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david-talks-sw · 8 months

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Dooku didn't leave because of the Jedi.

At least, if you're going by George Lucas' word.

In deleted scenes of Attack of the Clones, when we learn about Dooku's departure and his values, there's no mention of the Jedi or "the Jedi Order as an institution".

And every time Lucas refers to Dooku's disenchantment and reason for falling, he doesn't mention the Jedi.

"When you realize that Dooku is Darth Tyranus, it explains what Darth Sidious did after Darth Maul was killed: he seduced a Jedi who had become disenchanted with the Republic. He preyed on that disenchantment and converted him to the dark side, which is also a setup for what happens with Anakin." - Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Attack of the Clones, 2002

"[Dooku is] one of the few Jedi who became disenchanted with the Republic and left the order and he is leading a separatist movement." - Vanity Fair, 2002

"I wanted a more sophisticated kind of villain. Dooku’s disenchantment with the corruption in the Empire is actually valid. It’s all valid. So, Chris plays it as, 'Is he really a villain or is he just someone who is disenchanted and trying to make things right?'" - Starlog Magazine #300, 2002

He probably meant the Republic/Senate in that last one, but you get the point. And you're seeing the pattern, right?

Dooku's problem isn't the Jedi, it's the Republic.

He's become disenchanted with a system that - according to Lucas' prologue in the 2004 book Shatterpoint - worked for 1,000 years...

"For a thousand years, the Old Republic prospered and grew under the wise rule of the Senate and the protection of the venerable Jedi Knights."

... but has been rendered ineffective because of 1) senators becoming corrupt and 2) corporations gaining political power.

"But as often happens when wealth and power grow beyond all reasonable proportion, an evil fueled by greed arose. The massive organs of commerce mushroomed in power, the Senate became corrupt, and an ambitious named Palpatine was voted Supreme Chancellor."

That's the message Dooku runs on, when he rallies the systems to form the Separatist Alliance.

"By promising an alternative to the corruption and greed that was rotting the Republic from within, Dooku was able to persuade thousands of star systems to secede from the Republic."

The Jedi aren't really a factor in his decision to leave.

Why would they be? Their political status isn't very high, they're virtually powerless, as illustrated by the film's narrative and stated repeatedly by Lucas.

On the contrary, as we already established in this post, Lucas full-on confirmed that Dooku actually carries the sympathies of most of the Jedi. Again:

Most Jedi agree with Dooku, ideologically.

As far as the Jedi are concerned, the politicians are effing up the Republic, and it sucks because the Jedi see this but aren't allowed to interfere in the political process. They have to resort to looking for loopholes in their mandates to actually get stuff done.

That's what that whole "she's a politician" scene is meant to hint at. In the commentary of Attack of the Clones, Lucas uses a similar turn of phrase as he does with Dooku.

"[This scene gives us] a chance to talk a little bit about politics and the Jedi’s disenchantment with the political process, due to the corruption and the ineffectiveness of the Senate." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

Considering all this, it becomes clear that the intended narrative surrounding Dooku's decision to leave the Order is not:

"The Jedi are dogmatic and asleep at the wheel except for Dooku, who is ahead of the curb and sees the system is flawed, so he left."

It's actually:

"ALL Jedi see the system is flawed, Dooku's the only Jedi who decided to take it a step further and leave the Order so he can try to get into politics himself and change things."

That's why they hesitate to accuse him of murder.

That's why in an earlier draft of the Attack of the Clones script, by the end of the second act, Mace STILL has his doubts that Dooku would sign a treaty with the Trade Federation to attack the Republic.

As far as the Jedi are concerned, Dooku is out there fighting the good fight, making noise because whenever they try to protest it falls on deaf ears... until his betrayal on Geonosis.

After all, let's not get it twisted: the Dooku we're introduced to in the films and The Clone Wars, isn't really just Dooku anymore.

He's Darth Tyranus.

A point Lucas makes sure to highlight in his Shatterpoint prologue:

"Unbeknownst to most of his followers, Dooku was himself a Dark Lord of the Sith, acting in collusion with his master, Darth Sidious, who, over the years, had struck an unholy alliance with the greater forces of commerce and their private droid armies."

It's not about doing the selfless thing for Dooku, anymore. He's knowingly part of the problem.

He's all about ambition, now. His personal goals are things like overthrowing Sidious and becoming the most powerful Jedi.

"[Anakin's] ambition and his dialogue here is the same as Dooku’s. He says “I will become more powerful than every Jedi.” And you’ll hear later on Dooku will say “I have become more powerful than any Jedi.” [...] It is possible for a Jedi to want to become more powerful, and control things." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

"If you put two Sith together, they try to get others to join them to get rid of the other Sith. [When revealing the truth to Obi-Wan], Dooku's ambition is really to get rid of Darth Sidious. He's trying to get Obi-Wan's assistance in that and help in that, so that he and Obi-Wan could overthrow Sidious and take over." - Attack of the Clones, Commentary Track 2, 2002

Y'know? Selfish things.

Dooku - like all other Sith, and like the very corporations and Senators he had sworn to destroy - is consumed by his own greed.

#also functionally-speaking Dooku being a Jedi is done to highlight the ambiguity throughout the investigation on whether or not this is #a scorned ex-Jedi or a straight-up bad guy... you're never sure until the end of AOTC. That and Dooku being a former Jedi shows that #even someone who was once selfless and dutiful can crave power and be selfish #which sets up a precedent for Anakin - who's already struggling with being a selfless Jedi - when HE falls to the Dark Side #Dooku being a former Jedi isn't a plot point meant to narratively criticise of the Order... it's meant to hint at Anakin's downfall.#dooku #george lucas #star wars #attack of the clones #long post #collection of quotes

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frostbitebakery · 24 days

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LOUD.

a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU

Introspection fucking sucks, according to Commander Fox.

The thing about him is, he’s been made out to be a bastard and ever since their batch found their calling or whatever he’s embraced that role.

Every batch needed someone who didn’t secretly want to be cuddled, who pushed others away so he could keep track of the big picture.

Cody had competed for the role for a while. As did Wolffe.

For Cody, his heart, big and fragile once you got to know him, got in the way in the end. He sees the whole picture, craves it so he won’t go crazy from the losses. But he believes in people and their goodness.

Fox doesn’t.

Wolffe made the mistake of getting the galaxy’s best General. General Koon shits rainbows and glitter, from what Fox has been forced to listen to.

Fox has… the Chancellor.

He takes a swig of water and wishes it were something stronger. But Quin is on the other side of Fox’s desk, reading glasses ever so slowly slipping down his nose while he’s crunching and tracking the numbers to prove the Chancellor is, indeed, siphoning credits off the Republic to giftwrap them for the Seppies.

He takes another swig.

Wouldn’t surprise him if Palpatine turned out to be the villain of the whole story.

Brought Fox to drink with the kind attitude, the cruelty so expertly hidden from first glance, cushioned in false promises and support.

Hadn’t been pretty. But it had been easy. You go to the right places, people are only too willing to shell out for some drinks. Entertainment and morbid curiosity what brings a clone to their knees.

Some found the lisp he has because of the scar that ransacks through his lips and tongue endearing but most hadn’t bothered with wanting him talking.

Some wanted to inspect the changes in the Corrie armor up close and cozy.

If shit hadn’t already multiplied, Organa came flouncing into the Guard offices every two weeks with a new design like they were his little dress-up dolls.

The last design, the one that stayed, had a dummy connector installed in the backplate.

Fox hadn’t mentioned it. Had stewed over how the Guard, already isolated from the rest of the GAR, wasn’t even considered for the neural network that would make them more efficient, more deadly if activated. Treated like scum on a pedestal, overlooked and taken for granted.

Fox takes every advantage he can squeeze from that.

Every batch needs a willing loner who’s got the big picture in his head at all times and doesn’t care for the minutiae.

Fox had been comfortable in that role, really. He saw Thorn and Stone and Thire and the rest of them making friends and lovers and heartbreak, and that was the last fucking thing Fox wanted.

And then came Vos. Appearing from the shadows like a designer nightmare.

For such a short time they’ve sure gone through a lot together.

To the point Vos became Quinlan became Quin became Vos again became someone Fox clung to while fighting fucking addiction and the realization that he is stupid enough to become addicted.

No matter what Quin had said, Fox was supposed to be the pinnacle of cloning and artificially creating the perfect soldier. Addiction is a weakness and fault.

Fox almost did something extremely stupid over that one.

Turns out it’s all part of the sentient experience.

Fucking sucks.

Quin had laughed at that, ugly and bruised laughter, continuing to comb his fingers over Fox’s head. “Tell me about it.”

An eloquent way to say Quin was going through withdrawal himself.

They got outside help after that.

“Hey, Depa,” Quin murmurs absently after answering his comm, pushes his glasses up.

“Quinlan, is your line still secure?”

“‘Course. Especially after Fox got his grubby little hands all over it.”

Fox shows him the middle finger of one of his grubby little hands.

“Good,” General Billaba clips out. Quin straightens up, and maybe Fox’s attention isn’t misplaced here. “Good. Commander Cody was activated by the Sith Lord and he’s bringing Obi-Wan to Coruscant.”

Activated.

Quin is silent. Blinks up at the ceiling. “Can you run that by me again?”

“Quinlan, we have reason to be believe the Chancellor is the Sith Lord.”

Hah. Fox got that one right on his bingo card, at least.

Cody got activated.

As they’ve learned, the neural network - battlefield mediation, in fancy Kamino speak - is activated by a designated Force using GAR personnel. Surprisingly, the status is even an optional display on the screens of every trooper’s vambrace. Or not so surprisingly.

Cody got activated by the Chancellor. Who is the Sith Lord the Order has been hunting.

Fox will deal with that later or never, whatever comes first.

He’s comming the Guard all across the planet, checking the weapons on his person, while General Billaba explains the situation. He appreciates her succinct manner, he’s gotta say.

“I’m on the way to detain Anakin. Mace is following the ship Commander Cody captured but we need someone to intercept them on Coruscant before he reaches Palpatine.” She halts for a brief moment. “Obi-Wan seems to believe the Commander has betrayed him when he knows about the neural link inside the clones. We are fearing the Darkness is deliberately attacking and clouding his senses.”

“I’m on my way,” Quin nods, adds with a calculating glance at Fox, “I’m not sure I have back-up.”

“Funny thing about the Alderaan design of the guard armor,” Fox comments, checking the plasma charge on his DC, and vows to give Senator fucking Organa a sliced fruit platter, “the Guard doesn’t have the connector to the neural link.”

He comms their resident medic next and orders every gundark-level tranquilizer delivered to him.

Cody got activated and is following the orders of a Sith Lord.

Stars help them.

#loud au #commander fox #quinlan vos #foxquin #tw addiction #my wips

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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I Love You, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, violent murder but not described in depth, possessive behavior, obsession, loss and anxiety, light smut, manhandling of the reader by Din

Word Count: 4,500

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Sequel to 'Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika'

"i am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me."

It wasn’t until the second half of your first hour trapped that you realized the chain around your ankle wasn’t just metal. It was beskar. The links branched together were long enough to allow you to walk to the neighboring bathroom, but not long enough to reach the door out. The horror of your situation was truly settling into your very soul. Din had locked you away. Din. The man you loved. And the worst part, as if any of this could possibly be worse, was the fact that he only knew you had tried to run away hours ago.

When exactly did he have this chain made?

You spent the rest of your morning trying to rip the chain out of the wall where it was connected to no avail, and when that didn’t work you somehow tried to pull your ankle out of the clasp. It was impossible. The clasp was just tight enough on your skin that you would not be slipping it unless you started considering something much more dramatic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You tugged and screamed until your ankle was discolored and your throat was raw.

Then you broke. Quite some time ago, before your extensive Jedi training, you had quite the temper. It took years for you to get a handle on controlling it, but these last few months the frustration and worry had slowly whittled down your very being. So, for the first time in a very long time, you threw a tantrum. You knocked over the nightstand by your bed, hurling every single item you could reach, and destroyed everything that was in your path.

When you were spent, exhausted from the emotional and physical turmoil, you slumped against the wall panting for breath. Your legs splayed out in front of you so you could glare at the beskar that wrapped around your ankle. You felt so pathetic and vulnerable. It didn’t help that you only wore your undergarments and one of Din’s shirts. It had been what you fell asleep in last night while curled up to the man who chained you to a wall.

The bedroom door opened and Din froze in the doorway. You watched his eyes scan the room in shock before they landed on you. He let out a breath of disbelief, “Cyar’ika.”

“I don’t think I want you to call me that right now.” You said.

Din’s shoulders slumped and he had the audacity to look hurt at your words. As if he hadn’t chained you to a fucking wall. He stepped into the room and shrugged out of his robe⏤ tossing it onto the bed as he neared. Din’s eyes landed on your ankle and his eyes widened. “Me’bana!?” He knelt down to take hold of your ankle, but you tried to pull your legs in to avoid his touch. Din, refusing your refusal, grabbed you by the calf and dragged you toward him.

“Get off!” You barked and kicked out at him.

Din pinned you to the floor using his weight to keep your hips down and a hand to pin your wrists above your head. The emotion on his face as he stared down at you was not one of anger or even frustration. It was desperate. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. Dank farrik, you already have. Don’t make it worse.”

“You think I care?” You spat your words at him, squirming. “I don’t! I’ll do what I have to if it means⏤”

Din’s other hand snapped up to grab you by the jaw. His fingers pressed into your cheek, not painful but firm, and his face darkened. Anger finally seeped into his features. “I said, stop. I know you’re upset, I know you’re angry with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you hurt yourself.” You sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. Hand still on your jaw. Din’s eyes closed as he spoke. “You are going to sit still while I take care of you. Understand? This is not up for debate, cyar’ika.”

You didn’t respond. Refused to. Din let out a soft sigh before releasing your jaw and wrists. He sat up and pulled his weight off of you. Slowly, you sat up and chose to just sit there. He pulled his gloves off, tossing them aside in the mess you had already made of the room, and with a tender touch he pulled your leg into his lap. Din’s warm fingers shifted the beskar so he could peer at the skin beneath it. He hissed at the sight of your already forming bruises⏤ the discoloration would be worse tomorrow.

“Cyar’ika⏤”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Din shook his head. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Myself?” You scoffed. “You’re the one who put me in chains, Din!”

“To keep you⏤”

“Safe?” You finished for him, but you spat the word bitterly. Din wilted and continued to carefully trace your sore skin. It bothered you that his touch brought you comfort, but that wasn’t something you could just turn off. “When did you have this chain made, Din?” He didn’t reply. “It’s made of beskar. You didn’t just swing out and pick it up. You had it made. When did you⏤”

“Three weeks ago.” Din kept his eyes downcast, glued to your ankle. You took in a sharp breath. It would have been less painful, less shocking, if Din had just reached out and slapped you. Three weeks ago? How long did he have this planned? His warm brown eyes met yours⏤ a gaze you had always been weak to. Your face must have shown your betrayal because Din squeezed your calf softly. “I never planned to use it. I never wanted to use it.”

“But you did.” You mumbled the words out.

Din winced. “I know, cyar’ika. I know. I’m sorry. You will never understand how sorry I am⏤ I will spend the rest of my life trying to remind you. I⏤” He sighed and his thumb traced lazy circles against your skin where it sat. “More than anything though, my love, I need to protect you. I cannot lose you. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“You’re losing me right now, baby.” You shook your head. Tears springing up. “You’re breaking my heart, you’re losing my trust⏤” Din squeezed his eyes shut. Pained and devastated. “How do you think this will end?”

“You will understand. One day.” Din said firmly. He spoke like he was trying to convince himself of this. “Until then, I am just doing what is necessary.” Din rose to find the first aid kit and when he returned you just stared at him. He knelt down once more and wrapped padding around your ankle so the metal wasn’t touching bare skin anymore. When he was satisfied with how it looked, he carefully held your arms and pulled you up to stand. Din cupped your face with his hands, setting a tender kiss on the top of your head before choosing to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you, cyar’ika.”

This wasn’t love, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that.

The only times you were unchained from the wall was when you were with Din. He’d take your hand in his and the two of you would wander down the halls or outside of the castle. Always two Mandalorian guards lingering behind you both. You had one arm looped through Din’s. His thick robe draped over your shoulders once more.

“Bo thinks offering an olive branch would make us seem weak. I’m inclined to agree with her.” Din thought aloud. Most of these walks were him talking to you about his day. You didn’t offer much more than the occasional hum or a snide comment if he pressed too hard. That’s what two weeks of being chained like an animal could do to you. “We have more power than them. It wouldn’t be too difficult to overtake them.”

You hummed. Din glanced down at you and his arm squeezed around yours. There was hope shining in his eyes as if he was eager to hear you offer any sort of commentary. You focused your gaze forward. “The Din I fell in love with wouldn’t jump head first into a war.” His steps stuttered. “He’d try for peace.”

“Cyar’ika.” Din came to a slow stop and turned to face you. His other hand lifted to rest on yours. It trapped your hand against his forearm. “I am the man you fell in love with. That has not changed.” Your eyes darted down to the darksaber hanging from his belt. Din sighed. “This is still about the saber?”

You shook your head. “It always will be. That damned saber has changed you.”

“It hasn’t⏤”

“It has!” You yanked your arm away from his and took a step back. Anger flaring once more. “I keep telling you. It’s poison.” The energy that surrounded it felt suffocating, but it had only gotten worse these last few days. The possession was still there and now it’s tendrils seemed to be trying to seep out into your very soul. As if it could convince you that it had good intentions. “It’s me or the darksaber, Din.”

He shook his head and you shoved him once in the chest. He barely stumbled back. The Mandalorian guards leapt forward, hands on their weapons in preparation to take out the threat against their King, but Din threw his arm out to stop them. The glare he leveled in their direction was deadly. They both took sheepish steps away. Din focused back on you and the anger in his eyes dissipated back into despair. “You can’t make me choose.” He sighed. “We’ve talked about this. I need the darksaber to keep you safe.”

“We’re just going to argue in circles forever, aren’t we?” You sighed.

Din stepped closer and caressed your face. He leaned in to capture you in a kiss, but you turned at the last second so his lips pressed against your cheek instead. Since the morning you woke up with a beskar anklet, you hadn’t let Din touch you. The first night he slipped into bed behind you, just to sleep, and you had lost your mind. Now, he slept on the small couch that was pushed against the wall in your living space. He pulled back enough that his lips were no longer touching you, but he didn’t stray far.

“I love you, cyar’ika.”

He truly believed it, but obsession⏤ possession⏤ was not love.

At the month mark, you knew things needed to change. Din was too stubborn to concede. He’d keep you chained to that fucking wall forever. So, you started small. You had to play this smart. It began with little things like thanking him when he brought you food or new gifts. Choosing to participate in conversations when the two of you went on walks around the palace. A lingering touch here and there when you were able, and you never shied away from his own touch.

Still, a sudden change in demeanor would give you away. Din, as blinded as he was by the darksaber, was not an idiot. He’d see through your act in seconds, and the fate of his and your life depended on deceiving him. You had to get off this rock. You had to get to help. After thinking about it long and hard, you decided you needed to get to Skywalker. The other Jedi were your best bet. It was just a matter of getting there.

Oddly, your saving grace came in the form of an attack.

Because Din never kept you fully in the loop of the things happening in Mandalore, you weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Being chained to the wall when the explosions started did not help either. For the first fifteen minutes of the disaster all you could do was stand in place, frozen, while straining to listen. Eventually, the explosions stopped, but it was replaced with yelling and thundering footsteps. Not a good sign. As it got closer and closer you searched the room for a weapon or hiding the place. You wouldn’t fit under the bed and even if you hid in the bathroom there would be a chain lying on the floor leading straight to you.

The yelling came right out the door and you didn’t even have time to register the language or tone before the door itself was kicked open. Pirates. That was your best guess. Three men dressed for a fight stepped into your space. Two humans and one Trandoshan. They spoke a language you didn’t recognize, something from the Outer Rims, but even when addressing you they never swapped to Basic. One of the humans took a step closer, smirking, and you shifted to a ready stance. The last time you had felt so ill prepared for a fight was back when you first began your Jedi training.

Even on a good day, back before Din spiraled into his current state, you were not good at using the Force. Reading energies was your strength, but healing and telekinesis was never your forte. Now? Being as stressed and buried in negative energy as you were, it was nearly non-existent. Every day you spent around the darksaber you felt further from the Force for some Maker forsaken reason. The Force you recognized, at least.

The Trandoshan began to rummage through the room scavenging, but the two human men were still approaching you. They laughed and motioned to the chain around your ankle as they spoke to one another. Cautiously, you took a few steps back so the chain’s tension wouldn’t accidentally catch you. When the first man lunged you met him halfway with an uppercut into his throat. It was a blur of muscle memory and desperation from then. You weren’t doing well, you were surviving, but when one of the men got their hands on the chain they were able to pull your legs out from under you.

You roughly landed on your back with a grunt, but the other man was quick to pin you down. You thrashed and screamed trying to get loose, but the other just piled on. Their voices were grating, their laughs sent chills down your spine, and their touch made you nauseous. It all boiled into an uncontrollable rage that slipped from your body with a roar. Suddenly, both men were blown clear across the room. You sat up, breathing hard, and glanced down at your hands. Had you just…? There was no time to puzzle through the power that just flowed from you because the Trandoshan leapt across the room to tackle and pin you back to the floor.

He didn’t have a firm grip on you, and you were able to flip over on him. The victory was short lived when he threw his elbow back, crushing your nose, and you cried out in pain before falling back. The other two men had risen once more, but all of you froze at the terrible roar that echoed down the hall and filled the room with a suffocating tension. It called out your name. You recognized that voice.

In that one moment, a feral pleasure gripped your soul and allowed your anger to roam free. You grinned up at the men, teeth bloody from your broken nose, “You’re fucked.”

Din stalked into the room, seconds later, and he was possessed by his own rage. The darksaber glowed in his hands, as bright as a burning flame, and it cast terrifying shadows across his face which was twisted in hatred⏤ in bloodlust. With the first swing of the saber, the men knew they were not going to bode well and they began to plead, but their words fell on deaf ears. You watched as Din tore them to shreds, a force to be reckoned with, and a sick grin flickered across your features before you could reign it back. Din was leaving the men in literal pieces, brutal in his attack and inflicting the most terror and pain he could manage before taking a life, and you felt a bubbling pleasure building in your chest.

It was only when his warpath was finished, when he deactivated the saber, that your smile fell. The tendrils of pleasure that had seeped into your very soul with watching the love of your life murder on your behalf slipped away. You took in a sharp breath. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck had you⏤ Your hands began to tremble followed quickly by the rest of your body.

“Cyar’ika.” Din gasped and crossed through the carnage to pull you off the ground and into his arms. His panicked words all came out in a rush of Mando’a before he was calm enough to ask once more in Basic. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” His gloves wiped away the blood as he examined your nose. “Are you⏤”

“I’m fine.” You replied shakily, but you felt far from it. Physically, there was nothing wrong. Not really. Your nose would heal, the bruises you garnered in the fight would fade. But mentally, spiritually, emotionally… Your eyes drifted down to the darksaber on his belt. What was it doing to you? It took a moment to realize Din was still talking. You shook your head. “What?”

“I said that was the last of them. They came for revenge, but most of the damage was external. Only a few small groups got into the palace.” Din’s hands were petting your hair. Between every word of comfort he’d lean forward and press his lips to your face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Focus. Focus. Back to the plan. Back to your mission.

“No.” You swallowed roughly. “I need the chain off.” Din didn’t respond. He just stared at you with wide eyes filled with the fear of a man who had nearly lost the person he swore to protect. You lifted your hands to cup his face and you shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not losing me. I’m not losing you. You were right.” You pushed the words out and the tears that fell from your eyes were painfully real. You cried for how lost you felt. It was like you were stuck in quicksand and the more you struggled the deeper you were pulled to it’s dark depths. “I was so scared. I couldn’t fight back. Din⏤”

Din didn’t hesitate. He knelt down and pulled a key from the pouch in his belt to unclasp the metal around your ankle. Hearing it clatter to the ground, feeling the weight drop off, had you sucking in a breath of shock and relief. Din slowly rose once more and you found yourself lost in his eyes⏤ those pretty brown eyes that made you forget every single worry you had. The warm brown eyes that brought you comfort in your lowest moments. The loving brown eyes that gazed at you in worship.

“Stay with me.” You mumbled and cupped his face again.

Din turned his head to press a kiss against your hand. “I’m not going anywhere, cyar’ika.”

Your fingers tightened around him and a shuddering sob left your lips. “Do you love me?” Din looked affronted by the question. His mouth fell open, but you cut him off. “Baby, just listen, if you love me you’ll put the saber away for tonight.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a hiccup left your lips. “Please, baby, just tonight. I just want you. I want only you.”

Din took a slow breath and then took a step out from your grasp. Fear struck you at first, but Din simply crossed the room to his locked chest which sat in the corner. Slowly, he unlatched each piece of his armor and set it carefully into the chest. When he was left with only his flight suit, Din grasped the darksaber and held it in his bare hand for a moment. Finally, he set it into the chest and closed it. The cursed item was just tucked away, out of sight, but it still made a difference. The unrecognizable dark energy that had been plaguing you seemed to disperse and a familiar sensation filled your chest. It was the Force you recognized. For the first time in a month, you felt like you could breathe.

He walked back to where you stood and settled a soft and hesitant hand on the side of your face, “I do love you, cyar’ika. I know this has been difficult and you haven’t been happy.” Din looked heartbroken as he stared down at you. “But you are everything to me.”

This may have started as just a plan to ease him into a lull of security, but that had been forgotten as you stared up at him. For this one second you felt like yourself, and Din felt like himself. A swell of love overwhelmed you and you pushed closer to capture his lips with yours. Din sighed into the kiss, but before you could deepen it he pulled back. “Din?”

“We don’t have to do this, cyar’ika.” Din whispered. “You were just attacked, stressed, and⏤ This⏤ This isn’t… I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.” You shook your head and it was the absolute truth. Right now, Din felt like the man you loved. Maybe it was weak of you to cave, weak of you to seek out his comfort, but you missed him. You craved him. “I want you, and as long as you want me⏤”

Din brought his lips back to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck, as he softly kissed you. Every minute movement filled with adoration. You wrapped your arms around his neck to draw yourself closer to him. Pulling back to catch a breath, he left a trail of kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Cyar’ika, I always want you.” His hands settled on your hips to bring you flush against him. “I always need you.”

Your hands grew frantic wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours. Just like in a fight, you didn’t need to think. Loving him was muscle memory. You peeled the upper half of his flight suit off his body and he took gasping breaths as you broke away from his kiss to caress the scarred skin of his torso. Your nails lightly raked over the skin overlying his ribs as you leaned in to press soft kisses against every scar you could find. Din trembled at your touch, a breathless gasp tearing ragged from his lips.

His own hands lifted to tilt your face up so he could lean down and start a tender kiss. Every slow, languid motion was one born of love rather than lust. There was an innocence to the brushes of skin against skin, and for this one moment nothing existed but you and Din. Not the poisonous darksaber buried in a chest or the corpses of the men that meant you harm. As Din picked you up and pinned you into the bed, his weight pressing into you, all that mattered was Din Djarin.

“I love you, cyar’ika.” Din murmured into the skin of your neck⏤ his face buried there as his hands roamed your body with a familiarity born of routine. “I love you so much, cyar’ika.”

Your heart felt so full, and you wondered if you were the one confused on the extent of what the word love could mean.

Din laughed and you lightly shoved him in the side.

“It’s not funny. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, cyar’ika.” He replied as you grinned. “I’m laughing with you.”

“Yeah, I’m not laughing, you ass.”

He continued to chuckle and you shook your head before looping your arm back through his and leaning against him. Mandalore had been relatively calm since the attack two weeks ago, and you had never felt closer to Din. What had you been so worried about? The two of you were safe and had one another. That was all that mattered at the end of the day. You had misjudged the darksaber’s energy. That possession was just another form of loyalty. It brought you and Din the strength to protect one another. A bond. That’s all it was.

“My Mand’alor.”

Din’s feet paused, bringing you to a stop as well, and you both turned to face a Mandalorian who now knelt before the both of you. The woman held a hand across her chest in pledge. Din didn’t motion for the woman to rise, but hummed for her to continue.

“Our allies who have settled on Concordia are requesting aid currently. Raiders have been plaguing them the last few weeks, but now they are beginning to edge in on the main settlement.”

“Concordia has the means to defend itself...” Din replied.

You squeezed his arm and he glanced down at you. You shook your head. “Concordia is not Mandalore, they’re just allies that⏤ like you said⏤ have their own resources.” Nonchalantly, you shrugged. “We have to protect our own. Any aid we offer to them is taken from our own walls. Our city should come first, Din.”

Din lifted your hand to plant a kiss on the back of it. “Could not have said it better myself, cyar’ika.” He motioned for the Mandalorian to be on her way before the two of you continued down the hall. Only a few yards later, Din chuckled. “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, do you?” You asked with a smirk.

He pulled you to a stop once more “Close your eyes.”

“Really?”

Din raised an eyebrow at you and you playfully rolled your eyes before closing them and holding your hands out. You heard the sound of shuffling as Din moved. A beat later something warm settled in your palms and you sucked in a sharp breath at the overwhelming flood of emotions that bared down on you. Your eyes opened to first see Din’s excited and loving smile, but then your gaze drifted down to the lightsaber in your open hands.

“I figure it’s about time you’re reunited.” Din chuckled. It had been nearly two months since it had been taken from you. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your fingers slowly closed around the hilt you had built with love so long ago, and waves of warmth radiated down your arms and into your chest. “I⏤” A different voice called out and Din sighed in irritation. “One moment.”

Din stepped around you to address whoever had called out for him and you just stared and stared at the lightsaber. Possession and obsession was not love. It was not the same as loyalty and protection. You blinked in shock as the clear thoughts cut through the fog you hadn't even realized you were living in. You had been yourself, but for some reason your priorities had changed starkly. Not for some reason. One reason. That fucking saber.

"Hey." Din returned to your side and you heard panic in his voice. Those dark tendrils from the saber surrounded you, but could not sink in. He set his hand on your face and his thumb caressed your cheek. "You're crying."

"I...I'm happy." You lied. "Thank you, Din."

"Of course." Din replied though he looked hesitant to believe you. He leaned in to press a kiss between your eyes. "I love you, cyar'ika."

You loved him, and you almost lost yourself.

But, not again.

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