#the manda'lor

[marisferasiop]

Idek what else happens in season 3 I need Cobb to get a pauldron added on his mod arm with a mudhorn on it that is all thank you

[lady-charinette]

Am I the only one who can't see any romantic chemistry or tension between Bo Katan and Din??

I always get very platonic, comrades for life vibes from them, even with the new episode Guns for Hire out, I just can't really see it.

I can see them possibly ruling Mandalore together, but not as romantic partners but as comrades in arms. I don't know, maybe it's just me

[radiosummons]

Tarre Vizsla, hanging out in the Darksaber break room, idk how haunted lightsabers work: Oh? Hmmm ....

Jaster Mereel, also chilling out in the Darksaber break room with a cup of shig and another holobook on Mandalorian history: What is it?

Tarre Vizsla: It seems that someone new has claimed ownership of my lightsaber.

Jaster Mereel, no longer interested: And? The Darksaber changes hands so often nowadays, I'm surprised you even commented on it-

Tarre Vizsla: No, you don't understand. This Mandalorian doesn't even know what the Darksaber is.

Jaster Mereel: ....

Tarre Vizsla: And now he's trying to give the Darksaber away to the other Kryze child.

Jaster Mereel: .... he's what?

Tarre Vizsla: Trying to give the Darksaber away. Strange. It seems he is also a child of the Watch.

Jaster Mereel: Death Watch?

Tarre Vizsla: Indeed.

Jaster Mereel: And he doesn't actually want the Darksaber?

Tarre Vizsla: He seems absolutely desperate to get rid of it.

Jaster Mereel: .....

Tarre Vizsla: .....

Tarre Vizsla: Wanna haunt him?

Jaster Mereel, putting his holobook down: *sighs* Alright, yeah, sure. Why kriffing not?

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Galactic Vows

Summary: Amidst worlds vastly divergent, two souls are joined by fate's decree, an arranged bond. Strangers at first, a flame flickers, then steadily grows, a bright ember born of the intricacies of their new life. Through turmoil and strife, they forge ahead, their love unfurling like a rare, exquisite flower blooming amidst the chaos of the battlefield. Side by side, they brave their trials, fighting for their beliefs and for each other, and in this struggle, they form an unbreakable bond.

pairing: Manda'lor!Din Djarin x afab!Princess!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Royalty Au, Unprotected sex, Violence, Death, Blood, Age-Gap, Fluff, Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, Powerful!reader, Dragons, Themes of war and political power, Trauma, Arranged marriage, Grogu being too cute you won't survive his cuteness, Emperor!Din.

Chapters

001. — Unveiling the Unforeseen — [Within the walls of Aurorium's regal abode, murmurs of an imminent betrothal flutter like delicate wings.] 002. — The Starlit Ballad of Hope and Hesitation — [His proposal, a plea for a powerful alliance between their worlds, has been delivered. The weight of his people's future now rests on the unknown verdict of a fate tied to the words he wrote.]

This is a Royalty AU of the Star Wars Universe. Although the story takes some inspiration from a few characters of Game of Thrones, it does not rely heavily on these elements.

The reader may come across as too powerful, they have been heavily inspired by Daenerys Targaryen.

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[redahlia-writes]

battle cries. | din djarin

Abstract: “I miss you,” the noises from downstairs should’ve been overpowering–music, shouting, broken glass, but she heard his murmur clearly, or perhaps she read it on his moving lips. “I never thought I would be doing any of it without you. I miss you.”

“Din, please,” it scratched at her throat with desperation, eyes heavy with tears unshed.

Please, stop saying that.

Please, come closer.

Please, go away.

Please, kiss me.

Content: f!reader; canon divergence, manda'lor din, (mild) smut, angst, i mean Angst, break-ups, borderline toxic past relationship

Words: 2.5k

a/n: inspired by battle cries by the amazing devil, which i suggest listening to before/during

also on AO3 - masterlist

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

The voice greeting her at the table was familiar, even through the modulor. She looked up into a dark visor, a helmet slightly tilted, the expanse of beskar reflecting flickering neon lights all across his torso, arms, shoulders–the mythosaur casting shadows on one, another creature on the other. His clan, the mudhorn.

“How’d you find me?” a whisper, hand tightening around the almost empty glass in front of her, the sticky table she rested her bent arms on digging lines into her skin.

“Luck,” he shrugged, taking one step closer. “I was passing by, and heard someone ordering Emerald wine,” she could almost picture the smile in his words, causing an ache to spread from the middle of her chest all through her limbs, so familiar she almost relished in it.

“Many people drink Emerald wine, Din,” she returned, looking into her glass and swirling it around a bit, the bright liquid sloshing side to side.

“Not in a place like this,” now the smile was crystal clear, and she downed the rest of the drink in one go. “What are you doing here?”

“Night off,” she shrugged, leaning back, arms unsticking from the table as she lifted one to call for another glass, the other curling against her chest. “What about you? I thought there wouldn’t be time for you to run around now that you’re Manda’lor.”

“I get nights off, too,” he tucked his chin down, searching for her gaze. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“What for?” her mouth felt dry, heart thundering and pushing into her ribs.

“I’ve missed you,” such an easy admission. Like a punch in the gut. “Could we go someplace else? More private?”

“Why?” she knew the moment he’d asked the question she would say yes, of course. She knew pretending otherwise did nothing–not for her, not for him. He knew that, too, but played along.

“I just wanna talk,” soft words, careful and controlled, like trying to tame a wild creature.

“Why, Din?” she repeated, and at last looked up.

She knew his shape like the back of her hand–the ridges and notches of his armor, the slope of his shoulders, that slight bent in his arms when he stood, the barely-there shift of his hip as he bent one knee, keeping the other leg out. She knew him over, under, all around.

“I haven’t seen you in years, cyar’ad,” he justified, hands falling to the table, leaning forward. She recoiled at the name, shifting back on instinct even when everything in her told her to move in his direction, reach for him. “Please.”

Refuse him, her mind begged–but she’d never been able to do it. Not when they were 15 years old, not as they grew up, certainly not in that moment.

“They have some rooms upstairs,” she sighed, hands falling from the glass as she stood. Din didn’t move, followed her with his eyes as she walked around the table, squeezing past him–he reached to brush her hand, and she immediately pulled away. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A shitty place came with a shitty room, which she thought was for the best–perhaps it could end soon. Perhaps he would go away. Away from the gray walls and gray bed and gray town outside the window. Away from her.

The door locked with a noise that reverberated through her bones, she just by the window and he a few steps behind–him looking at her, and her looking outside, arms crossed over her stomach.

“Cyar’ad, will you look at me?” no, her mind raged, yet she turned around, tipping her chin up–fake pride. Faker courage.

He sighed before bringing his hands up, palms over the sides of his helmet and thumbs hooked underneath, lifting it slightly.

“What are you doing?” alarm set in her voice as she jolted forward, hands wrapping around his wrists to stop him.

They hadn’t touched in so long, and even through the leather of his gloves electricity fizzled down her arms, burning her palms.

“Look at me,” he repeated, while she was shaking her head.

“We went to the Living Waters for a reason, you can’t–” the beginning of the end, such a beautiful place that now carried only bitter memories. The mythosaur. The Darksaber. Din, the Manda’lor.

“Yes,” he tried to nod, the movement hindered by their hands. “But you’re still my riduur,” he fought against her hold, slowly pulling the helmet off. “Of course I can,” his voice different, painfully familiar, even more painfully distant in her memory.

“We were kids, Din,” she pulled away abruptly, hands folding over her chest. “I don’t think that counts for anything.”

“It counts for me,” he shrugged, taking one step forward–she took one step back and aside, out of his line of sight, moving closer to the door. “I do miss you.”

“We talked about this,” her voice felt impossibly small.

She’d never once felt small when she was with him, but in that moment she might as well have disappeared between the cracks of the floorboards.

“Not really,” one step forward, one back, her hands brushing the wall behind her. “You left,” he wasn’t accusing her, she realized. Merely stating a fact. Somehow, it didn’t make it easier.

“I told you why, I couldn’t–”

“You couldn’t do it,” he finished for her, and with his next step her back collided with the wall. The door was on her left side–she could just run away. Again. “You never told me what it was.”

“All of it,” a cracked whisper, eyes wandering around–unsure on whether to set on her reflection on his armor or lift up to look at him or stare at the town outside again instead. “You’re the Manda'lor. The one ruler. I’m not even sure I believe in any of that anymore. I couldn’t–can’t do it.”

“You saw the mythosaur–same as I did,” she exhaled at his closeness, eyes falling shut. Perhaps she could pretend it was all in her head–she had before, playing variations of that conversation over and over again when sleep eluded her.

“I saw a creature people believed had ceased existing–just a creature,” shaky breaths, she closed her hands into tight fists at her sides. “No higher power. No divine. Just an animal.”

“Cyar’ad,” she wasn’t sure when he’d removed his gloves, but jumped at the brush of his bare fingertips across her cheek, eyes flying open to look up at him. “You believed in the battles,” he looked so different, yet the same. There were wrinkles around his eyes she’d never seen before, strands of silver through his hair, patches of white in his trimmed beard. “We used to be the best of them when together.”

“I got tired,” she shook her head, attempting to escape his touch. But he wasn’t holding her–a magnet kept her in place, kept her close to him. “I am tired.”

“I miss you,” the noises from downstairs should’ve been overpowering–music, shouting, broken glass, but she heard his murmur clearly, or perhaps she read it on his moving lips. “I never thought I would be doing any of it without you. I miss you.”

“Din, please,” it scratched at her throat with desperation, eyes heavy with tears unshed.

Please, stop saying that.

Please, come closer.

Please, go away.

Please, kiss me.

He once used to be able to read her mind, anticipate her every move, every request. She’d loved that of them, of him. She wondered if he still could as he claimed her lips for a kiss, or if he’d simply acted on his own desires.

Familiar hands traced a path down her body as he pressed himself against her, kissing and kissing and kissing her until her lips tingled and her breath was short. She could feel each ridge of his armor push into her flesh–it used to make them laugh when their armors would clash together, alerting possibly every person in the near vicinity that they’d come together again. But her armor was long gone, left behind the night she’d walked away.

His hands were scorching from above her clothes, pushing and pulling and holding her close as he prodded her mouth open, chasing the taste of the wine from her.

She ached, her body trapped between him and the wall, hands following the notches of his armor with a careful touch, as if it might burn her–she burned inside already, a fire ignited by his presence alone, burning brighter the closer he got, the more he touched and touched and touched.

It was enough to make her forget everything else, that kiss. To make her forget the shouts, the fighting, the tears, the silences–a ringing in her ears that covered those noises that haunted her on quiet, lonely nights. All that had left her tired, so fucking tired.

“I miss you,” hands gripping her sides, hoisting her up, pulling her to him. “Miss you,” mumbled across her jaw, her neck, heavy breathing that made her dizzy. “Ni nunynir gar.”

How fitting, she thought, that their language was so violent. That to miss meant also to not hit the target. A warrior’s speech–a warrior she was no longer.

“Come home with me,” touching, pulling, kissing, Din’s hands wandering over and under her clothes, a desperation she remembered from their last days together, when to drown in each other’s bodies was the only way to not be at each other’s throats. “Come back to Mandalore. Be with me. Please. Please.”

“I miss you, too,” a small admission that carried the weight of years apart. It was all that she could give him then–she knew already how the night would end. She knew already Din would put up a fight. He’d always been the best of them, and the weapon at his side, digging into the back of her thigh as she kept her legs wrapped around him, was proof enough of that.

Sighs in exchange for battle cries as he kissed her neck, her chin, her mouth, messy and hasty as he tore at her clothes, baring her from the waist down, the desperation of his words channeled into his motions.

“Love you,” mouth, “love you,” neck, “love you,” collarbones, “I love you,” chest–right above her heart while, still fully clothed if not for his trousers zipped open, he pushed into her with a cry of missed you, missed you, missed you.

A coming home to him–the belief it was just the beginning. A start over.

A release, a respite for her from the hurt–the knowledge it was going to be a final goodbye.

Fast and almost violent, soothing the ache in her chest somehow as she grasped onto him, shirt riding up the small of her back with each of his thrust and leaving scrapes from the drag across the wall–again and again, her hands buried in his hair. She used to wake up with his hair tangled up in her eyes, rake her fingers through his curls while he slept.

The first wave of pleasure came crashing down on them both quickly, one of his arms wrapped underneath her legs for support while the other pressed into the wall, keeping them standing, panting against each other’s lips, his hips rutting against hers until it hurt–and she welcomed it. She’d tried in the beginning to burn the feeling of him away from her, drowning in others, drowning in wine, but it never worked, it never helped.

Years spent longing for that–for his hands on her skin, for his kisses, for the stretch between her legs. Aching for the way he pulled her clothes away–with care, in spite of the urgency in his eyes, in his motions; for the feel of his body underneath her hands as she did the same with him–a little more uncaring, trailing pieces of armor and wrinkled clothes behind them.

Over and over through the night, getting lost in pleasure and pain equally, bruises on him and burns on her–as if trying to make up for the time lost. As if trying to accumulate, collect, hoard for the inevitable end, something to cling on to in the aftermath.

In the end they were just tangled bodies over the gray bed, skin against skin and his head on her chest where it always used to rest–she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding out his name, raging against her set mind. Please, please, please, don’t do it, just stay.

When she stood, she hurt in different ways–her body spent, battered; her heart cracking at the mere sound of his voice.

“What are you doing?” she hoped the haze clung to him, a moment of bliss that could last until she was gone. She cleared her throat, scratched from her calling out his name.

“I have to go home,” her words took some time to register–enough so that she could start picking up the layers over her body. He sat, frowning so deeply a multitude of lines showed on his face.

“I thought–”

“I know. I’m sorry,” in spite of the turmoil, of her insides turning and raging against her, she wasn’t going to scream, wasn’t going to beat her chest. She was just going to pretend it was fine–she was fine.

“Cyar’ad, wait,” she couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand his pain on top of her own. She was so tired of it. When he stood, she shook her head and held up her hand–pretended it didn’t affect her to feel his heart thundering under her palm. “Wait–”

“No, Din,” a please, a whisper. “You have your life now, your role–I can’t be a part of that,” she shook her head, taking one step back when he took one forward, trying to reach for her–her palm still flush over his chest. “It’s done. Over. And a few years from now you’ll understand it was better this way,” it hurt to say, each word bleeding out of her mouth.

“That’s not true,” he argued, his voice raising ever so slightly. “I will miss you again. I will look for you again. Don’t leave again, cyar’ad. I love you.”

“Din,” his name was so sweet on the tip of her tongue as she took a small step forward–his hands grasped her elbows, eyes softening, begging. She reached for his face with her free hand, gently stroking the patches of his beard. “Shuk'la riduurok,” a broken love–not ended, just fractured. “Let me go.”

“How can I?” he turned his head, kissed the palm of her hand, her wrist, up her covered arm while pulling her forward. “I can’t. I can’t. I–”

She let him kiss her again, deep and demanding and desperate, holding onto her tightly–she let him, clinging to the feeling in the attempt to store it away, tuck it in her memory to keep forever, because she knew the moment she’d break away, something in her would shatter, something in him would crack.

“I love you, too,” whispered with tears dwelling in her eyes, frozen there until the door closed behind her–just a piece of wood separating them, thin enough to allow her to hear him moving around in an attempt to gather his things. Maybe to go after her, maybe not to.

It didn’t matter.

One beat–two. She was gone.

[elionwriter]

That very weird feeling when you're talking about the Mandalorian with your mom and she goes 'I really hope Din and Bo-Katan get together!' and you, a hardcore Dinluke Stan/Ace Din truther - gay Bo-Katan believer answer: 😱😱🤮🤮

Mom: why not? They are right for each other and the story seems to hint at it.

Me (in my mind): mom, you don't get it! Din and Luke are mean to be married bringing up Grogu as a Jedi and a Mandalorian and supporting each other's dying community. They're Yin and Yang, the characters seem made for each other, the parallels are beautiful and Din is Luke's way out of the grisly future Disney has painted for him! In the perfect future they rebuild Mandalore better than it ever was, set Grogu to be the future Manda'lor that reigns for a thousand years, they adopt a lot of other cool, weird kids, Din builds Luke a Jedi temple in Mandalorian space and the two of them have coffee every Monday with the in-laws and the neighbours Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger....... meanwhile hidden in a closet, like two teenagers, Bo slips Ashoka some 👅.

Me (in reality): I just think they're gross....

[constantlymisspelled]

10 - ELECTORAL PROCESS:

[Text in image is as below]

i) The Court of Houses;

a) The Court of Houses will represent

ii) The Sector Governors;

a) Sector governors are the governing bodies for Mandalorians of the sector, not the entirety of that sector, with the exception of Mando’ade majority sectors such as Mandalore. b) Recognised Sector Governors are c) Recognised Territory Governors (Sector Governors for areas where Mando’ade are the minority, such as the Governor for Coruscanta Mando’ade)

iii) The System Governors;

a) System Governors

iv) The Astro Body Governors;

a) Astrological Body Governors are the Governing Body for Satellite Systems, individual planets, moons, and other such forms. b) A conglomerate of Astrological Bodies can unite under one governor to improve their resource allocation with permittance from Mandalorian Space.

v) District Electoral Members

 a) Incomplete

[Text in image is as below]

vi) Electoral Voters;

a) Every citizen of age within an electorate is considered an Electoral Voter. As long as you have an Identity Code, Communication Number, and your birth year – not the full date, a Government Official related to an election does not require this knowledge – you are an eligible voter. b) A voter is not required to declare their race. c) A voter is not required to list their gender. d) A Voter is not required to list their Clan or House in any way. e) A Voter is not required to list their biological sex or sexuality before, after or during the vote. f) A Voter is not required to answer questions about their voting history outside of whether or not this is their first vote. If it is their first vote, the only assistance an Overseer can give is advice on what filling out the form looks like and how it is done, not how to fill it to the Overseer’s preferences. g) A voter is entitled to their privacy, and the assistance of the Scrutineer if help is needed. h) A voter is entitled to fill out an electoral form in a language they speak proficiently. i) Illiterate or blind voters can answer a voting ballot digitally or by an audio questionnaire the day before the vote to allow them privacy during the ballot.

[Text in image is as below]

vii) Voting conditions;

a) A vote will be considered invalid if no boxes are ticked, or if answered inappropriately. Inappropriate votes are counted in a separate tally for each region, and are part of the final results under the listing ‘DNF’ to show true election percentages.

viii) Overseers of the Ballot;

 a) Incomplete

[Text in image is as below]

ix) Postal Elections

a) Postal elections can be completed at any Mandalorian Embassy in the Galaxy, and at any post office within the Mandalorian Sector. They must be completed at minimum, three full days before the voting day, or they will be counted as an inappropriate vote. b) Votes that go missing will still have their date carbon stamped into their digital-print, and can still be considered legal. c) Postal elections require an Identity Number, Communication Code, and the voters birth year in order to acknowledge that that the voter has completed their ballot and will not be fined. d) Even if the vote does go missing, the voter will not suffer penalty. It will, again, be counted as an inappropriate vote.

x) Voting Eligibility

 a) Incomplete

xi) Right and Responsibility

a) Not attending or filling out a ballot on the day or before the day of election can result in a fine. b) It is a right, and responsibility to vote, not a privilege. Employers must allocate time for employees to vote either on the day, or to have time to complete the postal ballot. Not meeting these requirements will come at cost to the employer, not the employee.

xii) Conditions for Referendum, Re-election and Hung Parliamentary Votes

a) Incomplete

[As always, if you have any ideas, questions, or criticism, let me know! Electoral process will look very different to what some of you know, but I stress that this is almost the exact system my country works under. Voting is a responsibility, not a privilege, and you will get your say whether you want to or not - and maybe a sausage out of it if you're in a cool electorate - hey, maybe Mandalorians can have a street vendor giving away food on the day? Sick!]

[Back to main Codex]

[coolnomemory]

anyone have any good fic recs of din avoiding being the manda'lor and doing LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE? like reluctant dad is avoiding his responsibilities. im in the mood for that

[mandalorianhistorian]

if revan is the child of manda'lor the ultimate it makes sense for revan to be a taung human hybrid in theory

[guardianakumu]

:Dc

The Dad and his son.

[marisferasiop]

Y'all I am exhausted and disgusted with this fic but I know it's the imposter syndrome and the fact that I've been chipping away at it for a month that has me down.

Also I had a pretty fuckin' shitty day.

Final edits under way, hopefully posting this weekend.

[radiosummons]

Tarre Vizsla: And I would like my saber to be given to the Jedi Temple, as I have come to see both the Jedi and the Mandalorians as my family. It is my greatest wish that my people will continue to prosper for thousands of years after my passing, and that my two families will be united in their shared values of community and honor. Clan Vizsla, years later: *robs their ancestor's grave, steals his most sacred personal possession, founds Death Watch (i.e., one of the most notorious terrorist organizations throughout the entire galaxy), and continues to violate literally every single creed that's supposed to make a Mandalorian, a fucking Mandalorian*

Also Clan Vizsla: Tarre Vizsla HATED the Jedi and EVERYTHING they stood for! He HATED THEM SO MUCH that he LEFT the Order to become one of our greatest Manda'lors!

(No, no, don't ask why the Jedi Order let him keep his title as a Jedi Knight, even though he went on to become our leader. Yeah, they let him keep his title, but that doesn't mean they actually respected his wishes even though they still refer to him as a great Jedi and still teach history lessons about him. Yeah, okay, yes-despite the fact we stole I mean, we liberated the Darksaber from them, the Jedi have never tried to get it back from us. But guys, guys that's totally what they WANT us to think. They're actually playing this super elaborate long con on us and you guys just can't see it-)

And NOW the only way a Mandalorian can be the TRUE MANDA'LOR **cough cough-something something about irony, something something hypocrites, something something who are the True Mandalorians again?** is if they wield the Darksaber through mortal combat! The very saber wielded by our GREATEST LEADER, WHO TOTALLY HATED THE JEDI, TRUST ME GUYS!!!!! THIS IS HOW WE'VE ALWAYS RUN OUR GOVERNMENT!!!!! DON'T ASK WHAT WE DID BEFORE TARRE VIZSLA--(who totally wasn't a Jedi, guys, no no no. Don't ask how he made a Darksaber, no, it's not important. Guys, seriously! Stop asking!)--TOOK ON THE MANTLE OF MANDA'LOR!!!!! (Please, stop asking us why this only became a thing after WE decided it should be a thing. We totally weren't acting like children/sore losers/assholes when we broke into the sacred temple of a religious order ((that we literally have no actual beef with unless we deliberately go out of our way to provoke them into having to defend innocent lives against us because of our own actions)) just to start yet ANOTHER civil war. All because we couldn't stand the idea of someone else taking on the mantle of Manda'lor.)

This is TOTALLY what our ancestor, the GREAT TARRE VIZSLA would have wanted!!!!!

Tarre Vizsla: >:/

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Galactic Vows: chapter I

Summary: Within the walls of Aurorium's regal abode, murmurs of an imminent betrothal flutter like delicate wings. All eyes are on the princess, awaiting her response to the proposal, and the future of the kingdom hung in the balance. The weight of tradition, duty, and love rests heavily on her heart as she contemplates her answer, knowing that with one word, she will change the course of history.

pairing: Manda'lor!Din Djarin x afab!Princess!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Royalty Au, Unprotected sex, Violence, Death, Blood, Age-Gap, Fluff, Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, Powerful!reader, Dragons, Themes of war and political power, Trauma, Arranged marriage, Grogu being too cute you won't survive his cuteness, Emperor!Din.

next

The night sky is awash with a gentle radiance that filters through the trees, casting a serene glow upon the world of Asteralis. The moon, a divine lantern of the cosmos, illuminates the land with its soft light, transforming the darkness into a canvas of ethereal beauty.

The gentle beams filter through the leaves of the trees, painting intricate patterns of light and shadow upon the ground beneath them. It is a moment of pure tranquility, where the world seems to breathe in unison, and every creature seems to be in harmony with the peaceful night.

As the sun slowly descends beyond the horizon, the warm rays of its light embrace the land, a gentle kiss of warmth upon the cool marble tiles that lie beneath your bare feet.

The soft caress of a gentle, cool breeze envelops you, carrying with it the sweet aroma of blooming jasmine flowers. The fragrance fills the air, mingling with the subtle scent of the lush greenery of the royal gardens.

The petals of the flowers are as soft as velvet, each one a delicate work of art, and their fragrance is as intoxicating as the sweetest of loves. You inhale deeply, savoring the delicate fragrance that seems to embrace your senses, taking you on a journey of tranquility and calm.

Beneath your palms, the velvety touch of warmth embraces your lap, a comforting weight that brings solace. You sway gently on the swing, the rhythmic creak of the ropes harmonizing with the gentle rustle of the wind through the leaves. The enchanting moonlight illuminates Asteralis in a surreal glow, casting a magical spell over the kingdom. As you gaze at the mesmerizing sight, a wave of tranquility washes over you, lifting the weight of your princess duties off your shoulders.

"My jewel?"

The gentle whisper of your mother's voice calls to you, like a soft melody that slowly pulls you away from the tranquil cocoon of your thoughts. With a gentle turn of your head, you behold a regal figure standing in the doorway of your balcony. It is your mother, the Queen of Asteralis, and the very essence of her emanates an aura of authority and grace. Her attire is as majestic as the ruler that she is, every inch of her radiating the elegance and poise of a true queen.

Her eyes have an unspoken language of love, a depth of feeling that only a mother can possess, but also holds the weight of responsibility that matches her crown.

"What brings you here, mother?" You inquire your voice a gentle breeze that carries your words to her.

A playful glint sparks in her eyes as she makes her way towards you. "Must I have a reason to visit my beloved child?" she teases, her voice carrying the familiar lilt of affection that you have come to cherish.

The swing creaks gently as your mother settles down beside you, her elegant dress rustling softly against the fabric of the seat. You feel her gaze upon you, a weighty presence that studies your every feature with a deep knowing.

"Should I tell brother that you called me the favourite child?" You tease back, a mischievous smile gracing your lips.

The bond between you and your mother is one of love and laughter, a cherished connection that transcends the regal responsibilities that surround your life.

She chuckles softly, the sound carrying a hint of warmth. "Oh, he would be quite envious," she replies, her eyes glimmering with affection. "But my love for both of you is boundless and unwavering."

As the two of you sway on the swing, the gentle movement creating a soothing rhythm, you find comfort in this shared moment. The worries of the kingdom momentarily fade away, replaced by the simple joy of a mother and her child enjoying each other's company.

"So, my dear, have you heard the whispers in the halls?" she asks, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

Your curiosity piqued, you turn your attention fully to her, the warmth of her presence enveloping you. "Whispers?" you inquire, a note of intrigue in your voice.

Her eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and tenderness. "There is talk of a proposal," she reveals, her words hanging in the air, filling the space between you.

You feel your heart skip a beat, a mixture of surprise and anticipation coursing through your veins. A proposal? The notion dances in your mind, weaving dreams of a future yet to be written. "Talks of a proposal?" Your voice trembles with uncertainty, the words lingering in the air as your mother's revelation takes root in your mind.

She nods gently, her eyes filled with a mother's wisdom and empathy. "Yes, my precious jewel," she begins, her voice carrying a soft cadence, "the Manda'lore himself has sent forth a proposal for the hand of the youngest Princess of Asteralis. It is a gesture that speaks volumes of his regard for our kingdom and his desire to forge a bond that unites our lands under a shared destiny."

You inhale deeply, the weight of the decision settling upon your shoulders. The moonlight casts a reflective glow upon the regal surroundings as if the very walls of the palace hold their breath in anticipation of your response.

"He is a leader of unwavering resolve," your mother continues, her voice carrying a mix of reverence and admiration. "His reign has brought stability to our people, and his unwavering dedication to the Mandalorian ways has earned him the respect of his warriors and the allegiance of neighboring lands."

Your heart skips a beat, a mixture of surprise and curiosity coursing through your veins. The Manda'lore? The legendary figure who commands the Mandalorian warriors with unwavering strength and honor. The very thought of a proposal from him fills your thoughts with a whirlwind of possibilities.

"He seeks a union that not only solidifies alliances but also lays the foundation for a future filled with unity and prosperity," she adds, her voice tinged with a mother's hope.

As she speaks, you find yourself caught between the weight of tradition and the whispers of your heart. The gentle breeze carries with it the fragrant scent of blooming flowers, their delicate petals mirroring the fragility of your thoughts.

"But, Mother, an arranged marriage? Is that what they're suggesting?" you inquire, searching her face for any hint of guidance.

Your mother's gaze softens, understanding the conflict that stirs within you. She reaches out to gently touch your hand, offering comfort and reassurance.

"Yes, my dear, it is an arranged union," she acknowledges, her voice gentle and soothing. "But it is not merely a transaction of power and alliances. The Manda'lore's proposal carries with it the potential for something greater. It is an opportunity to build bridges between our kingdoms, to forge a bond that goes beyond politics and secures a future of peace and prosperity."

Her words resonate within you, and you can sense the depth of her conviction. Yet, a part of you yearns for the freedom to choose your own path, to follow the whispers of your own heart.

"I understand the weight of duty, Mother," you say, your voice tinged with both respect and a hint of longing. "But what about love? Shouldn't that be a part of such a union?"

A contemplative silence falls between you, the moon casting its gentle glow upon the world as you both gather your thoughts. Your mother's eyes hold a mixture of empathy and understanding.

"Love, my precious jewel, is a complex tapestry," she replies, her voice carrying the wisdom of experience. "It can bloom from the seeds of friendship, respect, and shared dreams. The foundation of this proposed union is one built on trust and the shared desire for a better future. Love has the potential to grow within such a partnership, as two souls learn to navigate the intricacies of their hearts."

Her words resonate within you, and you find yourself pondering the possibilities. The moonlight bathes the surroundings in a serene glow, as if nature itself is urging you to listen to the whispers of your own heart.

"Ultimately, my dear, the decision rests with you," your mother continues, her voice gentle but firm. "You are the youngest Princess of Asteralis, and your happiness and fulfillment are of paramount importance. I will support you in whatever path you choose, whether it aligns with tradition or leads you on a different journey."

You take in her words, grateful for her understanding and unwavering support. The weight of the decision still lingers, but the seed of possibility has been planted within your heart.

"Thank you, Mother," you say, your voice filled with gratitude and a newfound sense of determination. "I will consider the proposal and listen to the whispers of my own heart. Whatever path I choose, I hope to honor our kingdom and our legacy."

Your mother smiles, a blend of pride and affection shining in her eyes. "I have no doubt that you will, my dear," she replies, her voice brimming with confidence. "Remember, you have the strength and wisdom within you to shape your own destiny. Trust yourself, and the answers will reveal themselves."

Emboldened by your mother's words, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. The night sky seems to shimmer with newfound possibilities, and you find solace in the gentle embrace of the swing.

As you and your mother continue to sway back and forth, you take a moment to reflect on the magnitude of the decision before you. The proposal from the Manda'lore holds the potential for great change, not only for yourself but for the kingdom of Asteralis.

You contemplate the vision of unity and prosperity that your mother spoke of, and you can't help but wonder if such a union could bring about a future where love and duty intertwine. The notion of love blossoming from a foundation of trust and shared dreams resonates deeply within you, and you realize that perhaps the path to happiness lies in finding a balance between tradition and personal desire.

With each passing moment, the night sky grows darker, stars twinkling like beacons of guidance. The moon continues its celestial journey, casting its ethereal glow upon the world. And as you sit on the swing, immersed in your thoughts, you begin to listen to the whispers of your own heart, knowing that it holds the key to your destiny.

The decision may not be an easy one, but with the love and support of your mother, you feel empowered to follow your own path, whether it aligns with tradition or veers in a different direction. You trust that, in due time, the answers will reveal themselves, and you will make a choice that honors both your own happiness and the legacy of Asteralis.

With a newfound sense of clarity and determination, you take one last gaze at the enchanting night sky, its beauty serving as a reminder that even amidst uncertainty, there is always a glimmer of hope. You turn to your mother, a silent understanding passing between you, and together you rise from the swing, ready to face the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead.

Hand in hand, you walk back into the palace, your hearts filled with love, trust, and the unwavering bond between a mother and her child. And as you step forward into the unknown, the night sky continues to watch over you, a tapestry of stars illuminating your path.

As the first rays of sunlight breach the horizon, a palpable sense of anticipation fills the air. The golden hues of dawn paint the sky, casting a warm glow that embraces the world with a gentle embrace.

The dawn chorus of birdsong weaves a melodious tune, adding to the symphony of excitement that stirs within the palace walls.

You step into the new day, the polished marble floors cool beneath your feet. Each breath you take is infused with a mixture of nervous anticipation and quiet determination. The sun's gentle caress upon your face feels like a reassuring touch, inspiring confidence as you make your way towards the throne room.

Approaching the grand entrance, the doors stand tall and imposing, intricately carved with symbols of the kingdom's history. With a steady hand, you push them open, revealing a world of regal splendor beyond.

As you enter, the room exudes an aura of grandeur. Soft sunlight filters through stained glass windows, casting a mosaic of vibrant colors upon the floor. The air hums with restrained energy, as if the very walls hold their breath in anticipation of the decision that awaits.

At the heart of the chamber, your older brother stands tall, exuding an air of authority, accompanied by his beloved husband, General Cadmus, whose presence radiates strength and loyalty.

Across the room, your sister stands gracefully, her regal stature accentuated by the presence of her husband, Lord Cedric, whose unwavering support is evident in his attentive gaze.

Upon the majestic thrones sit your parents, the King and Queen, their expressions a delicate balance of pride, love, and hope. Their presence commands respect, yet their eyes sparkle with warmth and understanding.

The hushed whispers of anticipation reverberate through the throne room, as all eyes turn toward you, the youngest Princess of Asteralis. The chamberlain, courtiers, nobles, and council members fill the opulent space, their presence a testament to the gravity of the moment.

You stand at the center, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves and meet the expectant gaze of your father, the King.

His voice, deep and resonant, fills the room as he addresses you with measured words, giving weight to each syllable. "My dear daughter," he begins, his eyes reflecting a mixture of authority and paternal love, "the time has come for you to share your thoughts and intentions regarding the proposal that has been laid before us."

You feel the weight of his words, the collective gaze of those assembled, and the weight of tradition bearing down upon you. In this moment, you draw strength from the teachings of your mother and the whispers of your own heart.

You take a step forward, the air is thick with anticipation, and a serene determination settles upon your features as you begin to speak.

"Father, honored members of the court," your voice carries through the room, its timbre steady and resolute. You take a moment to gather your thoughts, allowing the weight of your decision to settle within you.

"I have given careful consideration to the proposal put forth by the Manda'lore," you continue, your voice filled with a sense of conviction. "And after much reflection and listening to the whispers of my heart, I stand before you today to affirm my acceptance of this union."

A hushed silence fills the throne room as your words hang in the air. All eyes remain fixed upon you, waiting for your next words, and the anticipation is palpable.

"I understand the significance of this decision, not only for the kingdom of Asteralis but for the future of our people," you express, your voice carrying a mix of responsibility and determination. "It is my belief that this union holds the potential to strengthen our alliances and pave the way for a future of unity and prosperity."

As you speak, you feel a surge of confidence welling within you, fueled by the knowledge that you are making a choice based on a combination of duty, trust, and the possibility of love.

"I embrace this proposal with an open heart and a steadfast commitment to honor the traditions and values of our kingdom," you proclaim, your voice echoing with sincerity. "I am prepared to embark on this journey, knowing that it will require dedication, understanding, and resilience."

As the last words leave your lips, the room erupts into a symphony of emotions. The silence breaks, replaced by whispers, murmurs, and exclamations of surprise and approval. Courtiers exchange glances, their faces a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

Your brother, the Crown Prince, steps forward, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sister," he says, his voice filled with pride, "your decision speaks volumes of your wisdom and dedication to our kingdom. May this union bring forth the unity and prosperity we all strive for."

General Cadmus, standing by your brother's side, nods in agreement. "I have no doubt that together, our kingdoms will thrive," he adds, his voice resonating with confidence and support.

Your sister, radiant with joy, takes a step closer to you. "Little sister," she says, her voice filled with affection, "I am overjoyed to witness this moment. Your courage and willingness to embrace this path inspire me. May this union bring you the happiness and fulfillment you deserve."

Lord Cedric, standing beside your sister, places a hand on her shoulder and nods in agreement. "Our kingdoms shall stand united, and our families will share a bond that strengthens us all," he affirms, his voice filled with conviction.

The room buzzes with conversations, as nobles and council members discuss the significance of this decision. Your parents, the King and Queen, exchange a knowing glance, their eyes shimmering with pride and love.

Your father, the King, steps forward, his voice carrying the weight of his authority and the warmth of a father's love. "My dear daughter," he says, his voice resonating with pride, "your decision to accept this union fills my heart with pride and joy. Your dedication to our kingdom and your willingness to forge a path of unity and prosperity are commendable. May this union be blessed by the gods and lead us to a future of peace and harmony."

Your mother, the Queen, approaches you with grace and tenderness. She takes your hands in hers, her eyes shimmering with a mix of emotions. "My precious jewel," she whispers, her voice filled with love, "your strength and conviction inspire me. As you embark on this journey, know that you carry the legacy of Asteralis within you. May this union bring you fulfillment and the love your heart desires."

Tears well up in your eyes as you feel the overwhelming support and love surrounding you. In this moment, you realize that you have made a decision that aligns with your duty, your heart, and the aspirations of your kingdom.

As the throne room begins to settle, your father raises his hand, signaling for silence. The room falls into hushed anticipation, awaiting his next words.

"Let it be known," he proclaims, his voice resonating with authority, "that the youngest Princess of Asteralis has accepted the proposal of the Manda'lore. May this union bring forth a future of unity, strength, and prosperity for our kingdom."

The chamberlain steps forward, a scroll in hand, ready to record the momentous decision in the annals of history. With a steady hand, he begins to write, etching the words that will forever mark this day in the story of Asteralis.

And as the ink dries upon the parchment, sealing your acceptance of the proposal, you feel a surge of hope and determination coursing through your veins.

The path ahead may be filled with challenges and unknowns, but with the support of your loved ones and the resilience within your heart, you are ready to embrace this union and carve a future that blends duty and love, tradition, and personal fulfillment.

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[cemetery-circus]

AU where the Season 3 darksaber plot is a series of childish games "if you win, you get it" between Bo and Din because Din doesn't want to fight because he knows she'll probably kill him but she won't just take the darksaber. I'm talking scavenger hunts, trivia matches, staring contests, just really dumb schoolyard shit that Bo is only agreeing to because Din won't fight her. She refuses at first and just almost shoots his stupid ass but then he says "321GO!" and chucks the darksaber as hard as he can into some trees and they both take off running

Bo never wins. Din is devastated that Bo never wins.

[mommymothma]

It's here!!! I've just posted Chapter 11 of The New Manda'lor on AO3 "The Throne"

I want to thank everyone for being so excited, and so patient with me. I'm in a very scary situation right now with wildfire activity, and I've been on edge. Writing for myself and for yall has kept me grounded, and I appreciate every comment and DM.

Don't hesitate to send me asks or dms if you have questions or just want to chat : )

Now I won't keep you any longer

Read it here

[incorrectpizza]

So...after this post, I couldn't help myself:

I don't do fanart but Manda'lor BD-1 was worth attempting a doodle for.