*mandoa translations at end of the fic
He did not know how she found him, how any of the news spread, but here she was, just the two of them. In a different set of circumstances he would have been glad to see her.
He had completed his quest and while he had fulfilled his duty, he had broken the most important rule.
He was thankful it was just the two of them; the words that were about to be exchanged he rather not share with others.
He did not know how much she already knew, and that uncertainty only would help to amplify what he was feeling.
Shame - Guilt - Failure.
She watched him in silence as a hunter may observe prey in the distance. Her arms rested on the table, gloved fingers clasped, only the slightest movement of her helmet tracking him as he moved from the edge of the room closer to where she was sat.
"I should return all this." He motioned to his body awkwardly unsure how to continue "You should use it for the rebuilding, the beskar can forge many for the foundlings."
She said nothing. No enquiry as to the meaning behind his words. Silence.
Whether the silence was an invitation to speak further or not, an explanation was owed. Afterall she is his armorer, his Alor… Was his Alor. He no longer deserved to think of her as that. He no longer deserved anything.
"I removed it in front of another…" And with that he told her what had transpired on Gideon's cruiser, how he let them see his face, all for a child that he let be taken away.
He had expected a reaction, though as before he was met with silence. He should have expected this, he had let the Tribe down, let her down.
Once removed it can never be put back on, he was a disgrace to his people standing before her still wearing his.
"I broke the creed; I have no right wearing this." The words just as much an acknowledgement to himself as they were an admission to her.
With the slightest tilt of her helmet she brought her fingers together forming a gloved tent
"Perhaps"
"I am dar'manda" He had been injured many times, but this admission seemed to hurt far worse.
"You might have once been considered as such, but no longer."
"I do not understand … Explain?" Confusion filled his modulated voice.
"Do you not?"
"I let others see my true self, I AM dar'manda!" Din took a step forward, his voice unsteady under modulation. He had to make her understand. "I no longer have a right, this is the…"
A raised palm cut him off.
"What do we follow? What is our Creed?" Why was she asking him this? He was dar'manda he broke the creed.
He remained quiet for a long moment,
"The Way of Mandalore." The words coming out far quieter than he had intended.
The armorer nodded slowly before standing, "And by right of combat it does appear we once again have a new Mandalore."
Kriff not this again, "No" his voice firmly rising, "I am dar'manda! I cannot."
He could not be Manadlore, he could not lead the clans; he was no longer Mandalorian. A worthwhile sacrifice for the kid no doubt, but the pain still crushed him from within. To gain an ad'ika, to have to give him away, to lose everything he ever had for that choice, the ultimate sacrifice for his child.
An audible sigh escaped from the armorer before she began to speak.
"Our last true Mandalore believed we were better if we were as one. In the past our people had become deluded, forgot what it meant to be Mandalorian, took their birth for granted, rejected those born different to them."
As she spoke, he found himself reaching for where the kids favourite toy was stored, a means of support for himself. The Razor Crest, His Ad'ika - Grogu- gone. As was his right to call himself Mandalorian.
"Our people and our culture were at risk, and so in the name of our true Mandalore we, our Tribe swore a vow to protect it.
He reminded us that being born on Mandalore did not make a Mandalorian. To be Mandalorian is to live it: to fulfil Resol'nare"
-Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader—all help us survive-
"We adopted a single identity, one appearance one culture, many different backgrounds. United by gained oath and heritage. Our buy'ce became our identity , who you were or where you came, what race you were, an outsider, all became irrelevant. Walking the way of Mandalore meant protecting the true values of our culture, and to do so we did what was needed."
Our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength.
He had always thought this had been about the purge and the need to remain hidden from the empire.
He remained silent his hand grasping the gear nob instinctively
"We swore never to reveal our true self to others, not even to one another. Many called themselves mandalorians, but few were willing to answer Mandalore's call, unwilling to forgoe bias. Those who would not abide instead chose to follow the pretender Kryze.. letting appearance and race cloud judgment they had rejected the way of Mandalore, had lost what it meant to be Mandalorian, and by tradition they became dar'manda."
By this logic Din had rejected everything. He still did not understand why she was telling him any of this.
"That does not change anything, I let others see my true self, I can never rightfully ..' He fumbled for words as his hands motioned to his armour, his buy'ce "This Is the way."
"No"
He looked at her with a tilt of his helm.
"That was the way" she took another step forward placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. "The question is Mandalore , will it remain so?"
Nothing can stay the same forever, adaptation is key to survival.
Translations:
Alor – leader
Dar'manda – no longer Mandalorian -one who has lost his heritage
Ad'ika – kid
Buy'ce – Helmet
Resol'nare- Central Tennent's of Mandalorian life
Cross posted on Ao3 under same name,
I am team Rook kast is the armorer untill proven wrong