pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 9.8K

chapter summary: Marathel explains it all.

author's note: This is the chapter where Marathel finally tells the whole story of her upbringing in the Hold, as well as what she learned about herself from the Reconstructionists. This chapter is very dark, full of descriptions of triggering events, as well as deliberate and liberal use of the c-word. The warnings are under the cut. If you have been keeping up with this story, you should have a feel for where this chapter is going to go. If you find warnings potentially triggering, please don't continue.

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***

warnings: angst, violence to women, violence to animals, aftermath of ritual abuse, aftermath of ritual sexual abuse, aftermath of torture, mental illness, degradation of women, rape, rape aftermath, non-con sexual situations, sexual situations, suicide ideation, suicide attempt aftermath, miscarriage by violence, allusion to drug use, description of ritual sexual abuse, description of child sexual abuse, past child abuse, sexual abuse by children, deep misogynistic entrenchment, mention of incest and infertility, mention of medical issues, English and Mando'a cursing

Din sat in the cockpit of the Crest, listening to the engines scream their way through hyperspace. Up until three weeks ago, he believed he had enjoyed a relative sameness to his days. Any other bounty trip, he would be lounging in his seat, in the galley drinking caf, taking a nap, preparing for the hunt. The addition of Grogu changed these options very little; Din now had a companion for these activities — although Din drew the line at giving Grogu caf. The kid had once sneaked half a cup while Din was taking a leak and the boy practically vibrated for the next three hours.

Now, Din was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched the striations of hyperspace, willing his ship to move faster. What is Marathel thinking? Going back to Unmanarall? She'd better get that thought out of her head, because there is no way I'm going to let that happen! I'm just now getting used to the concept of her being a part of my life! Of Grogu's life! I didn't get my head smashed in, nearly burn out my ship's engines, break my feet, and get smacked with a … fucking giant dildo just for her to go running back to that … pit of degradation! To those men, who did their best to destroy her!

Nope, not gonna happen.

Earlier, Din had received a message from Cobb, who let him know that the women were due in Mos Eisley a few hours after Din and Grogu were scheduled to get back to Mos Espa. Din offered to get them from the spaceport, but Cobb said that he had it under control. Din then said he and Grogu would run over to Mos Eisley on a speeder, meet them there, be there for when Marathel returned, but Cobb suggested that Din and Grogu just wait for them at the palace. Din, irritated, then sent Boba a string of messages, essentially to bitch that Cobb was being an asshole, telling him that Cobb didn't have the right to tell him what to do, nor should Cobb do what he perceived as keeping Marathel away from him, especially since he suspected Cobb had been a bit fresh with Marathel. Boba sent a single response:

BF: Chill the fuck out Din

Boba must have forwarded Fennec the string of messages, for she had sent Din a new holo of Marathel, sitting on the padded bench, her feet up, her lap covered with a blanket that Din had not seen before. She was in profile as she stared out the large window of the carriage, gazing at the same striations of hyperspace as he. Her face was calm, but hard, as if she were wearing invisible armor. Din focused on Marathel's eyes, which were steadfast, almost stern, like she had made a definitive decision — and he was sure she intended to give him the brush-off for reasons he did not know or understand.

Mesh'la, he thought. Don't make me let you go. Just look at me and tell me what has hardened your heart.

Marathel had finally uncurled herself from her protective ball, and was lounging on the padded bench, her new-to-her blanket over her lap. The light show outside the window was fascinating to her. This was the first time she was cognizant of her traveling through space, a concept that was still so strange. Her whole life, she had only known the Hold, and now she knew that merely was tiny patch of land on a little ball that was floating in darkness with many balls, little and big, very similar or vastly different from the one she knew. There is so much that I don't know, thought Marathel. At least I know that I know nothing.

As she continued to gaze out the window, Marathel noticed a dark shape moving within the moving stripes of light. It was large — it had to be huge — certainly larger than this ship that Marathel was currently sitting in. Whatever it was, it was moving at the same speed as the ship she was on but undulating as it moved. Occasionally, some part of it pierced the light striations, sending sparks behind it.

Marathel rolled up to her knees and moved to the window to get a better look. Fennec, who had been reading the blind copy of Din's irritated ramblings to Boba, noticed her movement. She looked up to see Marathel kneeling next to the window, hands on the perspex shield, looking with wonder at the hyperspace lights outside. Curious, Fennec captured a quick holo of Marathel — she looked quite pretty, with her face full of amazement — and stood to look out the window herself.

"Can you see it, Fennec? What is it?"

"That's a Purrgil. A Purrgil Ultra, I would guess, by its size."

Marathel scoffed. "Yes, of course, a Purrgil. I should have known. But what is it?"

Fennec chuckled. "It's a space whale."

"A whale? I don't know what that is."

Fennec, amused, replied, "No whales on your planet?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"You have fish, though, right?"

"Fish, yes, but nothing that large."

"Well, most whales are mammals, not fish … but anyway, these whales, instead of swimming in water, they follow the slipstreams of hyperspace. Sometimes they collide with ships, and ships will often shoot at them to get them to leave."

"What a terrible thing to do. I think they are beautiful creatures."

"They can be dangerous," said Fennec with a shrug.

"She's not dangerous," said Marathel. "She's only keeping us company." Marathel continued to kneel at the window, watching the Purrgil. Fennec went back to her holopad and her conversation with Boba about what a pain Din was at the moment. Fennec had just shot off the message Din's just being a lovesick jackwagon, and I recall voicing my concerns about Cobb and you blew me off when Marathel gasped; the Purrgil had come closer to the ship and appeared to be looking back at Marathel with her enormous eye.

"Hello," whispered Marathel. I see you, and I think you see me. What a magnificent thing you are! The Purrgil's eye was the deepest blue-green of the lagoon below the cliff on Unmanarall, the one she … her thought was interrupted by the piercing whistle of a red laser blast hitting the giant Purrgil. The Purrgil shrieked, the sound reverberating into the ship, rattling the window and vibrating through Marathel's soul. "NO!" screamed Marathel, beating her hands on the window. "She wasn't hurting anyone!" Marathel felt Fennec's hands on her shoulders, pulling her away from the perspex. The Purrgil was hit with more laser blasts, and Marathel could feel the vibrations of the Purrgil wailing. Marathel began to wail as well. "WHY? Why are they hurting her? Why do they always have to hurt everything?" Marathel crumpled down to the floor and sobbed into her hands. "It neverstops! It neverchanges! They always hurtus, they only ever want to killus, and it NEVER STOPS!"

The door of the carriage slid open, and a conductor entered, saying, "Ladies! You're disturbing the other passengers!"

Fennec stood and faced the conductor. "I'm trying — but she's not well!" Marathel continued to sob. "Give her some time, she will calm down … she was a torture victim! She's just upset!"

The conductor backed up and called into his wrist communicator: "send the medi-droid to suite X-1138 immediately." Fennec stepped forward, and the conductor put his hands up. "You brought an unstable woman aboard? She will need to be tranquilized for the remainder of the journey."

Fennec turned back to Marathel, saying, "Marathel, please, you need to quiet down, you need to calm yourself, or they're going to tranq you."

"I don't want to be CALM! I don't want to be STILL! I don't want to be quiet anymore! I want to be angry! Why am I not allowed to be ANGRY?"

Fennec took Marathel's hands. "You can be angry all you want, but what you're doing isn't going to help you or the Purrgil." Fennec put her hands on Marathel's shoulders, giving her a little shake and hissing, "You're drawing too much attention. Now get up off the floor."

A medical droid appeared in the doorway, and Marathel looked at it in panic before she shut her eyes and worked to calm her breathing. Fennec helped Marathel back to the padded bench, giving her back the blanket, and sat next to her, taking Marathel's hand, which was knotted into a fist. The conductor grunted and tapped a report into his holopad. After a short time, the conductor snapped, "Arm," holding out his hand. Marathel gave the conductor a baleful look but dutifully lifted her arm. The conductor scanned the chip. "Refugee from Jakuu," muttered the conductor.

"Yes," replied Marathel.

"Name?"

"Marathel ap Unmapeth."

The conductor looked at Marathel. "From Jakuu? With a name like that? Only ever heard a surname of that sort from Lew'el before." The conductor harrumphed and went back to tapping on the holopad. "Spice addict?"

"No," snapped Fennec. "A … slave, a torture victim, like I said. Badly injured and still recovering."

The conductor scowled. "A belligerent and combative patient still requires tranquilizers and a medical permit."

Fennec took a deep breath, attempting to control herself before she began whaling on this jerk's ass. "She had never seen a Purrgil, and was upset when the ship began firing on it. She has been greatly traumatized recently. Have some damn compassion."

The conductor snorted. "I need to get back to First Class. Keep her quiet," he snapped as he and the medi-droid left the cabin, shutting the door behind them.

Fennec grumbled under her breath. That went well. And as much as she'd just like to slap the woman and tell her to get it the fuck together, Fennec knew she couldn't — not just because Marathel had had enough of that kind of treatment, but because Din would lose his everloving shit. Forget a Life Day rom-com holovid, these two are a walking Naboo tragic opera, for kriffing out loud. Fennec also believed that Marathel was working towards the Death Star explosion of all meltdowns soon, and she did not want to be within range of that.

Marathel put her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, Fennec, you're right, I'm behaving … foolishly." She roughly swiped her tears away. "I'll be quiet from now on." She leaned back and looked out the window again. "She's gone. I hope she wasn't badly hurt. Or killed."

Fennec took Marathel's hand again and gently squeezed it. "Purrgils are tough. They have to be, to live out there. One that size could have destroyed this whole ship, even accidentally."

Marathel sniffed. "Well, maybe this ship shouldn't be where they are. Even I know enough to stay out of the water where the Great Godynferth is." Marathel looked thoughtful. "I keep forgetting to tell Grogu that story."

"Will I get to hear it?" Fennec asked with a chuckle. "Will Din get to hear it?"

"I don't believe he'll want to, after he hears what I must tell him."

"Marathel … I think you really underestimate Din Djarin."

Marathel sighed. No, Fennec, I don't think I do. Din Djarin is still a man, and men don't like to hear certain things. Certain truths. She continued to hold Fennec's hand, and both women watched the hyperspace go by.

It was several hours later when the transport touched down at Mos Eisley spaceport. Marathel and Fennec passed through customs easily, as they had only a small bag for luggage, and they both had chips. The spaceport was large and noisy, making Marathel nervous, so she stuck close to Fennec. Fennec saw Cobb waiting on the other side of the security barrier and waved. He waved back, a single flick of his hand, and waited for the women to clear security, gazing at Marathel.

She looks so beautiful, and still so sad. They may have healed her wounds, but her heart looks irreparably broken, thought Cobb, and he sighed. And Din, of course, thinks he needs to fix her. And if what I think is true … then … I just hope he's still willing to try.

The women finally made it out of security after a final scan of their chips. Marathel was rubbing her arm where the chip was, and apparently had been doing so for some time, as her arm was red, and Fennec pulled her hand away. Cobb came forward, intending to pull Marathel into a hug, but she deftly sidestepped him. Instead, Cobb took the bag she was wearing over her shoulder, and he took hold of her hand so she could not rub her arm any longer. Marathel looked up at Cobb, thinking about protesting, but deciding not to bother.

"You look a lot better, honey. Din will be very happy to see you." Marathel shrugged, and Cobb put his other arm around her, leading both of them out of the spaceport to a speeder parked nearby.

"I'm so tired," said Marathel. "Is it far to the palace?"

"A couple – three hours, unfortunately. But you can curl up in the back and take a nap, if you like. Riding shotgun, Fennec?"

Fennec yawned. "If I have to. I hope you don't want company, Cobb. I'll probably doze off myself."

"If I'm tired, you must be exhausted, Fennec," mused Marathel. "Not only have you had to run from station to planet and back again, but you've also had to put up with me - and my bad moods - this whole time. All I've had to do was just sit there."

Fennec, surprised to hear some light-heartedness coming from Marathel, replied, "Well, that's as maybe, but I didn't get genetically modified over the past couple of days." She squeezed Marathel's free hand. "Are you ready?" Marathel looked at Fennec, and in Fennec's eyes she could see the unasked question: are you ready to face Din?

Marathel nodded, and let Cobb help her into the back of the speeder. Once they were on their way, Marathel was unable to keep her eyes open, so she wrapped herself in her blanket, lay down on the bench seat, and fell asleep.

Din and Grogu had landed back at the palace and were waiting. Grogu was doing a much better job of being patient. He had wrangled a second dinner out of Silnima, and had eaten so slow Din wondered briefly if the boy were sick again. Din kept looking into the kitchen corridor, listening for any commotion that seemed like someone was returning to the palace. Each time, Grogu would coo or bleat, any kind of noise that would draw Din's attention back to him. Eventually, Din twigged to what the boy was doing, and he was grateful. "How'd you get so smart, little guy?" He dipped his head to press his forehead to Grogu's.

Boba poked his head into the kitchen. "There you are. They just hit Mos Epsa," he said, and Din leapt to his feet, snatching Grogu off the table, who squawked angrily at his food being left behind. Din followed Boba down the maze of corridors, silently seething at what he perceived as Boba's deliberate slowness. By the time they made it to the landing tunnel, Cobb had just brought the speeder in. Din could see Cobb, and Fennec beside him, but Marathel was nowhere to be seen. Din pushed past Boba, panicking, wondering where she came up alongside the speeder and saw what could only be Marathel: a familiar-looking rounded lump under a blanket, her long hair flowing out and hanging down on the floorboards. He reached over and gently shook her by the ankle, whispering, "Marathel? Mesh'la?"

Cobb shouted, "Wake up, Mar', we're at Grandpa's!" which sent Fennec — who was overtired and punchy — into peals of laughter, and Marathel's head popped up from under the blanket.

Grogu jumped out of Din's arms and landed on Marathel's legs. Marathel grunted, still squinting against the light in the tunnel, looking so soft and sleep-warm Din thought momentarily of crawling under the blanket to cuddle her. She blinked at Grogu, finally realizing he was there, and joy spread across her face. "My little Godynferth!" she cried, pulling him against her in a tight hug. "My love, my sweet," Marathel continued to coo at the boy while he shouted Mama over and over.

Fennec and Cobb shared an exasperated look before they climbed out of the speeder. Boba was already there to assist Fennec, and he gave her a quick surreptitious hug before taking Marathel's bag and asking, "Marathel? Do you need help?"

Din grunted and reached over the side of the speeder, saying, "Let me take Grogu…"

Marathel shook her head. "I've got him, just help me up, please," she said, reaching out with her hand.

Din took her hand in his, feeling her splinted fingers, wrapped in metal coils through the leather of his glove. Oh, mesh'la, you're here, you're finally here. "You look much better, ma'mwsh ha'laa. So much stronger." He gently pulled her up to a standing position, then wrapped his free arm around her to lift her out of the speeder. She allowed his arm to remain around her waist as they followed the others back into the palace. Grogu continued to clutch at her, softly saying Mama. Marathel smiled sadly and stroked his fuzzy head. Putting his hand over hers on Grogu's back, Din asked, "Are you feeling all right? Are you tired?"

Marathel nodded. "I am tired, but also … it's hard to say. Twitchy? Jumpy?"

"I know the feeling. Exhausted, but unable to relax." He squeezed her hand. "Let's get you back to your room," he said, inwardly grimacing, hoping she wouldn't misunderstand. "... So you can go back to sleep," he added.

"No, I …" Marathel stopped walking. She turned and looked straight into Din's visor. "We need to speak to each other, sooner than later. There are things I must tell you."

Din lifted his hand to cup her cheek. "Can it not wait until you've rested? You've been through so much the past few days." He could finally see her face fully, straight-on, not hidden by hair. She looked exhausted; her eyes puffy. The gash down her face still looked very red and angry, and she appeared to have abraded skin near her temples, possibly burn-marks from sensors. Her lips were dry. He wanted to kiss her so much, scoop her up in his arms, lay her down on a soft bed and hold her until she fell asleep.

"Perhaps, but … I don't feel I can rest until I have said what I need to say." Marathel looked down at Grogu, who was snuggled into her bosom and falling asleep. "We should put him to bed, and then I need a few minutes to collect my thoughts." Please let me put Grogu to bed, Bounty Hunter, this may be my last opportunity to do so.

Din closed his eyes, dreading whatever she was going to tell him, but he nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. But when she made a move to begin walking again, he stopped her, holding her close, pressing his forehead to hers. "What I said, what I told you, before you left … I meant it. I love you, Marathel. I love you."

Marathel pulled back, and looked sadly into his visor, putting her hand on his helmet where she thought his mouth would be. "I believe you." She sighed, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek. "I believe you think that." Marathel turned, slipping out of his grasp, and continued down the corridor. Din remained a step behind her as they walked by the kitchen, where they could hear Silnima, Cobb, Fennec, and Boba talking in low voices.

For no reason at all, Marathel chose that very moment to stop walking and say to Din, "I don't know where your room is." It was an odd moment for Din, who felt the eyes of not only Marathel but her four new champions who were about to watch him leading her to his room, even though she was carrying Grogu as a mother would her child. Because that is who she is, thought Din, as he gently placed his hand on her lower back again, wordlessly leading her further down the corridor. The four people in the kitchen continued their chat.

Din led Marathel into his room, a room that was nearly identical to hers. She sat on the bed, rolling Grogu from her arms, who giggled. "My sweet boy, I missed you so." Marathel looked up at Din. "May I sing to him? The proper part of the only song?" Din nodded, silent, waiting. Marathel began humming the tune Din now knew so well. She settled Grogu in the bed. Stroking the child's ears, she sang:

"Anar'mae'n amser, ch'si gysgu,

gorffwys nawr unwff bychsgu,

buth Frith yn mynd aro'lr ffwrs'wych,

llonyddwch, llonyddwch, a'gor llyrs'wych."

"For your benefit, little one – and for your father as well – what I said was ... It is time to sleep, little one, it is time to rest – Frith will watch over you while you sleep, be still, be still, be quiet until morning." Smiling at the sleeping boy, Marathel carefully got up and waited while Din recited his traditional Mando'a words. When he was finished, Marathel leaned over to Grogu's ear and whispered, "Rwy'n di'rugar."

As she stood, Din suddenly captured her in his arms, pulling her close, his forehead to hers, her body fully against his. They stood this way in the darkened room for some time. "Say that to me. Please," he whispered.

Marathel, her forehead still pressed against his, shook her head. "I can't. Not to you."

"Why not?"

"Because you are not a baby. Those words are only said to babies. Not to men."

"You did before." His hand slid down her back, coming to a rest just above the swell of her backside. "Just not in your Oldtalk."

"I thought … that was the last time I would speak to you."

Din's other hand went into her hair, tangling his fingers in it, caressing her skull. He felt anger bubbling. "Did you lie about that?" Great Frith, he was getting hard in his pants, and she knew it, and she gasped, startled. Haar'chak, no, please don't start acting out one of your dreams, Djarin!

Marathel took a step back, Din letting go of her immediately. "Please, just give me a few minutes. I'll be in my room." She stepped out and headed back towards the kitchen.

Din felt great shame at expressing lust for her when she had so recently been abused.

Marathel felt horrified that she had felt a response within her, she, who was a monster undeserving of such a feeling.

Marathel fetched herself a mug of tea, and she received a warm welcome back from Silnima. Now that her back was properly healing, she felt more comfortable being hugged by the Headwoman. The others were still in the kitchen, and they had gone silent when Marathel had entered. Boba and Fennec looked at each other, while Cobb considered her with a face that was somehow both sad and hopeful. Marathel said her goodnights, and went off to her room, Boba and Fennec right behind her, but they continued down the corridor and out of sight.

It was a good quarter-hour before Cobb heard Din's footsteps coming towards them. He was walking with purpose, but not rushing. He looked momentarily into the kitchen as he passed it, catching Cobb's worried look. What does he know? wondered Din.

Coming to her opened door, Din tapped on it, quietly calling, "Marathel?"

"Come in," replied Marathel. Din entered and began to close the door. "No, please, leave the door open."

Din straightened. He would have thought that she'd want privacy for this conversation. He wondered if she didn't feel safe, alone with him. The room was only lit by the bedside lamp, which cast a dim glow. Marathel had the shutters open, and she was sitting on the deep windowsill, looking out at the night sky, about four feet from the floor of the room, but about ten feet to the hard-packed ground of the courtyard below.

"Marathel, I don't like you sitting up there."

"Don't worry. I don't plan to jump. Besides, it's not high enough. I'd only cripple myself and become a burden after all."

Din found himself quite unable to respond to that. "Should I sit?"

Marathel looked at him. "I would." Din pulled the chair into her line of sight. He sat, placed his hands on his thighs, and waited. Marathel took a deep breath, and said, "I have been feeling quite guilty, these days since I awoke on this planet. Guilty of lying to you, or at the very least omitting knowledge that I refused to share with you. My guilt is compounded by my ignorance. I learned a great many things about myself wherever I was, with the Reconstructionists. Things I never heard of before, things I never considered. Please … just listen to me. Let me say what I must.

"When I was born, the Bishop was filled with joy, I was told. My skin was the palest of white, my eyes the brightest and lightest blue, my body already long and tall. As I grew, my hair turned silver and my eyes darkened to match. My skin remained clear, free of any marks or dark spots to mar its perfection, and I was tall and straight like a gorugelly tree, the perfection that the Bishop was seeking to be his Whyn, to bring the next ap Bishops to the Hold. I was the exalted and presumed Bishop's Whyn, his Whyn and only his."

Marathel took a breath and closed her eyes, drawing strength to finally answer Din's most-asked question of her. "The word Whyn means cunt. A Whyn is a cunt, and that's all. The whole point of a Whyn is to be fucked and impregnated. The cunt is nothing but a cum vessel, to be filled in all her holes with cum. Breed her with the next generation of cunts. And the generations come quickly when the cunt is getting fucked every single day. Maybe a break for your cycle, but more than likely the cunt would be beaten for not catching pregnant, the stupid whore." Marathel laughed derisively, harshly. Din felt his heart drop, wanting to stop her, tell her he'd heard enough. But he hadn't, not by a long shot. Dank ferrik, he needed to hear it all.

"Now, a Diwhyn is an old cunt. Useless anymore for breeding, too dried out to fuck. Good for only cleaning and cooking and raising the new cunts. Getting beaten for being old and useless. Getting hit by the little boys because that's all they learn, how to hit and how to fuck and how to kick at the girl trying to tie their shoes." Marathel sobbed for a moment. Then, crying, she said, "The boys — the ones who haven't changed yet — try fucking the little girls because they're little and they won't fight back, and they need to overpower anybody because they're male and that's what males do, and they get to do whatever they want." Marathel continued to cry. Din stood, handing her a clean cloth from his pocket, and then sitting back down, his hands clenching into fists. He wanted to look anywhere but back at her, but she continued to hold his gaze.

Marathel wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and was quiet for a few minutes before she could continue. "Then there's me. A Belwhyn. You already know the end part is cunt, so what kind of cunt is a Belwhyn? It's shameful, it's a punishment to be made one, so what in the name of Frith is such a terrible deed that what was done to me is an appropriate response? A Belwhyn is a … whore cunt. A whore, isn't that funny?" Marathel laughed again. "Here we are, cunts getting fucked in every way imaginable, but what's important is whose cock is fucking that cunt. And unfortunately for me, you were the wrong … never mind that I forced myself on you." Marathel swallowed and looked directly into his visor. Whispering, she said, "I'm so sorry I did that to you. You were the first man who has ever been kind to me, and I do that to you. And then, I mistake your kindness for affection on top of it." Marathel sighed. "Bigger fool me.

"You were right, it's a brand on my leg. It's my earliest memory, that hot metal on my inner thigh. I was fully naked, that Bishop drooling over me, a tiny little girl, being reprehensibly burned in a place that anyone who tried to fuck me would see. The next thing I remember was kneeling on a cushion with the Bishop's cock down my throat. I was choking because I was still so little, I didn't know how to suck a cock yet, and I didn't know about be still yet either."

Please, Maker, no. Not as a little girl. Not as her first memory. Din closed his eyes, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat.

"Be still, be still," Marathel said with a long sigh. "It's so useful to be still when a cock is in your mouth or up your ass, because then your mind stops thinking and time passes quickly. The Diwhyns teach be still, be pliant, don't fight, don't struggle, the pain will pass, the bleeding will stop, that endless only song, over and over and over. I only have to hear the words be still and my mind stops spinning. I still say it to myself! Be still, be still, you stupid woman!"

Marathel was quiet for a few moments, and Din was hoping she was done speaking about her first time being brutalized by the Bishop. But then she continued, "Anyway, I was crying with the Bishop's cock in my mouth and I couldn't breathe with my runny nose, and I couldn't open my mouth any wider than I already had, because I was still a little girl, remember. I pulled my head back to breathe and the Bishop came on my face, and then I was hit because I pulled away and I didn't let him come in my mouth, that I didn't swallow the first cum of my intended cock like a good girl should. Olba had been holding me upright so the Bishop could fuck my little-girl face, and she began crying too, crying so much that she was beaten, and a baby was beaten right out of her. It was almost a full baby too, I could see that it was a boy, they made me watch her lose that baby as punishment for her crying over me, a little not-yet-cunt. And then they beat her harder because she'd lost a boy."

Marathel closed her eyes, and her voice filled with disgust. "I was so happy the baby died, because it was a boy baby, and the boy babies grew up to be little boys that kick you when you tie their shoes and older boys that try to fuck the little girls — even though they really can't physically do that because they haven't changed yet — and then boys become Cyiloggs, and …" Marathel frowned. "It's odd … there's not really a word in Newtalk for a Cyilogg. In Oldtalk it literally means cock. A male chook. When the boys get old enough to be able to fuck, that's what they get called. It probably started as a joke and became proper, I don't know. It's about as funny as whore cunt."

Stop it, please stop it, please stop talking, Din cried out in his head. You can tell me to be still through this bite mark, I should be able to tell you as well, please, mesh'la, please be still.

Marathel, however, carried on speaking like a bartender rattling off drink specials. She took a sip of her tea. "Of course, a Cyilogg can't just fuck anybody. The Cyiloggs are supposed to learn to fuck by using the Diwhyns. They can't have babies anymore, so it's safe. The Brwddyrs, on the other hand, they can fuck the Whyns, for the most part of. It's okay for them, they are breeders, that's what Brwddyrs means. They are chosen because they are close enough to the ideal that a baby would be acceptable.

"Me, of course, my cunt was supposed to be fucked by the Bishop and the Bishop only. He had been fucking my face, my hands, my ass — not too often there, though, he didn't want to wear my ass out, he said — ever since he branded me, calling me his good girl, his perfect girl, his sweet girl. Little girl, good girl, sweet girl. Over and over and over and over. My cunt was sacred, not even the Bishop would fuck it yet. Wasn't proper. Not until I was bleeding regularly, which ... never actually happened."

Din, unable to look at her any longer, stared at his knees and waited for her to continue.

"My cycles were never right, or regular, and they'd never be on schedule. Most of us had our cycles at the same time. But me, I'd bleed horribly one moon cycle, and then not again for many moon cycles. I'd practically hemorrhage every single cycle I had, passing so many blood clots. I'd bleed until I'd pass out in the kitchen. Until I'd faint with the Bishop's cock in my mouth. That happened once. He was fucking my face while I was on my cycle, and I fainted dead away and bit him in the process. I was beaten good and proper for that, as you can imagine. Many jars of that smelly unguent you hate so much were used on all my bruises in my lifetime."

Marathel went silent for a while. Din looked up at her; she had pulled up her knees, and she was hugging them with her elbows. Finally, she said, "The Dahls and their eggs, I can't quite remember how all that started. I've been hit in the head so many times, I think my brain has been addled. I remember cleaning the weapons in the Round building and listening to the men talk. That's the good thing about be still, you learn how to move but be still at the same time, so they don't notice you too much. It's always best not to be noticed too much. Cover your head and feet with the blanket, look as shapeless as possible, don't make eye contact, hide your hands. If they can't notice you, then they can't hurt you.

"Dahls even have their own version of be still. The dam barks at her kits if there's danger. But I hear it as be still! Be still! in my head, and my mind slows down, just as it should. Sometimes I've been watching the kits run in the meadows and I can see the vytur birdsoverhead, looking for a moving kit to snatch, and I shout be still! Be still! to the kits, and they can hear me. I can scream it in my head and the Dahls will stop running, freeze, not move until I release them. "

So, I was right, thought Din. She marked me like a female Dahl marks her mate. She can tell me to be still. Am I bound to her, this way? Is she now trying to let me go?

"Where was I? Oh yes, the Dahl eggs. Somewhere in something called the Records was the story of the Dahls. Creatures with a certain mind, that would bond with a human willing to listen to them. The bonding made the Dahl yours forever. What a wonderful idea, to control not only all the women but creatures as well.

"The Dahls had been on the other side of the mountain for a long time, but for some reason, they were moving back closer to the Hold. So, the Cyiloggs started bringing eggs in for hatching. The Elders were supposed to bond with the hatchlings, but the hatchlings rejected them. The hatchlings rejected all the men. But then I suppose a Whyn bonded with a Dahl accidentally. At first, I'm sure that the Elders were furious beyond belief. How dare she! How dare a cunt have control over anything! But knowing what I know now … I'm guessing that the Elders found themselves delighted at cunts becoming fuck-animals at mating season.

"But the Dahls … they hated being in the Hold, hated all the men. The Whyns couldn't control them. The Cyiloggs would chain them, and the Dahls would break their own necks to get away, tear each other to pieces, rip the throats out of the Whyns who had bonded with them in desperation to escape.

"Then I had to come along and hear all the Dahls. Usually, the cunt only heard the Dahl hatchling she had bonded with, but I could even hear Dahls in the egg. Why, no one could say. Maybe it's in that thing called the Record. Olba remembered an old Diwhyn who told her as a young child of another woman who could hear all the Dahls. Olba never told me what happened to her, but it was important enough to Olba to get me out of the Hold, and now I understand why. I was still changing, not officially ready to fuck, not a real cunt yet. My cycles weren't regular, remember, even though I was head and shoulders above the other girls. If I was in the Hold when the Dahls rose to mate, trying to madly fuck while not a full Whyn, well, that would upset the order of things, wouldn't it? I was meant for the Bishop alone, and under the spell of the Dahls, I would not be discerning of whom I fucked. How dare I do such a thing!

"But then I guess the Captain and the Duke thought it was wrong for me to be out of the Hold for so long. Perhaps they wanted to experience the all-hearing all-fucking Dahl-cunt-woman for themselves, I don't know. They were the ones who were the most insistent about getting me back into the Hold."

Marathel looked at Din and was not surprised that he could no longer look at her. He probably wants me to stop talking, she thought. Well, too late now. You wanted to know, Bounty Hunter, and I want to tell you. "I wonder how they sent out the message that brought you. There are things in the Hold that I have never seen — no woman has. But you came along, and of course you know how that ended."

Marathel took a deep breath and rubbed her face with her hands. "Yes, I knew what was going to happen to me. I knew from the moment I came back to myself against that post, still with you inside me. I knew my life was over. I also knew I couldn't tell you because you would stop it from happening. But when you told me about those coins and what their worth could be to you, I had to make sure you got those coins. I was already ruined because I made you fuck me against that post. I'm nothing. I'm weak, fat, and stupid. I didn't bear the children I was meant to; I had ruined myself for the one man I was supposed to serve as Whyn … even though I hated him and the idea of being touched by him and the things he did to me and the things he did to Olba. She'd lost the baby boy, and he beat three more babies out of her when she'd try to protect me from whatever he was desiring to do to me at the time. She was ap Captain, how dare she interfere with an ap Bishop! Everything I had ever done was wrong for everyone, and I wanted one thing that I could make right.

"So, I made you take me to the Hold without your weapons. I told you to be still. Did you hear me, screaming at you to be still inside my head? I thought you might have, because you didn't move at all. It worked better than I ever dreamed it could. I have no idea why that occurred, but then I know next to nothing. Stupid me. I made sure you got the coins, and I believed you had left.

"You had told me any affection you had for me was less than your devotion to your Creed. You're a man, that's your right of course, you can say or do anything you please. I was less than, always had been, that's the way of things. My heart was broken because I loved you so much — or at least I thought I did, who am I to know at all what love is? Children are one thing, but a man? But I believed you didn't care for me, which made it all the easier to hand myself over, I suppose. You got the coins. I had done something right.

"After I went into the Hold, I was taken up to the second floor. That's where the Platform is. I had been in there many times to clean, but I had never been on the Platform before, of course, because I wasn't officially a cunt. The first thing the Bishop did was carve my face. I was tied down, and he cut me, saying that I was a whore cunt, and I should have a cunt right on my face, to show everyone what a whore I was, that I wear a cunt as my face. How dare I betray him; how dare I be a cunt for someone else. Especially under the spell of the Dahls, where I was the one who demanded to be fucked. I dared to shove it in the Bishop's face that I took you. How dare a woman, a cunt, do such a thing."

Marathel's voice grew weak. "How dare I do that ..." She swallowed and looked directly at Din to deliver her next statement.

"How dare I do that to my father."

Din audibly gasped, his head snapping up to look at Marathel. She wished she could see his face, to read the utter shock, the disbelief, and the resulting disgust. "You hadn't figured that out? How surprising. Of course, the Bishop is my father. One of my sisters was my mother. I have no idea who, though. I suppose it doesn't matter. Cunts are all pretty much the same, aren't they? I pretended Olba was my real mother even though I knew it wasn't so. You saw all of us there in the Hold; it isn't just the colors we wear that separate our houses. All the Bishops are pale with light or silver hair. The Captains are dark-complected with black, curly hair. The Dukes and the Hunters look similar, but the Dukes tend to be blonde-haired and shorter, while the Hunters are taller with brown hair. I always thought the Hunters were pretty to look at ... tall like trees, with brown hair and brown eyes."

Marathel smiled, looking wistful. "When you told me you had brown eyes, I was so happy. I do like brown eyes so much. And then I saw your brown hair when you were puking in the grass. I could just see the top of your head. You have lovely hair."

Din dropped his head again, face warm, embarrassed by how much of himself he had revealed to her, accidentally or otherwise.

Marathel rolled her eyes at his reaction and sighed again. "So, not only did I now know that you look more like a Hunter, but then … I was sure you wouldn't look like a Bishop, no matter what my nightmares told me.

"Bishops are supposed to fuck only Bishops, Captains are supposed to fuck only Captains, and so on. Each house must remain pure. If there is a cross between houses, which happened sometimes, then the mixed-girl-baby is killed, along with the whore cunt. A boy baby? They get placed in the house they most resemble, and life goes on. The Brwddyr who had fucked the wrong cunt? A reprimand, maybe. A reminder that only the correct cunts have a baby fucked into them. That's what Diwhyns are for, remember?

"And now there's a whore cunt like me to be made, tied down to the Platform. If a cunt is going to act like a whore, then by Frith, she will be fucked like one, in every hole she has, over and over. If she fights, if she screams, that makes it more fun. If she's quiet, if she's still, beat her, bite her, shove something horrible in her holes until she screams again. With me the Bishop went first, of course, then it became a free-for-all. Wagers taken to see who would make me bleed from where first, how many times I'd scream, what they could draw on my skin with their knives and their whips, and their cum and piss and shit. And they made all the children watch. They always watch when a Belwhyn's being made. The boys on one side, the girls on the other. Teach them all a lesson. The little boys all got to take a turn on me, too. Some would pretend like they were fucking me, but mostly they'd just poke me with sharpened sticks. Or kick me. Or bite me. Everywhere. Little shits with their sharp teeth. Then they made the little girls clean me off so they could do it all over again, marking the whore cunt as a lesson to the girls: This is what happens to you if you don't obey. Be still! Be still! Don't react, don't scream, don't cry, you be quiet and still and you watch, you future cunts!" Marathel burst into tears.

Din pleaded, "Stop, Marathel, for the love of Frith, please, stop ..."

"NO! You wanted to know, you need to hear this, and I need to tell it! I need to not be still any longer!" cried Marathel. She sobbed for a few minutes, Din watching her in misery. When she finally felt she had control again, she said, "No, the Bishop is my sire, that's what ap Bishop means, it means of Bishop. My sole purpose as Whyn ap Bishop was to produce more Bishops by the man who brought me to life. And I was so perfect, wouldn't our children be even more perfect? The epitome of ap Bishop into another generation, of course that was how it was supposed to be. My high-ranking brothers were allowed to impregnate my sisters — their sisters, and odds are that some of my brothers impregnated their own mothers as well as their daughters. Like it mattered. A cunt is a cunt is a cunt, just so long as that cunt is in the right family.

"And that's how I thought things were supposed to be. That's the way it always was. That was the way. What other way could there possibly be? There wasn't anywhere or anything else to compare it to … not that I knew about.

"Imagine ... imagine how I felt when I learned that everything, everything I knew was wrong. It's wrong to be sucking cock when you're a little child. It's wrong to be impregnated by your father, to bear his children so he can impregnate them later when they're ready. It's wrong to be known only as a cunt, wrong to be tied down to a platform, carved up, whipped senseless, to be fucked by every man in the Hold several times over in every hole you have, to have a sharp-studded metal cylinder shoved up inside you because you broke the promise you had no choice in making.

"I didn't know that.

"I didn't know that I'm an inbred, incestuous, whore cunt freak with chronic generational congenital hemophilia. That's the phrase, one of several Eliadu taught me about myself. Another is primary impaired fecundity. That means that I am completely infertile. I was never ever able to bear children, the one thing I was ever supposed to do, the only thing I wanted to do. My insides don't work right. Neither does my mind … all the beatings and my injuries have taken their toll. Traumatic brain damage. Anoxic brain damage – caused by acute hypoxia. Lack of oxygen to the brain, too many times, probably from when you were bringing me here, I guess. I suppose I'm lucky I'm not insane. Perhaps I am. To fix the bleeding, the Reconstructionists had to burn part of my brain and reattach it to some other part of my brain. I don't know how it all worked; I couldn't understand. I just know that some parts were fixed but other parts are too ... frayed to go back together."

Marathel sighed. "All I ever wanted was something more than I apparently deserved. And I had that, for just a few days, with you and Grogu ... " Marathel smiled again at Din. "… the happiest of my life … and I just wanted to die with your memory foremost in my mind, to sleep in peace, at least imagining — pretending — that you cared for me in some way instead of just as another … I don't know … object for you to play with as you wished because I threw myself at you that first time.

"This, this — this body that you said was mine and only mine to grant consent to you to touch? It's not mine, it's never been mine. But even then, still … This is all I have. I was willing for you to have it, but … I just wanted to be … not less than the man I was willing to have touch me. The man who made me laugh and brought me gorugellys and made me feel I was at least somewhat desirable as a woman and not just a cunt. But you ... you get to sit there, protected by your armor and helmet and weapons, and your Creed. I got to feel your arms and hands on me, which I assume is allowable for you and your Creed. I got to feel you fuck me, you're a man, I'm a cunt, that's your right. I got to see your hair, which I'm certain is not allowable by your Creed. I'm not sorry I got to see it, even if it does break your Creed. I don't give a shit about your Creed. But me … all I had was everything I was born with, which is nothing at all. Just a cunt."

For the first time since Marathel began speaking, Din felt a rage flare inside him. And it was not to rail against the indignities done to her, but instead against her. To hear Marathel say she didn't give a shit about his Creed angered him greatly. How dare she? How dare she attack the core of who I am?

He no longer wanted to listen to her. But she kept on.

"Did you know I have one of those chip things now? They made me - wherever I was when I was with the Reconstructionists. Before I could leave, the Imps put a chip in me. They made me take a name, a … surname, a family name, I couldn't just travel with the only name I've had my whole life, that wasn't enough for them! I thought I should just take the surname Belwhyn, that would be perfectly descriptive, but instead I told them my name should be ap Unmapeth. I have no idea how it's spelled, obviously. I can't read, why does a cunt need to know how to read? But I was not, not ever, going to be an ap Bishop.

"Unmapeth means nothing.

"Marathel Nothing from Nowhere, the Belwhyn.

"That's me.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I can't possibly be a part of polite society, even on a shithole planet like this one. I hate it so much here. This sand, this dust, everywhere! Digging into my skin, my hair, suffocating me. I'm a monster, disgusting, untouchable, spreading my filth and disease and madness to anyone who comes near me. Where else should I be but the planet that created me? At least there I can live, endure … without interfering in anyone else's not your life, not Grogu's life.

"I think I told you I threw myself off a cliff because I was under the spell of the Dahl's mating; that's not quite true. Yes, they were rising to mate, and I still couldn't bear it by myself, I felt as if I were going mad. I had already broken free of the ropes holding me to the post — it is so difficult to tie yourself up — and I had already tried pressing stones against myself, wrapping my legs around the post, and nothing was helping and I was so desperate that I just ran, ran in a straight line, thinking maybe I could find something, anything that could help me, and I was terrified because I had considered going to the Hold and throwing myself at the Bishop. So, I ran the opposite way, away from the Hold, and I knew the cliffs were before me. I knew there were rocks just under the surface of the water that would kill me, bash my head in, break all my bones, and there was coral that would shred me to ribbons so that I would become food for the great Godynferth and it finally willall be over.

"I ran straight for that edge as fast as I could - I'm a good runner, you know that, you've seen me run — and I heard the Dahls screaming at me to BE STILL! but I ignored them all as I leapt off that cliff, and I turned myself over so I would land directly on my back, and I watched the sky above me as I fell and I begged the women that had gone before me that were watching me from above, let me be with you and I will watch over the little girls that come after me and protect them even though I had brought forth none of my own, and I hit that water with the most exquisite pain I had ever felt. But … I had run so hard and so fast I missed the rocks completely. I fell into deep water. I tried then to drown, but I couldn't, the water kept pushing me up and out, and away from the coral.

"I can't even kill myself right, how pathetic is that? My only injury was to my back from hitting the water, and my back turned black, just like it did when you knocked me down to the floor when I was so desperate to fuck you when the Dahls were mating.

"It just occurred to me - you fought me harder than I thought you would, especially since you had agreed to be there with me. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be amused or upset by that. But I suppose you only ever learned how to fight, just like I only ever learned how to be fucked. Cobb was right, we are very alike, you and me."

We are nothing alike, thought Din. And I resent you discussing this with him. What else did you discuss? What else did you do with him, Marathel? With my friend?

"By the time I got back to the hut, my back was so bruised, it took weeks for the blood to reabsorb. Olba came out to find me because I hadn't been up to the Hold for supplies. I was so swollen with blood that she had to cut slashes on my back to drain it out; the unguent wouldn't help. I'm sure she received beatings for staying with me instead of being in the Hold.

"You know, I don't remember how I got out of the water, or how I got back to the hut. Maybe the Dahls came to rescue me? Doubtful. The Dahls loved me, but they had more important things to do. Even for the Dahls, fucking was more important than a woman.

"They — the Reconstructionists — told me my people are doomed to die out. Fewer and fewer women will be able to bear children. I've already seen that in my own lifetime … the girls getting pregnant are younger and younger, women become Diwhyns earlier, more mothers die giving birth. How much longer can that be carried on before there's no one left? Perhaps, if Frith wills it so, the Mist will just come when we don't expect it and burn us all away, burn us down to ashes.

"You, Bounty Hunter, you earned 167 Aurodium coins to bring me to the Hold. But you took me away with you. And then, you kept the coins instead of giving them to your covert, I don't know why, but I suppose that's none of my business. Again, I'm only a cunt, you're a man, that just how it is. Fennec told me your covert wouldn't accept them. I don't know if that's true; I'm not a Mandalorian, that is your way, not mine. However, it seems to me you didn't do the job you got paid for, so you owe me a trip back, Bounty Hunter. When do we leave?"