Chapter 7: The Appraisal

"With any battle, you need to strike first. Hit the enemy hard and fast, I say."

"Well, I don't know about that…"

"Take my word for it, vod. Surprise will confuse the enemy, so you can sit back and watch them scatter like frightened womp rats."

A pair of Commandos chatted nearby as I progressed through my numerous tasks for the day at the outdoor training grounds. With my grimace becoming more prominent as they continued their lighthearted conversation, seeking some respite within the shade, I couldn't help but contribute, "Surprise is a good tactic, but initiating the attack will often put you at a disadvantage. You're showing the enemy your cards and limiting your options." Turning my head towards them, I placed the now clean rifle on the ground at my side, the afternoon sun reflecting on its pristine surface. "If you wait and let the enemy move first, you have the flexibility to counterattack in whatever manner. Then again, the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."

"Gar serim!" Plikt, the taller Commando in red and black armour, bent his torso to the side and appeared in my line of sight. He removed his helmet with a smirk, wagging an index finger in my direction. "And that is why I totally agree with each'trannach here."

The other Mandalorian crossed his burly arms, though shook his head from side to side as though in careful consideration. "Haar'chak. Alright. You got a point there!"

"Hey." Keeping his smile, Plikt strode to my side and gestured towards the hand-to-hand combat training grounds a few meters in the distance. "You look like you can handle yourself in a sparring match. Want to have a go with Modig over there? He needs a partner."

It took me several moments to respond as I realized that that was the first time since I'd arrived here that any of the locals had invited me to do…

...well, anything.

I shrugged, brushing the dirt off of my pants as I stood. "Well, I guess I could give it a try. Modig's the kid, right?"

Plikt chuckled as I marched with him down a beaten path to the training grounds. Several other Mandalorians had already paired up and were beginning their sparring sessions within the large, circular space. "Modig may be young, but don't underestimate him!" Plikt motioned for him to come to our side. "Modig, jaon olar. The each'trannach here will be your partner for this round. Grov's just going to get something to eat."

The unarmoured teen jogged over obediently and bowed as he reached us. "Elek, Plikt." He gave me a side smile, a deep dimple showing on his oblong face. "Sorry again about the whole following you thing, lady. I didn't have a choice."

"Don't worry about it, kid." I nudged his arm amiably and nodded to our designated space on the grounds. "Come on. Let's spar."

"Want to spar with someone your own size instead?"

Din's question effectively halted our movements. As he approached, Modig stiffened, stepped back, and bowed low; Plikt mirrored his actions. Din quickly lifted a hand and shook his head, motioning for them and the other stilled Mandalorians to continue about their business.

I threw Din a smirk with an arched brow. Despite not having a clue about what I would be going up against, my competitive nature bubbled to the surface and got the better of me. "Is that a challenge?"

He extended his arms out to his sides. "Sure sounded like it."

At his feet, Grogu gave a high-pitched laugh and clapped in excitement, as though egging us on.

Not at all surprised at Grogu's exhibition of mild savagery, I circled Din, akin to a predator finding its prey, my attentive gaze raking through his entire form in an up-and-down motion. "Kind of seems a bit unfair that you have all of that shiny armour on and I have absolutely nothing, don't you think?"

"And you think the enemy would disarm themselves should they find that you aren't equally matched?" Din challenged in return.

Plikt shared a look with Modig and guffawed, but coughed it out until he managed to control it when he noticed my pointed stare.

I scoffed, squinting at Din. "Smartass."

In the end, he was thankfully gracious enough to remove his armour, placing each piece reverently upon the smooth, sandy ground, until he remained only in his trousers, tunic, and helmet. Grogu, Plikt and Modig stood in a line behind us, attentive, as Din and I squared off. We stood face-to-face, several meters apart, beginning in our respective fighting stances.

"Ehn. T'ad. Solus." Plikt glanced at us alternately as he made a cutting motion with his hand. "Begin!"

Din didn't budge at the call, as though waiting for me to make the first move.

I did the same thing.

Plikt eyed us once more, head bouncing between us, as he scratched his head. "I thought this was going to be hand-to-hand combat and not a staring contest..."

"Son of a -" with a sigh at the motionless Mandalorian in front of me, I moved forward, opening the violent dance with a rapid jab-cross combination.

Din dodged both strikes easily, slipping from side to side in fluid movements.

For years, I had dabbled in boxing and other martial arts, somewhat for my profession, though mostly for fun. Though I would never in a million years call myself a professional in any combat sport, I had at least some functional skill.

Din, on the other hand, was now making me look like I was a baby just learning how to walk.

What made it worse was that he clearly wasn't even trying.

I released a grunt of frustration when I didn't land a single punch after many attempts.

And that was my first mistake.

One should never, ever reveal to an enemy one's true emotions, particularly if it's fear or anger. It gave them the advantage in many ways.

After a few minutes of merely blocking and dodging my attacks, there was a shift in his form. I quickly recognized the stance. The intent.

Oh, fuck…

With lightning speed, Din began his flurry of offensives, sending me back several paces within seconds. My breaths became even heavier as I blocked and parried, ducked and slipped, as though my life depended on it. My form and movements instantly became sloppy, sluggish. He was quick. Unrelenting. He advanced much faster, and with so much more speed and intensity, than anyone I had ever sparred against in my life. Though the strikes and kicks were pulled, and would never really be meant to inflict severe damage, their intentions were clear. Each move was crisp and calculated, their succession resembling a physical game of chess; he knew precisely how I would react to a particular blow, and would follow up the strike with a move that would catch me either off-guard or unbalanced.

Okay. I'm clearly out of my fucking element.

And he probably hasn't even broken a sweat.

Desperate for a sliver of an advantage, I planted my back foot and rightly speared him, arms wrapped around his waist, attempting to take him down to the ground on his back with everything in my being. However, he expertly read the move, and it quickly felt as though I were pushing against a concrete pillar. He kept his balance and easily kicked my feet out from under me with one, graceful sweep of his leg, though seemed to hold my upper back to cushion my trip as he fell to the ground with me.

As I lay flat on my back, rightly wheezing by this point, he firmly pressed his body upon mine, effectively immobilizing me. He shifted some of his weight upon his left knee as his left forearm made its way to my neck. "Do you yield?"

I tried to counter and buck against him, but instead, he increased the pressure of his lower body upon mine and used his right hand to pin down my hip. Coupled with the burning in my lungs at the previous physical effort, there was now a knot tensing in my lower stomach, elicited by the act. By his closeness. He seemed to gaze down at me more intently as I began to squirm and groan, still attempting - and failing - to escape the hold.

"Mand'alor, I think you got her!" came Modig's amused call.

"Didn't know crushing someone to death was a viable combat tactic," Plikt added, his tone knowing. Before we could reply to either of them, he snickered and called out, "Each'trannach, use the Keldabe handshake!"

Din groaned with a curt shake of his head. "Plikt, do not give her any ideas."

"What's a Keldabe handshake?" Unable to really move my head, my eyes instead slithered to Plikt, then back to Din. "Your discomfort makes me very curious!"

Plikt pursed his lips in mock thought, mischief sparkling in his dark eyes. "Mand'alor, you mean I shouldn't tell her that a Keldabe handshake is when she grabs your nether regions in a very violent manner in order to debilitate you?"

"Plikt…" Din growled, his tone warning.

"Interesting." I smirked, the thought flashing through my mind. "I must say, that is a very effective move!"

As my right hand began to glide down his torso, only meant to tease, Din moved at breakneck speed, somehow managing to grab my arms and pin them both above my head in a heartbeat. I let out a sound that was a mixture of a gasp and a moan, moreso in surprise rather than anything else. He leaned farther down. His helmeted head was now mere inches from my face as he securely held my crossed wrists with a single hand.

Din's right hand remained upon my hip, his hold tightening. However, his question lacked the authority it had previously, the tone now tender. "Do you yield?"

"I…I'm…" My fingers curled into fists, as though lamenting the inability to touch at that particular moment. The rise and fall of my chest continued, though now, it wasn't as a result of physical exertion. My lips parted with an exhale as his right knee moved in between my legs, the act bringing him even closer to my body. As though answering a silent call, my back arched involuntarily, subsequently making my hips press upon his.

With a low sound rumbling from his throat, his piercing gaze remained upon me, the rest of his body unmoving. "Distracted?"

Pulling myself out of the momentary trance with a shake of my head, I looked up and met the stare of the t-visor, defiant. "I think you are the one who's distracted."

"What. Is. Happening?!" Plikt released a cry, flailed his arms in the air, and looked around him expectantly. "Osik! They're having a staring contest again, aren't they?"

(V)(V)(V)

Later that evening, it seemed as though the entire settlement was called upon to assemble in a great hall at the centre of the main settlement, not too far from Din's home. It was a gathering unlike any I'd experienced since being here, comparable to a massive wedding with hundreds of guests. However, despite the exterior opulence of the venue, similar to that of the Mandalorian temple, there was a distinct aura of pride and rectitude within. It reminded me of an extensive military parade, set within a space that boasted honour and history, attended by individuals who valued propriety, etiquette, and tradition. Though I wasn't aware of what would precisely happen during this event, it wasn't difficult to deduce that it wasn't merely to celebrate one person, or a couple - it was one to celebrate their entire people.

At the end of the day, I was just glad to be invited to witness the occasion.

Within the brimming hall, I zigzagged through the crowds of Mandalorians, who were now almost standing shoulder to shoulder. Curiously, the attendees at this point were not boisterous, but rather subdued and expectant. With a smile, Plikt beckoned for me to join him, Modig, and some of the other Commandos, who were lined up near the front of a simple dais. As people continued to gather and mill about, a succinct call rose through the rumbling murmurs and curbed conversations:

"Mando'ad! Ke'sush'!"

A disciplined hush rolled through the space like a tidal wave.

"Hey." Moving to Plikt's side, I motioned my head towards the reverent Mandalorians now parting into two groups in order to form a straight walkway to the dais. My voice remained subdued and respectful. "What's going on?"

"Oath taking," he grinned widely in excitement, eyes gleaming. "Come!"

As I followed his lead, we jogged up a flight of stairs to a mezzanine overlooking the main space below. The elation was now palpable. Vying for a better view, I leaned my forearms upon the metal banister, scanning through the scene, just as the gigantic door of the hall slid open once more.

A sole Mandalorian stood beyond the threshold.

Like all who were present, my stare was affixed to Din as he moved towards the dais in purposeful, even strides, the sea of people standing still and with reverence as he did. Though he wore his normal armour and attire, there was nothing normal about his walk. His presence. He radiated royalty. Strength. Honour. I couldn't remove my gaze from his form as my lips parted in wonder. "They're pledging their allegiance to Di-...the Mand'alor."

Plikt nodded, the twinkle in his orbs emanating his hope. He stood with his spine straight, his head held high. "Mmhmm. Some of them have just completed vert'goten, while others have travelled across the galaxy. It's a night for celebration indeed. Our clans grow!"

I smiled. "And so does the will to fight."

He laughed heartily, patting me on the back.

To the light chuckling and affectionate sounds of the Mandalorians who now watched him, Grogu waddled into the hall, closely following his father's trail like a shadow, beaming with pride. He even gave a couple of sweeping waves to his admirers, then climbed up all on his own onto the dais to join Din at his side.

Behind him, Mandalorian warriors clad in full, multicoloured armour marched in single file, each step and swing of the arm moving in unison. Their movements echoed through the hall; the only sounds that could now be heard. They formed up into three ranks in front of Din, the lines extending almost the width of the entire hall. When all were in formation, they took a knee and bowed their heads in sync. With each and every Mandalorian emitting honour and respect, they recited:

Strength is life, for the strong have the right to rule.
Honour is life, for with no honour one may as well be dead.
Loyalty is life, for without one's clan one has no purpose.
Death is life, for one should die as they have lived.

Din surveyed the kneeled Mandalorians before him with a sweeping gaze, taking stock of their exhibition of fealty. "Ve'ganir laam, Mando'ade."

At his command, each warrior stood, then placed their right fists upon their hearts.

At my side, Plikt wiped the tears cascading down his cheeks with the back of his hand. With a raised fist, he cried out, voice swelling with pride: "Oya manda!"

"Oya manda! Oya manda!" came the rousing chorus all around us, echoing through the raised ceiling of the hall.

The emotion that reverberated around me was infectious, my own eyes becoming misty as those around me embraced one another and shared handshakes. It reminded me of the military oath that I had sworn so long ago to protect and defend; the pride that I had felt upon raising my right hand and giving myself to something greater than myself. It had been the culmination of hard work and sacrifice - though, as I would later learn, the hard work and sacrifice would continue. As the oath taking came to a close, decorum was promptly replaced with unbridled celebration, the hall now an open venue for a festivity that would surely last until the morning.

Plikt nudged my arm and motioned his head towards the other Commandos below. "Now comes the fun, my friend. Let's get in on the action before Grov takes all the ale!"

With an enthusiastic nod, I joined him and a handful of other Mandalorians at an extended, standing table. Modig appeared shortly thereafter, face full of concentration, as his arms were now stocked with several pitchers precariously balancing upon one another. When he finally managed to place the drinks in front of us without incident, he exclaimed, "Let us feast and drink!"

"Hey, each'trannach, give this a listen." Plikt raised his glass and cleared his throat, like any practiced showman, as he began slowly, "Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal…" He surveyed his comrades expectantly to continue the song with him. They did without hesitation:

Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal
Verbor'ad ures aliit
Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se
Kote lo'shebs'ul narit.

At the end of the drinking song, we clinked our glasses together in appreciation of the moment. As I said 'cheers', they replied with, "K'oyacyi!"

"Didn't know if you were coming."

Without hesitation, Grov moved back with a bow to permit Din to approach. Din placed a placating hand on the brawny Commando's shoulder, then nodded to him. It was admirable that, despite his position, Din was always kind and respectful to those around him.

I turned and smiled at Din, who held the equally grinning Grogu in his arms. "You make it sound as though my schedule is packed with so many important things to do! Besides, who would want to miss this?"

He moved to my side. "It lifts our spirits."

"It does. You did a great job. Boosting morale is one of the most important things a leader can do. Come and celebrate with us!"

Before Din could reply, a female voice sounded from behind him.

"Mand'alor." Vera bowed as she continued, "I have some plans that I'd like to discuss with you."

She only kept her eyes upon Din and didn't regard me at all.

Din eyed me almost apologetically. "Aurora, do you mind watching Grogu?"

Grogu extended his hands out to me as I took him in my arms. "Of course not."

"Thank you."

I did my best to ignore the heavy feeling in my chest as Din disappeared from my line of sight. Though, I was quick to remind myself that whatever they had to discuss was none of my business anyway.

Bringing me back to the present, Plikt leaned towards me and spoke over the raucous chatter. "You seemed to have enjoyed yourself this afternoon."

"What do you mean?"

"Your little sparring session with the Mand'alor." He gestured animatedly to his face, then torso. "If you haven't noticed, I'm quite the specimen, so I know the look when someone is interested in another. Judging from this afternoon, and what happened just now, you, my friend, have that look."

I pushed him lightly on the shoulder, rolling my eyes. "I think the ale's already getting to your big head."

"Ok. Guilty." He wagged a stern finger at me, as though in admonishment. "But that does not mean that I'm wrong." His stare was that of teasing suspicion. "Are you interested in our Mand'alor, each'trannach?"

Keeping my expression as neutral as possible, I waved off a round of teasing snickers with a hand. Entirely meaning to dodge the question, I leaned over to him in return, eyes squinted. "Plikt?"

"Yeah?"

A devious smirk appeared on my face. "Do you guys have the equivalent of shots here?"

(V)(V)(V)

The night had been progressing well, with the festivities being quite enjoyable, that I had lost track of time. Understandably, Grogu had started to become weary, and I resolved that it was time to put him to bed. When the guards at the entrance of the hall reported that Din was still occupied, I then asked Plikt and Modig to escort us back to Din's home. Not minding the task at all, they continued to regale me with their stories and adventures throughout the trip back, the ale still well and alive within their veins.

With the half-asleep Grogu clinging to my shirt, I walked almost apprehensively inside Din's room, realizing that this was the first time that I'd ever been inside. Not surprisingly, the space with hues of grey and white was clean and sparse, unadorned with anything extravagant. The mostly metal furniture within were simple, neatly arranged and ordered. If someone unknowing of Din's stature saw this room, it was doubtful that they would believe that this was a room made for the Mand'alor. Regardless, it had the intriguing ambiance of strength and comfort, coalescing into an environment that made me feel safe.

"Alright, little prince. Time for bed." I delicately put him in his pram, which hovered beside Din's bed, and sat down on a chair at its side. Running my fingers upon his crinkled, white-haired head to soothe him, I began to lull him with a slower rendition of one of my favourite songs: "There was a time, I used to look into my father's eyes. In a happy home, I was the king, I had a golden throne. Those days are gone, now the memory's on the wall. I hear the songs from the places where I was born. And my father said. Don't you worry, don't you worry, child. See heaven's got a plan for you. Don't you worry, don't you worry now…"

I languidly woke to the soft clanging of metal and faint footsteps. Realizing that I had sung myself to sleep, I sat up on the chair with a start, feeling a blanket falling from my shoulders to my lap. Confused, particularly as to where the blanket had come from, my gaze first fell to Grogu - who was still fast asleep, facial expression content - then scanned the now dimly-lit room.

"Looks like the kid wasn't the only one who was tired."

With a wince, I took the blanket in my hands and stood. Din strode to my side. "Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep here. Grogu was just exhausted and...well, I didn't know where you had gone and how long you'd be, so I just brought him back here."

"It's alright. Thank you for taking care of him." He kept his gaze on me as I folded the blanket and neatly placed it on the chair. "Seemed like you enjoyed yourself tonight, though."

"I did!" I nodded emphatically. A frown then appeared on my face when I noticed his stiff movements. "And you seem...stressed."

With an exhale, Din began to take the top layer of his armour off, then sat upon the bed to work on his boots. "I cannot get the clans to agree on our next counterattack. They continue to bicker amongst one another, clinging on to the clan feuds of the past. I feel like I'm getting nowhere with them."

I took a seat at his side, brows furrowed. "They're not used to working together, right? If this is a new arrangement, it's normal. You just need to give it time. People are...complicated." I gave him an encouraging smile. "You shouldn't be too hard on yourself, either. Not like you were born their Mand'alor. Being a leader also takes time."

He removed his cape, hanging it on the chair at his side. "And what if I'm not fit to lead my people?"

"Either you learn from your mistakes or walk away. But I don't think giving up is something you'd do." I turned to face him entirely, placing a hand on his forearm. "You seem to care about your people very much, and they respect you and look to you for leadership. Not because of a title, but because of the person that you are. I think you should trust in that."

"Thank you."

"Gar cuyir olarom," I said carefully, not knowing whether I'd butchered the phrase for 'you are welcome' or not. I sat back, awaiting his response with bated breath.

Din's tone was highlighted with a mixture of surprise and pride. "You've been learning some Mando'a."

I nodded with a smile. "It's a beautiful language. The swear words were pretty easy to pick up, especially since some of the Commandos seem to swear every other word. Some of the other phrases, though, are difficult. It'll take me a while to learn them. I mean, I still don't even know the meaning of basic things."

He eyed me for a moment, then gestured to himself with an open hand. "Jag. Man." He then gestured to me. "Dala. Woman."

"Jag. Dala." I repeated with confidence, then pointed to his blaster upon the table in front of us. "Ga'amur. Weapon."

Din made a sound of approval, then shifted closer to me. Ever so slowly, his bare fingers traced my hand, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, then moved upwards. His tone had become tender. "Gadi. Wrist. Irum. Arm." His calloused hand reached for my face, lingering upon my cheek and jaw, as his thumb caressed my lips. "Uram. Mouth."

The touch elicited a series of pleasing tingles, and my chin lifted with the motion, seeking more. In harmony with his own audible breaths, my breathing became erratic as I found myself moving even closer to him, unable to resist. As his helmet pressed upon my forehead, he coiled an arm around my waist, pulling me even more to him, unsatisfied with the space remaining between us. His fingertips began to trace my jawline, then down my neck, sending violent shivers through my body. My eyes automatically closed, coupled with a prolonged sigh of bliss, as my palms fell upon his chest.

"With how this lesson is going," I breathed out raggedly, still keeping my eyes shut as my mind focused on his touch, "I was just wondering what the translation for 'chest' was…"

Din stilled.

After a few moments of silence, I finally opened my eyes and regarded him.

A chuckle came from beneath the helmet. Given his marked stoicism and taciturn demeanour, I was certain that I'd never actually heard the sound before. It might have been the ale coursing through me, or my mind playing tricks on me due to exhaustion, but the sound was musical. Alluring.

"Why are you laughing? I'm entirely serious!"

His chuckling only intensified as his head slanted to the side. Perhaps he, too, had way too much ale tonight.

Nevertheless, I decided then and there that he needed to laugh more often. I teasingly pushed at his chest, grinning from ear to ear. "Shh, you'll wake Grogu up with your snorting!"

Finally able to compose himself, Din released an exhale. His light fingers ran through my hair, pushing the loose tendrils behind my ear. "Mesh'la…"

"Mesh'la?" My gaze flickered up to the t-visor. "What does that mean?"

"Beautiful," he said.

(V)(V)(V)

- vod - comrade

- Gar serim - yes, you're right or that's it

- haar'chak - damn it

- jaon olar - over here

- elek - yes

- solus - one

- t'ad - two

- ehn - three

- osik - shit

- Mando'ad - Mandalorian

- Ke'sush' - attention

- Ve'ganir laam, Mando'ade - Get up, Mandalorians

- Oya manda! - Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive.

- Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal / Verbor'ad ures aliit / Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se / Kote lo'shebs'ul narit - A pint of ale, a pint of blood / Buys men without a name. / We never care who wins the war / So you can keep your fame.

(V)(V)(V)

A/N: Damn, Din's got game in this fic. I absolutely loved writing that chapter! Another long one (almost like a double chapter, just in time for a long weekend!), but again, lots to cover here. At least my vision came to life on "paper". So much more to come.

I included what I wanted to see should Din ever get a love interest in my other fic, "The Captive", but what I'm finding with another female OC - one with a completely different personality and backstory than Luna - is that Aurora and Din's relationship is evolving into something completely different, which is super fun to write. I also like where Din is in his life/journey during this fic, so again, that just adds another layer to play with.

Fun fact: the Keldabe handshake is a "real" Mandalorian move! XD

The lullaby song is "Don't You Worry Child", specifically the acoustic version by John Martin.

Also, I'm totally casting Sebastian Stan as Plikt, by the way! haha I had briefly toyed with the idea of making this story a crossover between The Mandalorian and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, but I guess Seb as Plikt is the next best thing!

Thanks for all the love. So happy to know there are readers liking this story. Happy reading!

xx IFHD