At first, Din tried to ignore Aldor's lectures on the nature of the Force. He sat in on Grogu's lessons regularly, and the Force was always under discussion. For this fact alone, Din quickly realized he couldn't ignore the concepts, and did everything he could to dismiss them. Finally, after weeks of sitting in on Force lessons, he had to stop telling himself he was paying attention for the Kid's benefit alone.
Din wanted to understand this power the Jedi believed the Universe lived and died by. It sounded like some form of electromagnetism to him, and when he began to consider it in those terms, it started to make an alarming amount of sense. Before long, he came to appreciate the concept for its elegance, and found with some shock that many of the Jedi's core tenets lined up neatly with his own. Not those burned in his brain by the Mandalorians necessarily, but Din's own Creed, developed over thirty years of reflection and experience.
He certainly couldn't deny the effect it had on his boy either. The kid was stronger, and he'd grown at least four centimeters. He now preferred to hop along beside either or both of his humans when they were walking together, and left his pod in the YT. He used more words of Basic and engaged more with his companions and his surroundings. He'd grown braver. More confident. Under Aldor's guidance, Grogu finally learned not only how to bolster his own strength, but also how to focus it "through the Force."
When he began to see these results, Din's mind became more comfortable with the concepts he'd learned, and he found himself trying to think like a Jedi. In terms of connection and energy, light and dark. Electromagnetism and dark matter. The more he accepted these ideas, the more clearly he began to hear a faint, wordless voice from his son's head that opened up a world of communication between the two of them. In light of his new respect for the Force, Din embraced it, and used it with the new terms he'd learned when he couldn't help but listen to Aldor. This new educational strategy seemed to secure the boy's understanding of Mandalorian lessons and engineering exercises, and he had finally begun to advance in those studies as well.
Rather unexpectedly, it seemed Din had learned a few things through the Force as well. When he looked back on his disturbing experience with the Dark Saber within the context of the Dark side and the Light, he began to understand what happened to him at the Forge. How he sensed the Saber after he'd forced it out of the Armorer's hand. The power he felt flowing through him when he took her head off with it. How it tried to make him believe he wanted to be the Mand'alor. How he resisted it. He saw the wisdom of tempering Mandalorian severity with Jedi subtlety, and was surprised to discover he had done exactly that in his own way. Maybe not with the Force, but a force that was native to him. If nothing else, he could use this new perspective on his own experience to instruct his son's.
Among the many things Din learned over their first three months on the Eye, not the least of them was the nature of Jedi politics. Given what Aldor told him about the last days of the Jedi Order, it was clear the Jedi had lost their way as hopelessly as the Mandalorians. In recounting everything that led to their destruction, Aldor made no scruples in sharing her feelings on this subject. She had many differences of opinion with her former Masters. She confessed this was not a rare thing among wayward Jedi. Arrogance, ignorance, and blindness were the running themes in her displeasures with the Order she'd once belonged to. A carelessness some Generals displayed with the Clones. An uneasy understanding of where they should intervene and where they shouldn't. Betrayals of trust. Contradictions in belief. She would always bookend these grievances by claiming not to be an expert, but Din always found the sense in her perceptions. They were remarkably similar to his feelings about the Mandalorians.
This was under discussion often when he would join her on an errand to gather grass for fabric or when he helped her dress a forest roe one or both of them had taken down. When he came to offer his help in these instances when Grogu was napping or studying in the YT, Aldor spoke a bit more candidly about her reasons for rejecting the label of Jedi. She said power had taken precedence over knowledge among the Jedi Order, and the entire Galaxy had suffered for it. When they became too powerful and too big to see where they began and where they ended, they let evil worm its way into the Galactic government, and spent so long spinning their wheels they simply let it destroy them. "Fucking foolish." The common coda to these rants was always spoken softly, half under her breath. There was disappointment in it. Like she was frustrated with a stubborn child or irritated with a questionable command from a parent.
When Aldor got into these moods, whether she was demeaning the foolishness of her Masters or fixated on taking down a tundra bantha, Din found himself caught up in the workings of that hydro engine made of zillo hide that he'd come to admire. He'd never seen such a combination of attributes in another living thing. Quiet humility and lovely grace all tied up with ferocity and fire. Whenever she got into a tear, everything in him woke up and paid attention. It had become one of his favorite things to do. Just to watch her. Listen to her. Be with her.
Despite his attempts to dismiss his feelings, Din was all too aware that his admiration for Grogu's teacher had increased far beyond her ability and knowledge. It now extended to all of her. Every day, the strange energy that bound them drew them closer, and it was becoming harder to pull away. He thought about her constantly. Was always ecstatic to be in her presence. When they spent most of the day apart, he couldn't wait to get back to her. He didn't know what it was about her, but somehow, she'd accomplished something truly profound. Din liked her.
When he asked himself what made her so different from past comrades, he was never able to articulate it, but he certainly felt it. She was just such an oddity. Everything about her existed in some strange disposition between great power and diminutive size. There were times when Din had to remind himself that Aldor was more than a quarter of a meter shorter than him. When he looked at her, she filled his field of vision, almost looming over his head. Not like an oppressive Night Sister, but an elegant diplomat. Knowledgeable of so many things he would love to learn more about. Brilliant and refined. But between these moments of awe-inspiring power, she would forget where she'd left a needle when she was stitching, and later find it in her hair or pushed through her robe. She would wince sheepishly at him and laugh at herself, shaking her head. It made his entire body smile to see this. He caught himself considering where he could purposefully mislay something while she was away from the table, just so he could watch it happen again. It was at that moment when he was tempted to tuck her shears under a scrap of fabric when he realized he needed to get ahold of himself.
She didn't make it easy. Over the weeks, Force training and everyday tasks proved just how capable she was, however many times she may lose her shears. He watched her take down a fully grown tundra bantha with one savage purple blade. She ran the gauntlet in less than thirty seconds in a blur of blue silk and fire. On the day she asked him to teach her some Mandalorian techniques, she took him hard to the ground – armor and all – after just a few hours of instruction. Then he watched her soothe and coddle Grogu after he had a painful miss in training. Or she would pull her lips up into that perfect pale crimson bow when she sensed Din's mood had turned dark. It was this combination of ferocity and gentility that set her apart, and rendered it next to impossible to keep up his guard.
With his guard always down and his feelings tied up in static, the lava in his belly that swelled every time she smiled at him or gave him a pat on his shoulder had taken up residence, seething through these small moments of connection that Din lived for. Time and time again, Mandalorian austerity melted under them. It had become something of a problem, and Din finally decided he should try to keep his distance from it.
He tried.
He took to spending all day on the hunt when they got anywhere near low on meat. When he had no excuse to hunt, he went deeper inland toward the Pupil of the Eye to collect more data and form theories about the nature of this planet that fascinated him. He tried to convince himself it was better to stay away, and could almost succeed sometimes. But then he would wake in the middle of the night, and open his eyes her lovely face while his dreams repeated through his brain. Dreams filled with a fragrance he didn't know yet and a softness he could only imagine. Dreams about just being with her. Sharing thoughts. Sharing everything.
In his heart, he knew he enjoyed this connection to Aldor. When they were sitting together in the quiet of the kitchen, at work on little projects before bed, he actually felt like he was part of something. More than he ever had before. It was his favorite time of day. When his body forced him to relax and he was too tired to control the thoughts he let loose, she caught everything. Absorbed his fractured notions and gave them back in a unified form. She did this passively by some beautiful magic he'd never understand, but he loved it. It made his burdens lighter. His mind freer. From what he could tell, she never used any of it for herself. She just took his jumble of worthless words and energy and turned them into a tangible tool he could work with, then gave it right back. Though he worried she was tricking him with some diabolical form of sorcery, one look into the clear glacial blue would reassure him of her sincerity. So most nights, he accepted it and just let it happen.
But the barbs of doubt that were dulled to nearly nothing remained a nuisance in his brain, and he couldn't stop them. They kept trying to pierce into his quiet moments with dull insistence that he stay on guard. Don't trust her and by no means should you allow yourself to care for her. But then she would pull her mouth up into that sweet pale crimson bow, and all Din could think of was how much he would like to taste it. He didn't know how to get past it, so all he could do was keep his distance and try to remain aloof when she would find his eyes through his helmet and know.
This hard back and forth left Din uneasy, and Grogu sensed it. He knew the boy was worried about him and tried to hide his anxiety, but wasn't always successful. So Grogu made it a point to come to him when Aldor was off foraging or tending her garden to talk him into taking his helmet off for a little while. "Relax," the boy would say. "Peace." This deep wisdom carried a sub-frequency of that wordless little voice reassuring him that all would be well. Then Grogu would get a nose bump in and do everything he could to make his father smile. After these successful endeavors, Din would begin all over again, trying to make peace with himself while he struggled to come up with things he could do to be of use.
He helped where he could, but Din did feel rather useless. Aldor never asked anything of him, but he decided she was so accustomed to doing everything herself, it hadn't occurred to her to seek help when she had it. Perhaps he should remind her she wasn't alone. Let her know she could rely on him. Because even if he couldn't be entirely at ease and even though he struggled to make peace with his feelings, there was no denying Aldor's kindness, nor that he longed to repay it.
Things continued this way for weeks, but Din felt the strain particularly acutely one morning, and finally managed to take a step toward easing it even though he had to risk temptation to do it. He made her aware of his intentions to go for a hunt farther east. "And… if there's anything I can do… anything you need that I can gather or keep an eye out for… well… let me know, Aldor… if I can help."
The statement surprised her. Not because the Mandalorian was offering assistance, but because he had used her name. He typically avoided it because he was too fond of how it tasted in his mouth. She may not have known his reasons, but she did know he was serious about something when he spoke her name. "I imagine you're restless, my friend," she said after she'd taken a moment to consider his offer. "I should have warned you that life here is much slower than what you're used to. I'm sorry I've been blind to it."
"No," he murmured. "Don't do that." He hated to hear her apologize for things that weren't her fault. "Don't say you're sorry, Aldor. I am restless, but… it's not because I didn't expect to be. I just… want to be of use. I want to help… where I can. It's hard to know where that is sometimes with you." Din swallowed hard, terrified of the urges it produced in him when she gazed back with her familiar little smile. But her mind turned in a more clinical direction as the expression flattened out in thought, and he was able to catch his breath again.
"You have experience tracking game," she said at last. "Maybe you could keep an eye out for signs of the tundra dogs. A large pack scouts near our sector this time of year, and I like to keep track of their movements in case they come too close to the settlement. Now that I'm teaching Grogu, I haven't had a chance to go so far east."
This was exactly the kind of task he'd hoped for. A chance to keep himself sharp while being of use. "Yes, my… yes." He was going to call her something. He wasn't even sure what, because the word was just climbing up his throat when his mind frightened it back. He cleared it entirely, and continued in a more measured tone. "I can do that. But I don't think I've seen one yet. What do they look like?"
Aldor stood from the table and went into the living space to fetch a small, intricately carved wooden storage cube, which she brought to the table and set between them. "I managed a detailed scan of one once. Some time ago now. After they killed Rothan, I think, because I was angry and wanted to know how to defeat them. I believe I still have the data on one of my pads if you need it. And I have a holoprojection on a disc in here somewhere." She opened the box and began to rummage through it, muttering… "I did in any case… at some point in the last thirty-odd years…" She shook her head as she took out larger items to look for the disc in question. Din felt a smile trying to turn up his lips as his chest shook with an imperceptible chuckle. It was the type of display that made his entire being smile, and he couldn't help himself.
"Laugh all you want, nerf-herder," she muttered at his amusement. "I watched you spend ten minutes the other day looking for your barrel vents when you were cleaning your blaster." She flashed him a teasing smile as Din allowed an audible chuckle to huff through the modulator. "And where were they?"
"They were in front of my face on the table," he answered, trying to sound curt and Mandalorian, but he knew she sensed his smile. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic," Aldor answered, looking down again into her collection of mis-matched whatever, until she finally emerged with a holoprojection disc. She inserted it into the port on the table and flipped through a series of images too quickly for Din to perceive them all, but he was sure he saw Boba Fett among them. At first he was startled, but he realized after she'd paused half a second longer on this image that the eyes didn't match Fett's. Their color and shape may have been identical, but this man looked out of them differently. Then he remembered Fett's lineage, and realized it was probably Jumper, the dear old Clone Trooper she mentioned often. Din almost asked her about the image, but knew there was no need because he felt the flutter of her feelings, and didn't need to know more. Din felt both nostalgia and regret flicking through her heart as she flicked through the large collection of images. All these holoprojections must have come from a turbulent time in her life. He sensed it was an era she hadn't thought about in a long time, and he wasn't sure she'd know what to say even if he asked.
At last, she paused on the image of a demonic-looking canine. It had pure black fur with a green-ish iridescent sheen along the tips. It was hairless around the eyes, showing large oblong patches of rough, bright red skin. The jaw was heavily armed with massive fangs. Those on the bottom were broad and long, jutting out of the snarling mouth to curve sideways and come close together in front of its nose. There were three pair on the top jaw, all set to the side. Smaller, sharper, serrated. Huge, thick claws curled into the ground at the subject's feet. The black eyes flashed with intelligence and malice. Din understood now why she liked to keep an eye on them. "These hunt in packs?"
Aldor sighed and nodded, looking at the projection with an expression of both anxiety and respect. As if she admired the creature and hated it at the same time. "They're relatively small. About the size of a juvenile massiff. But they're deadly. Cunning hunters. They're… what killed Rothan. Even though I always warned him about them, he went off on his own one morning, and… he didn't have a chance. Poor idiot was a shit fighter. They probably got him to the ground, and then it was all over. If one brings you down, the rest will…"
"Tear you to pieces…"
"Pretty much, I'm afraid."
"Do you think I might run into them?"
"No, not quite yet," Aldor said. "Their season is the winter. They stay on the tundra across the sea until the weather starts to turn. There's a narrow land bridge near the northeastern corner of the Eye that ices over and becomes easier to cross as the season changes, and they cross it every year to hunt on the Eye. They typically love the cold. They live in ice caverns most of the year, but they seek the hot springs where the iris meets the plains when the weather grows colder. For some reason, they make short scouting trips around this time year. I'm still not sure why."
"Summer still," Din mused, looking up at the suns through the transparisteel skylight, calculating and recalling what he'd collected from his scans so far. "But closer to autumn…"
"Yes," Aldor said. "So their time for scouting is at hand and I like to be ready. And autumn is short here. They'll take up residence for the winter before we know it."
"Understood," he said with a nod.
"But be careful. All I need is information. Don't track them too far. It's likely too soon for them, but… Please… be careful, my Mandalorian."
Her eyes softened and turned liquid when she said these words. In them, he saw true concern. Saw that she cared for him. He felt it every day, but this was the first time he'd seen it. Clear as crystal in her eyes. He wondered what she'd do if he grazed his fingers along her jaw. He wondered if she'd like it. Before he let his thoughts stray too far down this path, he stiffened and merely nodded. "Yes, my… I will."
"Here," she trotted back to the storage cubes in the living area, and quickly found a data pad. "Luckily, I had this out recently and just remembered where it was." She handed him the pad and tapped the screen. "All I've observed about them is in here," she said. "You should look through it. I've written down all their signs and habits, and it may provide some clarity. As for what to do if you come across them, I'm afraid all my notes are based on light saber combat." She paused as a small smile spread over her lips. "But I have no doubt of your skill and understanding, Din Djarin."
"Nor I yours, my Lady."
While Din was out hunting buck and tracking tundra dogs, Grogu and Aldor undertook a brief history lesson while she worked on a tiny tunic made from her warmest fabric to replace the dingy robes her friend had almost outgrown. When she sensed the boy's mind drifting, she put together a light lunch and sat with him while he kept his thoughts shrouded. After a while, he lifted the veil and looked up at her, wondering what she thought might be troubling the Mandalorian. He'd been thinking long and hard about his father's state of mind, and was sure he was somehow at odds with himself. Grogu was concerned that Din had been in conflict for too long. He remembered Master Yoda's lessons about the darkness and how it could take an untrained Force wielder down a path to evil. Because the Mandalorian had purposefully ignored the power rising in him, and because he'd been so long in conflict with himself, Grogu worried it might destroy him if he didn't learn how to accept and wield it.
Aldor was not as concerned. "Your father has an unusual mind, my dear One," she assured him. "I don't think he likes to be told. I think he likes to see for himself. And that's what he's been doing. Seeing for himself. It's the only way he can believe something. And I don't think he's ignoring his ability anymore. You must remember the Mandalorian may be younger in years than you, but his mind and body are much older. He's used to what he's always known. He clings to it even if he doubts it, and nothing you or I can say will convince him of what he hasn't seen for himself."
Grogu nodded. The Mandalorian was stubborn, but he did doubt a great many things he used to believe. That's why Grogu thought it would be a good time to bring him here, but now he wasn't so sure. He felt guilty because he didn't want to leave, and he knew his father would stay by his side no matter what. Whether it was good for him or not.
"I think it was the perfect time, my friend," Aldor said. "He is wise, Grogu, as you've often told me. His mind has opened since he came here. Surely you've sensed it. He knows now. He only needs to learn the words."
Grogu sat in silence for a few moments to process what Aldor had said, his little heart emitting an intense wave of feeling for his father as he gazed down at the little silver ball in his hands. He always kept it in his robes, and pulled it out to cradle and consider it when something troubled him. "Love him," Grogu said at last. "Good."
Aldor smiled at the boy across the table, her own heart warming in the glow of Grogu's love for his father. "Yes, my dear One, I believe your father is a very good man. I understand why you love him."
"Sad," Grogu cooed softly. His ears drooped while his expression went somber. He carefully caressed his little fingers over the ball as if it were Din himself. "Hurt."
"Yes, sweet Grogu, I believe you're right," Aldor sighed. She'd managed to get a laugh out of him this morning, and that was a good sign, but Din's heart was still badly broken by everything that brought them here. Aldor tried to keep herself from finding his thoughts on this matter, but they were sometimes too powerful to ignore. Emotional and wordless. A flare of rage he couldn't snuff out because he didn't know what it was yet. There was betrayal in it. Loss. Confusion.
Grogu followed Aldor's thoughts and began to see some of what she did. "Mandalore," he said, putting the ball back in its place in his robes. "Ask."
"I'm not sure that would be wise, my friend," Aldor said, anxious at the idea of broaching such a subject with the stoic Mandalorian. "He may not want to discuss it. It may still be too sore a memory."
Grogu shook his head. "Needs to. Hope. Needs hope."
"I think he still has hope," Aldor mused. "He just needs to remember where he hid it." But Aldor would not dismiss Grogu's suggestion. The Mandalorian had no words, after all, and may require some encouragement to give himself the trouble of finding them. She still had all this in mind when Din came back to the YT just before sunset, dirty from his journey and visibly tired. This didn't seem to trouble Grogu, who immediately jumped into his father's arms to welcome him back to safety. "Hey Kid," he said with an audible smile. "Were you good for Aldor today?" Grogu nodded emphatically and touched his little nose to the beskar helmet as Din chuckled. He bounced the boy in his arms a couple times then set him gently back down in his chair at the table. He gave Aldor a nod. "I got a decent buck," he told her. "We'll be good for a while."
"Thank you, my friend. Did you see any evidence of the dogs?"
"Some," Din answered. "About eight klicks east toward the corner of the Eye. The tracks were fresh, and they looked to be moving north for now. It was the whole pack from what I could tell."
Aldor nodded. "Thank you for looking into that for me."
Din nodded back.
"You must be hungry, my Mandalorian, let me…"
"Need to hit the fresher. Then I'll eat."
After Din had his shower and went into the cockpit to eat, he spent an hour or so with Grogu and Aldor at the table cleaning his blaster while Grogu looked on and Din reminded him of proper cleaning procedure. When he removed the barrel vents, Aldor saw an opportunity to lighten the Mandalorian's somber mood, and quietly said to Grogu, "Help your father keep track of those." Din's helmet snapped up to her. She flashed a wry smile at him, feigning innocence as she continued to focus on her sewing. She was happy to see the affectionate jab succeed in loosening his shoulders, and his voice picked up afterward. When Grogu went to his pod for the night, Din came back to the table and took up the data pad she'd given him earlier, pouring over all her notes on the planet and its flora and fauna.
Aldor loved these quiet moments after dinner, when it was just the two of them. She looked forward to it every day. While they sat in silence over their small tasks, the Force in him flowed on soft, slow waves that rumbled through him and into the air, singing to her and the ground and everything as he simply let himself be. She adored how it felt. There was a warmth and depth in his energy that was like his voice. Soothing and comfortable. Resonant and pure. His thoughts lost all their words and his mind became quiet, but remained ever in motion. Familiar. He still wouldn't acknowledge it, but when he was too tired or too content to resist, he passively traded thoughts with her, singing songs only she could hear as she sang hers to him. Somewhere within this exchange, they offered each other variations in key and tone that created a lovely symphony of notions they could both enjoy and become part of.
Tonight, Din was absorbed in Aldor's notes on the thermal activity at the center of the continent, comparing them to his multitude of scans, and forming theories about the gas giant and the hot springs. Out of the blue, Aldor felt his eyes on her and looked up. "The geysers at the Pupil get more active when the gas giant is in perigee, don't they?" he asked. "You've been here a long time. You say in your notes it happens about the same time every… what… seven months?"
"It varies, but yes, typically between seven and nine months," Aldor answered. "I call it the Thermal Solstice because it always marks the beginning of winter. I know it's a misnomer, but I like how it sounds at least."
One of his whispered huffs of amusement slipped through his helmet. "I didn't realize you knew until I saw your notes."
"Yes, my Mandalorian," Aldor answered. "As you say, I've been here a long time. I've had plenty of time to observe and notate. I know it's coming. Maybe another three months or so."
"You didn't tell me..."
"You didn't ask."
"But couldn't you..."
"I could have, but I told you, Din Djarin. I won't exploit your thoughts. They're too precious, and you should keep some of them." She smiled and looked back down at her work. "But I'm still working out how to tell when I should leave them and when I should explore them. I don't think you always mind it."
"I don't," he admitted. "I… enjoy it… sometimes."
They fell into silence again, and Din bent his helmet back to the datapad. But Aldor sensed his focus waning. "You're tired," she observed.
"Yes," Din answered softly.
"But you're curious," she said as she watched him look back at the pad.
"What?"
She inclined her head at the datapad in his hand as she continued to busy her fingers with her work, determined to prevent herself from reaching across the table to touch him. "The planet and system are unusual. You're curious about them. You're tired, but keep looking at my garbled little notes like a scientist or a historian. Piecing things together for yourself. I think you prefer that to being told."
"I… I do," he answered softly, a touch of wonder in his voice at the accuracy of her comment.
"The sign of a good mind," she said with a tone of admiration. "Vast. Powerful."
"I…"
"You don't have to respond," she reassured him. "I only wanted to acknowledge I recognize that about you. And admire it. I'm glad you find my notes interesting. It honors me."
"Your notes are… insightful." He looked down at them again, but immediately looked back up, focused on her fingers at work on her sewing project. "What are you making for him?" he asked softly.
"Breeches," she answered. "He's outgrowing his robes, and these will make it easier for him to move. I've already finished his tunic, and will start on a coat for him when I finish his breeches."
Din nodded in approval. "Thank you. I'm not…"
"You are a good father, Din. Just not a good tailor."
A quiet laugh escaped the modulator. "My skill is more suited to stitching wounds, I suppose."
Aldor let the fabric fall with her hands into her lap, loving the sound of his laugh, quiet and understated as it was. There was a swell of affection between them for a moment as they looked across the table at each other. She felt sure it was tied to his laugh in some way. His laughter was rare after all, and always seemed to bridge the divide between them. She knew he was smiling as he sighed and slumped a little deeper into his chair, like he had given in to it. She watched him a moment longer as she felt his smile and his energy fading. "You are tired, my Mandalorian," she said softly. "Are you not sleeping well?"
"Mostly I do… for me anyway… was a long hike today, so… maybe I'm just… getting old."
"Well," Aldor chuckled, "that's an ailment we share, I'm afraid. So I understand."
"How old are you?" Din asked, genuinely curious. "I'm forty-five. So it's fair."
"Forty-eight," Aldor admitted ruefully.
"Bantha shit."
She smiled demurely under his genuine disbelief. "You're very sweet, Din, but I'm afraid it's all too true."
"You look… well… you don't look… forty-eight." He shifted in his chair and began to focus on the datapad again, but his visor immediately returned to her face and remained there.
"Thank you my sweet Mandalorian," she said gratefully. "That does make me feel slightly less ancient. But I was a padawan at the end of the Clone Wars, so I promise I'm telling you the truth."
"Oh… yeah… Clone Wars."
Unwilling to let the conversation die, Aldor asked, "What do you remember of the Clone Wars? You were old enough to remember it if you're forty-five."
The helmet slightly jerked as he looked away from her, the question clearly striking him as dangerous. Aldor suddenly regretted her question and sensed him withdrawing again, but he overcame himself and sighed when he decided he didn't mind answering her. "I don't remember much… just droids… blaster fire… my parents… then the Mandalorians… Concordia…"
"Oh," Aldor murmured, her heart crumbling at the memory that played through his mind too clearly for her to block it out. Full of fear and pain. Images of a handsome, bearded man and a beautiful, tearful woman, both telling him they loved him. Then a super battle droid. Explosions. Terror. Hopelessness. "I'm so sorry my… forgive me. I didn't know."
"It's how I came to be with the Mandalorians." He said it matter-of-factly, ignoring her apology. "I was a Foundling. After droids attacked our village on Aq Vetina. My parents… everybody… killed. My parents hid me. The droids almost killed me too, but… the Mandalorians came… took me with them."
"How old were you?"
"Seven."
"Did you… have a Mandalorian family?"
"Only the Fighting Corps."
"Oh…" Suddenly so many things became clear. His connection to Grogu. The abilities he'd hidden from himself. The conflict that raged inside him. All of it suddenly lined up in perfect synchronicity while she looked back at him, sitting there resolute as he watched the understanding spread over her face.
"I was grateful," he continued. "So… I took the Creed… believed it… followed it. But… Mandalore doesn't exist anymore. Concordia… The Watch… Kalevala… Night Owls… none of it. All that's left is a false ideal and a cursed planet." He looked down at the datapad in his lap, not seeing it. His voice barely betrayed his bitterness, but Aldor felt it stewing under the surface. It escaped in thin streams of smoke while he spoke, and he seemed relieved to expel even this small part of it. "We all lost our Way," he murmured sadly. "Right when we were close to finding it again. I may always be Mandalorian, but… the Creed doesn't mean much to those who survived the last battle… so I left Mandalore behind."
Aldor thoughtlessly reached over the table, and closing her hand gently around the beskar gauntlet, she realized what she'd done and started to recoil. But Din stopped her. "It's okay… You're being… kind."
Aldor smiled, tightening her fingers around his. "I'm afraid my instinct always drives me to touch the people I care for. I'm sorry if I've ever overstepped my bounds."
Din shook his head. "I don't mind it… from you. At least… not like I used to. Got used to it with Grogu."
Sensing Din's unusual willingness to talk, Aldor didn't want to take it for granted, and after a brief silence, carefully introduced another touchy subject that had occurred to her when he mentioned Grogu. "I've never asked, and forgive me if I shouldn't, but I am… curious. Why…"
"I took him because I had to," Din answered before she asked the question. Aldor wasn't sure he realized she never asked it aloud. It seemed Grogu was right. There were many things the Mandalorian needed to get off his chest, and all he'd required was someone to ask. "Grogu was a bounty, you know," he went on. "I think you knew that."
"I did," Aldor confirmed.
"Imps, and I fucking hate Imps, but… not a lot of work for Guild hunters at the time and I needed the credits. Then he said he'd pay in beskar. A lot. Couldn't say no. But… after everything that happened with the mudhorn and… Kuiil… my friend…"
"The Ugnaught?"
"Grogu told you about him?"
"He did. He was fond of Kuiil. He thinks about him quite a lot."
Din nodded. "So do I. Honorable. Wise. The things I respect most… he was all of them." For a moment Din gave way to mourning for his good friend as he sighed, recalling memories of a tired old Ugnaught with warm eyes and a keen mind. Finally, he curled his fingers slightly around hers and continued quietly. "But… the Imps… fucking cowards…"
"I know, my sweet Mandalorian… but… This is the Way."
Din tilted his head in a short nod and cleared his throat. "After I got back the first time… turned Grogu in… I had the Razor Crest powered up to leave… but… the ball… from the flight ignition… I don't know, it just… Grogu liked to play with it and… I was him once… and I couldn't… he saved me, you know. The mudhorn. I couldn't leave him with the fucking Imps. Because… they would've killed him. He was just a resource to them. This sweet little boy that… saved me."
"You were right to take him," Aldor said. "But you already know that."
"I do," Din said. He sat quietly for a while, seeming to withdraw again. But Aldor felt his eyes still on her. After a lingering silence, he spoke again. "What about you, my Lady? You haven't said much about your past. Do you remember your family?"
Aldor was struck dumb, never expecting in a million parsecs to hear the Mandalorian ask her such a question. But she sensed his genuine curiosity as he considered her within a wordless cloud of impressions. He didn't know what to make of her at first, but now her ways had become familiar, and he acknowledged a wisdom and elegance in them. He admired her for it. Aldor was flattered to be thought of in such a way, and she felt her cheeks burning as she stared down at the table to avoid his searching eyes while she tried to order her response. "I went to the Jedi Temple when I was very young, so I have only faint memories of my blood family. I know I was born on Takodana and that my parents were biologists. I know I was an only child. That is all."
"Don't you remember… how it felt there?"
Aldor was moved by Din's choice of words. It recalled memories that used to haunt her earliest days at the Temple. She was trained to forget them, but by the grace of her natural defiance, she never did. Instead, she learned to pack them into a mental strongbox under steady guard, but still pulled them out when she needed to. Now she left it open, all too willing to submit to her companion's honest language and sincere attention. "I remember… forests and lakes. It was beautiful there. Verdant. The air was fresh. Fragrant. When we would go to Maz Kanata's Castle for supplies, I always wandered off, I remember. I wanted to see all the fascinating species of smuggler who passed through." Aldor smiled as she let the images flow. "Maz was the one who recognized my ability when I was a child. I actually remember seeking her out once when I was very small. I believe I got into a lot of trouble for it. I think I wandered off when my father was collecting samples. I don't recall why I felt the need to find her, but from that moment on, she took a special interest in me. It wasn't uncommon. Everyone paid attention to me. Animals. Elderly neighbors. I think it was the Force at work within me. I liked it and I didn't. I enjoyed their minds, but I never cared for the attention."
A short huff punctuated her pause. "I can… see that…"
"Oh indeed, my Mandalorian? How so?"
Din straightened up in his chair and cleared his throat. The question had caught him off guard, but she sensed he fully intended to answer it, and waited in patient silence while he pieced together a response. At last he cleared his throat again and answered, "You… stand out," he said quietly. "I believe I could spot you in the thickest crowd on Coruscant, even if you weren't wearing your blue robe. But… I think you would… rather be invisible."
Aldor's heart jumped at the accuracy of Din's last statement, and it prompted her to briefly squeeze the thick leather and hard metal that encased his hand. She moved to withdraw her touch, but he tightened his fingers around hers. So briefly, it could have almost been mistaken for a reflex. So she kept her hand where it was, hooked snugly around his as he held on and Aldor struggled to respond. She stared at the blue triangle on his gauntlet while she tried to order her words, until she sensed he wanted her to look at him. She could hardly refuse the Mandalorian anything when he had her in this state, and settled her gaze on the black viewplate that obscured all but the fire in his eyes. The fire turned inward and flowed out through leather and beskar. It spread into a warm sheet that eased through her fingers and up her arm in a reassuring caress. I won't use it against you. She wasn't sure if it was her thought or his. Either way, his incorporeal caress had its intended effect, and she finally admitted, "I've always struggled with people. I'm afraid you have me there, my friend."
"Mm…" It was barely anything, but the sound from the modulator in Din's helmet betrayed a bittersweet smile. "Me too."
"So I've gathered, my Mandalorian," she said with a chuckle that he answered with another short huff. "When I was a child, I liked to commune with animals more than anything. People are so chaotic. But animals are just… simple. Attentive. No words to confuse them. I remember that from my parents. Perhaps through them, I left you those insightful notes. But beyond that…" She trailed off when she struggled to remember any more particulars. This thought alone set loose a deep yearning that was usually hidden in a compartment inside her. It was difficult to focus on anything else until she felt Din's eyes intent upon her. Under them, she managed to regain her voice and went on quietly. "Mostly I just remember… sensations. Echoes of memories I may have imagined."
She decided she'd been rambling, and locked up her strongbox again as she looked sadly down at the table. She found herself fighting tears while blurry images of her parents flashed over her eyes. The longing hadn't escaped its secret compartment in years, and now she couldn't get it back inside. The camaraderie she felt with the Mandalorian and Grogu may have shaken these old feelings loose, and Aldor fought against an overwhelming flood as she remembered them. It was almost too much, so she kept her face bent on her lap to hide the struggle from her companion. "F… forgive me… Din… I'm afraid I drifted a bit there…"
His fingers wrapped tight around hers as he shook his head. "No, Aldor. There's… nothing to forgive."
The warmth of the strong fingers clasped to her hand rallied her spirits. Coupled with the sound of her name spoken so intimately in his velvety baritone, it brought a weak smile to her face, and she finally managed to look at him again. "I don't think of it often, so when I do it's sometimes…"
"…too much."
Aldor held his eyes as he held hers. He'd pulled it out of her mind because it felt familiar. He still wouldn't acknowledge what he'd done, but he knew. So she merely nodded as a way of agreeing with him.
"What about… the Temple? Did you find family there?"
Aldor smiled and nodded, using the distraction of clearer memories to wrangle her wayward old hopes back into their hiding spot. "Some," she answered. "Grogu, of course. The dear old Archivist, Madame Jocasta. I adored her. She used to play music for me after hours in the archives whenever I helped her tidy up. I just stayed there with her because I loved being around her. Her mind was extraordinary, so I learned something from her every time I spent more than five minutes in her presence. Master Ha'saan was a good friend of hers, and I spent many evenings with them, just listening to them talk about what was happening in the Clone Wars and the things they remembered from the old days. They never made me feel like a nuisance like some of the other Masters did."
"The Archivist… is she the one who helped you with your… collection."
"She was. She and Master Ha'saan. They were the only ones who believed me when I told them what I saw. I think Master Yoda saw it too, but in his position… what could he do?"
"Master Yoda?" Din asked with some familiarity. "I met… Ahsoka Tano… she's the one who told me to take Grogu to Tython… she talked about Master Yoda too. And I think Grogu remembers him. Who was he?"
"Grogu's species, as I'm sure Ahsoka told you. He was the Jedi Grandmaster for centuries."
"Was he… like… Grogu?"
Aldor smiled and chuckled with fondness. "He was. In many ways. But Master Yoda was much older. I believe he was a decade or two shy of nine-hundred when I was at the Temple. But he and Grogu did share a sort of… lightness about them. A peculiar one, but… the soul of their bond with the Force." She flashed Din a knowing smile. "Master Yoda made many mistakes, but he was never above admitting to them. I think it helps that their species never take themselves too seriously."
A chuckle pushed through the modulator and shook the cuirass. "I think that must be true."
Aldor watched the fading Mandalorian for a moment or two longer while she enjoyed the reverberation of his one brief laugh. It fell onto her skin like little golden droplets as she sensed the smile behind the beskar growing smaller and the eyes growing heavier. A soft sort of hum settled into her heart. She still felt his golden sheet wrapped around her arm while his fingers remained locked to her hand. In this glow of golden sheets and resonating laughter, she suddenly realized she couldn't imagine spending another day without the Mandalorian. It was almost too much to take in after being alone so long. But lately, it didn't matter whether it was more than she could take or not. Din Djarin was one of a kind, and Aldor decided he was well worth the risk. She decided then and there that she'd do anything she could for this man, if only in thanks for his willingness to listen to her ramble.
It was nice to be heard. Perhaps she had some things to get off her chest too. He took them graciously. No judgment. No questions or suggestions. Just… attention. Understanding. Tenderness. She needed to repay him. Not because he might expect it of her, but because she wanted to. So she felt now was the time to get one more thing off her chest. It had been sitting there for weeks. He needed to hear it as much as she needed to say it, but she'd been shy of sharing because she was afraid he'd find it patronizing. But now she was sure she could tell him convincingly enough to make him understand how sincerely she meant it. "You know, Din," she began. "I think you're exactly the man Grogu should spend these years of his life with. You understand each other. You've given him a basis in reality in a way only you could. But you've also maintained his belief in goodness in spite of how ugly your realities have been. I don't know how you've done it given all you've been through, but the foundation you're building for him is strong enough to support nine-hundred years of experience. I never could have brought him this far so quickly without that foundation."
Din huffed hard through his helmet and stared down at the table. While he remained quietly sitting there like a beskar statue, his feelings were unleashed. Not droplets, but torrents of molten gold sank into her marrow and pulsed through her heart, spreading an exquisite warmth throughout her body as Din's other hand came down on top of hers. "You honor me, my Lady." His statement was whisper soft, but so deep, it shook the ground beneath them. His tone was almost apologetic when he spoke again. "I don't know… if I'm worthy…"
"Oh, my sweet Mandalorian, you absolutely are. I told you. He would not be here if not for you."
"I wouldn't be here if not for him."
"Because you are aware of that, Din Djarin, you are worthy of more praise than I alone can give."
Din couldn't get comfortable. Usually, the thick, soft pelt of fur was the essence of rest. But tonight, he found himself tossing and turning, trying to get into a good position and just sleep. He was tired after his long hike toward the eastern point of the Eye, but he just couldn't get comfortable. He realized with some consternation that his armor was what was giving him trouble. It was digging into him in places he hadn't noticed before, making his chest feel trapped and his arms and legs heavy. He resisted it for at least an hour, but finally had enough, and walked quietly to the fresher to take it off. The moment he was free from his vest of underfittings, relief washed over him. He paused before he put his helmet back on. It was a split second of indecision, but for that split second, the last thing he wanted to do was fit the helmet back over his head. He didn't even know why. It just seemed… unnecessary. But he put it back on, deciding he'd revealed too much to her already.
After he settled back into the pelt, he finally came somewhere near comfortable as he burrowed into the softness under his beleaguered body. He indulged himself in a long look over her face before he closed his eyes, and remembered that she had revealed quite a lot too. More than he would have expected. More than he realized he wanted to know until he'd already asked his questions. He was grateful he asked them when the soft, sweet alto sounded every word like a practiced storyteller, painting a picture he could easily see with remarkable clarity. Like he had been there with her when they were both children. Like he'd been with her ever since.
Strong as it already was, the bond between them had strengthened and evolved over the course of one evening. Tonight over the table, his being smiled from the moment she answered his first question about geysers, and on until she bid him good night. He never should have let her take his hand. His fingers may have been covered in leather, but he still felt her hand wrapped around them while he recalled the heart-felt compliment she paid him. It nearly brought him to kneel in humility before her. She said it so thoughtfully, he could almost believe he was the man she saw when she looked at him.
Din was restless with his recollections, even though he was decidedly more comfortable in body. He was so tired, but his mind was racing while his heart struggled through its new configurations. At last, he had no other choice but to resort to Aldor's mediation techniques. He closed his eyes and imagined the breeze through the tundra grasses outside. He took a number of measured breaths, willing his head to clear. Surprisingly, it worked, and he finally managed to settle on his side and let the soft sounds of her breath lull him to sleep.
Hours later, Din startled awake. Whatever his dreams had been, he expected some evil warlord to be standing over him. When he opened his eyes, his heart jolted to see his blaster trained squarely at Aldor where she slept. He dropped the blaster as if it had burned him, for once hating how quick his reflexes had been. The split-second image of the barrel trained on her was terrifying, and he immediately set the blaster by his armor in the tight corner behind him. He looked back at her, trying to clear the image from his mind. But it offered no relief. She was sleeping uneasily, as if the barrel he'd trained on her precious head had deepened her nightmares.
He sat up to watch her more attentively when a soft cry murmured through her lips. She was curled into a fetal ball under the furs while sad murmurs and soft sobs continued shudder through her. She drew herself tighter inward, trembling and weeping, diminished to a tiny quivering lump under a shimmering white pelt. He'd never seen her look so small. So helpless. She even sounded like a wounded child while she mumbled through her nightmare. The words weren't clear, but their tone was. Grief and agony. Paralyzing fear. Desperation. Confusion.
The moment he wondered what she was dreaming about, Din suddenly found himself in a chaotic scene of blaster fire and lightsabers. Hundreds of Clone Troopers all firing at her and the children she was trying to protect. Din jerked forward, instinct driving him to shield her. But he quickly remembered he was merely an observer watching in helpless terror while she shielded the children from a barrage of blaster bolts. She had to save them. Have to save them. Not fair. Don't deserve this. None of us do…. The thoughts laced through the scenes were silenced when she realized there were just too many of them. Children fell dead in front of her, bleeding and crying with their last breaths, confused and betrayed. Every single blaster bolt and every keening whimper ripped through her as if she'd been struck herself. But when she looked down, she found herself unscathed.
"Not fair…" she sobbed in a slurred whisper. "Not… fair…" Her face disintegrated into hopelessness, and Din watched in horror while a dark vapor settled around her face, then grew heavier as it spread out to encase her body in thick, black bonds. Din's heart faltered to see her overtaken, and was across the room before he could decide against it. He stopped a few feet from where she lay in the bunk, afraid of startling her. Afraid of waking her in this state as she lay like a fragile flower under the furs, trembling and falling into the darkness, sobbing while Clone Troopers surrounded her, bearing down until they came together into a menacing white wall. Din begged her to come away from it. It shouldn't have you. Don't let it take you, my Lady. Every muscle in his body jerked toward her, compelled and almost forced to lay his hands on her. He needed to touch her. Let her feel his hand holding her in the light. Needed to take her into his arms to pull her away from all this death. But to wake her now might be dangerous. As well as he knew this, he almost didn't care while he watched her wilt right in front of him, consumed in scene after scene of blood and chaos. Dead children piled up around her. Gasping Masters charging her to be brave. Her family. All slaughtered in front of her eyes while the darkness tightened its grip on her, crushed in this emptiness that drew her so deep into herself, Din was afraid she'd never come back.
He couldn't allow this. She needed him. Needed him more than she ever had. He had to bring her back, so he called on his useless store of anxious energy to help her out of this gaping chasm that tried to pull her in. He told it how much Grogu needed her to come back. Begged it to act on his own behalf because he couldn't lose her either.
Remind her of her strength. Tell her she is fierceand beautiful. Tell her I will protect her. Keep her in the light. Promise her this. Tell her everything. Show me this power has a use and bring her back to me. Just… bring her back.
A deep rumble from the seething core of his heart answered him, and cracked the beskar plating around it. A bolt of pure plasma escaped the overtaxed furnace through new chinks, and lashed itself to her. Din followed the flow of plasma from his heart to hers, finding it consumed by this black cloud of evil while images of betrayal and death continued to flicker through her mind and draw tears from her eyes. He sank to his knees and inched closer, pushing everything he couldn't say into the new bond his heart had created while he willed it take whatever effect it could take, even if it killed him in the process.
The only answer was a wicked, disgusting voice that droned the same words over and over like some sinister prayer. The Clone Troopers had her pinned down, blasters pointed at her head and ready to fire. Then a blinding volley of bolts, and all Din saw when he looked at her was blood and blue silk. In front of his very eyes, she lay there in her bunk, broken and soaked in blood, frozen and lifeless. His stomach turned over in his gut and his heart came to a full stop while his veins filled with ice. In a blind panic, he lurched forward, near tears and torn apart by the sickening image. He had to save her. Somehow. Take her into his arms and heal her. But before he could move closer, the image faded, and she lay there like silk again, still trapped and trembling in the black bonds that were trying to squeeze the life out of her.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes, but they weren't her. There was no spark. No life. No Aldor. There was only a wave of freezing cold that poured off her while the black bonds dragged her deeper into the darkness under the same dead, putrid voice that croaked over and over, "Execute Order Sixty-six."
He couldn't let this happen. Not to her. He shot to her side and desperately whispered her name, brushed her hair from her face with his fingertips, not caring if it was wise to wake her anymore. He filled his palm with the warmth and softness of her cheek and did everything he could to call her back to it while she stared straight ahead, but saw nothing of her Mandalorian in front of her. It tore his heart in half, and the breached furnace in his chest unleashed something huge and resounding that poured through his limbs. He summoned whatever power he might have to gather it and force it down his arm and fingers until it sank into her trembling flesh. Because he knew it needed to be there. Because he wanted it there. Because he had to bring her back.
The droning demon backed off, but remained in the shadows, doing all it could to convince her she was weak. When it sensed Din trying to help, it pulled the same trick on him. But he didn't buy any of it. The Dark Saber couldn't convince him, and he sure as fuck wouldn't let this thing try to fool him either. And he would die before he let it fool her.
Don't believe his bantha shit. I know how strong you are. You licked six of Gorian Shard's pirates. Let me see her. Let me see the woman who took Vane's head off his shoulders. She's there. I feel her. Please, my Lady. Come back to me.
When the demon finally gave up, Din poured everything he had into his entreaties, begging her to wake. He willed it to surround and infuse her, told it again that he needed its help. Begged it to do all it could, no matter what happened to him. He needed to look into the blue eyes and see her again. Strong again. A survivor. Like me. Strong, Aldor. You're so strong. Remember it. I'm here... I'm with you... please, my Lady… come back…
A bare hand. Warm. So tender. Fingers brushing gently through her hair. A soft, resonant voice. Modulated, but so tender. A blanket of golden warmth covering her, shielding her from the Emperor. It felt like the voice. Felt like the hand.
"Aldor… my Lady… I'm here. It's me, cyare. Din Djarin… your Mandalorian… come back to me Aldor. Please… come back to me…"
At last Aldor jerked awake, and the familiar visor came into focus. "Din…" she whimpered.
He leaned in closer, curling his fingers deeper into her hair. "Yes, my Lady…" He sounded relieved. Like he'd lost her somehow and finally found her again. "I'm here, Aldor. Dreaming… you were dreaming…"
Aldor was too relieved to think when she found herself at home again, embraced in Din Djarin's voice. She burst into tears with it and rushed into him as his arms enveloped her, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Soft fabric and warmth. A clean, spicy scent she wanted to bathe in. It meant safety. It meant home. Palpatine couldn't touch her while these arms held her. No programmed Clones. No dying children. Just this scent. This warmth. This voice.
"Aldor," he whispered again, the quiet baritone strained and urgent. He gently disengaged himself from her embrace and took her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to his. "Look at me, my Lady… tell me you see me… I know you do… strong… you're so strong…"
"I… I see you… Din… I am so happy… to see you…" She disintegrated again, curling into herself until his arms took her back into a tight embrace. For what felt like hours, she sobbed pitifully into his black tunic, not even knowing why. She tried to focus on his scent and his warmth while she fought to chase the last remnant of darkness away, but it lingered still, and she felt lost.
Din sensed the struggle, and pulled her head protectively into his chest, guarding her with one broad, gentle hand while he wrapped his entire upper body around her, cradling her against him and whispering into her hair. "You're okay, my Lady," he murmured. "It was just a nightmare. You're back now. You're in the YT with me. With Grogu. On the Eye. Right here with you, my Lady. Right here. I won't let it have you. I promise I won't let it have you." Fear and darkness cowered away from this tenderness from the Mandalorian. The evil in her dreams had no power against it, and at last it fled from the deep rumble of his voice. She wanted to kiss the beskar. Kiss the hands. Big and so warm cradling the back of her head while her sobs gradually died away.
He disengaged himself again and took her face back between his palms. He searched her eyes, looking for something particular. Once he found it, he hesitantly released her and backed away from the bunk to kneel a short distance away on one knee, watching her carefully in silence while Aldor's mind began to clear. She sighed and dropped her face in her hands, closing her eyes against the heat in them, and struggled to awaken her reason.
She must have delved too deeply into the strongbox she'd opened. Perhaps it was long overdue. No matter where this nightmare came from, Aldor was shaken. It had been years since the darkness came for her. Something had happened in the Galaxy. Whether it had to do with Palpatine or Mandalore or what was left of the Jedi, she didn't know. It was a warning maybe. An alert built into her ability. She didn't know what it meant, and couldn't think about it right now. It would warrant consideration later, but for now the darkness was gone. She was awake. And she was safe. That was all she needed to know.
The last time the darkness came for her, she'd been alone, and spent days trying to put herself back together. But this time things were different, and she almost felt like herself already. For half a moment, she forgot how she'd rallied so quickly. Then she felt a tug from the Mandalorian's feelings, and she wondered how she could have possibly forgotten him even for a second. He was still kneeling in front of her. Still watching her attentively. Deep concern pulsed through the golden blanket wrapped around her, and she realized he was in as sorry a state as she was. "Oh… Din… my sweet Mandalorian, I'm so sorry…"
"No," he murmured, shaking his head as he heaved an enormous sigh. Like his initial relief was nothing compared to what he felt now, listening to her stutter through an unnecessary apology. "No, Aldor. Don't apologize. I'm just glad you're… you… again. Had to make sure you were… out of it. I was worried. Your eyes were open and you… went cold. Wasn't… you. Sc…scared me."
Aldor nodded. "Scared me too," she sighed let her eyes fall to the floor. She felt another pull from Din as she sensed him wanting to touch her. He gave in slightly when he leaned forward to push a thick lock of hair out of her face, but quickly withdrew again when his fingertips brushed carelessly over her cheek. He sucked in a deep breath and leaned back while he continued to watch her in silence, feeling like he shouldn't leave her just yet. She lifted her head to look again at the beskar helmet and the precious man beneath it who had brought her back to the light. At last she managed a smile in the glow of the golden blanket that still embraced her. "Thank you, my Mandalorian," she whispered. "The darkness wanted to take me, but you wouldn't let it. For that, I'll always be in your debt. Thank you… from the bottom of my heart… for bringing me back."
"No, my Lady… don't thank me," he murmured, the helmet bent to the floor as he shook his head. "You don't owe me anything. Selfish really… because… I'm not sure… not sure what I would do… if you weren't… you…" His voice tapered into silence while Aldor sat in a state of affectionate awe to hear these words from her sweet Mandalorian. She had none to answer him with, and struggled through the heavy silence to resist a thousand urges to touch him. Join him on the floor and wrap herself around him; bury her face in the warmth and scent that meant safety.
"Where… where were you?" he asked. "What I saw was… fucking horrifying… that demon… that voice… What was it saying to you? What was it trying to do to you?"
"It was a memory. The demon… that was Palpatine… commanding the Clones to carry out Order 66," Aldor said through a trembling sigh. "He was trying to… turn me… or kill me… didn't matter to him…"
"I've heard you mention it… Order 66… but…"
"It was the command the Emperor gave to kill all the Jedi. Masters and Younglings alike. I only know of a handful who escaped it, including myself."
"Younglings? They… they really… they actually killed… the children?"
Aldor nodded darkly. "All of us. Like I said, didn't matter to him. This nightmare… I'm worried it may mean something… the hunt may be on again after all these years… I don't know… but something… something's stirring again… always was probably, but…"
Aldor's words trailed off when a bolt of blue fire flashed from the center of the Mandalorian's chest, and his breath kicked up when the ground rumbled underfoot. "I've fought them off before," he spat defiantly. "They couldn't take my son and I'll be damned if they ever have you. I swear to you, my Lady, I won't let them touch you. I swear it."