the transport whizzed over a pile of hyperdrive wiring and toward a wrecked Tie Fighter. Then there was an impact, explosion, and Tala squinted hopefully to see past the hill of wires. Was he dead?

Over the top of the wiring, his helmet appeared as he headed her way with a determined stride, very much alive. Tala's eyes bugged and she sprung herself up and ran, but this time it was difficult: with a cry and a huge dip, she realized she'd twisted her ankle. She fell, floundered, pushed herself up, then felt him seizing her by the crook of the arm to yank her close. A hard circle closed around her wrist—binders. "Are you done?" He sounded distinctly cranky.

No. She wasn't. With her free hand, she snatched her tiny vibroblade out from where it had been concealed and stabbed wildly. His armor wasn't full body and the blade sank deep into his arm just below his bicep. He yelled and recoiled in surprise. Using the opportunity, she tore away and ran as fast as her limp would let her as binders dangled from one wrist. Behind her, the Mandalorian looked at the blood blossoming onto his tunic and then back at his target with an aggravated sigh. He deftly snatched out his blaster, switched it to the rarely used stun mode, then aimed and took her down in a single shot. Mid-stride her body went limp and she arced face-first into the liter-scattered ground.

The Mandalorian shook his head as he approached, irritated at the wound he'd sustained and the fight she'd put up. He reached the target and turned her over, seeing that she was more damaged than he would have liked: she'd sustained a nasty bleeding gash to the forehead and an already-bruising eye thanks to falling against metal scrap. The client probably wouldn't like that. The Mandalorian grunted and gathered his bounty up then slung her over his shoulder like a sack and began to cover ground toward his waiting ship. Behind him, his cape snapped in a gust of breeze as a couple of wide-eyed scrappers tried to be covert about the way they openly gawked.

Later

Tala first noticed the low dull buzz as she stirred back to consciousness. The buzz was soothing and familiar. Some sort of engine. Wait. Engine? Her eyes snapped open even as her heart began to race: she was onboard a strange ship in a dark hold, crammed into a bucket seat and restrained to the wall with her arms behind herself. The events before she'd been knocked out began to rush back, and with it, Tala became breathless with panic. She'd been captured.

"Welcome back."

His wry, distinctive voice almost made her gasp. Just a few paces away and to her right, the Mandalorian stood with a small container of supplies in front of him. Even though her nervous system was going wild with panic, Tala pulled her shoulders up as her breath came hard and fast through her nose. "Who are you?" Her first question went unanswered as he continued to paw through his supplies. "My father sent you, didn't he?" Having found the bacta patches and blotting materials he turned. Even as he approached with the supplies, Tala's alarm made her unreasonable. "You have to let me go, please!"

He paused at her desperate shriek and let silence hang authoritatively. When he responded, his voice was even and unreadable. "I'm a bounty hunter. I don't let people go."

He approached her again and Tala tried to disappear into the wall of the ship by shrinking into it as hard as she could. The closer he got, the more claustrophobic she felt and the more unreasonable panic rose. "Look, I can't pay you what he can, but I can… I can…!" She trailed off into blankness, having started the sentence without any idea of how to end it. She had nothing to offer or barter with. Absolutely nothing except one thing that would probably not even be wanted. However, she was desperate. Dread pitted in her stomach as she made the most despairing offer she ever had. "You can have my body. You can have anything. Please."

The Mandalorian paused for a second too long, and it almost felt like he was giving her a scathing look from behind the mystery of his helm. "Have some dignity." He moved unapologetically into her space, peeling a bacta patch off its backing as Tala burned with humiliation. "Hold still."

Tala pulled her head away from him and looked directly into the thin horizontal strip his eyes must have been behind. Despite how embarrassed she was, she still managed to command a modicum of dignity and defiance. "Putting that on me won't do anything. I have type one miogen disease. If I don't have a bacta injection and formithrin in the next six hours, I'll die." Her eyes went to the bacta patch perched on his gloved finger then found the bloody spot where she'd managed to land a blow. Despite it all, her chin lifted as she felt a surge of pride in how hard she'd fought. "Keep that one for yourself."

The Mandalorian was soundless, and his silence was intimidating. Tala's nerve wavered. Then with a speed that startled her, he turned wordlessly and disappeared into the cockpit with a soft whoosh. Tala stared after through an open mouth, left with the sinking realization that she might have just been left to die alone in the hull of an unknown ship. She yanked at her restraints with a sound of frustration, noting that she felt weaker already from the blood loss. This was the exact dread that had plagued her every sleepless night since escaping. Her eyes and mind feverishly searched for a way to escape. Fear clenched her heart as her blood sugar began to drop. Sepsis was next.

Eyes glassing with frightened tears, Tala made herself be quiet and unbroken as she realized that her fate was completely at the mercy of whatever decision the Mandalorian made. So be it. But she would hold her chin high. She would at least do that.

In the cockpit, Din glared at the directive portion of his job contract, scanning to see if he could locate confirmation that his target was telling the truth. He spotted what he'd missed the first time in a single sentence somewhere near the end of the text: Subject has Type I Miogen Disease. He sat back in his seat. Kriff. He'd cut open a girl with a blood disorder, and the hyperspace journey to Vorus was ten hours. Meaning he had to get this person medical attention or fail to deliver her alive as mandated. He berated his oversight. He should have caught her more cleanly, and he should have read the directive fully. The stun gun was a chump move, and he knew it. He didn't want word of this to get out. He had a good rep that needed to be upheld.

Yet again aggravated, Din turned in the pilot's seat to scan the network for the closest planet where there would be med centers. Daiyu City on Daiyu blinked after he entered his query. Good enough. Din suppressed a bad-tempered sigh at the complication he could only blame himself for. With hard fingers, he locked the new coordinates. The wound she'd landed in his arm pulsed painfully, mocking him. He reminded himself of his million credits and set his jaw.