pairing: din djarin x plus size / reverse age gap / fem!O/C

word count: 7.9K

chapter summary: Din and Marathel visit a wedding chapel.

warnings: angst, mention of blood, English and Mando'a cursing

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

Din's eyes opened to a dark room, cool and quiet. He turned his head towards the bed and was unsurprised to see Marathel was not there. Grogu was in the middle, nestled within a cocoon of blankets, fast asleep. Din managed to roll off the couch and to his feet without grunting. Upon standing, he could see the curtains at the end of the room were billowed out around something … or someone.

As Din crept closer, his visor adjusted better to the low light and he could now tell that Marathel was sitting on the floor, behind the curtains. He got about three feet away and he saw her turn her head in his direction. And she says I always sneak up on her. "Marathel?"

"Hello," she said quietly. "Is Grogu still asleep?"

"Yes, he is. Is this a private party, or may I join you?"

He saw her shrug. "If you like."

Din got down on the floor — with a grunt, unfortunately — and joined her on the other side of the curtain. She was wearing a light knit cardigan over her pajamas and sitting cross-legged on the floor, her wounded forehead pressed against the glass. He could only see her profile, but her puffy, tired eyes were quite visible. Her slumped pose, rounded shoulders, and hands lying listlessly in her lap all spoke of exhaustion and sadness. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"I'm waiting for the water to dance again," said Marathel, indicating the giant fountain below. "There were big spouts of water that swayed back and forth, in all sorts of patterns. I think there was music, too, but I couldn't quite hear it. I wanted to open the window, but I couldn't work out how."

Din nodded. "Hotel windows generally don't open. They don't want people going out the window."

Marathel looked at him, confused at first, but then it dawned on her. "Oh." She turned back to the window. "Is it time for us to leave?"

"No, not yet. I was going to let Grogu sleep himself out. How long have you been awake?"

"A while. Grogu took all the blankets, and I got cold."

Din chuckled. "He is a veritable blanket thief. He also is actively stealing blankets everywhere we go. Every time I straighten up his pram, I find more."

"Good thing he's adorable."

"The bad thing is, he knows it." They both laughed briefly. "How are you feeling?"

Marathel shrugged. "I'm okay. I'm all right."

"I don't believe you."

"Are you calling me a dwy'tu'ar?"

Din frowned under his helmet. "So … dwy'tu'ar means 'liar'?" Marathel realized her mistake, and she sighed and nodded, her eyes closed. "Well, that scans. That means you called Siewan a liar when you thought she'd ratted you out to the Republic."

"'Ratted you out' what now?"

"Reported you and your injuries to the people who came to ask you all those questions." Din tilted his helmet in thought. "Dwy'tu'ar. Na, nid. Th'ych'lyth, Din … gaal'wch. 'Liar. No.' Then … 'Be Safe, Din, please.' But I don't think you're saying, 'be safe,' Marathel."

Marathel turned to look at him, scowling in suspicion. "And when did you hear me say all this?"

"On the Crest, when I was bringing you here." Din didn't feel the need to mention that he was holding her naked body against his bare chest, trying to get her warm. "You were semi-conscious, suffering from exposure, delirious. You also said 'gorau', or something to that effect."

"I was … dreaming. Ranting. Delirious, as you say. It means nothing."

"Really? You seemed quite insistent at the time. Who was lying to you in your dream?"

Marathel sighed. "The Dahls."

"Well, of course."

"And you."

"I was the liar? Ouch," teased Din. "Am I never nice to you in your dreams? You tend to be nice to me …" Din cut himself off, surprised he'd said that much out loud.

Marathel raised her eyebrows in surprise. He dreams of me?

Din harrumphed, then said, "I think ty'ych'lyth doesn't mean 'be safe'. It makes me wonder what you were really saying. You've told me yourself how words have changed meaning. Oldtalk leaves much to be desired regarding good communication."

Marathel sighed. "Just … leave it alone."

"It seems to me that the liar here is you. What horrible thing have you been telling me instead of 'be safe?'" At Marathel's shocked look, he muttered, "I'm sorry. That was rude."

She turned back to the window, crestfallen. She leaned her forehead against the window again, saying, "I'm not sure what could have hurt me more than your words just now, Din." Her rebuke stung worse because she called him Din. If she'd said Bounty Hunter — as she tended to do when she was upset with him — he would been able to let it pass. Marathel muttered, "I was saying 'Come back to me'. 'Please, come back to me'."

"I did, though. I came back to you, came back for you, Marathel."

"Yes, you did. But soon you will be leaving me on Nevarro, and … and the third time's the charm."

Din sighed. "You will see us again."

Will I? Will I see you again, or are you just telling me that, like I'm an overtired little child who needs to be appeased with a false promise? Marathel sniffled and rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling like an overtired little child anyway. "I'm so worn out."

"I'm not surprised. C'mon, let's get you back to bed," said Din, getting up to one knee, putting his arm around Marathel to help her stand.

"But we must leave … I wanted to see the dancing water … and a wedding chapel …"

Din led her out from behind the curtains and back into the large bed. "We don't have to leave the room for a few hours. And I'll see what we can do about the fountains and the wedding chapel. You need some sleep." He unwrapped the blankets from Grogu, spreading them back over Marathel, already lying on her side.

When Din reached to pick up Grogu, Marathel grabbed the boy and held him close to her. "No, please … I won't get to have him for much longer … don't take him away from me."

"I won't, Marathel, I promise."

Marathel whimpered and turned into her pillow, her hair falling over the face so Din couldn't see it anymore. Din stepped back and sighed inwardly. After all, he would have to take Grogu away. Where he went, the child went. Din wondered what shared-custody protocol should be between two non-biological parents and a foundling. Oh, how he didn't want to hurt her. But it seemed he inevitably would, whether he wanted to or not.

By the time Marathel woke up again, bright sun was streaming through the windows. Din had pulled the curtains back, and a beam of sunlight fell directly across her face. At the far opposite end of the room, Din was sipping caf through a straw and contemplating the sunbeam that was illuminating the stray wisps of hair that were defying gravity around Marathel's face. Her pose was familiar as well: she lay on her back, an arm thrown over her head, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She looks so … delicate, and lovely, laying there like a fairy tale princess, waiting for a knight to come for her …

Then she loudly snorted like a congested heifer, coughing herself awake, and Din nearly sprayed the inside of his helmet with a mouthful of caf.

Marathel half-sat up, hacking to clear to wad of phlegm that had drained into her throat. Leaning on her elbow, she scrubbed her nose with her hand and squinted into the sunlight. "Oh, Frith," she croaked. "Is it time to get up?"

Din cleared his throat. "I suppose so. Are you feeling better?"

"My mouth feels furry."

"Welcome to your first hangover. Make sure you hydrate today."

Marathel swung her legs over the edge the bed. "Ugh. Was I going nark'yl?"

"I couldn't say. What is that?" Marathel glared at him and made snoring noises. "Snoring. Just right before you woke up." Marathel grunted and headed to the fresher room, hacking a couple more times. "Dank ferrik, Marathel, you should take up smoking. You already have the cough."

Marathel turned to him, scratching her chest and yawning. "What is this smoking thing?"

"Well, people take dried leaves, crush them, and roll them up in paper, then light them on fire so they can breathe in the smoke."

"… Why?"

"People enjoy it, I guess."

Marathel rolled her eyes and muttered to herself as she disappeared into the fresher room. She came back out shortly, asking, "Do we have to leave now? Do I have time to use the shower?"

"If you're quick. There's an hour before the water dances again."

"The water …?"

"You said you wanted to see the fountains. They're scheduled to go off in about an hour, and we need to get a good spot at street level."

Marathel smiled widely, and said, "I'll be quick!"

Exactly seventeen minutes later, the trio was heading down to the lobby. Din kept taking surreptitious glances at Marathel. She had braided the top section of her hair and left the bottom loose, which fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She was wearing the dusky purple shirt he had chosen for her, which had a gently scooped neckline that only showed the very top of her cleavage. It was also gathered on the sides in a way that showed off her waist, nice and curvy. Din wondered which foundation was under her shirt and figured she was wearing one of the more comfortable front-hook ones, as she did not ask for any assistance. Her cheeks were pink from a fresh washing, and she obviously wore no cosmetics as her eyebrows and eyelashes were back to their normal transparent state. However, he was certain she was wearing the tiniest bit of coral color on her lips, which he found very fetching against her pale skin. From this angle, he was able to see her ear, and he noticed that she had detached earlobes, and he remembered his mother lamenting about her own attached earlobes, which apparently meant that she couldn't wear earrings. He was considering what Marathel's earlobe would look like with a delicate gold and gemstone earring hanging from it when the elevator reached the ground floor with a ding.

Marathel thought they must have been a sight, this fat old woman with a horrible wound on her forehead, on the arm of a fully armored Mandalorian, shiny and broad, his hand holding hers rather possessively. The bag holding Grogu was between them, bouncing back and forth from her hip to Din's, and Grogu's tiny hand was clutching the hem of her shirt. Then Marathel caught the eye of a beautiful woman wearing the most stunning shiny gold beaded gown, with flowers in her hair and in her hand and a tired but blissful look on her face, on the arm of a well-dressed man, all in black, who kept gazing at the beautiful woman on his arm with what Marathel assumed was great affection. For some reason, the two couples paused as they were passing each other, and the younger woman beamed at Marathel, nodding at Din with a knowing look. Then, the woman handed her bouquet to Marathel.

Marathel somehow managed to stay in step beside Din, despite her bewilderment at a bunch of fragrant flowers that magically appeared in her hands. They passed through the hotel lobby and into the main casino vestibule, and Marathel was enveloped in all new sensations: ringing noises, bright lights, and so many people that she became nervous again, so she pressed as close as she could to Din's side.

Feeling proud again at having Marathel on his arm, Din looked at her and then came up short. He almost had to rattle the helmet on his head, because he couldn't fathom why Marathel would suddenly be in possession of a round bouquet of large-headed rosan blossoms of red, deep as the blood she had on her teeth as he had her pinned to the floor, naked, furious, screaming for him to fill her as she was possessed by the Dahls who screamed for the same thing from their mates …

Wait, what?

Din took a sharp breath and was glad that he had fully stopped walking; if he'd been in motion while having that thought, he would have face-planted right into this marble floor, he was so surprised. He pointed at the flowers she held, and asked, "Marathel, where … where did you get those flowers?"

Marathel blushed. "Pretty, aren't they?"

"Beautiful. Yes. Where — "

"There's a sparkly thing in the center of each flower!"

"Yes. Those are rhinestones. But — "

"What kind of flowers are these?"

"Rosans. Marathel, where did you take those from?"

Marathel scowled at Din. "I didn't take them; a pretty lady gave them to me."

"A pretty lady?"

"Oh, she was so beautiful. Her dress was sparkly like these … um … rheen-stones and she looked so happy, and the man she was with was so tall and handsome, all in black in the finest-looking fabric, and he couldn't keep his eyes off her, and she smiled at me, at both of us, and she gave me these flowers. I don't know why."

Din blinked a couple of times, and said, "Well, Marathel, I think you saw a bride and groom … a newly married couple. Newlyweds, they're called."

"Noo-lee-weds? You mean they'd gone to a wedding chapel? And … and promised to live together? With affection?"

"… yes."

Marathel looked down at the bouquet, her cheeks turning pink again. "But why would she give her flowers away? They're so beautiful! And why would she even be carrying flowers? Is that something you get at a wedding chapel?"

Din had to stand close to her, as it was noisy where they were standing, right in the center of the vestibule, under a ceiling made of large, sculpted glass flowers. He was wondering how to explain what little he knew of the trappings and traditions of a typical wedding, when a group of young women in fancy dresses and even fancier hairstyles passing them squealed and gave Din and Marathel their congratulations, exclaiming over her pretty bouquet and giving her kisses on her cheeks. Before Din could blink again, a Chiss woman in a sharp high-collared suit appeared at his elbow. She said, "Greetings and congratulations, you lovely couple. I take it you're here to avail yourselves of one of our wedding sites?"

Marathel had never heard of a double take before, much less seen one, so she was quite surprised when Din quickly whipped his head towards the blue woman twice in quick succession. "I'm sorry?"

"We have quite a lovely selection of locations available, even for walk-ins, such as yourselves."

Din stammered, "We … we … um … fountains," before putting an arm around Marathel and quickly ushering her out the front door.

As they practically ran down the walkway along the edge of the fountains, Marathel had to wrench herself free from Din's tight grip. "I can't … Bounty Hunter! I can't walk so fast, please!"

Din turned back to her, muttering, "I'm sorry, I'm … I'm sorry."

Marathel said, "Frith, what just happened? Those young girls … that blue woman … and then you're being all strange about these flowers as well!"

Din sighed and shuffled his feet in embarrassment. "I … uh … those girls and the blue lady were assuming that we were there to get married."

Marathel blinked. "… us?" Din nodded. "But … we can't. I'm no Mandalorian. That's … that's impossible for you. It's forbidden. I'm not anything … I'm not …" She dropped her head to look down at her flowers, and she gently fingered a soft petal with a sad look on her face, while Din wondered why she had that notion, that … a formal arrangement between the two of them would be forbidden. But then, he'd never told her otherwise, had he? He pondered whether he should correct that when chimes began to ring. Marathel cringed at the loud noise and asked, "What is that?"

Din looked out over the giant pool where the fountains were. "I think that means the water will start dancing soon." He took her hand and placed it back in the crook of his arm. Din allowed Marathel to set the pace, and he led her further down the slanting walkway and found a good spot up against the metal barrier. "Here we go. You can see the entire show from here." More people were arriving and jockeying for room, but they seemed to be giving Din and Marathel wide berth. The armor and weapons have their benefits. Din pulled out Grogu and held him out for Marathel to take. "Can you handle both him and … where did your flowers go?"

Marathel shrugged, then took Grogu from Din. "Oh … I left them in that big stone pot up there," she said, indicating with her head to the top of the walkway.

"Why?"

Marathel shrugged again, her face purposely blank and devoid of expression. "Silly to have them."

Frowning, he said, "Not silly at all, Marathel. You can have the flowers." Din looked up at the planter she had indicated. "Would you like them back? I can go get them."

"No. There's no point." She put on a falsely bright expression for Grogu. "It's such a pretty day, isn't it, my little Godynferth? There will be dancing water soon, just you wait." Marathel set Grogu on the metal barrier, holding him firmly. He chirruped and looked down into the giant pool. "Nope, I'm not seeing frogs down there, either! After the dancing water, we'll see what we can find for breakfast, yes?" She dropped her chin to give kisses to Grogu's fuzzy head.

Din, confused about Marathel's sudden mood shift, was reaching for her shoulder to get her attention when the water in the giant pool before them suddenly exploded upward with a loud boom. Marathel shrieked in surprise and leaned backwards right into the crook of Din's arm. Din tightened his arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling backwards. His other hand went across Grogu's middle to hold him more securely on the barrier, taking hold of Marathel's hand in the process. He felt her stiffen within his arm, then she returned her attention to the fountains.

Music began, an orchestral piece with many instruments that Din knew but couldn't quite remember the name of. As a male tenor voice began to sing, water jets spouted upwards in time with the words in a complicated pattern, delighting Marathel and Grogu, who laughed and clapped his hands. As the aria continued, the water jets changed shapes and directions, all choreographed to match the music perfectly. Din finally recognized the tune; it was from an old Naboo opera his mother was particularly fond of, and she often played the holocording in their little house, dancing and humming along as she did her chores. Marathel leaned against him and whispered, "Do you know this song? It's beautiful!"

"It's, uh … it's called Time to Say Goodbye."

Marathel glanced at Din, dismayed. "Oh," she whispered. As she turned back to the fountains, Din watched her face cloud over with sadness.

He leaned close to her ear and said, "He's saying … that even though she's leaving, he will see the mountains and rivers of the place she's going, just as she sees them. And because he loves her so much, it will be as if they're still together."

"But if he loves her so much, why is she leaving him?"

"Because … because …" stammered Din, trying desperately to come up with an answer. Finally, he turned to her and said, "Because, sometimes … it's just time for a person to leave, and people we care about have to be left behind." Marathel looked into Din's visor again, and he watched her expression change from confusion, to defeat, and then passiveness before she turned back to the fountain. No, Marathel, don't just close yourself off. I'm sorry it must be this way, but if you hate me, I won't be able to handle that.

"Why can't she just ask him to come with her?" Dank ferrik, thought Din, searching for an answer. But before he could, she continued, saying, "You asked me to come with you once. When we were dancing in the shallow water. Remember?"

"I remember. I wanted you to come with me because I was afraid of what would happen to you if I turned you in." And a damned animal told me to love you.

"What if I'd said yes? Then what?"

"Then we would have left Unmanarall. Beyond that, I don't know, Marathel."

Marathel wiped a tear from under her eye and said, "I wish I'd said yes."

So do I, thought Din. I wish… so many things.

The aria ended with a long-lasting tenor note and a final blast of water into the bright mid-morning sky. A strong breeze sent droplets out as mist that landed on Marathel's hair, sparkling like rhinestones on the silver strands. While Din thought to himself that Marathel's hair now resembled a bridal veil, she sighed and said, "Nid dau'dymian yn cachu'por."

"What does that mean?"

"'Wishes won't fill a necessary.'"

"That's a good one. I learned, 'wish in one hand, shit in the other; see which one fills up first.'"

Marathel turned towards Din with a tiny smirk curling her lip. "Wisdom from your buir?"

"No, I'm pretty sure that was my mother." Marathel looked at him, shocked, then she laughed. Din chuckled as well and said, "Did you enjoy the dancing water?"

"I did. And the music was very pretty, even if it was sad." She pulled Grogu to her and balanced him on her hip. "Well, little one, it's time we get going, yes? Let's go."

"Let me take him. There's a lot of people around here and it's not secure." Marathel gave Grogu a kiss before handing him back to Din, who concealed him in the bag. They began the climb back up to the main entrance, and Din said, "Show me where you left your flowers; let's see if they are still there."

"I don't need those flowers …"

"I know you don't, but you liked them, and that's a good enough reason to have them." But the rosans were already gone from the planter, either picked up by some souvenir hunter, a groundskeeper, or perhaps a cheap bride and groom. "Well, I'm sorry, ma'mwsh ha'laa." Marathel shrugged, feigning indifference, but Din had been around her long enough to know that she was sad and upset, as well as confused, tired, and trying so hard to just manage from moment to moment in another overwhelming place. And soon he was going to take her to a planet she didn't know, into a house she hadn't seen, take away the child she loved, and leave her alone to sink or swim. He put her arm in his again and reentered the casino vestibule. This time, Marathel noticed the magnificent glass floral sculpture on the ceiling, and she made them stop so she could stare at it for a while. Din, in turn, enjoyed her childlike wonder at life's beauty. He thought about how happy small things made her, like fizzy pink water, some wildflowers picked from a meadow by a little boy, a gorugelly when she thought she wouldn't have any.

Marathel pointed up and asked, "Why are the flowers so big and shiny?"

"Those are made out of glass by a famous artist."

"Artist?"

"Oof, that's a difficult one. Artist … um … someone who creates something, for no other purpose than making another person have an emotional reaction to it."

Marathel grimaced at Din. "Oh, I don't understand that at all."

Din chuckled. "Well, that's the best explanation you're going to get out of me. A thousand people could discuss what art is for a thousand years and still not be able to explain it." They began walking again, but instead of turning to the hotel lobby, Din walked them forward into the greenhouse gardens, for which the casino was famous.

Marathel's eyes grew large and round, and she could hardly move her head fast enough to see every bit of beauty that was before her. "Frith," she whispered, holding her palm to her chest. All around her, flowers, flowers of every conceivable shape, color, and size, climbing on boughs and hanging above them, laid out in carpets at ground level, standing in long stalks that curled, exploding in every direction. She grabbed Din's hand tightly, and stammered, "Is this… is this a wedding chapel?"

The Chiss woman from before suddenly appeared beside Marathel, saying, "No, these are our gardens. You could use a corner to hold your wedding, but to have a private ceremony, you must reserve the entire gardens for your event, which is not available for a walk-in. And dreadfully expensive."

Marathel didn't notice, but Din certainly did hear the slight snarky tone in the Chiss' voice that doubted that Din — who certainly had the look of a drunken, ragged hobo, armor or not — had the dosh to afford something so swank. "Well, of course," replied Din, managing a supercilious tone himself. "Would you then please just show us your smallest and most reasonably priced chapel?"

"Of course, sir. Please, follow me."

As they followed the blue woman, Marathel hissed at Din, "What are you doing? There's no point in …"

"You said you wanted to see the dancing water and a wedding chapel."

"Don't we need to leave?"

"This won't take long," said Din, patting her hand. Marathel scoffed quietly to herself, thinking that Din knew she was now uncomfortable doing this, and he was just having another laugh at her expense. They turned a couple more corners and they came to a very decorative doorway that led into a small room.

The room itself was ivory, trimmed in gold, with a wall that was illuminated stained glass. At the far end, before the stained glass, stood a small pedestal, and lovely upholstered chairs flanked the area before the glass wall. "This is our smallest and most intimate room, simply appointed and affordable, with just enough pomp to make it a special occasion …"

"Yes, it's very nice," interrupted Din. "Excuse me, Marathel," he said, disengaging his hand from hers. "I'll be right back." He walked over to the Chiss woman and led her out into the hallway, where Marathel could hear them whispering to each other, but not what was being said.

Shrugging, Marathel went over to the glass wall to get a closer look. She had not seen a wall or a window such as this before. Upon closer inspection, the glass was … painted or covered with something to make the colorful patterns and not made with cut glass pieces as it appeared to be. Marathel smiled and figured that it at least looked good enough for holos, and more than likely, a wedding couple would probably not care about such things. Still, it was a nice enough room, not that she would ever need it. The odds of her finding a person who would be willing to take on a woman like her were slim. And really, what kind of … what was the word? Oh yes, wife … could she be, knowing full well how physically damaged she was?

"Sorry about leaving you alone for so long," said Din, making her jump. "And for sneaking up on you again." Marathel heard the smile in his voice and scowled at him. He shrugged and asked, "So, what do you think?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know what's supposed to happen in here."

"Well," said Din, "From what little I know, there's usually an officiant, standing where you are."

"What is that?

"That's the person who oversees and performs the wedding."

"Do you have one of those for a riduurok, too?"

Din shook his head. "No, that's not necessary for a riduurok. The important part of a riduurok is the pledge between the two people, so that's all that's needed. It doesn't even require witnesses. I've never heard of a riduurok occurring in a chapel like this. While being chased off a high cliff by a giant shriek-hawk? Yes. Got to see that happen in real time, once.

"But, getting back to where we are … If we're talking about two people getting married, one would be standing here …" He gently maneuvered her to the appropriate spot. "The other would be here, where I am. And then …"

The blue woman reappeared with a small white box in her hand, saying, "I think I found something that will work for you."

As Din took the box, an older Twi'lek man ran into the room, saying, "Oh, Gont, thank the Maker, I found you! That stupid caf heiress cow is raising another fuss about the catering! Please, I need you!" The Twi'lek and the Chiss rushed from the room to head off whatever the emergency was, leaving Din and Marathel alone in the chapel room again.

Din turned back to Marathel, who had a curious look on her face. She pointed to the box, asking, "What is that?"

"Something for you."

"Me?" Din walked up to her, giving her the box, which was a plain white with a silver ribbon. With shaking hands, she carefully untied the bow and lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a small floral arrangement of curling ferns, a cluster of yellow bell-shaped flowers, and a spray of tiny white buds, tied off with another silver ribbon. "I … I don't understand."

"You should have flowers if you want them. They didn't have a yellow bouquet, but I thought this might be better. Here, let me …" Din lifted the flowers out of the box, finding a couple of hair pins underneath. "Forgive me, I've never done this before …" He carefully pinned the tiny flower arrangement to her hair, just above her right ear. "There. Now, you're perfect." He took the box and ribbon from her and placed them on the nearest chair. "Oh, wait, we need Grogu for this …"

"For what? What is happening?"

"You'll see." Din pulled Grogu out of the bag and carefully set him on the little pedestal. "Sit right there, kid; you're our witness for this."

"Witness?"

"Yes, witness. You good, pal?" Grogu made a bleat in the affirmative, and Din gave him a thumbs-up. "Okay." Din took a deep breath, then took Marathel's hands, and said, "Look, this is in no way official; it's not a wedding or a riduurok in any way, but … Marathel … I, Din Djarin, promise you, Marathel, that … yes, I must leave you alone on Nevarro, and I don't know for how long, or when we'll be back. I have things I must do, important things, yes. But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to come back to you. I will do everything I can to keep you in Grogu's life, because you are so important to him." Din had to take a breath before he could continue. "You have also become important to me, Marathel, these past thirty-three days. You are the closest thing I've had to a … friend I've had in a long time, and I do not intend to lose my friend."

Tears spilled over Marathel's eyelashes. "Oh, Din …"

"Marathel, with these words, I pledge this vow to you, by Mand'alor, by Frith, by Grogu …" His voice broke a little at this last pledge, knowing that she didn't trust words at all, but he hoped she would at least try to accept these words he spoke here. "Do you believe me, my ma'mwsh ha'laa?"

"… I do."

While Marathel had no knowledge of the gravity of those particular words in any setting, much less in a setting such as this one, Din Djarin had seen enough rom-com holos to know that on some cosmic level, the two of them were now tied together for life. Not tied emotionally through the whims of some supernatural or paranormal dog-cat-lizard critter, or even by formal scripts written long ago, but tied nonetheless — by a promise to one another made by each of their conscious hearts, out of love and respect, by their own choosing. A wedding, indeed, by the most basic interpretation of the word.

Ner kar'ta.

Marathel bit her lip, and whispered, "Now what?"

Din blinked. "'Now what?'"

She frowned. "That's what I said. I asked, 'now what?'"

Din decided to tease her a little. "Now what?"

"Din, I swear a vow to you, I am going to punch you in the face."

"Don't do that. You'll hurt your hand." Thoroughly vexed now, Marathel closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'mwsh ha'laa," he said, laughter in his voice.

"No, you're not."

"You're right, I'm not. You're so delightful to tease."

"I'm glad I'm so entertaining," she said, a sneer on her lip. "You're as bad as Cobb."

Din felt a tiny flash of jealousy before he reminded himself that Cobb wasn't going to be around her on Nevarro. "He's a menace, as I said. He's also a bad influence."

"I'm not so sure. Perhaps you need more manwhore in your life." Excuse me? thought Din before she said, "So, what happens now?"

"Usually, the other person repeats the same vows or says their own words. You can make any promises to me you'd wish."

Marathel sighed. "I'm so dumb with words ..." Din shook his head in protest, but Marathel snapped, "No! Let me say it!" Din froze; his eyes fixed on hers as they flashed briefly with anger. Marathel took a deep breath, and said, "I've never been able to say what I need to. My words have always been wrong, my whole life. And I couldn't trust what others said to me because their words ended up … wrong in my head. I would say the wrong words, and then get beaten for it, further … making the words wrong. And then I've been alone, except for the Dahls, for over half my life. It seems …" Marathel shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I can only say what I can, as I'm speaking it.

"The only comfort I've ever had in my life is that I could expect a relative sameness to all my days, painful or not. But then you showed up, and everything went …" She looked up into his visor. "How many days did you say we've known each other?"

"Thirty-three."

"Thirty-three days since I threw a rock at your head." Marathel looked thoughtful. "How many days was it … when you made the decision to come to Unmanarall and find me?"

"Um … five days before that. Karga — he's my contact for new bounties — gave me the puck with the recording on it. I don't know how long he had it before he told me."

Marathel nodded. "So, thirty-eight days. Thirty-eight days ago, you made a decision that changed my life forever." Her brows knitted together for a few moments, then she squeezed his hands tightly. "Thank you."

"I — "

"I may never see you again after you leave me on Nevarro. You can't say I will, you can't control that. Not with what I know about what you do as a Bounty Hunter. But you have given me the most magnificent gift. You have shown me what a man can be. That a man can be kind and not cruel. That a man can touch me, and it won't cause me pain. That a man can make me feel happy and not terrified. And I will be grateful for that knowledge for the rest of my life. Always and forever. Bam'ser y byth'ser. Thank you, Din Djarin, Bounty Hunter. Fawr'lch, byth'ser."

These last two words were whispered as she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him with her face against his throat. She tucked her head under the edge of his helmet, fitting perfectly against him as she'd always had, these thirty-eight days after he'd decided to chase down the vaguest of information on a whim. A whim had brought him to this moment, with this lovely woman holding him tight, and he knew that his life had been changed forever as well. Forever.

Forever.

I will know you forever.

His breath trembled in and out of his helmet as his arms encircled her. Finally, he was able to whisper back to her,

"You're welcome."

They remained, just like that, for a long time. Grogu stood on the little pedestal, raising his arms to them, wanting up. Marathel expertly lifted him with one hand, cuddling the boy between herself and Din. He placed one of his hands over hers on Grogu, his other hand going into her hair. Her hand slid up the back on his neck, under the edge of his helmet. Her fingertips went into the bottom edge of his hair, seeking out a tiny curl that she stroked gently with her thumb while a fingertip lightly felt the raised mostly healed wound from the marchwyl.

"I'm not ..." Din cleared his throat. "I'm not supposed to let you touch my hair like that."

"You're going off to seek absolution from your Living Waters; what's one more sin?" asked a trembling Marathel against his throat, only a couple of layers of thin fabric between her lips and his neck. And they both knew it. Only microns of fibers separated them from each other.

You know what she's suggesting, right, Djarin? And you don't even have to get your entire helmet off to kiss her. Just enough, it's not my eyes, right? Just half my face can't be a sin, right? Right?

But where does it stop? How far can I go? How deeply can I justify my actions and still be right in my Creed? How can I possibly be an honorable man if I cannot respect my Creed?

"Marathel, I …"

"Oh, my stars and garters, I am so sorry to have been gone so long …" When the Chiss woman reentered the chapel room, Din and Marathel hopped backwards away from each other, so quickly that they both forgot they were holding Grogu, who unfortunately dropped to the floor like a wet rock, landing hard on his little bum. At this point, all four people in the room froze with a gasp, and the first to recover was Grogu himself, and he let out an eyeball-exploding yell.

Din and Marathel, aghast that they'd failed their little boy in his fight against gravity, both bent down at the same time. Din reached Grogu first, and he grabbed the squalling boy and was beginning to stand. Unfortunately, Marathel was continuing her downward trajectory at the same time, and her face and his helmet met each other in the middle with a thwonk.

Marathel fell sideways on her elbow, Grogu stopped screaming in general in favor of screaming Mama, and Din wondered if he could possibly any more of a derping klutz! The wedding coordinator hurried over to assess the damage before running off to find the hotel medic. Din sat on the floor with Grogu in the crook of his arm and Marathel's head in his lap. "Kriffing Hell, mesh'la! Where did I hit you?"

She groaned. "The same cheekbone, where the under-Captain kept punching me."

"Well, I can only guess what you did to him for payback, and now I'm terrified."

"I drove a little spear into his head."

Din grinned. "Thank Frith I have the helmet." He moved his arm to let Grogu get closer, to put his little healing hands on his Mama. "Thank you, kid. Thank you for helping Mama. And I'm so sorry, Marathel."

"Did you hurt my flower?"

"Your wha… — I beg your pardon?"

Marathel winced at Grogu's touch, even though he was gentle. "The flower you put in my hair. Is it okay?"

Din leaned over to see. "It's knocked a bit loose; I'll fix it, I promise. If I sit you up, you're not gonna puke on me, are you?"

"I can't promise that." Din gently sat her up about halfway, letting her lean against his leg. "Oooof. A little dizzy. But Grogu helped so much; thank you, my love."

"Tell me if I hurt you," said Din as he gently pressed his helmet against her injured cheek. "Is the beskar still nice and cool?"

"No, your helmet is rather warm. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were hot and blushing under there."

"I was just out in the sun…" muttered Din.

"A loaf of bread ago," chuckled Marathel. Before Din could protest, the wedding coordinator returned with a medical droid. The droid scanned Marathel and found that she was only bruised under her eye. Good job, Grogu, thought Din while the droid gave Marathel a cold pack and helped her to stand.

"Would you like a hover chair back to your room?" asked the wedding coordinator, but Marathel declined. "Oh, and what do you think of this chapel? Does it suit your needs?"

Din answered, "The chapel is very nice. We'll … uh … get back to you on that. But I think we're done here today. Thank you."

"Oh, thank you, sir. My name is Gont. Here is my information. Please contact me when you want to make the reservation," said the wedding coordinator, handing some cards to Din. She walked them out to a shopping area next to the gardens, spied a new potential couple to assist, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Is smacking your intended in the face part of a riduurok?" asked Marathel. "Actually, it wouldn't happen at all, would it? Both of you would be wearing helmets, wouldn't you?"

"Helmets are not foolproof protection against facial injuries." Din re-pinned her flowers securely into her hair. "I once got distracted while following someone, walked into a wall, and broke my nose."

"That must have been some distraction," said Marathel with a chuckle. She saw her reflection in a shop window and gently touched the flowers in her hair. "Thank you for the flower. It's very pretty." Before Din could reply, Marathel asked, "What are all these shiny things?"

Din blinked — he'd been distracted again, this time, by the simple beauty of the woman before him — and he looked in the shop window himself. "Jewelry."

"Ah, yes. Adornments, like the one made of yarn on your wrist. The one that you won't tell me about." She pointed at a pair of earrings, saying, "Those are pretty. Those would go on ears, yes?"

The earrings in question were simple dangles of yellow gold sculpted cup flowers with teardrop gemstones of purple, not unlike ones he'd imagined hanging from her ears earlier. "Yes, those are earrings. But you would need pierced ears to wear them."

"Pierced?"

"You'd have to poke little holes through your earlobes."

Marathel instantly covered her ears with her hands. "Oh, but that would hurt!"

Din shrugged, chuckling. "It doesn't hurt much."

"Oh? You know this from experience?"

"Well … it hurts less than pulling out a rotten tooth with a pair of rusty pliers." Din took her arm again and guided them away from the jewelry shop before Marathel could start asking questions about the display of engagement and wedding rings. As they made their way back through the hotel lobby, Din asked, "Anything else you want to see before we leave?"

"Breakfast."

Din chuckled. "Do you like dumplings?"

"I love them. What are they?"

Din laughed in earnest, then patted her hand. "You'll see." They went back to their room, and Din arranged for a secure delivery droid to take all Marathel's shopping bags to the harbormaster's office, so they wouldn't have to carry them. Meanwhile, Marathel remade the bed. "Marathel, you don't need to do that."

"I don't want to leave an unmade bed for the next person."

"There are housekeepers, who will come in after us, to clean the room and change all the linens. Each guest gets clean sheets." That's the hope, anyway.

"Oh. Well, then," said Marathel. She stripped the bed completely, leaving the covers in one pile on the bed, and the sheets in another. She then went into the 'fresher room, gathered all the used towels into a pile, and left them in the sink.

"Marathel, you really don't need to do that either…"

"Perhaps not, but I would guess that these housekeepers must clean a lot of rooms. I've had to do that, and the weight of the sheets, having to bend over so many times to pick up wet towels from the floor … it's so exhausting after a while."

Din felt his own back ache. "I never thought about it that way."

Marathel hung her new purse over her shoulder. "Sometimes … you need to see from a different direction to understand?"

"See things from a new perspective?"

"Purse-peck-tihv. That is a big word."

"Well, as you learn to read, you'll learn big words," said Din.

"I still need to … figure out these chats I'm supposed to have with the doctors on the holopad."

"I'll help you, once we get going. Do you have everything?" Marathel nodded, and they left the room. As they went to the lift, they saw a large housekeeper's cart, and Din peeked in to see an already tired-looking woman pulling the used sheets off the heavy mattress.

"At least those sheets aren't soaked in blood… or worse," quietly remarked Marathel.

Din was sure that many a housekeeper knew all about that, but he'd never really thought about it before. Perspective. As they went down in the lift, he said, "I'll make sure the housekeepers for our room get a tip."

"Did you want my credit book?"

"No, I'll do it."

"Well, then, I guess I'll buy breakfast."

Din smiled under his helmet and stole a glance at Marathel, who stood tall beside him, her chin up, pretty flowers in her hair. She was so different from the woman he'd met thirty-three days ago, but still so … comfortably the same. "You know … I really like you, Marathel."

She smirked. "Of course you do. I'm delightful."

That, you are, mesh'la. That, you are.