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the-kittylorian-writes · 2 years

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"The Routine"

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Din Djarin x Omera

Rating: General Audiences

Summary:

Every morning, on the clock, Omera wakes up to make breakfast for the Mandalorian and his little green child.

(Written for Mandomera Week 2022, first prompt: “Memory”)

The Routine

It was certainly like clockwork.

Every morning for the past three months, Omera had woken up at nearly the exact same time, when the sun rays would hit the exact same spot on the thatched walls from her hut’s half-open window.

Under the dawn’s mild and glimmering light, Omera would make the bed, freshen up, go to the kitchens and make breakfast not only for herself and Winta, but for her two other guests (probably still snug in the barn, but she knew they would be up early as well). A small, content smile played on Omera’s lips as she diligently laid out her cooking, hummed as the kettle whistled. There was a brightness in her spirit that hadn’t been there for a long time.

She hummed some more, a little off-key, exhilarated as she arranged the steaming breakfast on the tray. It was almost muscle memory, like the ones she kept for survival, like when she first held the blaster rifle as she had been trained all those years ago, and she hadn’t forgotten.

This was a new kind of muscle memory, a new kind of path her steps took every morning, every single day, for three months.

Omera was about done with a dash of decorative garnish—would they like a little foxglove and a little thyme? A little bouquet of forget-me-nots? The green child seemed to love all those little purple flowers. When his small, green nose touched the blooms, he giggled and he sneezed.

The silver warrior would look at his son, and Omera could only pretend that she saw his own fond smile underneath the heaviness of his visor.

Her smile grew wider.

Omera continued to hum her placid song as she lifted the tray skillfully, effortlessly, as she had done so for seemingly countless days. Perfectly balanced, she strode down the stairs of her hut and into a clearing.

She was greeted with a series of “good mornings” and “lovely day!” as she made her way to the barn. She had steady and well-paced steps—and that was why she grew puzzled, indeed, when the early risers of the village whom she exchanged the usual pleasantries with were staring at her strangely, and some with visible amusement. Caben and Stoke, on the other hand, had their mouths agape as she passed them by.

“Good morning, Caben! Hello, Stoke!” she called happily, her tone belying her slight confusion.

“Uh, Omera…” Stoke began, but Caben struck him lightly on the shoulder and they both grinned innocently, and went on their merry way to the ponds.

What’s gotten into everyone? Omera wondered, suddenly doubtful—

And when she arrived at the barn, she froze on her tracks.

“Oh…”

She had never felt so embarrassed in her life… thus far. The heat crept to her face and a wash of melancholy hit her.

So that was probably what everyone had been trying to remind her about, but had been too nice to break the enchantment which was palpable in her gaze, in her gait, in the way she carried herself.

The barn was tidied up and empty, and there were no longer any traces of their Mandalorian guardian and his little boy.

They had already left. They’ve been gone since yesterday.

The village had even showered them with a warm send-off. How could she have completely forgotten?

Omera wondered how foolish she looked, just standing at the foot of the platform of the barn, staring at it as if she beheld it for the first time.

She was holding the tray of food proudly, ready to advance, to call out her usual knock knock by the threshold in permission to enter the Mandalorian’s territory. The man valued his privacy to the utmost.

But he wasn’t there. The baby wasn’t there—she could see the empty cradle from where she stood.

Stupid girl, she chastised herself. A great weight had tugged at her heart. She knew it was silly of her to feel tears forming in her eyes, but she’d taken a huge, deep breath, and the weight abated a little. The tears refuse to fall.

A full day had not even passed, and she’s already missing them so terribly.

“Mama?”

Omera was just about ready to turn heel and return to the homestead, a little angry with herself—she was half-thinking of just tossing the entire tray on the little kitchen sink, and she would find time for herself there, alone for hours, wondering how everything had suddenly changed in her world to a normalcy that refused to settle within her.

Her heart glowed for a beat and then it fell.

She found the source of the voice to be Winta, of course; she saw her little girl already inside the hut so that her small face peeked out timidly, sadly.

“Winta…” Omera softly called out. “Winta, get down from there, please. They’re… they’re not…”

She couldn’t finish. Her voice shook and for sure, Winta would pick it up.

“I know, Mama,” Winta replied with equal dolefulness. Omera flinched. Her daughter sounded so… lost. “I forgot that they’re not here anymore. I was going to give baby a kiss on the forehead before school. I always do that.”

Omera’s throat tightened. “And… and the Mandalorian had let you?”

Winta gingerly stepped out of the barn’s shadows and into the morning dew. The little girl gave her a barely perceptible nod.

“Yep. He’d said it was okay. He’d told me the baby liked it. I think so, too!”

Omera noted the brief burst of gladness in Winta’s voice. Omera sighed; she smiled.

“That’s very nice, sweetheart.”

Winta now was fully out of the hut and she was carefully making her way down the steps. There was a knowing look in the child’s eyes, and Omera wasn’t sure whether to meet her daughter’s gaze or to avoid it…

“You forgot that they’re not here anymore, too, haven’t you, Mama?”

Omera tempered a scoff, but it was useless. They’ve both caught each other red-handed. They would need to come into terms with the reality that their routine could no longer be.

The noble warrior and his precious child had left, now gone to follow their own path—for the father to protect the son, and the son to bring joy to his father’s heart.

Omera did find some consolation in the fact that Cara Dune had decided to linger a bit more, but after months in their village, the soldier within Cara had grown restless. She was, perhaps, miles away, back in the common house enjoying the rest of her early retirement.

However, a greater void was left deep within Omera’s heart caused by the absence of father and son.

“I miss them, Mama,” Winta openly expressed the sentiment stirring in both their souls. “I wish… I wish they didn’t have to leave.”

Omera couldn’t bear it, to see her own sweet child carry the burden of another loss. Winta may not have remembered her birth father all too well, but she had been very lucid when the Mandalorian was around. Omera’s heart had skipped a beat when she saw her daughter perpetually hovering over the Mandalorian and the baby whenever the man allowed her to. The warrior was a very patient, and an even very timid man, stoic but with a strange, beautiful softness Omera couldn’t put her finger on.

Winta stayed on the foot of the step. The girl looked back wistfully, and Omera was surprised to see tears roll down Winta’s cheeks.

Omera felt a plan brewing. She puffed her chest in resolution.

“My darling,” Omera said endearingly with a bit of intrigue. “I’ll tell you what: Since school doesn’t start in an hour, why don’t we both stay in the barn awhile?” She held up the tray of deliciously smelling food, to hopefully tantalize Winta, even when Winta had her own usual breakfast, one unlike a grown man’s and a baby’s.

Winta sniffed messily; she ran a hand over her face, but to Omera’s delight, she saw it—there, in Winta’s eyes, was a spark of happiness.

“We can pretend that they’re still there!” Winta offered, figuring out her mother’s plan. She recoiled a little, hesitant. “I know it sounds silly, pretending and all that…”

Omera laughed her musical laugh. “Well, only for now. Maybe for a few days, just to wean ourselves away from… from their presence. We can’t just suddenly go Cold Grinjer, can we?”

Winta’s smile had grown enough for her dimples to show. “No… going Cold Grinjer is a bad idea, Mama!”

****

And so it was for the days that followed—Omera waking up on the clock, the rhythms of her hands and her feet and her entire body flowing to the beat of her routine, as if the Mandalorian and the child were still there.

Sometimes, she would pray for their safety. Sometimes, she would sing—and her cheeks were on fire—as if she sang to him. Sometimes, she would be silent altogether; eyes closed in the middle of the task, she would imagine the sound of the Mandalorian’s voice, full and rich and kind, conversational yet gruff, succinct yet meaningful.

Then she would carry the breakfast tray to the barn and meet Winta there, all spruced up for classes during the weekdays, pretty teal ribbons adorning her wavy dark hair. Her daughter would smile, dimple-wide, and they’d set up the breakfast on the low wooden table where the Mandalorian set his food down sometimes. The Mandalorian had let Omera and Winta dally for a moment, saying he’d “eat later” as he fed his son as Winta would feed the child on occasion. He’d make sure that the baby ate a “balanced meal,” and invited companionship as he asked for some pointers on child-rearing from Omera.

Winta and Omera sat around the low table. Like small children in their fantastical realm, they’d re-enact their favorite scenes which they’ve both shared with the Mandalorian and the baby.

“Baby would be making a fuss there,” Winta recalled, pointing solemnly on the empty cradle, and she’d lift a glass of warm blue milk to drink. “Then I’d say, ‘Baby, you forgot to have your pudding!’” then the Mandalorian would take the bowl and scold Baby for neglecting his pudding…”

Omera giggled. The Mandalorian hadn’t really introduced his son by name, so in his usual gentle and patient (and amused) way, he let the village children name him, and the best they could come up was Baby. Not very creative, the children admitted, but very straightforward. And Baby seemed to appreciate it all the same.

One hour, every morning for the past week turned to two weeks… and then, to three.

Omera knew that this “make-believe” breakfast with absentee participants was finally reaching a point where it was no longer healthy. But Winta had been so wonderfully and eagerly obliging, and her daughter enjoyed it thoroughly as much as Omera did.

She had to break out a final reality check to Winta.

“We need to stop now, my darling,” Omera truthfully advised Winta, a note as well towards her own self. She kept her tone from wavering. “I think… I think we’re ready to move on. Don’t you think?”

Winta was silent for long moments, like a Sorgan sprite with her glimmering hazel brown eyes on her sweet face framed by soft, brown curls.

The child’s reply was barely audible, and her face grew forlorn. “Okay, Mama.”

****

Winta had begged for a compromise a few months later.

Omera was truly stunned at how the Mandalorian and the baby had such an encompassing impact on her daughter; there was still an unmistakable sorrow in Winta which needed appeasement. It wasn’t as pronounced as it had been when Omera first encountered it in her child, but at the end of the day, it was, after all, a compromise.

“We can celebrate the breakfast ritual,” Winta suggested—as they had christened their new routine—“like, one morning every other week. Like—like an anniversary, even when it isn’t—Oh, Mama! I’d like to celebrate Mister Mando and Baby once in a while. They did help us save our village…”

Omera held back a deep sigh of resignation. Winta had small, conniving ways to convince her every now and then, and this was one such event. And her daughter was right. The Mandalorian and Baby could—and perhaps should—be celebrated, even if it’s just the two of them: Winta and Omera, together.

The widow knew, in a flitting moment of profound sadness, that she had found the fiber in her being to move on, as she had finally lost track of time since the Mandalorian departed from their krill farm.

On the other hand, the village was indeed grateful, but they had all moved on more easily. Omera discovered, however, that they’d drink to the Mandalorian’s health once in a while, when an excess of good spotchka was to be had.

If the village celebrated in their own ways—and Omera couldn’t possibly have spotchka with little Winta yet!—she knew she had found a reason to agree upon a compromise.

Winta hugged her hard and peppered her cheeks with kisses.

One morning every other week: that was the arrangement. It wasn’t as stringent as the old clockwork, of course, but muscle memory was still intact—the swiftness of movements as Omera prepared the milk, the cream, the caf, the bread, the meats, and the baby’s pudding— and then a small vial of foxglove flowers and thyme blooms and forget-me-nots.

She worked with grace. And Omera knew, even when it was not meant to be—she worked with love.

It seemed like another dewy morning with its misty sun rays and birdsong. The night before, Omera thought she’d heard the soft rumble of a faraway starship in the skies. She blinked hard in concentration as she arranged the cream pot neatly at a corner of the tray.

It couldn’t be.

It’s never going to be.

She brushed all suppositions away and wore her small smile as she made a beeline to the barn where Winta was waiting.

The village looked happier, looked livelier as they greeted her with bigger smiles—and Omera thought, it’s great to be in a good mood…

She plodded on, tray balanced perfectly in both hands, as she had always done before the compromise, and she took one step up the barn platform, and another.

“Winta, darling, here’s breakfas—“

When Omera raised her eyes after she safely found her footing through the threshold—

She froze. Her breath had caught so tightly in her throat, she thought she’d suffocate where she stood.

Before her eyes could catch up with this unlikely turn of events, her ears had caught it first—the delighted giggle of Baby, and Winta’s ecstatic response in turn.

There, in the middle of the barn, was the Mandalorian.

He looked the same yet changed; he still wore the same silver armor, but there were new adornments on them, and Omera realized how much time had flown, and yet… now, at this very instant, it had reached a dreamy standstill.

The Mandalorian’s visor regarded her; the man nodded once, and with an audibly affectionate and playful lilt in his gruff voice, the Mandalorian greeted her: “Knock, knock.”

“Mama,” interjected Winta in overflowing excitement, adding very needlessly, “they’re back! Isn’t it too awesome? We don’t have to pretend anymore—”

Baby giggled and cooed and laughed.

Omera’s breath hitched further as she shot her daughter a look. She knew she blushed so intensely, and she couldn’t speak—

Then the Mandalorian chuckled. It sounded muffled under the helmet, transmitted by vocoder, and Omera was simply about to marvel at the sound of the man’s gentle laughter when—without as much as a warning, and perhaps, to surprise her so entirely that he probably got the reaction he wanted…

The Mandalorian had pulled the helmet off his head. He then cautiously set the shiny helm upon the low table.

Wait… wait… Omera thought in panic that morphed into bliss. What happened to their Creed… What happened to… ‘This is the Way’…??

Omera only saw the Mandalorian’s brown eyes, as depthless as a dark lake in calm afternoons, when she accidentally let the tray slip from her hands. It could have shattered noisily over the floorboards had the man not possessed quick reflexes and caught the disaster before it fractured into many pieces.

The Mandalorian may have said his name—his real name—and baby’s real name too, but Omera seemed unhearing as she rummaged through the caverns of her mind, so new memories can set up camp and stay there for years and years.

In that moment, she only saw the coy smile on his handsome face, and when she let out a sigh of disbelief and pure joy, Omera knew that the Mandalorian was committing her smile into memory, too.

*****

A/N: Want to support this fic on AO3 too? 💚 The link is here. TYSM loves!

#mandomeraweek2022 #mild mandomera #din x omera #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfics #my works #my fic #din djarin #omera #sorgan #the mandalorian season 1 #and AU after the book of boba fett #the-kittylorian mandomera week fics

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cutieodonoghue · 3 years

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the edge of hope (2/9)

summary: canon divergent au; when Din left Sorgan to protect the Child, he left the woman he’d fallen in love with, not knowing he’d also left behind something else. Or, Omera and Winta join Mando and Grogu on their season 2 adventures. Mandomera!

Catch up here: 1

Second chapter below the cut or on AO3!

The Marshal

Peli Motto was a small woman, whose brown curls were wild and free atop her head. Her hands were on her hips the instant the ramp to the Razor Crest extended downwards.

Her worker droids seemed eager to get to work on the ship, chirping and chattering as the steam from the engines exhausted, three of them with tools in hand at Peli’s side. She shooed them away, but he shrugged, saying, “May as well let them have at it.”

In a sling he’d constructed of fabric, he held the Child at his side, and behind him, both Omera and Winta followed onto the flat white sand of the hangar bay.

The trip had been seamless, and he’d actually found that he enjoyed getting to spend the idle time listening to Winta tell stories about life on Sorgan. Omera had been quiet, but her smile was kind when he mentioned that the Child had begun trying to form words. Nothing substantial yet, but Din was sure he’d get there eventually.

“I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos…” Peli paused, surprise in her features at the sight of the Child slung off to his side. He adjusted it so that the Child could see her more clearly, slowing to a stop before the woman. “Oh, thank the Force! This little thing has had me worried sick.”

Peli reached in, grabbing the Child without permission. He squeaked, little noises that Din had learned indicated that he was curious.

“Looks like it remembers me. How much do you want for it?” She paused, eyes finding Omera standing at his side. She softened slightly. “Guess your crew’s grown since the last time you were here, too.”

Din glanced over at Omera and Winta. In a way, it felt like he was introducing them to an old friend, even if he and Peli weren't quite friends- or were they?

Maybe they could find themselves on Nevarro and meet up with Karga and Dune at some point. Omera would probably like to see Cara again.

He nodded at Peli. “We’re here on business. Need your help.”

"Hold on. Aren't you gonna introduce me to your new crew members?"

Omera stepped forward, smiling kindly. "I'm Omera. This is my daughter, Winta."

Peli grinned. "Peli. It's good to meet you. Anyone who travels with Mando here is a friend in my book." Lifting an eyebrow at him, she snarked, "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Din turned his attention onto the Child still held snug in Peli's arms.

“I’ve been quested to bring this one back to its kind. Can you help?”

“Oh, wow.” She scoffed and gave her head a minute shake. “I’ve never seen any like it. And trust me, I’ve seen all shapes and sizes in this town.”

“If I can locate another of my kind, I can chart a path through the network of coverts.”

Peli looked him up and down. “You’ve been the only Mando here for years from what I can tell.”

“Where is Mos Pelgo?” Omera spoke up. “We’ve heard that there is one there.”

“Oh. Boy, I haven’t heard that name in a while.” Peli frowned. “It was wiped out by bandits. Once the Empire fell, it was a free-for-all. I didn’t dare leave the city walls. Still don’t.”

“Can you tell us where it used to be?” Din asked.

“R-five!” Peli called out. “Bring the map of Tatooine!”

The droid did as was requested, with only a mild admonishing by Peli. With the holo map displayed, the hangar manager gestured to the markings.

“This is a map of Tatooine before the war. You got Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and up around this region, Mos Pelgo.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, it’s there. Or, at least, it used to be. Not much to speak of. It’s an old mining settlement.” She turned, looking at the Crest. “They’re going to see that big hunk o’ metal long before you land.”

“You still have that old speeder bike?”

Peli looked at the group of them, already chastising him for the idea before she could do it with her words. “You can’t all fit on one speeder bike. How about we find you one more? The ladies can share.”

Din turned to Omera. “Do you think you could ride a speeder with Winta?”

With a little breathless smile, she shrugged. “I used to race speeders. Why not?”

Suddenly, he was desperate to learn so much more about Omera, but there was no time.

“Where’d you find this one?” Peli teased with a wink. “I know a guy. Let’s get you on your way.”

Omera’s speeder bike had a sidecar where Winta sat, strapped in tight. They rode behind Din, whose attention was dead-set on getting them well on their way to Mos Pelgo before the suns set.

As they traveled the sandy dunes of Tatooine, Omera smiled to herself beneath the scarf she used to cover her mouth and nose. It had been a long time since she’d last ridden a speeder, but it felt natural to be back at it again. Winta seemed to enjoy it too, giggling loud enough to be heard over the whirring of the engine.

Swiftly, it seemed, dusk came upon Tatooine. Din slowed when they spotted a group of camped out Tusken Raiders, all gathered around a fire with something cooking on top of a spit.

“I think we should stop. Ask for directions.” Din spoke just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the bikes. “They know this land.”

Omera nodded in agreement. “Do you speak their language?”

“I speak a lot of languages.”

It was all he said, as if it was the most casual thing in the whole of the galaxies to be well-versed in a lot of languages. She resolved she’d have to ask him more about it later.

Din led them into the camp with one hand held up in an act of peace. The Raiders had banthas grazing, something that drew Winta’s attention. Having slowed her speeder to a stop behind Din, Omera withdrew her scarf and smiled softly at her daughter.

“They’re called banthas.”

Winta’s eyes grew wide with curiosity. “Do you ride them?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Omera confirmed, keeping her voice quiet.

Din spoke to the Tuskens, gesturing with his hands as he went. It seemed the Tuskens found whatever he had to say amenable, returning to the campfire with a gentle gesture of kindness made with one of their staffs.

The Mandalorian turned to them. “They would like us to join them.”

He stepped toward their speeder and helped Winta out of the sidecar. Omera watched with so much intensity that it prevented her from climbing off of the bike herself. It was endearing to see that he cared.

As soon as Winta had set her feet on solid ground again after a day of riding through the desert, he turned to her. “You alright?”

Omera smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

Swiftly, she climbed off of the bike and moved to reach into one of the pouches on the side, where she’d stored some food for them to share on their journey to Mos Pelgo. After handing Winta a ration of food, she took her by the hand to walk with her toward the strangers.

She and Winta kept quiet, sitting opposite of Din at the fire that was mostly surrounded by Raiders. Din spoke with them. His knowledge of their language was entirely fascinating to her.

The discussion wasn’t very long, and once it was over, the Raiders took their food that had been cooking and retreated to their banthas just beyond a hunk of rock in the earth so that they could rest.

The fire still crackled between them, giving the armor Din wore a warm orange tint. Beside him, the Child sat, still keeping his unyielding focus on his father.

“They say it isn’t far from here,” Din told them. “Just a few more hours. We can make it by midmorning tomorrow.”

“Did they say if there were people still living there?”

He nodded. “They say it’s a small community.”

Omera looked at Winta. Her daughter kept her gaze on the sky, scanning the stars above them. It must have been a lot for her to take in. A new planet, with new creatures and beings. New languages that didn’t make sense to her mind.

She put her hand on Winta’s back and soothed her by rubbing a gentle circle with her palm.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

“Tired,” Winta admitted. She scrunched up her nose as her focus returned to her. “We were riding the speeder bike for so long.”

“I know.” Omera smiled sympathetically. She bit down on her lip, thoughtful, and then looked at the rock just opposite them beyond the fire. “Come with me. We can lean back against the rock and try to rest.”

Together, they stood and joined Din on his side of the fire. Winta sat against the rock first, and Omera followed. When she did so, she was surprised to see that the Child stared back at her, his head tilted with curiosity.

“Are you tired too?” she wondered.

The Child made a noise, a little blep. Din scooped him up and stood from his little stool made of a chunk of rock. He moved to join Omera, settling down close enough to her that she felt his shoulder touching hers.

The Mandalorian adjusted his son in his arms, cradling him, and then looked at her. “I’ll keep watch. Just in case.”

“You should rest too,” Omera said. She didn’t want him to carry the burden of being the sole protector of their group. She wanted him to know that he had an equal in her. “I can keep watch for a little while.”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

She sighed a little, but nodded regardless. Omera brought her arm around Winta, the girl already eager to lean into her side so she could sleep cushioned by her.

Gently, Omera allowed her head to fall onto Din’s shoulder, and she felt him go still, as if surprised, but he didn’t say or do anything.

Then, she heard him sigh softly, and his voice was quiet, “Sleep well.”

Almost as soon as the twin suns of Tatooine rose, they were on their way to Mos Pelgo. Feeling not so refreshed from what amounted to a nap or two sitting upright against a rock, Omera felt confident that they would find what they were looking for.

Their arrival caused somewhat of a stir in the people of the tiny town, especially as they slowly rode their speeders through it in search of another of Din’s kind.

“Do you think they’re here?” Winta asked nervously.

Din remained quiet as he surveyed their surroundings from just ahead of them.

Tucked into a pouch that hung from the side of the speeder, the Child peered around at the faces of the onlookers. His little ears twitched at all of the sounds of the new town. Omera could tell that he was incredibly happy to be on an adventure with his father. He’d worn a smile on his face since they landed on Tatooine.

Din slowed to a stop before the town bar and climbed off of his speeder without any further thought or discussion, moving toward the building with intent.

Winta, her carefree girl, very nearly followed after him, but Omera slowed her with an extended hand. Together, they made for quite the crowd. Part of her wondered if it would be sustainable in their search for a Jedi.

“We’ll wait outside, Winta.”

Winta huffed a dramatic sigh, throwing her head back as she folded her arms to her chest. “But Mama, we’re here to help.”

“I don’t think we’ll be very helpful if we get in the Mandalorian’s way.”

Omera climbed off of the speeder, watching with curiosity when she spotted the Child climbing out of his little pouch to go join Din in the bar. She made no move to stop him. Din was his father, and she was only a friendly face to him.

As Omera helped Winta out of the sidecar, Winta’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard you say his name. Din. Can I say it too?”

Omera glanced into the open door to the bar. She saw three figures within, but the light from the suns was too bright for her to know if Din had found who he was searching for.

Looking to her daughter once again, Omera shook her head. “We can ask him. But not yet. He has a lot on his mind right now.”

Taking Winta by the hand, they moved to stand by the door of the bar, off of the sandy road that cut straight through Mos Pelgo. The small town was surprisingly populated for having no markings on any map. In some ways, it reminded her of the village they lived in on Sorgan: a tight-knit group of people from all walks of life, all gathered to form one community.

Just opposite them on the other side of the road, Omera spotted a woman with a baby, swaddled against her chest. The child’s head was all she could see, but she couldn’t help but take compassion on their mother, who struggled to lift a container filled with water up onto the porch of the dwelling.

Their eyes met from across the sandy divide and Omera smiled, her fingers having fallen to the small swell of her belly as a reflex. It seemed the woman found kinship with her, offering a kind smile in return.

There was a great rumbling of the earth that forced Omera into protective mode. She grabbed for Winta as the ground shook and listened as fearful townspeople scurried away from the main road and into their homes as fast as they could.

Suddenly, an alarm blared, but it did not give nearly enough forewarning of what was to come.

Din and another of his kind, donning an aged and worn sort of armor, but who wore no helmet, stepped out of the bar.

She’d learned from Din that Mandalorians wore their full armor in the presence of others. It seemed there was still something for them to learn about Din’s kind, if this man was indeed a Mandalorian.

The sand began to move, as if swallowed by the ground, starting at the far end of town. Swiftly, a creature hidden by sand burrowed straight through, dark and powerful.

From what Omera could tell, it was a sand dragon, scales the color of the sand. She was sure it had plenty of sharp teeth that would destroy anything that stood in its path, including an innocent bantha just beyond the town’s outer rim.

The dragon made a noise, a moan, and then it was back beneath the surface, burrowing away from Mos Pelgo as if it got what it came for.

It was over almost as soon as it had begun, but the ground still vibrated in the creature’s stead.

Without the alarms blaring, the townspeople began to make right their main road. They worked in teams to reset fallen equipment, to survey the damage as if this were something that happened often. Omera’s heart sank for them.

“Are you alright?” Din’s voice returned her focus to him.

She nodded, realizing that she still held onto Winta as if something was about to happen. She gently released her daughter, glancing past Din to the man in green and red Mandalorian armor.

“We’re fine.”

“Now, hold on,” the man said, a polite smile curling at his lips. “Just who might you be?”

“I’m Omera. This is my daughter, Winta. We’re traveling with the Mandalorian.”

The man looked at Din thoughtfully for a beat. Then, nodded at Omera. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal of Mos Pelgo.”

“It’s good to meet you, Marshal.”

She had the feeling that Cobb Vanth wasn’t truly a Mandalorian. He seemed carefree in the armor, as if not sworn to any sort of creed. The way Din stared after the Marshal made it clear even without seeing his facial expression: he didn’t trust him.

“That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established.” Cobb said, gesturing to the town street. “Thanks to this armor, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and Sand People. They look to me to protect ’em.” He eyed Din. “But a krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone. Help me kill it, I’ll give you the armor.”

Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, Din seemed to consider how he would do such a thing.

“Deal. I’ll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky, use the bantha as bait.”

Cobb Vanth shook his head. “Not so simple. The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground.” He paused, seeming to know he had Din where he wanted him. “But I know where it lives.”

“How far?”

“A few hours at most.”

They rode speeder bikes following Cobb Vanth’s lead straight into Tusken Raider territory. The Tuskens, they soon discovered, had been trying to rid the valley of the krayt dragon, but hadn’t been successful.

As they all sat around a fire in their small village on a tall ridge, Omera listened to the Tusken leader explain to Din that the dragon had taken a home that they would visit come the morning.

Winta lay curled at Omera’s side, sleeping to the sounds of discussion and a warm fire. On her other side, the Child sat, his ears perked at the chatter. He seemed deeply interested in what was going on, but especially in the sound of Din’s voice.

Cobb Vanth clearly had some qualms about the Sand People, his fears coming out in frustration that ended with Din rising to his feet and blasting a brief stream of fire from his flamethrower between the two parties.

Silence fell over the group for a moment before Din spoke in Tusken again.

“What are you telling them?” Vanth asked, still catching his breath from his anger.

“Same thing I’m telling you,” Din said coolly. “If we fight amongst ourselves, the monster will kill us all.”

When there wasn’t any conversation left to be had, the Tusken leader made a gesture to Din and their people retreated to their homes a few hearty paces away from the fire.

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Din explained to her and the marshal.

Pride wasn’t quite the only thing she felt, having watched Din spend the past several hours bridging the gap so that two groups of peoples could not only communicate, but form a bond in the shape of coming together to fight for a similar cause.

Cobb Vanth rose from his perch by the fire and nodded. “You were… very helpful today, Mando. Apologies that things got so heated.”

Din nodded his head once at Vanth, but said nothing in response. Omera stared into the flames of the fire as the marshal’s footsteps faded into the near distance. Perhaps he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Come here, kid,” Din’s voice brought her attention away from Cobb. He stood from his previous spot across the fire, moving to be closer to her and Winta. With hands outstretched, he took his boy into his arms. “Time to sleep.”

The Child made a little noise in protest and Din shook his head, sighing heavily. He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small metal ball, holding it between his fingers for just a second before giving it to his son.

The responding coo was enough to make Omera smile.

The Mandalorian settled himself and his son on the ground beside her, taking care to ensure that the boy was more comfortable than he was.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was a good father, and he would continue to be, even if she chose not to share the secret she carried within her.

So easily, her mind retreated back to the fact that she still hadn’t told Din. She knew she shouldn’t tell him right then, not with his head in the midst of such a deep, complicated problem. However, soon, she’d have no choice, and that was something that terrified her.

It was dangerous to love a man whose life was one mission, one fight, one danger after the next. She’d learned this once before, with Winta’s father, and had been determined that she wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Yet, her heart yearned for him anyway.

“Is all of this really for a suit of armor?” Omera asked quietly.

Din turned his head toward her. “It’s Mandalorian armor. It doesn’t belong with him.”

Omera smiled thoughtfully. She shifted just slightly, enough that their arms brushed. “I think you can’t help but solve every problem that comes your way. You can’t help but help people.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s kind.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “You are a good man, Din.” She paused, smiling a little when she took notice of the Child sleeping in his arm. “And a good father.”

The Mandalorian was silent for a moment. His voice cracked when he spoke again, soft, just for her, “I’m trying.”

Just shortly before morning arrived on the sandy planet of Tatooine, Omera woke up. She checked on her companions and quickly discovered that the children both remained soundly asleep.

The Child rested beneath Winta’s arm like he belonged there, making the tiniest noises that made her smile. The visual was a warm reminder of a time to come, when Winta would get to cradle her new sibling as they slept.

Din was nowhere to be found, but Cobb was still asleep as well, hands tucked together against his chest while he laid flat on the ground.

Omera stood so that she could stretch. It wasn’t easy to sleep on the ground and her body made sure she knew that. With a small grimace, she felt the tell-tale signs of a friendly bout of sickness tickle at the back of her throat.

The Sand People had shown them where they could relieve themselves in private, so she made her way to the space between two rocks and unceremoniously got sick.

By the time she was finished and had pulled herself back together, the suns had finally poked their way past the horizon. As she emerged from the space between the rocks, she saw the Mandalorian. He stood talking with one of the Tuskens, though his attention very quickly shifted onto her.

Averting her gaze with the smallest twinge of embarrassment, Omera walked back to the campsite. Winta had risen for the day and sat up with her arms wrapped around her knees. She stared blankly ahead of her, very clearly just as exhausted as Omera felt.

“Morning, Winta.” Omera managed a smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Not so good.” Winta scrunched up her nose. “The ground is very hard.”

Omera hummed. She went to their speeder bike to grab a container of water from a pouch at the side. When she joined her daughter on the ground, she had a hearty sip to wash away the taste of bile from her throat.

“I don’t suspect we’ll be sleeping on the ground for very much longer,” Omera told Winta. “Do you want some water?”

Winta nodded. She handed the container off to her daughter and peered over at Din. The Mandalorian made his way toward the camp, hands on his hips like he was in charge. His arrival to the camp made his boy toddle toward him with arms outstretched.

“The Tuskens said we have to ride banthas to the sarlacc pit.”

He leaned down to pick the Child up and settled him into one arm. It was so natural how he fathered his boy.

“Really?” Winta asked eagerly. Suddenly, she was wide awake and ready to see what the day held for them.

Din nodded once. “They’d like us to leave soon, so if we’re all ready…”

Winta was on her feet in an instant. “C’mon, Mama. We get to ride a bantha!”

Omera laughed. She stood again and met Din’s gaze. Her heart skipped an unexpected beat and her belly swooped.

“You’ll have to teach us how. We don’t have any experience.”

He tilted his head slightly at her. “Well… it’s pretty simple. I don’t know if you need a lesson.”

Omera lifted a shoulder and smiled at him. “Humor us.”

When they were given a bantha to share, Din helped direct them. “You first, Omera. Grab the horn on the saddle. It’s like riding a speeder.”

Omera did as she was told, careful with the mighty beast as she slung her leg over the saddle and put both feet into the stirrups. Looking down, she saw Winta beaming with delight.

“Me next?”

“Here.” Din held out his hands in preparation for grabbing Winta from behind. “I’ll help.”

The Mandalorian hoisted Winta up into his arms and Omera helped settle her onto the saddle in front of her. When Winta was secured, Omera held onto her tightly, arms wrapped around her middle.

Winta giggled with the brightest kind of happiness.

“Thank you,” Omera said earnestly to the Mandalorian.

Din nodded at them. “You’re welcome.”

When their banthas began to move, Winta gasped and laughed again. Din glanced over at them from his and Omera swore she could almost see his smile.

After visiting the sarlacc pit, they returned to the village on the tall ridge for another evening of discussions. The Tuskens showed them that they’d come up with the bare bones of a plan by literally using, well, bones.

Diplomacy between the people of Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens continued well through the night, arguments and ideas exchanged with tense looks and words spoken through the Mandalorian.

Omera cared for the children as best she could, supervising as they played and drew figures in the dirt. When it came time to eat, she prepared a small meal of soup for the Tuskens to thank them for their kindness.

As she ladled out a second bowl for the Child, she listened to Din speak with Cobb Vanth. It was apparent that tensions were still high, but she had a feeling Vanth would be unable to keep fighting off the sand people, should he want the krayt dragon to leave his people alone.

Cobb pivoted on his foot, reaching up to scratch his beard in thought, and walked away, leaving Din alone to speak to the Tuskens.

When they seemed satisfied, Din approached the Child, who sat on the ground with his bowl of soup between both hands.

“He’ll come around to your plan.” Omera stood to ladle out a bowl of soup for the Mandalorian, fresh from the pot over the fire. “He’s just too proud to admit he needs help.”

She held the bowl out for him to take. “It isn’t much, but it will fill you for the night.”

“Thank you.” For a moment, he didn’t take it from her, simply staring at her instead. When he finally extended his fingers to take it, he asked softly, “How are the children handling all of this?”

“As well as any child.” Omera smiled a bit when she recalled Winta’s soft sighs of boredom earlier in the night. Now, she laid on the ground sound asleep. “Winta has already learned so much about the universe she could never learn in her lessons at home. She loves the banthas.”

Din chuckled. “I heard.”

Glancing over at Din’s son, she found him staring up at them with his teeth exposed and a happy giggle. Omera had learned quickly that the boy found the most joy in the simplest moments. He liked being a child, something that he’d never be able to have. Not truly.

“He loves to hear your voice. I think he would be happy anywhere you were.”

Din sat on the ground beside the Child, earning the boy’s affection in an instant. Omera joined them, drawing her knees toward her chest so she could rest her cheek upon them as she gazed after the man she loved.

He adjusted the bowl in his hands. “The plan will only work if we all work together. I worry that won’t be possible.”

Omera’s heart ached. “You’ve done all you can. It’s up to them to see this for what it is.”

The fire crackled and she shifted to allow herself to get lost staring into it. Her mind drifted, thoughts of the future echoing through her mind in a pleasant daydream.

“The Tuskens told me they were thankful for your kindness today.”

She smiled softly to herself. Looking at Din again, she wondered aloud, “When did you learn their language?”

“I was taught many languages as a child. It was part of my training.”

Omera hummed in understanding. Between them, the Child waved his hand at her, as if trying to get her attention. “Hello, little one.”

“He likes you.”

She flashed a smile at Din. “Since we’re part of the same crew, I’m glad. It would make for difficult travels otherwise.”

Din laughed through his nose, barely enough to humor her. She had the feeling that he was unsure of how to act with her. If she were being honest, she wasn’t exactly sure either.

She had joined him on this mission out of a deep desire to know if they could be together. She wanted to learn if his time on Sorgan had merely been a gift that should have been cherished for what it was.

So far, she’d found that traveling with the Mandalorian brought her more comfort than she’d thought it could.

For so long after he left the village, whether she meant to or not, she’d waited for him to return. As the days had passed, she wondered if he could possibly feel the same way she felt for him. It was nice to think that maybe he did. Why else would he have invited her to come with him?

His fingers caressed the rim of his bowl of soup, a reminder to her that he wouldn’t eat it unless he could remove his helmet, something that would require him to be alone.

Carefully, Omera lifted his son from where he sat between them into her arms and cradled him against her chest.

“We’ll turn away so you can eat.”

With a brief look around to check their surroundings, Din nodded.

Omera turned away from the Mandalorian, focused on the babbling Jedi child in her arms. He put a hand on her cheek and she smiled at him.

“Are you getting tired yet?” she asked quietly. “Winta fell asleep a while ago.”

The Child’s fingers moved away from her face and he blinked slowly, revealing that he was indeed getting sleepy. Omera lifted her fingers to the wrinkled top of his head and soothed him.

Softly, she sang the words of an ancient lullaby, a song she’d sung to Winta when she was a newborn baby. A song she would sing one day to the child growing within her as well.

As the verses of the song came to an end, she hummed the melody, gently swaying with the Child in her arms. His eyes had fallen shut, but she could tell he wasn’t quite asleep yet.

After a few more minutes, she rested her palm over his belly and lowered her lips to the top of his head. “Sleep well.”

“You have a beautiful singin’ voice, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

Omera looked up at the sound of Cobb Vanth’s voice. He approached the fire with his hands settled on his hips.

She smiled at his complimentary words. “Thank you, Marshal.”

The Marshal of Mos Pelgo turned his attention to the Mandalorian. “It’s nice to see a family tight knit as you are. Got some really good kids, too.”

Slowly, she shifted in her spot, turning to see Din again. He’d replaced his helmet, the bowl empty on the ground beside him.

“Thanks.”

The Mandalorian didn’t correct Cobb. She wasn’t sure what he would correct him with. They weren’t technically a crew. They weren’t technically a family. They were more than friends. Perhaps the best thing to say was nothing at all.

Cobb slowly slunk towards them, settling himself down on a boulder across the fire from Din.

“I’ve given it some thought. The deal is too good for us to pass up. We lose the dragon. Our town can return to life as normal. And, we get an ally in the Tuskens, as strange as that would be.”

“All they’re asking is you keep the peace,” Din said. “Think you can manage that?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Then tomorrow, we’ll go back to Mos Pelgo and get prepared for a fight.”

Cobb flashed them a smile, nodding his head. He looked at the pot hanging over the fire. “Somethin’ smells real good.”

“Oh, you can have some,” Omera smiled back at him. “I managed to pull some soup together.”

“Anything beats the roast mystery critters we had last night. Much obliged, ma’am.”

As Cobb helped himself to the soup over the fire, Din suddenly rose to his feet and walked over to his speeder bike. He grabbed something from a satchel hanging off the side, obscured in the dark. When he returned to the fire, he knelt at Winta’s side and covered her sleeping body in a blanket. Omera smiled at the kindness of the act.

Din lingered for a second when he stood, his attention on the Child in Omera’s arms, and then he was back at her side, his shoulder brushing hers.

Omera looked at the Mandalorian, listening as the fire crackled, and found that he focused on her.

They didn’t need to talk. She shifted closer to him and rested her cheek against the cool of his armor. Her gaze comfortably returned to the fire in front of them. Din’s fingers found her knee, as if it were his way of welcoming her intimacy.

“Do you want to help during the fight?” Din asked, his voice quiet.

Omera didn’t need to think about it. She was here to help Din on his path, and that path now included a fight with a krayt dragon. As scary as it was, she knew deep within her very soul that they would be capable, especially with the help of many.

“Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

The Mandalorian’s fingers flexed a little on her knee. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She smiled to herself, unable to help it. “Me too.”

With the Marshal of Mos Pelgo willing to try the plan that the Tuskens pulled together, they returned to the sleepy town with the intention of drafting an army composed of every townsperson.

It wasn’t easy. There were some hard words and tense arguments. As they began to saddle up their banthas, a few of the townspeople fought with the Tuskens, but Cobb Vanth was quick to calm things.

Hopefully, the tensions between the two groups wouldn’t be a sign of things to come.

When they arrived at the abandoned sarlacc pit for the second time, Omera and Winta helped the townspeople with their elaborate trap in the ground. There seemed to be a confidence that built over the course of the morning, as they crafted the trap that would ensnare the great krayt dragon.

When it came time for them to execute the plan, she retreated to the distant line at the back of the fight, where Din and Cobb Vanth were waiting with a few of the Tusken leaders.

With the Child in her arms and Winta at her side, Omera felt nervous. She hadn’t wanted to bring the children along, but Din promised that when it came time for the dragon to be baited, Winta and the Child would be tucked away, protected from the violence to come.

None of them imagined it would fail. In fact, there was no choice. They had to succeed.

Din approached her with a rifle in his hand. “We need you to shoot.”

Omera nodded once and took a deep, steadying breath. It was time for them to wake the dragon. She lowered the Child into Winta’s arms.

“Go to the little alcove we found earlier. I’ll come for you when it’s safe. Don’t be afraid.”

Winta bobbed her head and was on her way, fast and easy, with no arguing. It was good, Omera thought, that she wasn’t any older, lest they have a fight over if she could stay and be part of the battle.

Omera took the weapon from Din, their fingers brushing ever so slightly during the pass. She didn’t like to shoot, but this was part of the agreement she’d made with herself when she decided to leave Sorgan to join Din. She would defend herself, and her children.

“We’ll stay back here. Hopefully it doesn’t get too messy.”

The Mandalorian had planted the roots of confidence in the army gathered at the entrance of the abandoned sarlacc pit, but now, they would all have to work together to find victory in that confidence.

At first, the plan seemed to work. The dragon emerged, its roars angry, and it was eager to snack on a few of the Sand People that couldn’t move fast enough. Each life lost made Omera’s heart ache all the more.

The Tuskens deployed their spear launchers, tethering the dragon to them by rope so that they could try and pull it towards them. It wasn’t an easy task.

The creature slithered in the sand closer to their charges, but not quite close enough to make the hit fatal. The Tuskens yelled in their language, clearly getting a little bit frustrated, and Din cursed aloud.

“Dank farrik, it’s going back in.”

The Tusken Raiders began screaming, frantic, and they all watched with bated breath as the dragon began to slink backwards, the rope of the launched spears popping free and dragging a few of the raiders back with the monster.

“It’s retreating.”

“I’m going to hit it,” Cobb Vanth said. He held in his hand the button that ignited the charges they’d set.

Omera’s eyes widened. “There’s only one shot. Don’t.”

“We’ve gotta get it out first,” Din agreed.

Even though it was logical, Vanth gritted his teeth and shook his head at them. For now, he was complacent.

The dragon seemed stagnant, lingering in a backwards-forwards shifting position. The townspeople began to throw explosives at it and a line of fighters fired their weapons. It noticed the people on the ground and slithered forward once, letting out a great roar.

This time, its jaws descended upon one of the people of Mos Pelgo.

“Now?” Cobb asked Din with a wavering tone.

“Not yet.” Din’s voice was level and calm. Practiced. He knew what would work. “It’s gotta come out further.”

Another deep-bellied roar. The Tuskens used their spear launchers a second time with zealousness, sending several into the beast’s head so they could pull it forward.

The body of the beast slithered forwards, roaring and moaning as it went, clearly trying to break free. One of the ropes snapped from the mechanism it had been tethered to, sending three Tuskens skyward, and the krayt dragon lifted its head out of the sand, roaring as if in warning to all of the offending fighters.

It dove forward, a sickly green bile spewing from its mouth onto the retreating army.

“Almost. Almost.” Din kept a level head in the midst of what seemed to be a near failure. As soon as the beast settled onto the ground again, he shouted, “Now!”

The detonator beeped and the charges ignited, prompting the krayt dragon to let out a pained roar as it slithered down and backwards into the sand again. Silence. A great cloud of dust filled the air.

But it didn’t feel like a victory.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Vanth finally said.

“Me either,” Din agreed.

As if hearing the conversation, at the top of the mountain that towered above the entrance to the pit, the dragon sprung to life, lurching forward from the rocks, roaring at its enemies as they began to fire upon it with blasters. Then, more of the green acid spit from its mouth onto the group of innocents below.

Omera pulled the trigger of the rifle, aimed at the dangerous beast, but she was sure she did absolutely no good. It did seem that their explosion had caused it an injury, but in its annoyed state, it seemed more volatile.

“It’s picking us off like womp rats,” Vanth uttered. “Let’s get after it!”

Rushing backwards, away from the mess of the battle, Omera focused on the creature in her sights and listened as the two men in armor took off by jet pack, soaring closer to the beast as it writhed in the rocks. They fired at it, but even at close range, their weapons seemed to do no damage.

The dragon lurched at them and the duo flew back onto the ground with the majority of their forces. As they did so, the creature disappeared, burrowing down through the rock, and for a few heart-stopping moments, they waited for it to reappear again.

When it did, it attacked the group from the side.

Omera watched through her scope as Vanth used his armor to release a missile at it. The explosion drew the dragon’s attention toward the group on the ground.

She saw Cobb pass Din the detonator. Then, he used the end of his gun to force Vanth’s jetpack to take off, launching him high above the ground in a cloud of smoke.

Slowly, the krayt dragon moved like a predator seeking out its prey. The townspeople fled, and so did she, scattering around with haste, but Din stood still.

As she helped a fallen townsperson stand to their feet, Omera focused on Din, her eyes narrowing and her heart racing in her ears.

The Mandalorian stood in front of a bantha, who had more smarts than he did, struggling to get free and run far away from the dangerous dragon, but Din grabbed the rope, tugging at the creature to get it to stay put.

And then, it happened.

Omera’s eyes widened in disbelief when she watched Din get swallowed whole by the great dragon. Its teeth seemed all the sharper as its mouth descended upon the man she loved.

Then, as if it hadn’t done anything at all, it disappeared into the sand.

Her breath caught in her lungs and she stopped breathing. The world felt absolutely silent and gone around her, even if the battle still raged on.

Feeling entirely numb, Omera stumbled backwards, unable to continue moving with the rest of the fleeing army. She instead watched the ground where the dragon had disappeared with a palm pressed to her rapidly beating heart to see if maybe, maybe Din had a plan.

Maybe he hadn’t just run straight into the belly of a krayt dragon with an explosive bantha and no other thoughts in his head.

After a handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, the ground began to shake. The dragon burst from the earth, releasing a roar of pain, and she saw Din soaring out of its mouth with his jet pack.

In the next instant, there was an explosion that shook the entire valley, a violent shockwave emanating from the beast as it was torn apart from the energy of the detonation.

With a relieved gasp for air, Omera closed her eyes and allowed herself to smile. They had been successful. The dragon had been slain.

From his spot flying above the explosion, Din flew toward her, settling on the ground with ease.

She approached him swiftly, clamoring to touch him, as gross is it would be. He dripped with green fluid from the belly of the creature, but all she cared about was knowing that he was alive; that she could touch him and know he had survived.

Her fingers settled on the braces of his forearms and she held on tight. She finally felt as if she could breathe easy again.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Din apologized instantly. “It was the only way.”

Omera shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

For a few seconds, they stared at one another, not saying anything at all. Her mind felt empty, but she was so full of gratitude and adrenaline-fueled joy that she almost wanted to admit to him that she loved him.

Reality settled in before she could do something so out of place. She pulled away from the Mandalorian and took a half step backward.

“Let’s get the children,” Din said. “We should probably head back to the ship as soon as we can.”

Omera smiled. “Your son will be anxious to see you.”

When they approached the small alcove where Winta sat, cradling the Child tightly to her chest. Their eyes both lit up at the sight of them.

“Mama!”

Winta scrambled to her feet and eagerly handed the Child to his father before she wrapped Omera in a snug, tight hug.

“Are you alright, my love?” Omera asked, cradling the back of her head.

Winta nodded. Omera kissed the top of her daughter’s head and looked up in time to see the Child with his hands on Din’s helmet, cooing warmly as Din cradled him in the crook of his arm.

“Alright, alright,” Din mumbled. “You’re excited. I get it.”

Omera chuckled. Winta detached herself from her and went to Din. Her arms went around his waist, hugging him just as tight as she’d hugged Omera. He seemed surprised, but with a glance downwards, he put his hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” Winta asked him.

“Yes. We defeated the dragon.”

Omera couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of Din with both of the children wrapped in his arms. Her heart felt impossibly full, somehow, after having very nearly broken just minutes ago.

“What will we do now?” Winta asked, her smile bright as she stepped away from the Mandalorian.

“We’ll return to the ship,” Din said. “Keep looking for another of my kind.”

Winta nodded. “And we’ll go too?”

Omera and Din exchanged glances. She could tell that he was just as curious to know what she thought of the mission they’d found themselves on and if she wanted to continue on the path forward.

She’d been nervous that something like this would happen when she agreed to come with him. A near-death experience was likely in the daily agenda of a Mandalorian. Even so, she had faith, perhaps blind, that Din would take care of them, and that this journey would give them a tighter bond.

“Yes,” Omera agreed, “we’ll go too.”

Her daughter beamed up at her, then looked at Din. “Since we’re still going to be traveling together, what should I call you?”

The Mandalorian hesitated for a moment in silence, probably debating whether or not he wanted Winta to know his name. “You can call me Din.”

“Din,” Winta repeated. “Okay.”

“Don’t say it among strangers,” Omera said gently. “Out of respect.”

Winta bobbed her head with understanding and reached for Omera’s hand.

Omera took a steadying breath. After the day they’d had, she felt tired and wished for a place to rest, but it was likely they wouldn’t have any rest for a while.

Almost immediately, the Tuskens got to work carving up the fallen dragon in the sand. It smelled awful, but it was a relief to all that it was gone now.

They offered them a hunk of meat from the dragon, thanking them for their part in the execution of the plan, and Din secured it to the back of his speeder bike.

Once they found Cobb Vanth, the man followed through on his end of the deal he’d made with the Mandalorian. He gave Din the armor with a smile, not one ounce of remorse in his features.

“This was well-earned.”

Din took the well-worn suit of armor and added it to his growing collection of gifts on the speeder.

“It was my pleasure.”

Cobb turned to Omera and Winta. “Thank you for your help. Couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked at the Mandalorian for a moment. “I’ve never seen someone act so quick on their feet like this man here. You should be proud.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly, casting her gaze onto Din. “We all worked together. We should all be proud of what we accomplished today.”

With a bright grin, Cobb shook Din’s hand. “I hope our paths cross again, Mando.”

“As do I.”

“You too, Omera.” Cobb winked. He took a few steps back, gesturing to the Mandalorian with a tilt of his head. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s nothin’ but trouble.”

Omera laughed. “I will.”

Once they were all settled on their speeder bikes, Omera gave Din a nod of approval and a smile that reflected the contentment she felt.

They hadn’t found a Mandalorian on Tatooine, but instead, she had seen him lead the once divided valley into peace. How lucky was she that she could be on a journey with someone capable of accomplishing something like that?

Din was ever so patient, waiting for her to give him the all-clear. “Ready to go?”

Omera nodded again. She lifted her scarf from where it rested around her neck to cover her mouth. “We’ll follow your lead.”

#mandomera #din x omera #the mandalorian #my writing #the edge of hope #weeeee the adventure begins!

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