Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ben runs, leaves the smoking wreckage of the stolen ship behind him. He can still feel the blood on his hands, the blood of his friends. The voice in his head is praising him, beckoning him, but he's scared. Scared of what could be ahead, scared of what is behind. 

He doesn't know if Uncle Luke is alive. Ben had thrown him back, buried him in rubble, everything had been on fire, but Ben doesn't know. He doesn't know how many of the other students are alive. He knows at least two are dead, two that he had killed. Two that he had cut down when they had stood in his way. Two that had looked at what he had done to their Master and tried to stop him from leaving. There were more that had tried, but wood burns so easily, and following is difficult when surrounded by flaming timber and collapsing stone. 

Others, mostly the youngest ones, had fled. Had seen him, had seen what he had done, was doing, and fled. He left them. He didn't want to kill them, even with the voice in his head telling him hunt them, slay them, leave no survivors . 

He'd run to the port, to the ships, had taken an old A-Wing and fled as fast as he could. He honestly doesn't know what planet he's on now, after crash landing. The terrain is sloping, all hills and valleys, heavily forested and seemingly uninhabited by sentient life. All he knows is that he's running. Away from the ship, away from Jedi that want to kill him and away from the voice that calls to him. 

You've done well , it says. This is your fate , it says. Come to me now , it says. Ben does not want to. He is scared, no, he is terrified , he is confused, he is in pain. He is angry .

He stumbles, he falls, he doesn't get up. He lays in the dirt, amidst fallen branches and rotting leaves. He lays there, curled in on himself shivering, and absolutely seething . What had he done? What had he done to deserve his uncle trying to kill him? Why did he wake up to Uncle Luke standing above him, lightsaber raised and eyes cold. 

Do you see? the voice says. Do you see what they tried to do to you? it says. They want to kill you, it says. And Ben does see. The voice had been right, had been telling the truth when it whispered in his ear for years. I will not lead you astray, it says. I will show you the path to your destiny, it says. He's tempted. Maybe he should follow. Maybe he should go to the voice. I will show you power, it says, so that no one can ever try to hurt you again, it says. 

When he dreams, he dreams of darkness. Darkness and strength and knowledge and power.

_______________________

When he wakes, he wakes to the sound of rustling foliage, of a distant modulated voice and soft, childlike babbling. Ben freezes, doesn't move, just listens. Listens to the modulated voice talk to the maybe-child. Slowly, slowly, he sits up, kneels amongst low branches and tall ground cover, and watches. Watches as a man in silver armour wearing a helmet walks through the forest, a hovering pram beside him. In the pram Ben can see a small figure, green with big ears, definitely a child. 

The man has a pulse rifle and silver spear strapped to his back beside a jet pack, a muted dark blue cape shoved to the side out of the way, a blaster on one hip and ammunition everywhere . On a belt, a strap across his chest, his legs. Even his vambraces look like they contain weapons, and Ben has no doubt the man has knives hidden in multiple places. His helmet though, is what Ben focuses on. The familiar style of it, together with the rest of the armour and amount of weaponry he carries, tells Ben what this man is.

A Mandalorian.

His mother had told stories of these warriors. Cunning and fearless, ruthless to no end. She tells the story of one that had encased his father in carbonite, sold him off to Jabba the Hutt. Enemies of the Jedi for generations. A people interested only in war, once a force that conquered planets, now small factions and cults of bounty hunters and battle hungry mercenaries. 

Ben thinks he should be frightened, should be wary of the Mandalorian. He is an enemy of the Jedi after all. But then again, isn't Ben as well? 

Yes! the voice praises. Ben ignores it.

 Uncle Luke (no, not uncle. Luke has lost the right to that title), Luke had tried to kill him, in return Ben killed two of his padawans, hurt more. 

Instead of caution, instead of hiding away from the Mandalorian, Ben slowly stands. The moment he moves the Mandalorian stops, his head turning to look at Ben. The man takes a step forward, moving in front of the pram, defending it, defending the child. When Ben takes a step forward, the blaster is out and pointed at him in the blink of an eye. Ben’s not worried about the blaster, he knows he can redirect the shot should he need to, but he stops anyway. The blaster isn't the only weapon at the Mandalorian’s disposal, and his kind have a reputation for fighting, and defeating, Jedi. No need to antagonize him, to ask for a fight.

Just kill him. He is powerless against you, the voice insists. Ben ignores it.

“I, uh. Hello,” Ben says, not really sure what else to say. He's still tired, he still hurts, he's still confused and angry and the voice in his head keeps distracting him. “I’m going to come closer, okay? I mean you no harm, you or the child.”

The Mandalorian doesn't move, doesn't say anything, so Ben takes that as permission to move forward. He's a few meters away before the Mandalorian says “stop. No further.” They both stand there for a moment, neither saying anything. Though Ben can't see his face, he knows the Mandalorian is studying him, gauging possible threats, potential weaknesses. He can feel the moment the man sees the lightsaber clipped to his belt.

The Mandalorian nods towards it, blaster never wavering from its aim at Ben’s head. “What is that?”

“It’s my lightsaber,” he answers, keeping his voice level. Well, trying to at least.

Kill him, kill him now! the voice commands. Ben ignores it.

“Lightsaber, are you Jedi?”

“No!” Ben spits, anger swelling again. “No, it has been made clear to me that I am not.” Ben takes a deep breath, smothering the burning in his chest, willing his emotions to calm. “I was training to be, but my Master tried to kill me.”

“Kill you? Why?” the Mandalorian asks, blaster lowered but still in his hand.

“I… I don't know”. 

He feared you, he knew your power, the voice says, and Ben ignores it.

“I woke up, and he was standing over me, about to kill me.” Ben is not sure why he is telling him this, doesn't know why he desperately wants the Mandalorian, an enemy, to know, to understand . 

The Mandalorian turns his head a little, looking back at the child in the pram. The child looks up at him, ears perked and making small noises. There's something drawing Ben to the kid, who turns to watch him. 

Ignore the Child, leave, the voice orders, and Ben ignores it.

The child tilts his head, says a little “huh?” Reaches out a small clawed hand to him. Ben steps forward, eyes fixed on the kid. He hardly notices the Mandalorian, who just watches as Ben approaches the pram, silent.

Then, suddenly, the voice in his head is gone. The dark whispering in his ears that only he can hear is silent, silent for the first time in years. Ben offers his hand, lets the child wrap his fingers around his thumb. “Did you do that?” he whispers. “Did you get rid of him?”

Ben can feel him, the child, reaching out through the Force. Can feel the thoughts the kid is pushing forward. “Thank you. Thank you Grogu,” he says, his voice shaking. 

Grogu shakes Ben’s thumb a little, says “bah!”, then lets go. 

Beside them the Mandalorian watches, blaster back in its holster. “How do you know his name?”

“He told me,” Ben says.

The Mandalorian reaches out to the child, Grogu clinging to his fingers with his little claws. “You can talk to him?”

“Sort of. I can feel him through the Force, we can communicate, but not exactly in words.”

“The Force. His powers, you mean?”

Ben looks at the Mandalorian, frowning a small bit. “Yes… his powers. Do you not know about the Force?”

The Mandalorian shrugs, rubbing Grogu’s hand with his thumb. “Not much. I was supposed to bring him to a Jedi, so he can learn.” He looks up at Ben again, and his voice turns hard, “but you say your master tried to kill you. If that is how the jettise treat their students, he will not go to them.”

Ben just watches Grogu play with the Mandalorian’s hand, manipulating his fingers and patting at the armour covering the back of it. “The temple is gone now anyways,” he starts hesitantly. “I… I burned it, I think. There was lightning, and fire, and I was just trying to get away, but they kept, they wouldn't let me! I had to, I had to kill some of my- I thought they were my friends .” 

His voice grows firmer, as his rage comes crawling back. The dark voice in his head may be gone, may not be whispering into his ears, but the betrayal Ben feels is all his own. “I had to kill them, had to kill the ones that didn't let me go. They attacked me ! If they had just let me go I wouldn't have had to hurt them, but they didn't! They didn't understand, they didn't know what he had done, and they wouldn't listen. If I had stayed, I would have been killed, whether by them or others that came later, they would see what I had done and they would have killed me without giving me a chance! I don't know what happened to Luke, I don't know if I killed him.”

“Luke was your teacher? The one who tried to kill you while you slept?” the Mandalorian asks, voice still harsh, but not, Ben thinks, directed at him.

“Yes.” Ben nods, not quite looking directly at the Mandalorian’s face (helmet, he supposes, since he can't actually see the man’s face anyway). 

“Then the hut’uun deserves to burn.”

That does make Ben look at the Mandalorian. He can feel the other’s anger through the Force, can feel the ice of it chill him. Different from Ben’s, cold where his is hot, quiet and creeping and slow where Ben’s rages loud and fast. Different, but anger all the same.

Grogu isn't angry. No, instead Ben just senses a weary sadness coming from him. A feeling of understanding, like he knows. Knows what Ben has gone through, has experienced it as well. Ben sees flashes, a man standing over a group of children, lightsaber out and swinging toward them, feels the fear and betrayal and confusion.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly to Grogu. “I'm sorry that happened to you.”

Grogu hums sadly, hugs the Mandalorian’s hand. The Mandalorian looks from Grogu to Ben and back again. “Sorry what happened? What happened to the kid?” His voice is stern, not angry at Ben, but angry that something bad may have happened to the child gripping his hand.

“Something similar. A teacher, a Jedi killed them all. Slaughtered the younglings, Grogu was the only one to survive.”

The hand not being held by Grogu is clenched tight and trembling, and Ben can hear the sharp controlled breaths through the vocoder of the Mandalorian’s helmet. The anger is rising, seeping faster now through the Force, gripping tight and freezing so cold it burns. 

“Then the kid stays with me,” the Mandalorian growls as he picks up Grogu and settles him in one arm, spreading the other hand over the child, as if to cover him, hide him, protect him. “You stay with me ad’ika, okay?”

“Bah!” Grogu says happily, patting the Mandalorian’s hand with his own. He looks over at Ben, pushes thoughts forward, pushes his joy and relief and contentment through the Force.

“Grogu would like that, is happy to stay with his buir,” Ben tells the Mandalorian.

The man's head snaps up to look at Ben. “What did you just say?”

“Well, it was Grogu,” Ben rushes to explain. “He wants to stay with you-”

“No. Buir. He…” his voice softens, “he called me buir?” 

“Yes, is that… bad? What does it mean?”

The Mandalorian lets out a slow breath and pulls Grogu close to his chest, tucking the kid's head beneath his chin. “Parent. It means parent.” He begins to rub circles into Grogu’s back with one thumb, and the child hums his contentment. “I call him ad’ika, child; call myself his buir, but I didn't think…” A long release of breath, and Ben thinks that the Mandalorian probably has his eyes closed. 

The Mandalorian nods a little, taps his helmet to Grogu’s little forehead before settling back in his cradle, then turning and looking directly at Ben. He is silent for a moment, studying him again. Thinking. Finally, he just sighs. “Ah, what the hell. Come on.”

The Mandalorian turns and starts walking the way he had come, Grogu’s pram following behind him. Without turning around he asks “well, are you coming?”

And really, what else is Ben going to do? Luke is either dead or wants him dead, he can hardly go to his parents. They had been distant throughout his childhood, then sent him off to Luke the first moment they could. Scared, he knew. Scared of him, scared of what he could do. He can only imagine how they'd react to what he had done. The dark voice is gone, is no longer whispering instructions into his ear, no longer guiding him. And Ben doesn't want to be alone. Doesn't want to wander this planet he didn't even know the name of, unsure of his path and silently stoking the anger in his chest.

So, going with an enemy of the Jedi it is. Ben steps forward, then follows the Mandalorian and Grogu, the warrior and his… son. The Mandalorian who had been searching for an enemy because he thought it would be best for Grogu, then resolutely refusing to let go of him when he learned what a Jedi had done to Ben. And now, taking in Ben.

Ben doesn't know what awaits him as he follows the Mandalorian, but Grogu seems happy. The kid is sending good thoughts through the Force, images of him and the Mandalorian sitting together in the ship, of good food, of not so good food but it’s okay because his buir is with him, taking care of him. But most of all, he sends the comforting feeling of safety. Grogu’s buir will protect both of them now, of that the kid is sure. 

Ben lets Grogu continue to communicate as they make their way back to what Grogu tells him is home, a ship called the Razor Crest , big and silver and old and warm and perfect. Ben sends some of his own good memories back to him, running around the Millennium Falcon with Han, riding on Chewie’s back through those same hallways. The sounds of Leia singing to him as he drifts to sleep, playing hide and seek with R2D2 and launching as many questions as he can think of at C3PO, who was always thrilled to answer. Of the day Lando decided Ben’s clothes were woefully inadequate and spent the day shopping with him, much to Leia's amusement and Han’s utter mortification. 

Back and forth they send their thoughts, Grogu giggling and cooing while Ben stays mostly silent, though he can't help a little snort that escapes once in a while. The Mandalorian ignores them, seemingly content to let them converse in peace. It’s nice. It’s calm and welcoming, and the fear and helplessness and anger of the last two days lessens. It doesn't vanish completely, Ben doesn't think it ever will, but it's not overwhelming anymore.

He's not actually sure how much time has passed since they started walking, but it feels like almost none at all before the Razor Crest begins to peek through the trees. Grogu’s description of it had been accurate enough, the ship is smaller than the Falcon , with two massive engines on short wings, a patchwork of silver panels with a few meandering orange stripes. Quite honestly it looks just about as reliable as his father’s ship. Which is to say, not much. 

The Mandalorian presses a few buttons on one vambrace and a hatch on the side opens, descending as a ramp to allow access. The Mandalorian makes his way up the ramp as soon as it touches the ground, Grogu’s cradle close behind him. Ben, though, stops. Watches the Mandalorian board his ship, watches as he pulls the cradle close to lift Grogu out and set him on the floor of the ship. Watches as the Mandalorian disappears further inside while Grogu stands at the entrance and sends thoughts of welcoming and safety and acceptance. Still though, Ben hesitates. Not because he's afraid of what could await him inside the ship. No, he's afraid of what awaits him beyond the ship. Where will he end up when the Mandalorian tires of him? 

“Either get in or don't, but you can't just stand there,” the Mandalorian says, reappearing in the doorway. He looks down for a moment at Grogu, then back to Ben. “Seems to me though, like the kid wants you to come. It'd be good for him, I think, to have someone who knows the magic stuff.”

“The Force,” Ben corrects without thinking, still hesitating at the ramp.

“Sure, the Force. I…” he looks down again at Grogu, who coos at him. “I was tasked with finding a Jedi. I don't understand his powers, and he needs training, needs someone who can help him. You don't have to, but he is not going to a Jedi.” The man clenches and unclenches a fist a few times, then forcibly releases the tension in his body. “Whether you decide to do the magic Force stuff with him or not, you are welcome to join us.” He points a finger at Ben. “But decide quickly, I'm not going to wait around all day for you.”

Then he was gone again, disappearing into the Razor Crest . The engines rumble, glowing a bright orange as the ship powers up. Grogu looks at Ben, pushes out friend and safe and happy , then shuffles into the ship after the Mandalorian. So Ben steps forward, walks up the ramp and takes a steadying breath when it rises up behind him, sealing him into the ship. 

The inside of the Razor Crest has a similar feel as the Falcon . Old, beaten, patched together too many times to count, but cared for. It's all unpainted metal, nets and compartments lining the walls. Most of all though, it feels safe. Like Grogu had told him it would. Up a ladder Ben can hear the Mandalorian starting up the ship, can hear Grogu shuffling about and clambering onto things, only for there to be a soft thump as he is placed back onto the floor. 

Without direction of what else to do, Ben climbs up the ladder as well, then through a doorway and into the cockpit. The Mandalorian is in the pilot's seat, Grogu in his lap and reaching for controls that he is expertly steered away from in movements born of practice. 

The Mandalorian turns his head and nods to the seats behind him. “I'd sit down if I were you, the Crest isn't great at smooth takeoffs right now. Or landings.”

Ben sits, eyes wandering the room, studying the controls. He runs a hand across the metal of the wall beside him, traces the blinking lights, and ends up just resting his palm against a bare patch of metal. Ben closes his eyes and focuses on his palm, on the material beneath it. Feels the cold, feels the tiny vibrations, feels the energy flowing behind the thin metal, through wiring and tubes that surround him, that reach every inch of the Crest , each doing something different but all culminating into a single goal, a single purpose. Each part useless by itself but vital to the system it serves. 

Ben opens his eyes when he feels something gripping his pants leg, pulling itself up. Looking down he sees Grogu heaving himself onto Ben’s knees, small clawed three fingered hands grabbing at anything he can reach to support himself. Ben looks down at the child, one eyebrow raised and trying to fight the grin that wants to show itself. 

Grogu lurches forward and pillows himself into Ben’s shirt, gripping the fabric and burrowing as close as he can. Ben's hands come up to steady the kid as he relaxes, heaving what for him is a huge sigh and projecting warm safe happy through the Force. Ben hesitantly returns the thoughts, one thumb beginning to rub over Grogu’s back. Grogu gives a contented hum and closes his eyes, settling down and going to sleep.

Neither he nor the Mandalorian say anything for a while, the Mandalorian focusing on flying the ship and Ben unwilling to chance waking Grogu. Besides, what would he even say? ‘Hi, thanks for letting me come along with you after I maybe-killed my uncle and definitely killed my friends?’ ‘I'm glad your son (??) got rid of the voices in my head?’ Not exactly great conversation starters.

Fortunately the Mandalorian breaks the silence before Ben says something stupid. “What do you want to be called?”

Ben frowns, unprepared for the question. “I, what?”

“A name, or a nickname, something so I don't keep calling you Verd’ika in my head,” he says, turning to face Ben.

“Verd’ika?”

“It means little warrior,” the Mandalorian replies, with what could possibly be a hint of amusement in his voice. “So, what do you want to be called?”

“I…” and suddenly Ben doesn't know. The man had asked what he wants to be called, not his name. And Ben isn't sure he wants to be Ben anymore. Ben Solo had a family he could trust, was training to be a Jedi, had never killed anyone.

“You don't have to answer Verd’ika,” the Mandalorian says calmly. “Very few people know my name, mostly I go by Mando.”

The Mandalorian, Mando’s easy acceptance of his hesitance is relieving. He does want a name, just… not Ben. Ben is dead, killed in one night by betrayal and fear and anger, by a deadly green light wielded by an Uncle he loved hovering over him and the blood of his peers spilled by his own hand. 

“May I think about it?” he asks.

“Of course,” Mando says, before returning his attention to the ship.

What does he want to be called? He spends a while thinking, rubbing Grogu’s back as he sleeps the whole while. Its stupid, what he ends up deciding on, with a stupid line of thought behind it. He's still him, he still came from the same place Ben did, so he keeps little bits of his family names. Takes ky from Skywalker, takes lo from Solo. Kylo is as good a name as any, he supposes. Strange, yes, but then, isn't he? So, maybe it fits. 

“Kylo,” he whispers, trying it out. “Kylo, Kylo.”

“Decided?” Mando asks without looking back at him.

“I want to be Kylo,” he says, nodding. 

“Alright. Good to meet you Kylo.”

“Good to meet you too.”

Grogu mumbles in his sleep in Kylo’s lap, shifting a little and smushing his face firmer into Kylo’s shirt. He can't help the smile that crosses his face, looking down at the child. The child that saved him. 

The dark voice had been in his head for years. He can't quite remember when he first heard it, but it's been a constant companion, whispering thoughts into his ears, telling him about things others wouldn't tell him. That Han and Leia feared him, that Luke hated him, that he had a destiny to live up to, a legacy to continue. How proud his grandfather could be of him if he just listened to the voice, did what it told him. It told him that it knew best, it would lead him down the right path. 

Now, despite the relief, Kylo also feels… empty. The voice has been with him so long that he doesn't quite know what to do without it. The relief of having only his own thoughts is mixed with the confusion of being alone, the silence that should be comforting also sets him on edge. He feels like he's waiting. He's not sure what for; maybe for the voice to return, maybe for a different voice to take its place, or maybe just for the silence to continue. 

He thinks though that the voice truly is gone, that Grogu either banished the being that was whispering to him, or perhaps healed something that made a voice from his own mind. Whether the voice was an external influence or an internal sickness, it doesn't matter anymore. It’s gone, it's gone because a child had looked at him and deemed him worthy of its help. A small Force wielding child in the care of a Mandalorian was able to, and so did. Because Grogu wanted to help him. 

Kylo will never be truly able to repay him. There is nothing he has, nothing he could do that would be a proper thanks to being set free. But he will do what he can. He will stay, for as long as Mando will have him, and work with Grogu, will help him wield the Force, will train him in any way he can. For Grogu, yes, but also for himself. 

Chapter Text

Kylo’s eyes keep drifting shut, and he keeps shaking his head to wake himself back up. It's been about two hours since Grogu had decided Kylo’s lap was the best place to sleep, and the consistent soothing sounds of the ship working around him along with the exhaustion that still weighs on him from his flight from Yavin 4. 

“Hey, Kylo. Wake up.”

Kylo jerks awake, having fallen asleep in the chair without meaning to. His sudden movement jostles Grogu, who grumbles rather grumpily at being woken. Mando reaches to pick him up, pausing before he touches him, looking to Kylo, silently asking if he will be okay with being touched, if even for the brief moment it would take to lift the child off of him. Kylo nods sleepily, rubbing one hand over his face as Grogu is grabbed gently, lifted to rest on Mando’s chest. 

“Come on,” Mando beckons as he leaves the cockpit, and Kylo follows him. They descend the ladder, Kylo stopping at the bottom as Mando opens a sliding door to a tiny space containing only what Kylo supposes could be considered a bunk with a small hammock hung up near the front. He places Grogu into the hammock, lightly pulling a blanket over him. He leans in and opens a storage compartment, pulling out a few blankets. He stands back up and holds the blankets out to Kylo. 

“We’ll make something better for you later, for now you'll have to be okay with the floor in the cargo hold.”

Kylo takes the blankets and hugs them close to his chest, nodding. They're old and worn, with a few frayed edges and they remind Kylo of the Razor Crest , and the Falcon. Each a little worse for wear but sufficient in their purpose. They're comforting, and soft, and Kylo thinks he may love them.

“Thank you, it's more than I would ask for,” he says, gripping the blankets tighter. If Mando notices, he doesn't say anything. 

“It's fine,” Mando dismisses. “Just don't open this door.” He points to the door sealing off his bunk from the rest of the ship. “I mean it, do not open it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kylo agrees easily. It's a simple instruction, and Kylo doesn't think he would have tried to open it anyway. 

Mando nods then pulls himself into his cot, pressing a button at the end and sealing the door. Kylo stands for just a moment before turning to face the cargo hold. It's dark, with a large imposing look to it. As he makes his way through it, he sees to his left something that, in hindsight makes sense, but in the moment sends a flash of panic through him, makes him lurch back to hit the opposite wall.

Built into the wall is a mobile carbonite freezing station. Kylo can almost feel fear seeped into it, can feel the terror of being shoved in, can feel the cold down to his bones, the sudden press of can't breath, can't see, can't move, cold cold cold before nothingness. 

Kylo remembers the story his mother had told him, of his father being forced into a carbonite freezer, of the brief flash of a scream before he was forced into dormancy. How a Mandalorian bounty hunter had taken him, who had cared about his survival only for the greater pay it would bring him, had sold him to be hung like a trophy on Jabba the Hutt’s wall. 

It made sense, Mando having one, of course it did. Many Mandalorians have taken to bounty hunting to sustain themselves after the destruction of their planet and mass slaughter of their people. Not all of them, but enough that Kylo should have expected it. 

Knowing that doesn't make Kylo’s fear disappear though. He sits as far away from the freezer as he can get and pulls the blankets around himself, trying to chase away the phantom chill he still feels. 

________________________

Though he doesn't remember it, Kylo must have fallen asleep at some point, because he is woken by a half whispered conversation.

“Bah.”

“No.”

“Bah?”

“No.”

“Bah!” 

“Still no.”

“Ba-”

“I don't care how many times you say it, you do not get to eat only cookies for breakfast.”

It sounds like an argument that has occured before, and the domesticity and harmlessness of it clashes in Kylo’s mind for a moment. His panic attack triggered by the carbonite freezer sits heavy in his mind, still hovers in his chest, waiting. Grogu impatiently demanding a cookie stalls it, Mando calmly refusing with a voice that speaks of experience in denying the child cookies boots it out rather quickly. 

“If you want breakfast, I'd get here before the kid eats it all,” Mando says from his spot sitting on a crate without raising his head to look at Kylo. Kylo unfolds himself from where he'd been sleeping against the wall and walks over slowly, keeping the blankets wrapped around his shoulders. He eyes the freezer as he passes it, pressing himself to the opposite wall despite knowing it is currently inactive and so harmless. 

When he looks back at Mando and Grogu, he sees that Mando is watching him, giving off the impression that he is evaluating Kylo once again. He almost wants to defend himself, snap at Mando for judging him, or question him about the freezer. Instead he just sits on a crate near the Mandalorian, doing his best to mask his discomfort. He doesn't think he succeeds. 

Grogu looks over at him and waves, sending out happy, content, buir is silly, cookies???? through the Force , and Kylo smiles back at him. Grogu pushes cookies????? at him again, chirping.

“No, I’m not going to give you more cookies either, that's up to your buir,” Kylo says, shaking his head.

Beside him, Mando freezes, one arm outstretched towards a bag between him and the kid. “He, he called me buir again?” he asks, carefully.

“Yes. He thinks you're being silly and should just give him more cookies,” Kylo confirms, watching as Mando shifts to look at Grogu.

“No, ad’ika. Still no more cookies,” Mando says, reaching out to run a finger over Grogu’s ear. He lets out a huff of breath that could probably be considered a laugh when Grogu grabs his finger and holds on. “No, holding my finger hostage won't make me give you one either.” He grips Grogu’s hand gently and wiggles it a little bit, then pulls away. 

Mando opens the bag he had been reaching for in the first place and pulls out a ration packet, handing it to Kylo. “I haven't had the chance to resupply in a while, so you'll have to do with this. There's more if you want it, but maybe avoid these ones-” he points to some of the packets, different from the one Kylo is holding, “-unless you like spicy.” He looks at Kylo with what he can assume a serious expression. “ Really spicy.” 

Kylo nods. “Thank you,” he says, voice quiet. Mando looks at him for a moment longer before nodding back and standing to walk over to the ladder, climbing up to reach the cockpit. Grogu hauls himself out of his carriage and drops to the floor, then shuffles over to the ladder. Kylo is about to offer help, but the kid manages to crawl up the ladder himself, clearly well practiced in getting around the ship by himself. 

Kylo looks back at the ration in his hands, opening it. He breaks it into small pieces, eating them slowly, one at a time. It gives him time to think. To think again about what had happened without the dark voice whispering to him. To figure out which thoughts are truly his, and which were influenced by the thing in his head. 

He's still angry. Still filled with overwhelming fury over the betrayal of his uncle. Still confused and lost and unsure of how he should proceed, of what he should do. He's still terrified, terrified of what was done to him and what he'd had to do. Can still feel the blood slicking his hands, though it's all been scrubbed away. Can smell the smoke and hear the screams and feel the panic. Can still see the bright line of green above him, ready to strike. 

The desperate desire for revenge, however, is gone. The urges to seek a way to power so he may defeat any who would oppose him have vanished. The faint thoughts of seeking another master, of working to carry on what Darth Vader had started, have disappeared. 

Kylo finds he's a bit calmer now, that his mind has settled a small bit. He is not content in any way, he doesn't not wish to simply forget what had happened, but he can think. Can have his own thoughts, and it's a relief. 

Kylo unclips his lightsaber from his belt, placing it on the crate in front of him, and just… lets it rest there for a while. He reaches out to it through the Force, reaches out to the crystal encased in the hilt. Can feel its hum. Connects with it, pours his doubts into it, his anger and new determination to do what's right, but not for others. To do right by himself, and those he chooses to protect. Shows it his desperation to learn, but also to share what he does know. He didn't mean to, but the connection is open and the crystal coaxes it out of him, wants to know who he is. Wants to feel it with him. So he gives it what it wants. 

The crystal radiates contentment now. It knows him, knows who he is, better than even he does. It releases him, and he opens his eyes, though he doesn't remember closing them. He jumps a little when he hears a noise beside him, looks over to see Grogu sitting next to him, also looking at the lightsaber. Grogu lets Kylo feel wary, confused, danger? hurt? bad? through the Force as he looks up at him, making a little questioning coo. 

“No, it's not, it's not going to hurt you. It's not bad, just curious. The crystal needs to know me so that it can work with me better.”

Grogu sends Kylo flashes of a blue lightsaber wielded by a man in a hooded cloak, a man that was trusted. He sees his own memories of the green lightsaber hovering above him as he opens his eyes.

“I'm sorry. I know our recent experiences with lightsabers aren't exactly good, but this one is mine, and I will never hurt you, so this saber never will either.”

Kylo can feel Grogu’s relief at his assurance, then color?  

He picks up the lightsaber and switches it on, the blade leaping from the handle and casting bright blue light around the space. He holds it still, letting Grogu study it, though far out of his reach. The child looks at the saber with something close to wonder, the blue reflecting in his large eyes.

After a moment Grogu nods and looks back to Kylo, sending gratitude through the Force before hopping off the crate and heading back  to the ladder leading to the cockpit. He stands at the bottom, looking over at Kylo expectantly. Kylo stands and walks over to the kid, who scrambles up the ladder then peers down at him once he's reached the top. “Are you sure your buir wants me up there?” Kylo asks, glancing between Grogu and the emptiness of the room above him. 

Grogu pushes fun, safe, happy, at him, then disappears from the top of the ladder. Kylo can hear the door to the cockpit slide open a moment later, then shut just as quickly. Kylo, as with everything else since he met Grogu and the Mandalorian, follows Grogu, not knowing what else to do. 

He climbs up the ladder, then steps through the door to the cockpit when it opens. Mando barely turns his head to acknowledge him as he enters, while Grogu waves cheerfully at him from where he’s perched on top of Mando’s legs. Kylo sits quietly, unsure of, well, everything. 

Mando’s voice startles Kylo a small bit, unexpected after the stretch of silence. “You have experience with carbonite.”

“Not me,” Kylo explains, “my father. He was captured by a bounty hunter, kept as a trophy by the one who commissioned the hunter until he was rescued. I was told the story a lot growing up.”

Mando is silent for a while, then asks, “what’s your father’s name, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Um, Han Solo.”

Mando starts laughing. It’s soft, quiet, but absolutely a laugh, and it confuses the fuck out of Kylo. Mando turns his chair so he's facing Kylo, and suddenly he is very uncomfortable. He doesn't move however, refusing to cower from the amused Mandalorian. 

“Oh, Boba is going to love this,” Mando says, laughter still in his voice. Grogu looks up at Mando, grinning, and Mando looks down at him, tapping the kid's nose with one finger. “Yeah, Ba’vodu Boba is going to laugh at this, huh Grogu?” 

“You know Boba Fett?” Kylo asks, a jumbled rush of fear and anger sweeping through him, overwhelming for a brief moment before fading into a low hum of anxiety.

“Fett helped me with something a few years ago, we got to know each other. He declared himself the kid’s uncle after meeting him once. He was his ba’vodu before I had admitted to myself I'm his buir.” Mando paused for a moment, busying himself with wiggling his fingers over the kid's stomach to make him laugh, then pulling away before Grogu could grab his hand, then going back to tickling him. “Honestly, most of the kid’s self appointed bavodu’e knew he is my ad’ika before I did.”

Kylo frowns. “Just how many people have declared themselves his family?”

Grogu finally captures Mando’s fingers and holds on with one hand while smacking the armour on the back of Mando’s hand with the other. “Uh, well, there's Cara, Peli, Cobb, Fennec, though she’ll deny it, Greef, and Boba.”

“Huh.”

Mando huffs what could probably be interpreted as a laugh. “People tend to immediately love him. Peli offers to buy him every time we see her.”

Kylo’s not quite sure how to respond to that, then remembers what started that part of the conversation. “Hang on, wait, no. Going back to Boba kriffing Fett. The man who worked for Jabba the Hutt, for the Empire, for Darth Vader ? Who hunted and killed an unknown number of Jedi, who, last I knew, had been eaten by a sarlacc?!”

Mando sighed, head tilting forward slightly. “Just, don't mention the sarlacc around him and you'll be fine.”

“Fine?!” he hisses, “how could any of this be fi-”

Mando cuts him off, voice no longer colored with amusement, “Darth Vader is dead along with the Empire, he took over Jabba’s throne, the jetiise killed his father in front of him, and he is far too stubborn and full of spite to allow a sarlacc to be what kills him.”

“Took over…” Kylo’s brain falters, processing the information that the most infamous bounty hunter in the galaxy, known for his tendency to disintegrate those who got in his way, and looming threat over the Rebel Alliance during the Galactic Civil War, is now king of Tatooine in all but name.

“Kylo,” Mando snaps, “he's an ally, and a friend. He's not interested in seeking revenge on old bounties, he answers to no one but himself. He no longer hunts the jettise. He is aliit, Grogu’s ba’vodu.” 

Mando turns back to the ship's controls, clearly signalling the end of their conversation. Grogu looks to Kylo, then to Mando, then back again, making small “huh?” sounds. 

Kylo is reminded, then, of whose ship he is in. The man in front of him is a bounty hunter, and a Mandalorian at that. He hunts people for pay, whether they've done something to deserve it or not. The fact that he has a carbonite freezer makes it clear he doesn't have issues with his bounties ending up dead. He is a warrior, one of a people that, brief attempt at pacifism that ended disastrously aside, has sought war and violence for thousands of years, some of the few beings that truly pose a threat to a fully trained Jedi, despite having no inherent ability to wield the Force themselves. He could kill Kylo. Perhaps not easily, but he could.

But he also speaks softly, is gentle and careful with Grogu, loves him as a son. He has been kind to Kylo, has made no move to harm him since pointing the blaster at him in the first moments of their meeting. He has fed him and offered him an opportunity to leave a planet he knew nothing about and given him the time and space to process what Luke had done, what he had had to do to escape. Had felt anger on Kylo’s behalf, anger directed at Luke for trying to kill him.

Kylo says nothing, just watches as Mando pilots the Razor Crest, needing to focus on something. Kylo is good with ships, knows them inside and out. Between Han and Luke, he'd grown up learning more about star ships, how they worked, how to fix them, how to fly them, than he did any of the intricacies of politics his mother had endeavored to teach him. He knew a lot about a lot of ships, but he's never seen a Razor Crest , and he can't help but want to learn about them.

So, not so subtly watching Mando fly a military gunship that's been out of production since before the Empire rose to power is how Kylo passes the time for now. Mando, at least, doesn't seem to mind, though it may also just be that he is being kept busy by Grogu trying to push as many buttons as he can get his little claws on. Whatever the reason, Kylo is free to study the controls and try to not think about Boba Fett, or bounty hunters, or Mandalorians and their unique knack for killing things like Kylo. 

“I can show you more about the Crest next time we port, if you decide to stick around,” Mando says. Kylo freezes, not expecting the offer, especially since he has said nothing about any such interest. Mando does another huff-laugh. “You've been staring pretty intently. If subtlety was the goal, you need some practice.”

“Oh, well, thank you. I would appreciate that.” He's not entirely sure how one practices subtlety, but Kylo thinks it may be a skill worth learning.

“Considering who your father is, I suppose your interest is to be expected.” Mando pauses for a moment, then shrugs a shoulder. “Though, you’d benefit more from a day with Peli than with me. I'm not good at explaining things.”

Grogu perks up at the mention of Peli, “Ba Puh?”

“Yeah kid, Ba’vodu Peli.”

Kylo frowns. “The one that keeps offering to buy Grogu?”

“She's a mechanic on Tatooine. Has given me more than a few lectures about the damage the Crest gets,” another pause, “and childcare.”

“Where are we going? I didn't really, I mean, that wasn't a priority when I…” Kylo trails off, not sure how to say ‘when I made a spur of the moment decision to get on a ship with a Mandalorian and a tiny green child that can use the Force that I didn't put any significant thought into because my uncle had just tried to kill me so critical thinking was not happening at that moment’ without sounding like he regretted said decision. 

Mando turned slightly, just enough that Kylo could see the side of his helmet. “My next stop is Tatooine. It'll take a couple days, so if you want to be dropped off somewhere, I can do that. If you stay, well, you'll meet Peli and I’ll need to talk to Fett, depending on how busy he is. He usually makes time to see Grogu though.”

“I… I would like to stay with you, for now. If that's okay.”

Grogu thrusts his tiny fists into the air and cheers.

Chapter Text

The two days it takes to get to Tatooine are quiet, consisting mostly of Kylo and Mando taking turns entertaining Grogu. After a minor fire, it was decided Force practice could wait until they weren't hurtling through hyperspace and were instead safe on a planet’s surface. Kylo swears it had been a complete accident, but Grogu just cackles whenever questioned about the incident. 

Mando cleans up the storage room opposite the cockpit for Kylo and promises they will steal bedding from Fett to make it more comfortable. Kylo tried to protest, not only for the fact that he's fine, really he is, but also because stealing from Boba Fett didn't seem like the kind of thing Kylo could get away with, but Mando had already left the small room. Grogu just trills happily about seeing “Ba Ba,” and also does not listen to Kylo’s very valid concerns. 

The suns of Tatooine are high in the sky by the time Mando brings the Razor Crest into a docking bay. Grogu is at the rear hatch as soon as the ship touches down, bouncing and babbling, eager to get out. Mando lowers the ramp and the kid takes off, running faster than Kylo would have thought those tiny legs could be capable of. Outside, a woman in grease and dirt stained overalls with barely tamed curly hair immediately crouches down and holds her arms out.

“There you are Bright Eyes!” she cheers, catching Grogu as he launches himself into her arms. “Is Mando taking good care of you? Feedin’ you enough? Remember, Auntie Peli is happy to kidnap you if he's slacking off.”

Mando follows Grogu out of the Crest , stopping at the bottom of the ramp to watch Grogu and the woman, who Kylo thinks he can safely assume is Peli. She straightens, settling Grogu on one hip and facing Mando. “Took you long enough Mando, you were due back three days ago! I'd almost think you were trying to keep the womp rat away from us.”

Mando shrugs one shoulder. “Something popped up.”

Peli narrows her eyes suspiciously. “What kind of thing? On a scale from ‘krayt dragon’ to ‘imperial warlord’, how bad is said thing?”

Kylo, still out of sight in the ship, is not sure which end of that scale is worse, actually.

“Not a bad thing. The kid made a friend.”

“Okay, on a scale from ‘massif puppy’ to ‘the entirety of an underground crime syndicate’, how problematic is this new friend?”

Mando seems to consider a moment, then shrugs again. “More than a massif, but much less than Boba’s entire staff.”

“Okay, okay.” She bounces Grogu on her hip a few times, earning a delighted squeal. “Did the friend stay where you found it, or do you have another nuisance to deal with?”

Kylo takes slight offense at being called a nuisance, but Mando just huffs a sort of laugh. “He's on the ship.” When Peli moves to look into the ship, Kylo presses himself further into the wall while Mando holds a hand out to stop her. “Leave him alone Peli. He'll come out if he wants to.”

Peli took a step back. “Fine, fine. And how about the Crest , what trouble have you put her through? Any more gun fight damage I need to deal with?”

“Takeoff has been clunky, but other than that the Crest is fine. Just need fuel and docking for a few days.”

“Well that's good at least. Now shoo, go bother Fett, he's got a job or something for you.”

Mando tilts his head a bit. “What kind of job?”

“I didn't ask. Unlike you,” Peli points a finger at Mando, “I have functioning survival instincts and do not question what the scariest man on Tatooine says to me, and I certainly do not look for excuses to make the conversations longer than they need to be.” Peli nods and gives Mando what can only be described as an ‘so there’ look, then turns to walk out of the docking bay.

“Peli,” Mando sighs.

The mechanic turns around, an innocent look on her face. “Hm, what?”

“Give me my son.”

“Damn.” She looks down at Grogu, still settled quite comfortably in the woman’s arms. “Well, I tried Bright Eyes, but your daddy noticed. One day he'll forget, and it'll be just you and me.”

“Not likely,” Mando says as he takes Grogu, tucking him into a bag with the strap slung across his chest, the child resting by Mando’s hip, burbling happily. Peli waves to Grogu and flips Mando off before leaving, a few small droids that had been cowering behind boxes rushing to follow her. 

Once she’s gone, Kylo creeps down the ramp, coming to stop beside Mando, holding his hand out for Grogu, who grabs his fingers and holds tight. “So that's Peli?”

Mando looks briefly at Kylo, then nods. 

“She seems,” Kylo tries to think of a descriptor that is not ‘overwhelming’, “very nice.”

“She's a terror and menace,” Mando counters. “But at this point Grogu likes her too much to just shoot her.”

Kylo eyes Mando. He's sure he's joking. Pretty sure. Kind of sure? Hopefully he's joking. Mando gives nothing away, and all he gets from Grogu is that, yes, he does indeed like his Ba’vodu Peli. 

Either unaware or uncaring about Kylo’s current state of confusion and concern (quickly becoming a familiar feeling  around the Mandalorian and his son), Mando walks out the entrance to the hangar, leaving Kylo to scamper after him or be left behind. Out on the streets of Mos Eisley, the crowds parted for Mando, a respectful distance kept without the sourness of fear Kylo might have expected. A few even nod their heads or smile at the Mandalorian as they pass.

Mando leads them to a market, wasting no time in gathering what supplies he deems necessary. Most of the vendors seem familiar with the Mandolorian, and more than a few ‘sneak’ small sweets to Grogu, though none of them appear to actually think they're avoiding Mando’s ever watchful eye. It doesn't take long for Mando to secure what he came for, purchases ranging from ammunition to groceries to clothes he had forced Kylo to pick out. He haggles on a few of the items, though Mando’s side mostly consists of a silent stare and a small head tilt that gives the same effect as a raised eyebrow.

Kylo had never been to Tatooine before, only heard the stories from his parents and Luke. Based on what they had told them, he expected something different. Mos Eisley doesn't feel as dangerous as he would have thought; he has no creeping itch on the back of his neck that would have him constantly checking behind him, no heavy weight in his gut that would keep his hand close to his saber. It’s just a market. 

He has to keep an eye on his pockets, sure, and shady alleys are, well, shady alleys, but Kylo doesn't think he is going to be shot in the back. Maybe it’s just because he is trailing after a Mandalorian, meaning no one wants to mess with him and risk the ire of one of the deadliest beings in the galaxy, but Kylo doesn't think so. He thinks that either something has changed over the years, or the stories he was told of this planet were greatly exaggerated. 

Soon Mando is leading them back to the ship, bag slung over his shoulder in a way that still gives him easy access to his blaster. Kylo sets down the bags he is carrying where Mando pointed, bundles up his new clothes and brings them to what Mando insists is now his room. He lays them out, trailing his fingers over the fabric of each one. They're not soft, but they're sturdy. He'd chosen mostly grey colors, a few black, a few brown. Neutral. Forgettable. 

He changes his clothes, the shirt and pants he had come in both worse for wear. Damaged from fighting his friends ( killing his friends, but not his friends, he thought they were his friends , but they had attacked him , he didn't have a choice), the fires that had destroyed everything around him as he had fled, the crash onto a planet he didn't know the name of. He chooses a dark grey layered tunic and simple pants, and pulls a cloak around his shoulders. His lightsaber is clipped to his belt, tucked out of sight but easily accessible. Everything wraps around him, unrestricting and comforting. There's no history attached to what he is wearing, it’s his, and it's new. A new life. A clean slate. 

When he gets back down to the cargo bay, everything has been put away and Grogu is holding a small bantha toy one vendor had handed him, refusing Mando’s attempt to pay her (Mando had slipped credits into the woman's pocket anyways to be discovered later when she couldn't try to return them). As Kylo stops beside him, Mando nods and opens a side door. Grogu is tucked into the bag while the ramp lowers, snuggling comfortably into the blanket within the bag and peeking his head out just far enough for his eyes and ears to be all that are visible. 

Mando once again leaves the hanger without pause, leaving Kylo to keep up or be left behind. Kylo is, admittedly, more nervous leaving the Crest this time than the last, because this time he knows where they are going, and does not feel good about his chances of walking back out of what is now Boba Fett’s palace unscathed. Mando may think that he’ll be okay, but Kylo knows the history between his father and this bounty hunter, and doubts the man will be so forgiving. 

He can wait at the Razor Crest , Kylo knows that. Knows he can avoid an encounter with Fett, can stay and meet Peli and maybe learn more about the Crest , but he refuses to be scared off. Refuses to let something his father did dictate what he does. His family has abandoned him, and will not be held accountable for their actions. If Fett is going to murder him, Kylo wants it to be for something he did, not Han Solo. So, hopefully he will have the chance to piss the crime lord off all on his own. 

Look at him, new life goals and everything. Kylo thinks he deserves a cookie. He'll ask Grogu to share one when they get back, after not being shot by Boba Fett. 

Perhaps he should ask to hold Grogu when they get there. From what Kylo can tell, Fett happens to like the child, so he probably won't shoot on sight if he's holding him. Kylo looks at Mando walking ahead of him across the sands and decides that no, he will not be asking the expressionless warrior if he can hold the baby. He wonders then if he could successfully hide behind the Mandalorian without it being obvious he's hiding, and once again decides that no, he could not. Being even just the little bit taller he is makes it hard for him to subtly shield himself behind the walking wall of armor.

Well, nothing else to do than to walk into the nexu den and hope for the best. 

Fuck. 

____________________________

As they walk through stone halls Kylo forces himself to project calm confidence. And he's not… afraid, exactly. Resigned maybe, definitely anxious, but not afraid. He schools his face into a neutral expression, takes steady steps as he walks a beat behind Mando. Ignores the glances of anyone they pass. 

His facade nearly cracks as they enter the throne room, his steps stuttering for just a fraction of a moment when he sees Boba Fett. The man is all but lounged upon a massive stone throne, a human with a fierce look in her eye leaning casually against one side. The green and red helmet turns to face Mando and Kylo as they descend down the stairs. Mando stops at the bottom of the stairs and stands, still and silent. 

The room quiets and Fett waves them all away without turning away from the Mandalorian and him, everyone bowing their heads respectfully and filing out through multiple doors, passing them as they leave up the stairs, one being giving Mando a smile and Grogu a small wave (Grogu waves back from the bag he is still in). As the last of the room’s occupants filter out, Mando steps forward to the throne, inclining his head in a show of respect when he reaches it. Kylo stays by the stairs, not willing to approach just yet, though he does also bow his head, watching Fett as well as he can. 

There's a tense silence as Fett studies him, his gaze piercing despite the helmet. The tilt of his head gives the distinct impression of a smile, though not a very friendly one Kylo is sure. Fett finally turns back to Mando. 

“Interesting company you keep, vod,” he says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Certainly unexpected. You are aware of what this boy is, I assume.”

“I am,” Mando says, having lifted his head from its bow. Kylo keeps his dipped, just enough to be respectful, not enough to make it seem as though he is avoiding the king’s gaze (even though that is, in fact, what he is doing).

“Why bring him here, I can't help but wonder?”

“Picked him up on our way here, kid took a liking to him.”

“Oh? You just happened upon a Jetti?” Fett drawls, leaning back again. The woman beside him huffs what could be a laugh. Kylo has to stop himself from protesting at Fett calling him a Jedi. He's not a Jedi. Never was, never will be. He hadn't even begun his trials before… well, before Luke had tried to kill him. 

Kylo must have given something away, because Fett turns his full attention to him. “Ah, you do not approve of being called a Jedi? I don't see many others carrying lightsabers, especially not these days.”

Kylo lifts his chin, staring Fett head on as he replies, “I was driven out, attacked. I would not be allowed the title, even if I wanted it.”

Fett hums, then stands and steps down from the throne, coming to stand beside Mando, one hand reaching out absently to Grogu, who latches onto the offered hand eagerly and babbles softly. “And what did you do to prompt such an attack?” he asks, still staring directly at Kylo.

“ Nothing! ” Kylo snarls, then freezes. He just yelled… at Boba Fett. He just yelled at Boba Fett . Well, he got his chance to piss the crime lord off himself, no help from his family needed to get him killed. So he has that going for him at least. Congratulations Kylo.

Boba Fett takes slow steps toward him, and Kylo keeps his head held high, ignoring his stuttering heart. When Fett stops a few paces out of reach, Kylo can feel him studying him, just as Mando had done. Then he tilts his head. 

“Nothing? In my experience, Jedi find a way to justify any action they take, what excuse did you provide?”

“I don't know.” Kylo glances at Mando, who is watching the exchange with no apparent concern, then back to Fett. “I awoke to my uncle standing above me, his lightsaber raised. I fled.”

“Uncle?”

Kylo had not meant to say uncle. Luke is Ben’s uncle, not Kylo’s. 

“Uncle huh?” Fett looks back at Mando. “Beroya, did you bring who I think you have?”

Mando shrugs. “Probably.”

Fett laughs. A real laugh, if a little cruel sounding.  “Did you do this on purpose, gar shabuir’ika?”

“No. Didn't know who he was at first. Happy accident.”

“So,” Fett says, a smile clear in his voice as he turns to face Kylo again, “Skywalker’s following in his father’s footsteps. I'll admit, not something I expected. And you,” he gestures lazily at Kylo, “do you plan on following in your father’s footsteps? I should warn you, I destroyed the sarlacc years ago. You'll have to find a different beast to feed me to.”

Kylo just shakes his head, resisting the urge to take a step back. 

“Smart,” Fett says, nodding. Kylo can't help his relieved sigh when Fett steps away, turning back to Mando. “Now, give me the little one, I've missed him!” 

Grogu chirps in delight as he is handed to Fett, radiating his feelings of happy, safe, love. Then he turns his head to Kylo and pushes forward cookies? cookies from Ba Ba? Kylo hesitates, but Grogu pushes again, insistent.

Kylo grumbles, then speaks up, “Grogu wants Ba Ba to give him cookies.” He stares at the floor as both Mando and Fett’s head turn to him.

“Kid, we've talked about this,” Mando sighs, one hand dragging down the front of his helmet. “Stop using Kylo to demand cookies.”

Fett chuckles as he looks down at Grogu. “Don't you worry ad’ika, Ba’vodu Boba will give you cookies later.” He looks at Mando. “He does this often?”

“Increasingly,” Mando says, voice weary. 

“Clever little ad. Using all your resources to your advantage.” Fett pats Grogu’s head gently, eliciting excited babbling. “Very good.”

“Don't encourage him,” Mando huffs.

“Nonsense,” Fett scoffs. “The child has discovered a new tool and is utilizing it well. He should be praised.”

“He's discovered a new means of demanding what he knows he won't get, is what he's done.”

Fett shrugs. “Can hardly blame him for trying.”

Kylo has now been classified as problematic, a resource, and a tool by Mando’s friends. He should start a list, to go with his list of times Grogu has somehow snuck up on him and caused him to jump. (Six. The number is six, and no one else will ever know that. Ever). Kylo is disturbed from his list creation by Fett.

“And what is Solo doing these days?” the former bounty hunter asks. “I hear his name from time to time, never cared to listen beyond any visits to my planet.”

“He's,” Kylo hesitates, “I don't really know. I haven't seen him in… in a while.”

“Dropped you off with Skywalker for Jetti training and then back to his adventures, hm?”

Kylo says nothing, and his lack of response seems to be answer enough for Fett, who nods. He looks back down at Grogu when the child begins to smack his helmet, and chuckles. “Very well ad, just a moment.” Fett walks back to his throne as he adjusts Grogu so he is resting on one hip, held in place securely by his arm, the now freed hand lifting his helmet from his head and setting it down on one arm of the throne. 

Kylo knows what Fett looks like, of course he does. He looks like the millions of other clones created for a war Kylo only knew stories of, looks like Jango Fett, his father. He knows the face that is hidden by the painted beskar, he knows what to expect.

He is wrong. Scars twist across Fett’s skin, marring what should be familiar features, the largest covering the right side of his skull, another slightly smaller one stretched across the bottom of his left jaw. Smaller lines of destroyed tissue run across his face and down his neck, disappearing beneath his armor to probably the rest of his body. 

Kylo doesn't think he had been staring, is trying very hard not to in fact, but he must give something away because Fett grins at him with too many teeth. “It may not have been a thousand years, but even just the one within the sarlacc was not kind.”

A year? That was how long Fett had been in the sarlacc? A year trapped in the stomach of the beast, a year of unending pain as he was slowly, slowly digested. Slowly enough to manage escaping, to pull his way out of a torture that had never been escaped. 

“Udesii, Jett’ika,” Fett huffs, and then Kylo feels brief pressure on his shoulder. He blinks and realizes that Fett just poked him. Said something in the language Mando uses with Grogu and then poked him. That's fine. Everything is fine. He knows how to move forward with this. Boba Fett poked him in the shoulder and Kylo is completely fine because why wouldn't he be fine after being poked by an infamous bounty hunter-turned-king? 

“Beroya, your Jett’ika broke,” Fett says, poking him again.

Mando (Beroya? Is that Mando’s name? Doesn't matter, it hasn't been given to him so he won't use it) sighs. “Well poking him isn't going to make it any better.”

“I'm fine,” Kylo says, admittedly a bit weakly. He gets poked again, but this time by Grogu, who is still in Fett’s arms. 

This is fine. 

___________________

After the introduction to Fett that went nothing like Kylo expected it to (not that he had any idea what he had expected, he just knew it wasn’t poking), he and Mando are waved off and told they’ll meet in the morning. Mando, once again carrying Grogu, leads Kylo through the maze of halls that makes up the palace and into a simple room. He's dropped off, told to get some sleep, and then Mando is gone, Grogu waving to Kylo as the door closes. Kylo sits on the (actually pretty comfortable) bed and stares at nothing, trying to get his head to catch up with what has happened today. 

He's on Tatooine, first of all, and isn't that strange. None of his family had ever expressed any interest in visiting the planet, not even Luke, so he had never thought much about getting here any time soon, nor had he particularly wanted to. Most of the stories of this planet weren't good ones, whether they be sorrowful remembrances of Luke’s family being killed, cautionary words of the dangers of the vicious Sand People, or bitterly told tales of Jabba the Hutt and Boba Fett.

In whom’s palace he is now staying, because that’s a thing now. Because of course Boba Fett, favored bounty hunter of Darth Vader, rules Tatooine. And of course the Mandalorian Kylo has decided to follow around is friends with him, to the point that he is an uncle of Grogu’s. 

So here he is, sitting in Boba Fett’s palace, trying to figure out why he feels so safe . Safe enough that he falls asleep easily, and sleeps through the night.

Chapter Text

Kylo is woken in a manner now familiar to him; Grogu smacking his face, and Mando scolding him for it. Kylo snags the little green fingers in his own when they go to smack his face again, opening his eyes to Grogu’s delighted smile. Kylo can't help but respond with a smile of his own, and taps Grogu’s nose with the hand not holding the kid's claws.

“Good morning Grogu,” he mumbles, still a bit blurry with sleep. “Did you sleep well?”

Grogu babbles and sends warm, soft, safe, happy through the Force, then nudges Kylo with the same question.

“I slept… really well actually. Thank you.”

Grogu nods, satisfied, then reaches out to Mando with grabby hands to be picked up. The mandalorian huffs a laugh and scoops the kid up. “Happy now Womp Rat?” He looks down to Kylo, who is sitting up and stretching. “Get dressed and meet us outside,” he says, then turns and leaves the room. 

Kylo allows himself another moment to just sit, then takes a deep breath and moves to get the clothes he had shed the night before. He dresses quickly, pulling the cloak tighter around himself despite the heat. An unnecessary attempt at comfort, but there's no voice to tell him it's pathetic and weak, and Mando hasn't said anything about anything else Kylo does to soothe himself so far, so he allows himself the comfort.

He steps out into the hallway and the moment Grogu sees him he begins to squirm in his father’s arms, reaching out to Kylo. Mando just sighs and hands him over, and Grogu wiggles until he is tucked against Kylo’s chest beneath the cloak, snuggled in his arms with just his eyes and the tops of his ears visible. Kylo relaxes, the child a warm weight against him and feels his nerves ease as he follows Mando through the halls. 

Grogu pushes a soft constant stream of safe, safe, safe, through the Force, and by the time Mando leads them through a doorway into what looks like a kitchen with a few tables off to the side, Kylo is at ease.

That calm mostly disappears when he sees Boba Fett sitting at one of the tables, fully armored and his helmet on the table beside a half empty plate of food. He just nods at Mando when they walk in, then goes back to eating and staring into a cup of tea as though it holds the answers to the galaxy's greatest questions. 

Kylo is hesitant to follow Mando to the other side of the kitchen, where he sees food set out in bowls and platters to be served onto plates, because following Mando would mean turning his back to Fett. And sure, so far Fett has not made a move to hurt him, so far has only been intentionally intimidating and ominous. And right now, Fett is staring so unflinchingly into his tea that Kylo would think he were asleep if not for the constant slow shoveling of food into his mouth. Plus, Kylo is holding Grogu, and he doesn't think Fett would kill him while he's holding the child. Right? Yeah? Yeah. 

Grogu complains when Kylo doesn't move fast enough toward the food, so really there's nothing he can do but turn his back to the villain of his father’s stories to approach the food. He's grateful when Din takes Grogu from him and gives him a plate of food instead, but then significantly less grateful when Mando leaves the room with Grogu and their plates of food while making it clear Kylo is to stay. Stay with Boba Fett. Alone. 

That's fine. Fett is still looking at his tea and Kylo can just sit on the opposite side of the room against a wall with a clear path to the door out. He sets the plate Mando had handed him softly onto the table, trying to make as little noise as possible. He slowly, quietly, nibbles on the food on his plate. He recognizes a few of the foods; the dustcrepe, something Luke had made a few times, and some small fruit Kylo is pretty sure are pallies. The rest are a mystery, but he doesn't think Mando would try to poison him at this point, so he eats what he was given. 

Fett doesn't move the entire time, just stares into his tea even after finishing the food on his plate. Not long after Kylo finishes the food on his own plate, Mando comes back in with Grogu and two empty plates. He strides to Kylo’s corner and sets Grogu down next to him, then grabs Kylo’s empty plate and brings them all to a small dishwasher in the corner.

He looks over at Fett, who is still staring either into his tea or into an empty void only he can see, and the small movement of Mando’s helmet gives the impression of rolling eyes. He grabs a mug from the food table and fills it with what looks like caf, then walks up to Fett and sets it in front of him.

“Pirur ibac, Boba. I don't know why you bother getting tea, you're useless without caf,” he says, tapping the table by Fett’s hand to pull him out of whatever trance his tea has pulled him into.

Fett flips him off and mutters “usen’ye Djarin,” with a nasty glare. Mando laughs when Fett grabs the cup anyway and drinks most of it in one go. 

Kylo almost flinches when the woman that had been in the throne room when they arrived walks in, every movement speaking of well earned confidence. She hardly spares him a glance as she goes by him to seat herself across from Fett.

“Oh good, you got him his caf,” she drawls, nodding to Mando.

“Fuck you and the bantha you rode in on,” Fett grumbles. The woman just raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Mando tilts his head in what Kylo is learning indicates a smile. Maybe. He's not certain, but Kylo is pretty sure it's a smile. He hopes it's a smile at least.

It’s an interaction that could be considered normal in different circumstances, with different people. But here, with Boba Fett, a Mandalorian, and an amazingly scary woman, Kylo finds the whole thing unnerving. Beside him, Grogu grabs at Kylo’s sleeve, pulling his attention away from the bounty hunter being flipped off again by the crime lord that had once put his father into carbonite.

Grogu pushes fun, play, practice through the Force, big eyes staring pleadingly up at Kylo.

“Of course,” he says, smiling. Excited, Grogu pulls out a pebble from… somewhere. Where had he been keeping that? Did his little robes have little pockets? How long has he been carrying the small stone around? Why?

The pebble bounces off Kylo’s forehead, effectively pulling him from his pondering. Right. Questions for another time. 

“Oh, sorry Grogu,” Kylo apologizes, and holds out a hand to lift the pebble from where it had fallen to the ground. It floats back to the table and lands again in front of Grogu. Grogu, delighted, squints in concentration and holds out one little hand, and the small rock floats up and into Kylo’s waiting palm. Kylo grins and sends encouragement through the Force, then floats the pebble back to Grogu.

They continue this for a few turns, then Kylo adds a small spin to the stone and encourages Grogu to do the same. He does so after only a moment of contemplation, and after that they add more tricks as they send it back and forth. Grogu ‘accidentally’ launches the pebble at Kylo’s head a few more times, but Kylo figures it’s good for him to practice precision, so allows it to continue.

After one particularly hard thunk of the rock onto Kylo’s forehead, Grogu turns back to Mando, grinning and babbling and pointing to where Kylo is rubbing his head.

“Yeah, I see that. You have very good aim,” Mando praises, and Grogu cheers at his father’s approval.

When Kylo looks over to Mando, he realizes that the Mandalorian was not the only one who had been watching. The scary woman is watching closely as well, her face almost bored as she drinks her own caf. Fett, who looks much more alert now, is staring intently, leaning forward slightly on his elbows with his fingers woven together in front of him on the table.

Fett catches Kylo’s eye and smiles, a slow small threatening smile that sends shivers down Kylo’s back. Instead of looking away though, he lifts his chin and stares right back, carefully keeping his face blank. At this, Fett leans back a bit and the threatening smile turns more genuine, like Kylo had passed a test.

“Well, you have perfected the osik expression of fake serenity the Jetii like to use as a mask,” Fett says, in what Kylo thinks is supposed to be a compliment.

“I,” his blank expression is lost as his brows furrow in slight confusion, “thank you? I think?”

Fett barks a short laugh. “Those bastards had no need for buy’ce, kept their faces soulless enough without them.”

Oh. 

Is that what Fett thinks of him? Soulless? 

Are the Jedi soulless? 

If the Jedi are soulless, what does that make him? Luke must have seen something horrible in him, for him to attack Kylo the way he had, what if he had looked into him and just seen emptiness? A void, an absence, a dark pit. 

And had Kylo not proven him right? He killed fellow students, his friends. He left the temple burning, left destruction behind him. He did that. How could he have done that?

There's a touch on Kylo’s shoulder and he panics, lashes out and pushes and scrambles backwards until he hits a wall, hand held out, ready to push again, ready to defend himself because they want to kill him, they're trying to kill him, he just wants to leave, just wants to be safe. 

“Tok’kad, tok’kad . Just back off .”

Words are passing by him.

“What the fuck was that?”

Someone is angry. No, not angry, scared?

“Dini’la Jetii osik.”

Wait. 

“Ne’johaa, Boba.”

Boba. Boba Fett. Not Uncle Luke. Not Luke. That means he's safe. Safe here, away from Luke, away from the fire and smoke and anger and deadly green light. 

Kylo opens his eyes slowly, not realizing he had even closed them, and raises his head from where it's tucked against his chest. A sharp breath of relief punches out of him when he sees he is actually at Boba Fett’s palace, not Yavin IV. Mando is there, crouched down a little bit in front of him with one hand held out in a soothing gesture. Grogu is in the arms of Fett, his big eyes worried and a little scared.

Kylo pushes sorry, safe, sorry sorry to Grogu, receives relief, safe, safe in return. Kylo lets out another breath, this one long and shuddering, and the tension bleeds out of his body, sending him slumping down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbles breathlessly, “I'm sorry.”

Around him everyone else relaxes as well, the threat of being tossed around by the Force now gone. Grogu squirms in Fett’s arms until he's put down, and he quickly stumbles over to Kylo and plants himself in his lap, leaving no room for negotiation concerning his placement. The child continues to push safe, happy, safe safe through the Force, and Kylo returns it just as steadily. 

“It's okay,” Mando assures him, voice calm and steady.

“Did I… is everyone okay? What did I do?” Kylo asks quietly. He remembers pushing out, sending someone back, he doesn't know if they got hurt.

Behind Mando, Fett snorts. “Knocked Mando on his shebs, nothing else. You're fine Jett’ika, no harm done.” He pats Mando roughly on one pauldron where he's still crouched down, Mando swatting at his hand without looking back. Fett pulls his hand back, only to flick Mando’s helmet as he quickly leaves the room, dodging Mando’s attempts to smack him as he dances by. The scary woman follows him out at a more reasonable pace, hardly sparing a glance at Mando and him as she leaves. Mando ignores her as well. 

“Are you okay?” Mando asks once it’s just them and Grogu in the room.

“Yeah I'm, I'm fine. I'm sorry. Are you okay? I don't know how hard I… I didn't hurt you right?”

There's a short pause. “Kylo, Grogu has thrown me around worse during his tantrums, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.”

Kylo takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay.” 

Mando stands and takes a step back, not looming over Kylo, which he appreciates. “You good to stand up?”

Kylo nods and grips Grogu more firmly, then pushes himself up. Grogu pats at Kylo’s chest and continues his soft insistence of safe safe safe . Kylo nods to him, agreeing despite how his heart still pounds and his fingers tap an uneven beat against Grogu’s robes. Mando is looking at Kylo again, studying him, looking for something. After a moment, he nods, apparently to himself. 

“Alright, follow me,” he says, then turns and walks out of the room. Kylo is quick to follow, Grogu still in his arms. They end up back in the still mostly empty throne room fairly quickly, where Mando lifts Grogu from Kylo’s arms and strides toward where Fett is sat on the throne talking to the scary woman, who is leaned casually against the right side of the throne. 

“Ja’hailir Grogu,” Mando says in the language Kylo still doesn't know the name of, holding out Grogu for Fett to take. Fett raises a brow. “Gedet’ye?” Mando adds with a small tilt of his helmet. Grogu makes grabby hands at Fett.

Fett sighs and plucks Grogu from Mando’s hands, settling him on one arm of the throne between him and the scary woman, who reaches over to pat Grogu’s head. Mando nods to them both and beckons Kylo to follow him again, down a different hallway this time. 

A few turns, a few flights of stairs down, a few more turns, and Mando opens the door to a large room, the floor down a step and covered in a layer of sand. There are various shelves and cabinets lining one wall, all stocked with weapons. Melee weapons; swords, knives, staffs, spears, a few Gaffii Sticks even, can be seen lining the shelves and leaning against the wall. There is carbon scoring scattered across the walls, deep gouges dug into the stone and a few dark smears that Kylo is eighty six percent certain are blood. Eighty eight percent. 

Mando walks directly to the far wall, leaning his pulse rifle against the wall alongside a couple Gaderiffi. He pulls out the long silver spear attatched to his back as well, but keeps it in his hand. Mando walks back to the middle of the room, then knocks the blunt end of the spear into the sand, creating a dull but deep thump sound.

“Take out your laser sword,” he commands.

“Lightsaber…” Kylo corrects thoughtlessly, staring at Mando.

“I don't care what its called, take it out and turn it on.”

Kylo, slowly, because he has no idea what is going on, unclips his saber and activates it, holding it in a defensive position. As soon as its in position, and before he can ask what the fuck is going on, Mando leaps forward, spear swinging down in an arch at Kylo’s head.

Startled, Kylo raises his saber to block the spear, surprised when instead of the spear being sliced in half, it meets the lightsaber as another saber would. He looks up at it, sees the silver metal press against the blue light, sees the metal begin to heat and glow red before Mando rips it away and holds it in front of him again, this time with the head of the spear pointed at Kylo’s chest.

“What are you doing?!” he demands, moving to block another swing, this one from the side.

“Seeing what I have to work with,” Mando says, striking again. And again, and again, Kylo slowly being pushed back as he defends himself. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Kylo asks, ducking to the side to avoid being stabbed in the neck.

“It means fight back!” Mando growls, sending a particularly hard swipe to Kylo’s legs that he's not quite able to block, causing Kylo to stumble.

“Why?” Kylo pleads, “why?!”

Mando pulls back, rests the end of the spear in the sand once again, and studies Kylo again. “Because you're scared,” he says.

“What?” Kylo shakes his head. “No, no I'm not-”

“Yes, you are. You are scared, and overwhelmed, and you are angry .”

Kylo opens his mouth to deny it, but no words come out.

“You are angry, and you are holding it in, and anger that is held in will always bleed out, whether you want it to or not. Anger cannot be ignored, cannot be pushed aside. If left alone it will fester and rot and grow and it will hold you back. You have to use it. Control it, let it out when you decide, and not let it use you.”

“I don't know what-”

“Foundlings are always scared, always angry. Some don't even try to hold it in, they lash out at everything that comes close. Some try to ignore it, pretend if they don't acknowledge it then it will fade. Some hold on to it and feed it until it burns them and everyone around them. But it’s always there. You have to learn how to control it, before it controls you.” He slams the end of the spear into the ground then raises it, points it at Kylo again.

Kylo looks at Mando, at the spear, at his lightsaber, back at Mando.

“You won't hurt me, if thats what you're worried about,” Mando says. “My armor is made from the same metal as the spear, even if you land a hit you won't hurt me.” He then makes Kylo’s decision for him and lunges again. 

This time, after blocking, he retaliates with a swipe of his own, easily redirected by Mando’s spear. The more Kylo starts to fight, the harder Mando pushes, no longer simply swinging the spear in easily blocked arcs. His blocks transition smoothly into attacks, each step fluid and measured and each hit hard enough to send Kylo back a step with just the amount of power behind it. 

So Kylo pushes harder, and he lets the heat that he's kept locked in his chest out, lets it fuel his own strikes, lets himself feel satisfaction when he sends the Mandalorian back a step. With each move he feels lighter, even as his muscles begin to ache and the saber starts to feel heavier. 

Kylo isn't sure how long this continues, just knows that he needs this, knows that with each connected hit to armor and every blow of the spear blocked lets something out. Lets it out until Kylo feels like he has more space in his own head, like something that shouldn't be there is being torn out. Until Kylo can breath . 

It ends when Kylo is knocked onto his back, a boot on his wrist above the saber and the point of a spear nestled snugly against his throat. He deactivates his saber and lets it drop into the sand, and the boot lifts and the spear retreats but but he stays on his back, heaving in breaths and letting his mind be blank. 

There's a thud and a puff of sand as Mando sits beside him, and Kylo allows himself to feel a little proud that the Mandalorian is panting as well. 

“Good job,” Mando says through heavy breaths. “Thats a good start.”

Kylo lifts his head and looks at Mando. “Start?”

“Emotions can't be fought off all the time. This is one way of relieving it, you need more. You'll find more. We’ll help you.” A pause. “And you'll need more combat training, you're good with the laser sword, but you need to know more than one weapon.”

“I can fire a blaster!” Kylo protests.

“Can you aim?”

“Yes!”

“Well?”

Kylo thinks for a moment. “Define well.”

Mando huffs. “So, no.” 

“Dad did his best, but Mom didn't want me holding a blaster until I was ten and by then I was spending most of my time with Unc-, with Luke, so we had to have secret lessons.”

“I dislike agreeing with Han Solo.”

Kylo laughs, and feels lighter than he has in a long long time.

Chapter Text

 “What's that language you use with Grogu and Fett?” Kylo asks, sitting in the kitchenish room again with Mando and Grogu. “I've never heard it before.”

Mando takes a sip of his water (through a straw that is stuck up into his helmet, which Kylo finds absolutely hilarious) before nudging the glass over to Grogu (who insisted upon also having a straw, which Kylo finds absolutely adorable).

“Mando’a,” Mando says.

“So the Mandalorian language?”

“Yes.”

“Do all Mandalorians know it?”

Mando drums his fingers against the table, taking a moment to answer. “It… is one of the tenets of the Resol’nare to know our language. But, there was a period of time where Mandalore was occupied by people who called themselves Mandalorians, but did not follow the Resol’nare.” Mando shrugs and crosses his arms across his chest. “So I suppose it depends on who you ask. Some believe that one is only Mando’ade if they strictly follow the Resol’nare, some believe that it is enough to have been born to a Mandalorian family, no matter if they follow the tenets or not.”

Kylo hesitates before asking his next question, but figures if Mando doesn't want to answer, he just won't. “What… what do you believe?” 

Mando is quiet for a long time, and Kylo doesn't think he's going to answer, is about to apologize when he finally speaks. “I was raised… in a very traditional tribe, and we weren't taught about other Mandalorians. For most of my life, I thought no Mandalorian ever took off their helmets. I thought that to do so made us dar’manda. No longer Mandalorian, soulless, stripped of our identity and the right to our armor.” He runs a finger along Grogu’s ear gently. 

“Only in the last few years have I learned about different interpretations of the Creed,” he continues, voice low. “I don't know what I believe. I follow the Creed the way I was raised to, but who am I to say that following a different creed takes away someone’s right to call themselves Mandalorian? Outside of my tribe, I haven't met any Mando’ade who follow the Creed the way I do. That doesn't mean the ones I have met aren't also Mando’ade, it just means they are different from me.”

Mando sighs and his whole body just sags , shoulders slumping and head dipping until the bottom of his helmet taps against his chest.

“Ba’jur bal beskar’gam, ara’nov, aliit, Mando’a bal Mand’alor- an vencuyan mhi,” he says, soft and practiced.

More Mando’a. “What does that mean?”

 “Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language and our leader, all help us survive. It's a rhyme we’re taught as children, to remember the Resol’nare.

“Learn and teach our history, our culture. Wear and respect your armor. Defend yourself and your tribe. Speak Mando’a. Answer the call of the Mand’alor. Those are the tenets all Mando’ade are supposed to follow. How it’s followed is apparently up to interpretation.”

“That's it? That's all someone has to do to be a Mandalorian?”

 Mando raises his head to look at Kylo (he thinks. Hard to tell with the helmet. Talking to Mando requires a lot of guesswork). “Pass the verd’goten and follow the tenets.”

“Pass the what?” Kylo doesn't think he could even try to pronounce the word Mando had said, and didn't want to risk insulting him by butchering it terribly.

“Verd’goten. The right of passage. The trials test skill in battle and survival, passing means you are an adult in Mandalorian society.”

“Oh.”

“To be a Mandalorian is a choice, one anyone can make.” Mando stands, scooping Grogu up with him. He stops as he passes Kylo on the way to the door, looks down at him. “Think about it,” he says quietly, then is gone before Kylo can be sure he heard right.

Think about it? Think about what, being a Mandalorian? Is that even a choice for him?

Does he want it to be?

Maybe. He knows he wants to stay with Mando, as long as he will tolerate Kylo. Wants to stay with him and Grogu, teach Grogu what he knows and learn with him what neither of them know. 

If it's an option, Kylo wants to learn from Mando too. Wants to learn how to control his anger, how to control himself. Luke had focused his teachings on the Force, their connection to it and how to prevent emotions from controlling their use of it. Nothing about how to control the emotions themselves. Fett had said the Jedi had seemed soulless. Maybe the Jedi didn't control their emotions so much as bury them. Maybe the Jedi had used the Force to cut themselves off from emotion altogether. Kylo doesn't want that. 

He's only met two Mandalorians, but neither of them seem to make much effort into stifling what they're feeling. They don't let it control them, instead they use it. Use it as fuel, as motivation, as a rock to hold on to, a reminder. From what Kylo has seen, their emotions, their feelings, are another weapon in their arsenal. Never ignored or allowed to fall into disrepair, and therefore powerful. 

“You're brooding Jett’ika.”

Fett's voice startles him out of the stupor he's immersed himself in. He can't help the slight flinch when Fett walks by him, and ducks his head to avoid eye contact. 

“Not brooding,” he mutters.

“No?” Fett sits in a chair across the table, leaning back and crossing his arms. “What do you Jettise call silent contemplation of negative and troubling thoughts then?”

“I'm not a Jedi,” Kylo snaps before he can think better of it. “I don't… I can't be. Even if I could, I don't want to be.”

“Hm.” Fett studies him for a moment (a recurring theme), helmeted gaze never wavering. “What do you want?”

Kylo lifts his head to look at Fett. “I don't know.”

Fett leans forward, elbows resting on the table and head tilted slightly, not the smiling head tilt Kylo is getting used to with Mando, something much more threatening. “Beroya is a good man. Has too much of a heart. Makes him want to help people, despite any risk. He will do his best to help you, with whatever it is that you need. However,” Fett straightens in his seat again, “don't forget who he is. What he is. Don't think that because he took you in he won't slaughter you should you pose any threat to his adiik. Mando has destroyed Imperial bases and taken over an Imperial cruiser for his ad. Mandalorians hold children in high regard, his tribe more than most. He would destroy the New Republic if it meant keeping Grogu safe, don't think he'd hesitate with you.”

“I'm not going to hurt Grogu ,” Kylo snarls. “He's a child, and he saved me. Why would I try to hurt him?”

“Forgive me if I look to take precautions. Your family history does not inspire much confidence,” Fett drawls. “Your mother’s the most tolerable of the lot, and she's a politician.”

Kylo withers at the mention of Leia, trying his best not to think about how she might be feeling right now. He doesn't succeed. Does she hate him? Did she see what he had done and decide he was evil, as her brother had? Maybe she was scared of him. He wouldn't blame her of course, but the thought hurts nonetheless. His mother has always loved him, even if she wasn't quite sure what to do with him. 

He hopes she doesn't hate him. He hopes she isn't scared of him. 

“You're brooding again,” Fett sighs.

Kylo glares. “Forgive me for thinking of my mother and how she may feel about me now that I've attacked her brother.”

“Thought he attacked first,” Fett says.

“That doesn't matter.”

Fett scoffs. “It matters quite a bit.”

“Well it won't matter because Luke’s not going to tell her that is he? She'll see the school, she'll see the bodies of the people, the kids , I killed , and not a whole lot else matters after that. She won't know they attacked first, that I was defending myself, that they gave me no choice , that the Voice wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop telling me to kill them, that I had to fight that too, that part of me that wasn't me wanted to kill all of them.”

Kylo buries his head in his arms, fisting his hands into his hair. “It wouldn't stop, and it was so fucking happy when they died, and it kept talking, kept whispering, kept saying kill them all, kill them all, kill them all .” Kylo can feel the tears leaking from his eyes, and he hates it. He can feel Fett’s stare, and he hates that too. 

He cries, and he hates, and then he's exhausted. Any energy he had left drains, his body slumps further until his head is resting on the table instead of his arms, his grip on his hair loosens until his hands are just resting on his head, fingers remaining tangled, but limp. He stays like that, eyes closed and mind drifting, until he falls asleep.

____________________

“What the fuck, Fett.”

“He needed it.”

“You could've been a little softer about it.”

“He doesn't need soft, he needs to face it and fight.”

“...I know, I just…”

“You did good earlier, getting him to fight. Make him do that more.”

“I can't just keep fighting the kid.”

“Fine, I'll do it.”

“No.”

“Come on, it'll be fun. I'll take out one of my lightsabers, make it interesting.”

“Yes, use the weapons of the Jedi you've killed, that'll make him feel better.”

“You heard him, he's not a Jedi.”

“But he's been raised as one.”

“Only on his mother’s side.”

“And the other side is Han Solo.”

“Eugh.”

Chapter Text

It's been almost two weeks since Mando first led Kylo to the training room and attacked him until he fought back, and after near daily spars, Kylo is getting more confident. The first few days they stuck with Kylo’s saber and Mando’s spear, but before long Mando began sticking weapons in Kylo’s hands and shoving him into the deep end, then going back and showing him how to actually handle the weapon after Kylo has made a complete fool of himself. 

Fett lurks at the door a few times with a smirk on his face, only to be chased away by Mando snapping out short sentences in Mando’a, presumably insults by Fett’s laughter and similarly harsh sounding responses. One time it ended up as a wrestling match between the two that, while Mando had not made it easy, Fett had fairly quickly won. Grogu had enjoyed that particular spar perhaps a little too much, shrieking in delight every time his father was slammed into the ground by Fett. 

Today, Mando has stuck a simple wooden pole in Kylo’s hands and is in the process of thoroughly beating Kylo with one of his own when Fett walks in, helmet on and no mischievous air about him as there usually is when he comes to see Kylo get his ass kicked. Mando immediately straightens and rests one end of his pole to the ground, full attention on Fett now rather than Kylo still scrambling to retrieve his pole from across the room where it had been tossed.

“Time to earn your keep, Beroya,” Fett says, then turns and walks back out, a motion of one hand telling them to follow. Mando follows quickly, easily falling into step behind Fett and leaving Kylo to scurry after them. Neither Mando or Fett say anything as they march through the halls of the palace, both silent until they reach the throne room. Kylo stops just inside the doorway they enter the room through, watches Fett settle on his throne and while Mando waits at the bottom of the dias. 

Others in the throne room subtly, and some not so subtly, turn their attention to the Mandalorians speaking rapid Mando’a to each other. Fett tosses Mando a data chip, which is quickly snagged from the air and tucked into a pocket. Fett’s voice is dark, with an edge of anger to it, his words nearly a snarl as he speaks to Mando. 

Mando’s voice, when he does speak, is flat, toneless. He presents himself as cold and calm, but Kylo can feel the emotions tickling the surface of his presence in the Force; resolve, determination, an almost predatory anticipation. He's excited for whatever task Fett has for him.

“Jate oya’karir, Beroya, k’oyacyi,” Fett says, grabbing Kylo’s attention with one of the names he uses for Mando.

“Elek alor,” Mando says in response, dipping his head and thumping his vambrace against his chest, the metal of his armor singing as it strikes together. 

Stepping back, Mando looks over at Kylo. “Shekemir ni,” he says, and jerks his head for him to follow. Kylo falls into step behind Mando as he leaves the throne room, leading him back to the training room. As he goes about cleaning up what they had knocked down (what Kylo had been thrown into), Mando is giving what Kylo thinks are instructions.

“Peli will bring Grogu back before suns set, and she’ll have fed him, so don't believe him when he acts like he's starving, he always tries to con more food out of whoever he's with. I'll put his crib in your room before I go, though he'll probably escape and get into bed with you anyways.” He begins reorganizing weapons from where they were scattered after Kylo had used that particular case to launch himself at Mando (it hasn't worked). 

“Fett will probably try to get you to spar,” Mando continues without looking at Kylo, “you don't have to accept.” 

“What's going on?” Kylo asks before Mando has a chance to continue.

At this Mando pauses, then huffs his sort-of laugh. “Right.” He turns his head to face Kylo. “I'm going to be gone for a few days. A week at most.”

“Why?”

“Someone has been causing Boba problems, I'm going to take care of it.”

Oh. A hunt . That's why Mando is excited. 

Kylo nods. “Okay. What else do I need to do for Grogu?”

Mando does the head tilt that means he's smiling and lists what Grogu will need while he's gone. Most of it Kylo already knows from their time together in the Razor Crest , but it feels better having it confirmed. 

It isn't long until Mando is ready to go, and Kylo is watching him take off on a speeder, spear and rifle both strapped to his back alongside his jetpack. He stays there a moment, just watching the spot Mando had disappeared to. 

He looks up to the suns; it will be a few hours until Peli will be back with Grogu. She had given Mando very little choice in the matter actually, had just shown up and said it was her turn to babysit, so if Mando would kindly hand over her nephew that would be great, please and thank you (she hadn't actually said any form of please or thank you, but Kylo thinks it was implied). Peli seems to be able to say and do a lot of things to Mando that Kylo is pretty sure would get almost anyone else at least stabbed, or depending on who and the offence, just straight up shot in the head. Fett could get away with most things, maybe the Scary Woman (who Kylo has been informed is Fennec Shand, and he's pretty sure he's heard that name before, not in a good way. Kylo will continue to refer to her as the Scary Woman in the safety of his mind), but no one else. 

Grogu can, of course, get away with just about anything, but most of the things that would earn someone a shot in the head are concerning Grogu, and any attempt to lay even a hand (or the beings equivalent to a hand) on him. 

Just the other day they were in the throne room and someone had attempted to pet Grogu’s head, and had gotten a knife in the arm for their troubles. Mando had given no warning and said nothing as the person had stumbled back with a shout, someone Kylo had recognized as a guard grabbing them and dragging them away. The few beings that had turned to see the commotion lost interest quickly, and Kylo heard a few murmurs of “fucking dumbass, what did they expect?” as they turned away again. 

Everyone knew; don't lay a hand on the Mandalorian, and never try to touch Grogu without explicit permission. A lesson learned through experience, and learned well. Also known was that there would be no help from Fett, he was just as likely to shoot someone for any offense as Mando, and was less concerned about whether they lived or not. 

Fett was easily angered, and difficult to be appeased. One had to well and truly piss him off to actually be shot, but any offence to Mando and especially Grogu was quickly taken care of. 

Kylo doesn't know where he stands yet. He's yelled at Fett a few times, not exactly intentionally, just been angered himself, and if anything Fett has only responded with amusement or indifference. Kylo doesn't presume he could be nearly as informal as Mando, but he's pretty sure he is relatively safe around Fett. He is of course absolutely not going to test that, but it's a comfort nonetheless.

___________________________

It doesn't take long for Fett to approach him like Mando had warned him he might. It's only the second day since Mando left and in the evening, shortly after Kylo has fed himself and Grogu and while they are still in the kitchen, Fett strides in and seats himself across from Kylo. 

His helmet is set on the table and Kylo is pretty sure the look on his face is amusement, but he has no way of confirming with the Force. Kylo doesn't actively try to read anyone, but Fett is completely closed off, even when Kylo intentionally reaches out to get just a hint of his intentions, or even just his mood. Someone has taught him to shield his mind from the Force, and Kylo would be impressed if it didn't unnerve him. 

Across the table Fett smiles, not quite a genuine smile but not a threat of imminent harm either, so Kylo just waits for Fett to say what he came to say.

“We should spar, Jett’ika,” he says, a decision rather than a question.

“No, thank you,” Kylo replies, careful to keep his tone respectful.

“Why not? Could be fun.”

“I'm not sure I'm comfortable sparring with you.”

“You fight Mando every day, what's so different.”

“Mando isn't the ruler of a planet, for one.”

Fett freezes, a slow gleeful smile spreading over his face, then starts cackling. Ends up bent over the table, gasping for breath between bouts of near hysterical laughter. Kylo leans back, rather concerned with the sudden outburst. Grogu starts laughing too, but he's just excited about Fett’s laughter, and has no idea what is going on when Kylo pushes confusion at him.

“You're gonna need a better reason than that, I'm afraid,” Fett says, still chuckling.

“I…” Kylo hesitates, “I didn't grow up hearing stories about Mando.”

Fett sobers a little, though still has a hint of amusement on his face. “Ah. Well, I could tell you some stories about Mando if that would make it easier.”

“I don't think that would help. You were,” he pauses, trying to figure out how to word what he wants to say without pissing Fett off, “they weren't good stories.”

“No, I should think not,” Fett scoffs. “I'd have been doing something wrong if there were any good tales about me. I wasn't paid to be the good guy. Nothing personal of course. Well, Solo and Skywalker were bothersome enough it was a little personal by the end.”

Kylo smiles a bit, decides to test the waters. “They did like to tell the stories about them escaping you most.”

Fett scowls. “There are too many of those for my liking. They had no right to be as slippery as they were. I had to explain myself to my employers. I am the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, and I had to tell them a smuggler and scrawny teenager kept getting away.”

Kylo is trying his best to cover his laughter, he really is, but he ends up just shaking and breathing weirdly, and not at all fooling Fett if the raised brow was any indication. Beside him, Grogu’s eyes keep drooping as he leans into Kylo, more or less in his lap at this point. Kylo smiles at him, and looks up to see a similarly fond expression on Fett’s face.

“Best get the little one to sleep. Mando will have both our hides if we keep him up.”

Nodding, Kylo stands and scoops Grogu into his arms, shushing him softly when his eyes open back up and makes a little inquisitorial coo. Kylo pushes safe, calm, safe to him gently, thumb rubbing across the child’s back. Grogu closes his eyes again and falls asleep with a happy grumble. 

Fett watches, face almost contemplative. “You're good with him,” he says quietly.

“It helps that we can communicate. He hasn't had someone he could easily get his thoughts across to in so long. He and Mando have figured out their own thing of course, but it's good to have someone else to talk to.” 

Fett hums, nodding slowly. “Go on then Jett’ika. Get the little one to bed.”

Kylo nods and leaves, watching Fett as he goes by. He gets to his room and doesn't bother putting Grogu in the crib, just tucks him into his own bed and gets ready for the night, then settles in beside him. Kylo keeps himself between Grogu and the closed door, even though he knows no one here is going to hurt them. No one would dare, even if there was anyone who wanted to. Necessary or not, that small illusion of protecting Grogu lets him sleep better. 

Chapter Text

Mando ends up being gone for four days. It's Grogu that knows he's back first of course, leaping from the table where they were eating without warning and sprinting out the door projecting buir buir buir buir!!!! as strongly as he can into the Force as though if he tried hard enough his father would hear him despite Mando’s complete lack of Force sensitivity. Knowing what to look for, Kylo feels Mando only a moment later as he's running after Grogu, and the panic of Grogu bolting calms a bit. He catches up with Grogu at the door to the lot where ground vehicles are kept, some owned by guests or residents, some for hire, some that seem to have been rusting in the sand since Hutt’s rule. 

Mando is just outside, covered in dust and a full bag slung over one shoulder, and joy radiates from him when he sees his son tottling toward him. He drops the bag and leans down to scoop up Grogu, swinging him up into the air while the kid squeals in delight, though Mando seems to wince a little.

“Ner ad’ika, hello,” Mando says warmly, holding Grogu close. Grogu babbles nonsense back, just radiating happy, happy, happy rather than anything Kylo might feel the need to translate. Mando knows perfectly well that his son is happy, just like Grogu knows his father is happy. 

It does make Kylo curious about Mando’a, listening to Mando murmur the language to Grogu. He knows a few words, the ones he's been told (verd’ika, buir, ad’ika), and wonders if Mando would be amenable to teaching him more. Kylo thinks he would. According to the Mandalorian, speaking Mando’a is a tenet of the… Resol-something, (should probably try to remember what that's called), and Mando had implied that that path is open to Kylo. 

“Did he behave?” Mando asks Kylo, switching smoothly to Basic. 

“He was very good,” Kylo assures Mando, and Grogu coos in a very ‘see? I'm a delight and would never cause any trouble’ manner, though they both know that that is a load of banthashit. “We've been practicing shields the last few days.”

Mando responds with an inquisitive head tilt (how does he have so many distinguishable head tilts?). 

“Defense, like, if something was going to hit him, he could shield himself,” Kylo explains.

“Oh, he's done that before,” Mando says with a nod. “The flamethrower.”

Kylo blinks. “The what?”

Grogu looks over at him and pushes a memory to him. Kylo accepts it, and watches in a mixture of horror and awe as he sees, from Grogu’s point of view, a destroyed cantina, a squad of stormtroopers, one trooper with red accents on their armor stepping forward, fire roaring through the space, towards Grogu. Feels Grogu’s thoughts of family, protect, bad people, bad people will hurt us, protect family. Sees and feels as Grogu stands, holds his little hands out and pours all of his energy into keeping the fire away , sending it back to the troopers. Sees the fire clear and feels Grogu’s exhaustion as he slumps to the floor.

Kylo opens his eyes with a shaky breath. “Oh. Okay. Well, we're practicing it so it won't take that much out of him.” He looks at Grogu, gives him a small smile. “Grogu is powerful, can do some amazing things. But right now he can only really go at one hundred percent, and it drains him. What I'm doing is helping him learn and practice control.”

“Mm.” Mando bounces Grogu a little, drawing out laughter. “No need to do everything like Ba’vodu Paz, ad’ika.”

Grogu pushes an image of another Mandalorian to Kylo, this one truly massive , towering at least a head taller than Mando, covered in bulky blue armor, a fucking blaster cannon strapped to his back where Mando carries his rifle and spear. Along with the image, Grogu sends gentle, nice, fun, safe through the Force as well. 

Then, with a mischievous grin, Grogu sends a memory of Mando pinning the massive Mandalorian, Paz, to the floor, laughing while Paz refuses to tap out. Kylo smiles, and sends a memory of his mother pinning his father on a sparring mat, Han also refusing to yield to Leia, despite having obviously and thoroughly been beaten by the smaller woman. Grogu laughs in delight, and Mando has his head tilted again, this time in a way Kylo isn't familiar with. Close to the confusion tilt, but also nearing the thoughtful tilt. 

“You're talking to him,” Mando says, not quite a question but not a sure observation either.

“Sort of. He's showing me Paz, and you pinning him in a spar,” Kylo explains.

Mando huffs the sort of laugh. “Paz is a formidable opponent, but slow, leaving weaknesses to take advantage of if you know what they are. Not many do though, so it's rare he's bested. I have the advantage of having grown up fighting him.” 

Mando bounces Grogu once more, then carefully deposits him into Kylo’s arms. With his hands free, he bends down to retrieve the bag he had dropped when he had seen Grogu, and slings it over his shoulder, flinching almost imperceptibly when it bumps against his side.

 Kylo wants very much to ask what is in the bag, but he is also very much nervous to find out. Whatever it is, Mando clearly intends to take it directly to Fett, making his way through the halls to the throne room, Kylo with Grogu a few steps behind him. As has become habit when in the throne room, Kylo lingers at the edge of the space as they enter, close enough to see and hear, far enough to be unobtrusive (very similar, he realizes, to when his mother would take him with her as she went about her duties for the New Republic. Out of the way, but never far). 

“Me’vaar ti gar?” Fett snaps out as soon as Mando is standing before him, both ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Bralov. An arue’e kyrayc,” Mando replies, bowing his head shallowly and holding out the bag.

“Jate bora, Beroya,” Fett says, praise clear in his voice.

“Vor entye,”

“Dinuir Fennec sur’haaise.” Fett gestures to the Scary Woman, who steps forward and takes the bag from Mando when he holds it out to her.

She hefts the bag up a few times, testing its weight. “Well done Mando,” she says, nodding. Mando nods his head in acknowledgment, stepping back as the Scary Woman turns and leaves through a narrow door, bag in hand. Around them, beings that had taken interest in the exchange turned away at its conclusion, hushed conversations debating what could have been in the bag circling the room. 

Fett says a few more things to Mando in Mando’a, a dismissal Kylo assumes, given Mando bowing his head again then slipping out of the room, gesturing for Kylo to follow him. He leads them to the small dining area that seems to be just theirs and Fett’s (and the Scary Woman of course, because wherever Fett goes, she goes). He goes straight to the cabinets and opens one up, pulling out a rather extensive medkit and setting it roughly on the table nearest to him.

Kylo steps closer as Mando opens the medkit and begins to shuffle through it. “Are you, are you okay?” 

Mando doesn't respond at all, doesn't even look up at Kylo, just keeps going through the supplies until he finds what he's looking for. He pulls out some disinfectant and puts it on the table in front of him, then leans down, wincing and keeping a hand pressed to his side, to grab a vibroknife from his boot. Kylo watches as Mando lifts the knife to slice open his flight suit on his side, just above the hip where he had been pressing his hand, and when the fabric is peeled back, Kylo sees blood. 

Grogu begins to squirm in Kylo’s arms, finally getting Mando’s attention. “Don't let go of him,” the Mandalorian tells Kylo, “I don't need his help, and it only makes him tired.”

Readjusting his grip on the still struggling Grogu, Kylo looks down at the kid in confusion, pushes confusion, what are you doing, why . 

Grogu looks up at him, annoyance and frustration clear even without the Force, and offers Kylo a memory. Kylo reaches out and sees a man sat up on the ground, groaning in pain. There's gashes along his arm and the veins around them are dark with venom. Kylo can feel the panic in the people around him, knows they don't want this man to die. Grogu approaches the man, everyone too distracted by the man’s injury to pay any attention to him. He can see as Grogu’s little hand reaches out, touches the man's arm, presses down and feels him concentrate. Concentrate on pulling the venom out, clean the blood, put what is apart back together again, close everything up and make it good again. Then Kylo feels Grogu’s exhaustion again, sees the world tilt as he slumps to the ground.

Kylo blinks, once again astounded at Grogu’s abilities. “That’s, um, that's very impressive Grogu, but your buir will be able to fix himself up on his own this time, okay?” Grogu grumbles disbelievingly, but his struggles lessen and he just watches Mando treat himself, as if unconvinced he could actually do it on his own. 

And… well, Kylo is beginning to think he may agree with Grogu, because after he disinfects the rather substantial gash in his side, he picks up a laser cauterizer instead of a bacta patch and brings it up to the wound. Kylo opens his mouth to protest, to insist he's sure there's somewhere they can find a bacta patch if this kit really doesn't have any, but quickly shuts his mouth when Mando levels him with a glare. And really, he has no right to be able to deliver such a scathing look through a helmet. But he can, and he does, so Kylo keeps his mouth shut, even when he can hear the occasional low hiss of pain as Mando burns himself .

Grogu is just as unhappy, pouting in Kylo’s arms, glaring at his father. Grogu does not get a scathing glare, which Kylo thinks is unfair. 

Once Mando is done with his shitty first aid, he packs the medkit up and puts it back in the cabinet he got it from. He leans against the wall and lets out a long breath; his shoulders slump a bit, and Mando suddenly looks tired.

Kylo looks him over. “I'll bring Grogu to you in the morning, go get some sleep.”

“I'm fine,” Mando says, in a not fine voice.

“I have overwhelming evidence to the contrary,” Kylo says, “seriously Mando, go to bed.”

“Din.” Mando says it so softly Kylo almost misses it.

“I'm, what?”

“My name is Din.”

Kylo’s mind goes blank, processing what Mando, what Din , has entrusted him with. “I'm, no, wait, don't think telling me your name will get you out of needing to sleep. I, I'm honored, I really am, but you still need rest.”

Din does the head tilt that means smile. “Well, it was worth a try.” He pushes himself off the wall and heads to the door, stopping when he reaches Kylo. “You earned it,” he says softly. Moving slowly, Din reaches out and grips the back of Kylo’s neck gently, and pulls him forward so he can tap his helmet lightly against Kylo’s forehead. He pulls back and does the same with Grogu. “Nuhoyir jahaala, ner adike.” 

Kylo doesn't move as he watches Din leave, just stands in stunned silence. While he doesn't know the exact meaning of the head bump thing, Kylo knows it's a sign of affection. It's something he does often with Grogu, warmth and happiness in the Force surrounding the both of them each time. He's seen Din and Fett tap foreheads as well (a bit harder than Din had done with Kylo), while both of them share the feeling of contentment and comradery. 

In his arms, Grogu is pushing happy, safe, family at him, and wiggles until he can, a little clumsily, bump his own head to Kylo’s. 

Kylo almost can't help the flood of happy, safe, family that pours from him into the Force, and he definitely can't help the tears that gather in his eyes. Because Kylo has a family here. With Grogu and Din. A family he chose, and who chose him. 

Grogu, who forced the Voice out of Kylo’s head, who laughs with him, and shares his memories with him and doesn't ask for anything in return other than kindness, something Kylo is more than happy to give. Din, who looked at him at his worst and took him in anyway, who felt anger on his behalf, who is teaching Kylo how to deal with his own anger, and how to defend himself at the same time. 

Both of them, who accept him, and help him, and don't try to make him someone he's not. 

Kylo doesn't try to stop the tears that fall down his face, just pushes happy happy happy at Grogu as hard as he can.

Chapter Text

“Where is he, Luke? Where is my son?!”

“Leia, I'm sorry-”

“No, Luke! Where is he?!”

“I don't know.”

“How can you not know?!”

“He ran, Leia.”

“From what, Luke, what was he running from?”

“Leia, this was-”

“Don't you dare. Don't you dare say this was his fault. He wouldn't do this, he would never do this.”

“Leia, there's something dark in him!”

“You think I don't know that? That's why I sent him to you . You were supposed to help him, guide him!”

“Leia…”

“Did you even try? Did you even try to help him? Or did you just ignore it, pretend it would go away if you closed your eyes to it?”

“Please, just listen to me-”

“ No, Luke! I trusted you with my son! We trusted you.”

“He killed two other students! Destroyed the temple!”

“And you won't tell me why!”

“Leia, how would I know-”

“You know. I know you know, which makes it worse . It means it's your fault and you're too much of a coward to admit it.”

“Please-”

“What did you do, Luke? What did you do to my son?”

_______________________

“I'm going after him.”

“Han-”

“No! I-I know we don't know where he went, but I don't care”

“Han-”

“I'll just start looking. He escaped on the old A-Wing that's been gathering dust, it's a piece of shit, it can't have gotten him far.”

“Han-”

“Toprawa maybe, Serreno, or one of its moons-”

“Han!”  

“I have to , Leia! I have to find him. I can't just leave him, abandon him. I already did that once, we shouldn't have ever sent him to Luke, I won't abandon him again. I'm gonna find our son and bring him home.”

“Han, I know. I know you are. I'm not trying to stop you.”

“Oh.”

“I wish I could go with you now, and as soon as I can I will.”

“I know Princess.”

“Han, please, go find our son.”

“Yeah, yes, yeah I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go do that. I have to get the Falcon ready, I'll just go-”

“Good luck, Han.”

___________________

“Will they look for him?”

“Yes.”

“Why? They left him with the Jetii, why would they care now?”

“They trusted Skywalker. He's the kid's uncle, they probably thought it was what was best for him.”

“How could abandoning him be best?!”

“They're all clan, to them they weren't abandoning him.”

“But he doesn't know that.”

__________________

“So he's Djarin’s kid now, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Chapter Text

Kylo just barely manages to lean back in time to avoid being sliced across the face by the point of Din’s spear. He follows the movement back, turning it into a spin that brings his ‘saber up, aiming to slash across the Mandalorian’s chest, but the hit is deflected by the end of the spear. Kylo keeps going, raising his lightsaber up to drive down, pushing Din back as he works to avoid the weapon. Din ducks down and lunges forward, one hand raising the spear to protect his back and the other hooking behind Kylo’s ankle and pulling, driving his shoulder into Kylo’s hip to ensure he is forced to the ground. Kylo tries to spin, get a hand beneath him to control his fall but all he ends up doing is trapping his arm beneath himself when Din plants himself on top of him, the hand holding his saber restrained quickly as well.

“Ori’jate,” Din praises, still pinning him.

“Obviously not, ” Kylo grunts, deactivating his lightsaber and dropping it into the sand. Din does the smile head tilt and stands smoothly, leaving Kylo on the ground.

“You lasted longer, you got a lot closer. You almost had me a few times,” Din says, stretching out his arms.

“Did not feel like it,” Kylo groans, still on the ground because getting up sounds like an awful lot of effort and if he gets up Din is going to make him work more and Kylo is tired. It's nap time, right? Kylo thinks it should be.

“You gonna just lay there?”

“Yes. This is my new home, I'm one with the sand. Forward all future messages to this location, as I will not be moving, ever, at all.”

Din does his huff-laugh. “Get many messages?”

Kylo lifts his head and points a finger at Din sternly. “None at all, but that's not the point.”

“There's a point?”

“Yes! I think. Maybe? Oh yeah! I'm staying right here and not getting up.”

Din walks back over to Kylo, stands over him. “Grogu’s going to be awfully disappointed.” In the corner of the room, surrounded by his toys, Grogu lifts his head excitedly upon hearing his name

“No, you can't pull the Grogu card.”

“It's that or the Boba card. He’s still determined to spar with you.”

Kylo rolls smoothly to his feet. “Well, that's enough time on the ground I think. It's been nice, sand, but I don't think this is going to work long term.'' He has been dancing around Fett’s ‘invitations’ to spar for months now, and has no plans of stopping any time soon. It's not because he's scared of Fett anymore (mostly), but it has become a game, Kylo thinks. How many ways can Fett try to get it to happen, and how long can Kylo successfully avoid it. Kylo is determined to outlast Fett on this. He realizes the futility of it, of course he does, but he's going to try anyway.

Din steps back as Kylo brushes sand off his clothes, head tilted with a smile. “Come on, I've got something to show you.” After stopping to collect Grogu and his toys, Din leaves the room, Kylo following quickly behind him. Kylo expects to be led to the kitchen, or maybe the throne room, but Din continues down deeper into the palace, where Kylo hasn't been before, even in his occasional solitary wanderings.

The room Din leads him into has what looks like a forge in the middle, tables lining two walls and a few around the forge itself. The tables are all covered in tools, not just for blacksmithing, but all kinds of repairs of anything that could fit through the doors. Under the tables and stacked around in piles are crates and open boxes of parts and scraps and whatever might be useful. It's the kind of place Kylo could see Han loving, where he would lose time and forget what day it is and not come up for air until Chewie decided they were done and drag him upstairs. 

Once in the room, Din turns on the ceiling lights and sets Grogu on the floor, where the kid immediately takes off to a corner under a table with what looks like miniature versions of the tools around the forge, and begins banging a hammer, which Kylo notices has a rubber head, into a square of metal in front of him. Din spends time here. Enough time that Grogu has his own spot and appropriate toys, and Kylo feels a little like he's trespassing. 

“I'm no goran,” Din says as he grabs a box from the far end of the room and places it on the table in front of the forge, “so I had to repurpose what I had, and even doing that, it's not…well I cleaned it up and fixed it the best I could, but the mudhorn did a number to it.” He opens the box and lifts something out, setting it on the table. It looks like metal, whatever it is, shining dully in the light. 

“You don't have to accept it,” Din continues, pushing the thing toward Kylo. Kylo moves up to the table, looks at what Din is showing him. 

It’s armor.

A chestplate, attached to a dark grey flak vest. The metal is dented in a few places, and Kylo can see where even worse damage has been repaired. It's a dull unpainted grey, clearly a different metal from Din’s own armor, which makes sense. A similar design though a simpler shape, and Kylo can't help but reach out to touch the tips of his fingers to it.

“You're already following most of the Resol’nare. If you want to continue on the path you are on now, this is the next step.”

“You're… offering me armor?”

“Only if you want it. A Mandalorian’s armor is sacred, you need to be sure this is something you want.”

Kylo runs his hand across the armor, up to the shoulder of the vest, and grips the fabric tight, nodding. “Yes,” he says a little weakly. He takes a deep breath and looks up at Din, nodding again once, this time more firmly. “Elek, gedet’ye.” 

Din nods back. “I have paints, if you want to paint it. You don't have to decide now, but it's there when you do. You remember what the colors mean?”

Kylo nods, looking back down at the armor, his armor. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good.” 

“Can you,” Kylo looks at Din, pausing, “will you help me put it on?”

Din does the smile head tilt. “Of course Verd’ika.”

_________________________

The next morning, when Fett sees Kylo in their kitchen, it only takes a moment for the addition of the chestplate to register, and a grin breaks out across his face. He looks over at Din with the same grin, and Din tilts his head in a smile. At that, Fett thrusts one hand into the air and shouts “Oya!” as he looks back at Kylo. Kylo can't help the smile that breaks across his face as well, proud of his new armor, and glad Fett approves. 

“Fucking finally, took you long enough Djarin,” Fett laughs.

“Wouldn't have taken as long if you had helped,” Din says.

Fett shakes his head. “I'm an even worse goran than you, I would have fucked it up more.”

“Banthashit. You've been taking care of your armor by yourself for decades,” Din shoots back.

“Ah, but doesn't it feel more fulfilling to have done it yourself?”

Din manages to give the impression of narrowed eyes through his helmet, which just makes Fett laugh. 

_____________________

It takes a while to get used to sparring with the armor on. His balance is thrown off just enough to trip him up, and Din takes full advantage of it. Today they're sparring with wooden staffs, something Kylo has actually gotten fairly good at, but that doesn't help him now. Din is aiming more of his hits than usual to his chest, hitting the chestplate repeatedly.

“You have to find out what you can take and what you can't,” Din says as he swings his staff. “Learn when it's necessary to deflect and when you can rely on the armor to give you an advantage. If letting the blow connect means you get a head start on your next move, or that you can deal with another opponent also attacking you, you have to consider that option. But consider it quickly-” Din knocks Kylo to the ground, “-you have less than a second to decide.”

Kylo gets better at maneuvering with the armor, and better at knowing when to let a blow hit (that one is learned through painful trial and error). He lasts longer and longer with each fight, and then learns it all over again with a different weapon the next day. Because a blow from a staff is not the same as a blow from a Gaffi Stick, as Kylo quickly learns. 

“You should see Boba fight with a Gaffi Stick. He can crack open a stormtrooper's helmet and crush their head in one blow, it's beautiful to watch,” Din says while Kylo is still on the ground wheezing after a hit to the chest that he would've been fine with had he been hit with the staff. One more reason to never ever spar with Fett. 

Din decides Kylo does really need to see Fett fight with a Gaderiffi, because a few days later Kylo is watching Fett try to beat Din to a pulp with the Gaffi while Din tries to skewer Fett with his spear. It’s fucking terrrifying and amazing and Kylo doesn't actually know who wins by the end of it. Grogu insists that his buir won, Fett says he won, and Din just shrugs and says it was a draw. Kylo decides neither of them won and both of them are insane and he might be too because he really wants to learn how to do that.

Chapter Text

Din gets restless very quickly, Kylo has learned. It's something Fett clearly already knows, because every few weeks he calls Din to the throne room in a more official manner than usual and gives him a job. Most of the time it's a handful of bounty pucks and Din is gone for a week or so, then strolls back into the palace to deliver the bounties (often in carbonite, especially for his longer trips), his helmet tilted in a proud smile. 

Sometimes it can't be called anything other than a hunt, and Din comes back, often covered in blood (rarely his own), dragging some manner of trophy for Fett. Din always manages to deliver those when the throne room is busiest, full of beings who either calmly move aside (if they're around often enough to be familiar with these things), or scramble away terrified (if they're new and haven’t had the chance to grow accustomed to such dealings) at the sight of a blood covered Mandalorian dragging, once, a rancor paw down the stairs to present to Fett. 

Rarely, Fett will give Din the job in private, away from the prying ears of, well, everyone. These jobs tend to involve Din coming back discreetly with a group of starved terrified sentients trailing behind him, freed slaves that Fett takes under his wing until they are ready and able to make their own way. The three times Kylo knows of that they've done this, Din is then immediately sent back out on a hunt, though no trophies were brought back. Just a lot of someone else's blood on Din’s armor and a cold sense of gruesome satisfaction curling through the Force. 

Kylo is left behind for all of Din’s jobs, tasked with caring for Grogu. They work on more complicated exercises those days, ones that require long periods of uninterrupted concentration. Grogu tends to sleep most of the next day after such lessons, exhausted, and Kylo frequently joins him. A few times Din has returned and found them both passed out on Kylo’s bed. He had panicked the first time, though was greatly relieved when they had woken up easily enough, if a little grumpy for having been roused from their nap. 

Kylo had thought at first he would dislike being left behind, but he's content with his and Grogu’s routine. He feels a slight sense of curiosity about what Din does, of course, and he certainly would not object to being brought along on some of them (perhaps not the hunts), learning more from Din and helping beyond caring for Grogu, but he's okay with staying. He doesn't feel tossed aside or ignored like he sometimes had when Han set off with Chewie, or when Leia had to leave for a while. He knows that was never their intention, but the doubts swarmed his mind when they left anyways, and the Voice hadn’t helped. 

The Voice is on his mind less and less, something Kylo is grateful for. He knows Din and Fett are curious about it, both have the same change in posture the few times Kylo has said anything connected to it, but neither have asked. Maybe someday he'll be able to tell at least Din about it, but for now he's content with letting the Voice be a bad memory. 

__________________

Din had returned from his latest bounty hunt exhausted, and after checking in on Kylo and Grogu, had gone quickly to his room to sleep despite it being early in the morning still. Kylo looks over to Grogu at the table in the kitchen where Din had left them. 

“Well, we've got an extra free day,” he says, watching Grogu play with his long empty bowl. “How about an art project?” That got Grogu’s attention quickly, his ears perking up in excitement, always ready to make a mess. Kylo smiles and picks up Grogu, who is making uppy hands, excited for their next activity. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

He keeps Grogu rested on his hip as he walks down into the lower levels of the palace, into Din’s forge. After setting Grogu down he goes to where Din had shown him he kept the paints, pulling out what he knew he wanted and a few more just in case. It only took a little bit of shuffling things around to find the airbrush and paint brushes, and he grabs an already paint covered tarp as well. He carries everything to an empty corner of the room, spreading out the tarp and setting everything on top of it. 

When everything is meticulously set out, Kylo removes his armor. He pulls it off with the flak vest, then carefully unhooks the chest plates from the fabric, setting the vest aside on a table so it won't get dirty. Kylo cleans both pieces of armor thoroughly, ensuring that nothing will prevent the paint from adhering perfectly to the metal. 

“Alright,” Kylo says, looking at Grogu, “so I've been thinking about this.” 

Grogu sits beside Kylo, cooing as though he were extremely interested in Kylo's train of thought. He's not, but Kylo appreciates his attempt to pretend he is.

“I know I want these colors-” Kylo taps the teal, blue, and orange paints, “-but I'm still working on the design.”

Grogu nods very seriously because he is of course very invested in color choices and not at all impatient to just get the paints open already.

“Teal as the main color, I think.” The color of healing, he doesn't say, because Grogu knows, and it's kind of hard to admit aloud that he needs healing, that the Voice had been tearing at his mind for years to the point of near insanity, that Luke had shattered something in him when he stood above him ready to kill him. “Then some blue.” Reliability. For what he wants to be, he wants to always be there for those he loves, and for them to know he is. “And last, orange.” Shereshoy, a want for life. He wants to live as fully as he can, he wants to appreciate his life and really want to make it another day. He doesn't want to just survive, he wants to live. “And white.” Cin vhetin. A clean slate, a new start.

So, Kylo opens the paints and begins.

The base is all done with the airbrush, a smooth, even coat over each piece of armor, the dull grey of bare metal slowly covered by a rich teal. He cleans the airbrush while he waits for the paint to dry. 

When everything is clean and dry, he pulls out tape and blocks out where he wants the blue to be, in two thick stripes vertically down the center of the armor, and then thinner stripes outside of those, starting at the bottom and reach to just below the top, then turning back down diagonally, then in horizontally to create an open sort of triangle over each side of chestplate. Once these have been painted, the tape is peeled back and airbrush washed again.

The orange is painted into the top corners of the chestplate, and the ka’rta beskar, the heart, is painted white.

Grogu shuffles back over from where he'd been playing with some of the paint that had been sprayed over the tarp, making shapes and getting his robes very colorful (Kylo really should have thought ahead and put Grogu in one of his already ruined robes). Then, before Kylo can even think to stop him, Grogu smacks a paint coated hand onto the armor. Kylo just sighs, because it is going to take a while to fix the small green handprint on the chestplate. 

Wait. Green?

Kylo looks over to where Grogu had been playing and sees he managed to get the green paint open, and had apparently stuck his hand in. He looks back down, and Grogu has already shuffled off, satisfied with his addition. And… Kylo is too. The green of duty over his heart, given by the one who saved him. Kylo’s duty to Grogu, his duty to the armor, to Din and to his new life. The duty to live by the colors he's given himself, to heal, to live, to be there for those close to him, to use this new start he has been given. 

Chapter Text

“Leia…”

“I think I remember making it very clear that I do not want to speak to you.”

“Leia please, it's been months .”

“Yes, months that my son has been missing! Months that he may be starving, hurt, enslaved, dead ! Dead and I would never know, dead and alone with his last thoughts being that we didn't love him! That he couldn't come to us.”

“Please, I'm sorry, I'm looking for him. We’ll find him, I promise.”

“Like you promised to take care of him? Keep him safe? You are not to go near him! If you want to look, fine, but you stay away.”

“Leia-”

“No. Don't call again unless you've found my son.”

________________________

“Hey Han…”

“You've got some nerve, calling.”

“Han-”

“Everything Leia said applies to me too. Call again and I won't stop Chewie from ripping your arms off.”

“Wait Han. Han! Please…”

_________________________

“Have you found anything?”

“No. Nothing since finding the A-Wing on Serenno eight months ago. Leia I can't find anything and I hate it. I'm- I just feel so useless.”

“Oh Han, no. You just taught him a little too well I think. Looks like he was listening to your stories of daring adventures and wild escapes. He's his father’s son.”

“A year ago I would've taken that as a compliment.”

“Well, take it as one now. He's his father’s son, and that means he’ll get through this, that we will find him, that he'll come home to us.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks later Din gives Kylo his old vambraces. “They need some work, but it seems like the kind of thing you know how to do,” he says.

It is, in fact, something Kylo knows how to do, so Kylo works on them. Din had cleaned them, stripped any paint that had been on them (“red” Din says softly when asked, “they were red”), leaving bare metal, dented and scratched and with few of the components working. But everything he needs is there . The boxes of scraps and spare parts in Din’s forge work perfectly for anything that needs repair, and Kylo spends hours bent over the table, assembling and disassembling everything until he has them the way he likes. Flamethrower on the right vambrace, whipcord on the left. A knife in each, ready to jump into his palms at the smallest suggestion of the Force. 

He paints them while he has Grogu (who is in his already paint ruined robes), and makes sure the child has his own things to paint. The green handprint on his chest plate had ended up being a happy accident, but Kylo would rather not have another unintentional addition. 

The colors he chooses are mostly the same. This time the base coat is the dark blue, a few of the edges outlined in teal. The raised components for the whipcord and flamethrower are orange, and in the inner arm, almost hidden in the crook of his elbow, he paints open triangles, similar to the ones on his chest plates, but in a deep red. 

Reliability, healing, shereshoy, and honoring a parent. 

Kylo had spent a long time considering the red. He loves his parents, he does, but… they all but abandoned him. Kylo thinks it may not have been their intention, actually he is certain it wasn't, but they had. They left him with Luke and then Luke tried to kill him. Han and Leia love him. He knows that, but he was scared, after Luke. Scared to go to them. Scared of how they would react and who they would believe, of how they would look at him knowing he had killed his classmates, if they found out about the Voice. Scared of rejection, and disgust, of hatred. Scared they would turn him away, or turn him in. Better to just not risk it. Better to skip the pain of being hated and go straight to surviving on his own.

Which he hadn't had to do, as it turned out. Din and Grogu had come along, taken him in, brought him to safety and given him a home. But he won't forget his parents. He doesn't want to. Maybe one day he'll go back, find them again, but for now, he'll honor them. Honor them in his new life, make them a part of who he is becoming. 

______________________

He still wears a cloak, despite the armour. It's something that simply wraps around him, no sleeves or fastenings beyond a small clip at the neck, but he still likes the sense of comfort it gives him. That extra layer between him and everything else, a deep hood he can pull low and cast his face into shadows. A shield, to keep himself safe, to keep him from being seen . 

He knows the soft fabric doesn't truly provide any protection, but neither Din nor Fett have said anything, haven't pointed out the foolishness of it, haven’t cast any judgement when he retreats into it, when he shrinks in on himself and covers himself as thoroughly as he can in the dark fabric (impractical in the deserts of Tatooine, he knows, but he likes the dark colors better, and is willing to suffer for it. Lando would be proud of the conviction, but horrified at the drabness of a simple dark cloak). 

He thinks, perhaps, Din and Fett understand. They have their armor between them and the world, a steady weight to ground them. Their helmets hide their faces, to keep stranger’s eyes from knowing too much, to control what is given to those around them. It doesn't give them privacy exactly, the armor is too recognizable for that, but it gives Din at least a sense of anonymity. He's the Mandalorian, yes, but beyond that, no one knows anything. Just to stay away from him and don't even look at Grogu the wrong way. There's no anonymity for Fett, he's made himself known across the galaxy, but he still has that barrier, that shield between him and everything else. Not just the protection the beskar provides, but something more.

Or maybe not. Maybe they don't think any of those things, but it's a comforting possibility.

Grogu understands. He understands the need to hide away, the need to feel safe, of course he does. In his pram, he can close it, protect himself from dangers. The same with the bag he rides in at Din’s side, he can tuck himself away, become invisible. He likes his robes, big and soft, technically ineffective when it comes to really keeping him safe, but comforting nonetheless. He's tucked himself in Kylo’s cloak before, hidden behind Din’s or Boba’s legs, even Shand’s. 

Some days Kylo doesn't need the cloak quite as much, some days he can leave the hood down, not worry about pulling it as tight around him as he can. He can let himself be seen. Some days, though admittedly fewer, he can leave the cloak in his room, can feel confident and safe enough to let his armor be enough. 

Safety is a strange thing, Kylo decides. His armor protects him in one way, his cloak in another. And… that's okay. 

Chapter Text

No, no no no. He's in the throne room, sitting at a small table in the corner, and there's someone looking at him. Someone who looks familiar, though he can't place how. Someone who clearly recognizes him. Of all the days to leave his cloak in his room, to wake up feeling steady enough to leave his shield behind. He's careful to keep his expression blank, the “soulless Jetii mask” Fett likes to call it, doesn't give any indication he's noticed the staring. 

Din notices his distress of course, he thinks Fett has too. Din tilts his head in question from across the room, and Kylo just gives a tiny shake of his head. Later, they'll talk about it later, away from anyone else. Kylo will swallow his panic until he's away from anyone else, except perhaps Din. He thinks he would actually prefer to have Din there when he breaks down, to ground him, to reassure him. 

The next time Kylo looks towards Din, the Mandalorian jerks his head in a quick ‘follow me’ motion, then slips out the door in the far back of the room, the door very few people have permission to use. He waits a few minutes, to try and make it not as obvious he's following. His composure begins slipping as soon as the door closes, his breaths coming faster and faster as he hurries down the hall. 

Din is waiting for him in the kitchen, Kylo's cloak in his hand, held out as soon as he enters the room. Kylo doesn't try to be dignified or project any false calm. He grabs his cloak quickly and throws it around his shoulders, pulling it tight around himself and throwing up the hood as he pushes himself into a corner, back to the wall and knees drawn up. His breath is shuddering now, coming out in ragged gasps and he can't hear anything clearly, there's an incessant buzzing that won't go away and he doesn't know if his vision would be blurry because his eyes are squeezed shut and his head pressed into his knees. He focuses on the feeling of his cloak, the thick fabric a comforting weight, soft against the exposed skin of his hands and face. 

Kylo can hear humming now, instead of buzzing. Low and familiar, though he still can't think clearly enough to place how. He listens to it, lets it surround him as thoroughly as his cloak. The more he listens, the clearer it gets. He can tell now that it's not random and tuneless, but a song. A song he thinks he might know, but can't remember how. Kylo decides he doesn't care right now how he knows it, and just lets it pull him further down out of his panic. 

Slowly Kylo becomes aware of another person near him. Someone who is also sitting on the ground, a short distance away. Someone who is humming. 

Kylo recognizes the song now. It's one Din hums to Grogu when he gets scared, when he wakes up from a nightmare full of flashing lightsabers and yellow eyes. It's working the same for him as it does Grogu, giving Kylo something to ground himself to, to use as a guide in slowing his mind down, pulling it away from where it is running circles around itself, panic building upon more panic that threatens to drown him.

When he can finally open his eyes, he turns his head to look at Din. The Mandalorian is leaned up against the wall, one leg stretched in front of him and the other is pulled up, one arm resting on it while the other rests on his thigh. His head is tipped back, helmet resting on the wall behind him, and even though he must see Kylo looking at him, he hasn't stopped humming. 

As Din continues, Kylo, unsure, starts to hum with him. He's heard the song often enough that he knows it, he just hasn't tried to hum it himself. He messes up a few times, has to stop and jump in again, but he slowly gets better at keeping up, at hitting the right notes at the right time. After managing the song three times without any mistakes, Kylo relaxes, letting his legs drop until they are stretched out in front of him, his spine straight and leaned against the wall. He draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly. Beside him, Din stops humming, but doesn't say anything, just lets Kylo figure out how he wants to continue. 

“Someone knew me. In the throne room, someone recognized me, and I don't know who they are, I just know they knew me. They're gonna tell someone, what if they tell Luke? Fuck, Din, what if they tell Luke?!” Kylo’s breathing starts to pick up again.

“Hey, it's okay Kylo,” Din soothes before Kylo can work himself up again. “Luke’s not going to get you. I won't let him. Boba won't let him. I don't imagine Luke showing up would go too well for him. Boba may not seek out revenge, but if Luke drops himself at his feet, well…” Din trails off, leaving an echo of cruel humor. Part of Kylo wants to protest, no one should be put at risk for him, he should be able to protect himself. He shouldn't need Fett’s protection. 

But like Din said, Fett wouldn't just be protecting him. He has a reason to hate Luke without Kylo being a factor, and Kylo has a feeling Fett would not be too upset with having the opportunity to show his displeasure. And Kylo knows he doesn't need to worry about Fett getting hurt. His kill count of fully trained Jedi shows well enough that he can take care of himself against the Force and a lightsaber. 

Kylo can hear the kyber hidden away in the palace. He doesn't know exactly where, or how many, but Fett has lightsabers. Taken, he assumes, as trophies from his kills. It made him uncomfortable for quite a while, to feel pieces of dead Jedi’s souls locked away, separated from their partners. He still doesn't like it, but he's grown used to it. And he understands Fett’s reasons for having them, he thinks. As well as he can anyways. Reminders, tangible reassurance of his actions, his… achievements. 

Fett can take care of himself, even against Skywalker. Din could too, Kylo has zero doubts about that. Even the spars Din has Kylo use the Force in, the Mandalorian wins fairly easily. For every trick Kylo has, Din has a counter. Frustrating when sparring, but comforting now. 

Kylo looks over at Din, and says, much quieter, “what if they tell Mom and Dad? I can't, I don't think I can face them. Not, not yet.”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Din answers, voice still soft. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do anything for me? Why, why have you done any of this? Taking me with you, bringing me here, helping me, showing me how to be a Mandalorian , why do any of it?”

Din is quiet for a moment, not saying anything. Then he takes a deep breath and turns his head so he's facing Kylo. “when I was young, ten or eleven, I can't really remember, separatist droids destroyed my home. I watched as the people I knew my whole life were shot as they tried to flee, as the village around me was reduced to fire and rubble. The last time I saw my parents alive, they were shutting a cellar door, trying to hide me. As soon as it was closed, they were killed. I would've been too, but Mandalorians came. They saved me, and they took me in, raised me. 

“I was a Foundling. A lot of us were Foundlings. Found without a home and family, taken in and taught the Way. I've learned a lot since then, met other Mandalorians that my tribe would not have accepted. We’re so much more than what I was raised with, and all so different. Different creeds, different ideals, different goals. There's a few things that are consistent. Respect for the armor, a warrior's mentality.” He pauses again, fixes Kylo with a stare he can feel through the helmet.

“And family. Clan is everything, and children are sacred. It doesn't matter where a child comes from, who their parents were or why they end up with a Mandalorian, children are always the first priority. I helped you because I saw a child that had been abandoned, betrayed by one who should have protected him, and I couldn't leave you there. I Found you, Kylo. You are a Foundling. My Foundling. That means something to me. It's important. You're important.”

Kylo finds himself unable to breathe again, though for a different reason. The tears come back, but without the heavy weight of panic and fear. Instead he feels safe. 

“You have parents you care about, and I don't want to try to take that away from you, so I haven’t gone any further, but you are my ad, Kylo. Ner aliit.”

Kylo launches himself at Din, their chesplates clanging as he throws his arms around him, digging his hands into Din’s cape and burying his face into his neck. Din doesn't hesitate in returning the hug, rubbing one hand up and down his back. “Udesiir, ner ad’ika, udesiir,” he rumbles quietly, and Kylo melts into Din’s warm embrace. 

________________________

“Han, I know where he is.”

“What? Where?! Where's Ben?”

“You can't go running in Han, this is delicate.”

“Leia, fuck delicate, where is our son?!”

“Han! I mean it, this can go very bad very quickly if we're not careful.”

“ Leia,” 

“He's safe, Han, he's safe, and I need you to promise me you'll pick me up before you go after him.”

“He's safe. He's safe, okay. Um, yeah. Yeah I'll pick you up. Where… where is he?”

“He's on Tatooine.”

“Tatooine? What the fuck kid. Okay, what about Tatooine is delicate?”

“He's with Boba Fett.”

“...no, no, Boba Fett is dead.”

“Apparently not.”

“Boba Fett is dead , he's rotting in a sarlacc.”

“Boba Fett is the king of Tatooine.”

“Okay Sweetheart, this stopped being funny a long time ago.”

“Han, I'm not joking.”

“But if… no if he's with, with Fett , then how the fuck is he safe?!”

“He was seen sitting in Fett’s courtroom, alive, healthy, and not under duress. And, apparently, wearing a few pieces of Mandalorian armor.”

“What? How sure are you that this is Ben? Why would he be in Mando armor?”

“As certain as I can be, Han. And… I don't know. There's another Mandalorian there too, his armor all unpainted.”

“Leia, Leia what else do you know about this other Mando? What was he carrying, what weapons?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes, Leia, it really does, because if that Mando was carrying a spear, then ‘delicate’ is an understatement.”

“Why?”

“Because that would mean Ben is not only with the king of Tatooine, but with the king of Mandalore as well.”

Chapter Text

It's been a few days since Kylo was recognized, and they're all in the kitchen, eating their breakfast. Din has started eating with them, lifting his helmet just enough to get the food into his mouth. Fett and the Scary Woman (he really should just call her Shand, it's been nearly a year, but he can't help it) both keep their eyes averted while Din’s helmet is up, so Kylo does too. He doesn't need to know what Din looks like, it wouldn't change anything anyway. Din is Din, whether his face is skin or metal. 

They'd all been quiet for a while, just eating in companionable silence (except, to no one's surprise, Grogu, who babbles and chirps the whole time), when Fett stops, still for a moment, before he turns his head towards Din. Still not looking, just enough to make it clear he wants Din’s attention. 

“You ever gonna tell him?” he says, with absolutely no context or prompting.

Din stops too, pulling his helmet all the way down. “Tell who what?”

Fett, looking fully at Din now that his helmet is in place, points at Kylo. “Him. You ever gonna tell him about the darksaber?”

Din leans back a little, as if realizing something suddenly. “Oh.”

The Scary Wo… Shand , snorts.

Fett squints at Din. “Oh?”

“I hadn't really thought about it,” Din says, shrugging.

Fett presses one hand to his temple. “How the fuck is that something you forget to mention? I know you've had meetings with Vizsla, you haven't completely abandoned your duties.”

“I don't know, Paz does a good job of taking care of most of it. He's got a council and everything, I just have monthly meetings with them, make sure he hasn't killed anyone he's not supposed to.”

“Gar shabla utreekov,” Fett mutters. “Gar haar Mand’alor! Ibac jaon’yc!”

Kylo got the first part of that, Fett calling Din an idiot, he isn't sure about the second though. Something about Din being something. It sounded like Fett was telling Din he is Mandalore, but Fett calling Din a planet doesn't make much sense. Not that any of this interaction has made any fucking sense. Kylo is confused and Grogu is absolutely no help, paying more attention to his food than what was going on around him, giving Kylo what is basically a mental shrug when asked about what's being talked about. 

Then demanding cookies. 

Kylo says no, and Grogu pouts, which is an improvement from using the Force to throw bits of food at Kylo’s face.

Beside Kylo, Din and Fett are vehemently discussing whatever it is Fett thinks Din should tell him in harsh whispered Mando’a. Shand continues to drink her caff, as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening. Grogu continues pouting, glaring at Kylo between bites of food, as though that has ever and would ever sway Kylo into procuring cookies. Kylo also continues to eat. Din and Fett will work out whatever they're arguing about, and Kylo will learn about it later.

Din ends up throwing his hands up in defeat. “Elek, Ka’ra, ‘lek! Fine.” He sighs wearily, as though it is not only just barely suns rise, but instead the end of a harrowing day. He looks over at Kylo- “spar, ten minutes. Bring your saber,”-then gets up and sweeps out of the room, flicking Fett’s shoulder as he passes and pointing sternly at Grogu, a clear instruction. ‘Watch him’. 

Fett watches him go with a smirk on his face, then turns to face Kylo with the same smirk. Which Kylo does not appreciate at all . “You're gonna need to find another excuse not to spar with me,” he says, voice menacing in a way that would have terrified Kylo when he first came to the palace, but now only makes him nervous because that's Fett’s excited voice. That means something is going to happen and Fett will certainly enjoy it, but Kylo probably will not. No, Kylo does not like the laughter on Fett’s face as he leaves, scooping up Grogu on his way out. 

Now it's just Kylo and Shand, who has an almost smirk on her face as well. “Well,” she says as she stands and puts her mug in the washer, “have fun kid.” Then she leaves as well and Kylo is alone.

Well. Ominous and terrifying. 

It's not often anymore that Din specifically asks Kylo to bring his lightsaber to a spar. Kylo always has his saber on him, and will use it in training and spars when he wants to practice, or to slide into something familiar and comfortable. Despite everything, Kylo’s lightsaber calms him. It's a weapon he knows how to use, and use well. The kyber in it sings to him while he fights, humming in tandem with the Force that curls around him.

So the specific instruction to bring the saber, coupled with the hushed ‘discussion’ between Din and Fett, and then Fett’s apparent glee, is putting Kylo on edge. Din won't hurt him, he knows that (beyond typical training hurts), but he's nervous nonetheless. Something is happening. Something important. 

Ten minutes later, Kylo is in the training room, pacing nervously while Fett plays with Grogu in one corner. Clearly, whatever is about to happen, Fett does not want to miss it. When Din comes in a few minutes later, Kylo is immediately drawn to the sound of kyber at his side. 

There, on Din’s hip, is a lightsaber. It looks different from any lightsaber he's seen, hilt boxy rather than cylindrical, and its song is a little off , but it is a lightsaber. Kylo has never seen it before, never thought Din had a lightsaber, and is incredibly curious as to how he got it. Din doesn't feel particularly happy through the Force, and his hands are deceptively lax at his sides. He's nervous. Din unhooks his saber from his belt and ignites it.

The kyber does not hum, it hisses.

Kylo remembers Fett calling it the darksaber, and he knows why now. The blade isn't made of light, it devours it. Like an eclipse, an empty blackness surrounded by a too bright light, the blade hurts to look at. Din spins it in his hand almost lazily, demonstrating his comfort with the weapon. This is not the first time he has held this saber. 

“Next lesson about the Mando’ade,” he says, before swinging down with the darksaber. Kylo manages to ignite his lightsaber and bring it up to block the blow before the darksaber hits him. The sound that the sabers make when they meet is not what Kylo expected. Instead of the deep humming buzz Kylo is used to sabers making, the darksaber wails a high pitched screech, startling Kylo into leaping back. 

“Mandalorians are lead by a single ruler, the Mand’alor.'' He doesn't stop his attack, talking and driving Kylo back at the same time. “To answer the call of the Mand’alor is the sixth tenent of the Resol’nare.”

“Okay, one ruler, gotta listen to them, got it,” Kylo nods, pulling back and out of the way of Din’s next attack.

“And for some fucking reason, that ruler is, traditionally, whoever wields the darksaber.” Din lunges forward, getting into Kylo’s space easily and knocking his lightsaber from his hand. A flurry of movement and Kylo is, as is usual for their spars, flat on his back, Din’s weapon, the darksaber , pointed at his throat. 

“Darksaber, Mand’alor… right.” Kylo lets what that means sink in, then twists his head to look over at Fett. “You absolute bitch, this is what you meant by needing a new excuse.”

Fett has a massive shit eating grin on his face. “Better start thinking Jet’ika.”

Din pulls back, disengaging the darksaber. Kylo sits up and looks at it curiously. “So, what's your official title? Because ‘Mand’alor Din’ doesn't sound right.”

Din just sighs and sits next to Kylo. “Most just call me Mand’alor. I don't tend to advertise my name, as you know.”

“I didn't ask what most people call you though.”

Another sigh. “Mand’alor Din, Clan Djarin, House Mereel.”

“Mereel?”

“My ba’buir,” Fett says from where he’s sitting with Grogu. “I'm Boba, Clan Fett, House Mereel. I forcefully adopted Din, so he's part of my House.”

“Forcefully adop… what does that even mean?”

Fett crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “It means I didn't let the idiot try to convince me he wasn't worth it.”

“Oh.” 

Beside him, Din sighs. Again. 

“So… what does that make Grogu?”

Next to Fett, Grogu perks up at his name, chirping. Din does the smiling head tilt. “Grogu, Clan Djarin, House Mereel.”

There's something else Kylo wants to ask. Desperately wants to ask, but… he can't bring himself to. Din has hinted at it before, so it would probably be well received, but still. Something Kylo wants, yes, but also terrifying. And it feels almost like a betrayal even thinking about it. Han and Leia, he doesn't hate them. He loves them, they're his parents, and he wouldn't want that to change. 

But he also loves Din. He loves Grogu, he… feels something about Fett. Trusts him, certainly, feels safe and comfortable with him (which is not something he ever thought would happen, even without having thought he was dead). 

Din and Fett must have noticed Kylo’s long silence, but they let him think. They're talking, he thinks. Or talking to Grogu. Whatever they're doing, they're giving Kylo space. They always do. They never push him into talking, but they listen when he does. Din does the same thing, goes quiet for a while, seeming to retreat into his mind to think things over. Not when strangers are around, no. But when it's just Grogu and Kylo, or Fett, or Shand, he’ll disappear; even his presence in the Force shrinking a little. Not enough to be alarming, just enough to show he's in his head, pulling himself inward. 

Something jerks him back out, yanks on his mind and shouts in his ear. He's left gasping, his entire body shaking and one hand coming up to press against his head.

“Kylo? Hey Kylo, what's happening?”

He can hardly hear Din, hardly notices Fett rushing over, hardly feels Grogu pushing safe? scared? why? danger? into his head. Because there's something else.

Some one else, doing the same thing.

Ben? Sweetheart? Can you hear me? We’re here, we’re here to get you. Everything will be okay.

A hand on his cheek, Kylo opens his eyes he doesn't remember closing. Din is there, in front of him, trying to talk to him. “Kylo, please. What's wrong? How do we help?”

Kylo just stares, breathing shakily. Hears her again.

Ben. We're almost there, just hold on. We love you so much Ben, so so much.

“Mom…” 

Chapter Text

The room is frozen for a moment, Din and Fett registering what Kylo said. Then a flurry of movement. Fett swearing in harsh Mando’a, calling Shand over his comm, Grogu held securely in one arm. Din swearing as well, his hand moving to grip Kylo’s shoulder.

Kylo can still hear Leia, a steady hum of reassurances. He doesn't respond. Doesn't know what he'd say, what he'd want to convey. He stays silent, but desperately clings to every word his mother sends him. Every utterance of love and promise of acceptance. Lets it soothe something in his chest he'd been trying so hard to ignore. 

“Kylo,” Din’s voice cuts through the haze, pulling his attention to the room he is in. “Come back Verd’ika,” he says. “What do you need? What do you need from us?”

“I…” Kylo falters. “I don't know. Mom is, Mom’s here, she's coming.” He reaches out, grips Din’s sleeve below his pauldron.

“Do you want to leave? We can get in the Razor Crest , we can go. You don't have to stay.”

Kylo grips Din’s sleeve tighter, his other hand reaching out and landing on Din's shoulder, where he fists his hand into the cape. “No!” he almost cries. “No I want, I can't, I can't leave. I need to-”

“Okay,” Din says soothingly, rubbing small circles on Kylo's shoulder with his thumb, “okay.”

“Din,” Fett barks from across the room, “the Falcon is requesting permission to land. Do I get to tell them to fuck off, or am I inviting Solo in?”

Din looks at Kylo, waiting for him to answer the question.

“I want to see them,” Kylo whispers. “Please, I want to- I need… please.”

Fett sighs and rolls his eyes, but nods, talking again into his comm, relaying orders to Shand. “Yeah, tell the fuckers to land, but they're to stay on that junkheap until I say otherwise.”

Kylo’s breath catches as Fett’s tone registers and he lurches forward, nearly smacking into Din. “Don't hurt them!” he pleads. “Please don't hurt them.”

Fett looks at Kylo, eyes hard for a moment. Then he sighs again. “I won't.” He pauses, and his eyes turn hard again. “I will not make that promise for Skywalker,” he snarls, “If that fucking hut’uun walks in here with them, I'm shooting him.”

Despite the tension in the room, Kylo huffs a small laugh. “I'm okay with that.” 

Bobas responding smile is vicious.

_________________

They wait for his parents in the throne room. Fett, fully armored and helmet on, is on the throne, Din standing beside him, the spear in one hand, the end resting against the floor and the tip pointed ever so slightly forward. A few of Fett’s guard are scattered throughout the room, a couple on stools at the bar, some lurking against the walls. Grogu is with Peli, deeper in the palace where he'll be safe and out of the way (he had not been happy with this arrangement, but eventually accepted it after cookies were promised).

Kylo is in a corner behind the throne, cloak pulled tight around him and hood pulled low. He doesn't look too out of place, a few of the guards are in cloaks as well. It's not that he wants to hide from his parents, but… he needs to see them before talking to them. And both Din and Fett want to question them, gauge their intentions and sincerity. Kylo almost wanted to protest, but both Mandalorians had sent him a Look through their helmets, so he conceded. They'd promised not to hurt his parents, and Kylo trusted them. 

Soon enough, Han and Leia are coming down the steps, followed closely by Shand. It takes everything in Kylo to not react, to remain still and not fall apart at the sight of his parents. Both feel determined in the Force, desperate and hopeful and fearful. Han is angry, seething silently. Leia exudes an aura of calm he knows she does not feel. 

Shand leads them to stand before Fett and Din, before she slips behind the throne as well, leaning against the wall a small ways from Kylo. No one says anything at first, Din and Fett content in letting Kylo’s parents squirm, Han and Leia unsure of how to begin. It's Leia who speaks first, not to Kylo’s surprise. 

She takes a small step forward. “Ser Fett, Mand’alor,” she says, nodding her head respectfully at each.

“Senator Organa,” Fett responds. “Interesting seeing you here. Is there a purpose to your visit, or are you here to reminisce?” 

“A purpose, I'm afraid. Our son Ben has been missing for the past year, and I've received information that he was seen here not too long ago.”

“Yours and Solo’s kid? I'm disappointed Princess, you kept Solo around? I admit, I’d have thought you'd move on after your daring rescue.”

“How about you just tell us where our fucking kid is?!” Han snaps, taking a step forward as well. 

Fett’s head tilts slightly in a smile. “Good to see you too Solo.”

“Fuck you,” his father growls, moving to take another step, but Leia catches his arm and drags him back beside her.

“If you have any information about Ben, we would be very grateful.”

“Mm. You say missing. How might that have happened, I wonder?”

“None of your gods damned business, Bounty Hunter,” Han says, looking as though he would very much like to try to punch Fett in the face, but staying by Leia’s side.

“Not a bounty hunter anymore, Smuggler. Moved on from that, took over a planet. Which means,” Fett leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and voice dropping, “you'd better watch your tongue. I am in no one's employ, I need not keep you alive to ensure payment.” He straightens again. “And even if you don't want to behave for me, I've seen you eyeing my friend.” Fett gestures almost lazily at Din, “You know who he is, surely you don't want to piss him off.”

Din adjusts his grip on his spear and tilts his head a small bit. Not a smile, not this time. Calculating. Evaluating. A look Kylo got often when he first joined Din.

Even just that small movement from Din makes Han still, watching him warily. Din steps forward, stalking slowly towards Kylo’s parents, and Kylo can see his father all but shudder, the Force around him betraying his fear, his anger, his desperation. He is scared of Din, yes. But he won't yield, not now. 

When Din speaks, his voice is almost soft. Low and calm, but with a dangerous edge. “How does one lose their child so badly as to need to follow rumors of their location? Was he stolen from you?”

Leia lifts her chin. “We put our trust in the wrong person. He was driven away, and we have been looking for him since.”

“And what have you done to the person who wronged him? What was his punishment?”

“It's a private matter, Mand’alor. I’m sure you understand.”

“What I understand is that it sounds like you've let the one who threatened your ad live,” Din snarls. “You say you have been looking for him? What reassurances have you given that it will not happen again?”

“You seem very passionate about our son, Mand’alor,” Leia says slowly.

“Children are sacred to the Mando’ade. Forgive me if I take interest in one in danger.”

“He's not in danger,” Han spits.

Din rounds on Han, looming over him. “So you have killed the one who hurt him? Eliminated the danger?” 

Fett scoffs from his throne. “Can't very well kill her own brother Mando.” He turns his head to look directly at Leia. “Can you Princess? Because it was Skywalker, wasn't it?” 

Leia says nothing. 

“What excuse did he give you? How has he tried to justify following in his father’s footsteps?”

“He won't tell us,” Kylo’s mother admits. “He tells pieces of the story, but not all of it. Even if the parts he does tell are true, we don't care.” 

She looks at Din, lifting her chin. “You say children are sacred to you. Our son means everything to us. He's been gone for a year, Mand’alor. If you know where he is, if you know anything, please. Please help us find our Ben.”

Din is silent. He doesn't move, doesn't respond, just stares back at Leia. he takes a step back. “Kylo,” he says, not looking back at him, “gar gaanada.” 

Kylo lets out a shaky breath, his chest tight. His head is pounding and it's hard to think, it's hard to think . He'd been terrified of what his parents would think of him. But they know what he did, and they looked for him anyways. They don't hate him, aren't going to turn him away. He can feel how desperate they are, can feel his mother reaching out, trying to find him, to get past his shields. She knows he's on Tatooine, but he's hidden himself beyond that. But still she searches. 

Kylo has a decision to make. He could continue to hide himself, could tell Din he doesn't want them to know where he is. He could continue going as he has been, in a routine he knows is safe, where he knows what is and isn't expected of him. 

Or he could approach them. Lose all that safety, lose any idea as to what the next day will bring. Take a chance on things working out, or crashing and burning around him.

He has a choice.

Kylo drops his shields.

Chapter Text

Immediately, Leia staggers back, her breath catching. She ignores Han’s worried questions, and her eyes snap straight to Kylo. “Ben?” she whispers. Beside her, Han freezes, then lifts his head to follow Leia’s gaze. 

Kylo takes a deep breath, bracing himself, then steps forward. He circles around the throne, coming to a stop beside Din. His parents watch him the whole way, hardly breathing. Kylo reaches up and pulls his hood down. “Hi Mom, hey Dad,” he says, the words coming out strange. Next to him, Din subtly exaggerates his breathing, giving Kylo something to match. 

Han, heedless of the Mandalorian he will deny he fears, takes an almost lunging step forward, one hand outstretched. Kylo can't help the flinch that escapes him, still on edge, still unsure. In response Din takes a smooth step forward and blocks Han, his vambrace catching Kylo’s father across the chest and forcing him back a step. Kylo can see the look on Han’s face as he's pushed away; he is ready to fight the king of Mandalore, and his mom is right behind him. He can see her drawing herself up, preparing for a fight.

Kylo steps forward, putting a hand over Din’s arm, pushes it down. Din lets his arm fall, but stands still a moment longer, glaring at Han and Leia through his helmet, before retreating, muttering “partaylir, ni olar par gar, Kylo,” and gripping Kylo’s shoulder as he passes. 

“Ni kar’taylir,” he responds, nodding. “Vor entye.” Din goes back to Fett, standing again beside the throne with his spear held in such a way that gives a clear warning. Maybe not a warning. A threat. Fett leans back, tilts his head toward Din, and Kylo is sure they're talking through the comms.

Kylo’s attention is brought back to his parents when his dad whispers a soft “Ben.” Kylo smiles, though maybe not as thoroughly as Han or Leia want him to. He’s too scared to try to smile that widely; it wouldn't be genuine, and they would know.

“Are you,” Han stops, swallows, “are you okay? Ben we, what happened?” Kylo shrinks a little, not wanting to go through what lead to him being here, on Tatooine, with Boba Fett and the Mand’alor. Han notices and shakes his head, “no, that’s, that doesn't matter right now. You're safe, that's what matters.” Han’s eyes flick over to Fett and Din. “Are you safe?” he asks, his voice much lower. 

Kylo nods before that line of thought goes any further. “I am, I'm safe here.” He adds a little emphasis to ‘here’. Because he's safe now. But he wasn't, not where they left him. And it's hard to not be angry about that. Han hears the implied message, and his face crumples. 

Leia steps forward, more slowly than Han had, telegraphing her movements. She gets close, opens her arms, but waits for him to make contact. Doesn't try to force him to touch, gives him the opportunity to step away. He doesn't. Kylo falls into his mother’s arms, buries his face into her shoulder. He doesn't know who starts crying first, but it's not long before both of them are sobbing. Both are projecting love, relief, happiness into the Force, a sense of exhaustion that comes with strong emotions.

When the tears have stopped and they can both breathe normally, when they can stand to pull away from each other, Leia holds his cheek in one hand, thumb rubbing softly the skin below his eye. She draws in a deep breath, pulls back a little further to look over him. She runs her other hand over his chestplate, tracing Grogu’s little handprint and coming to rest over the kar’ta. 

“This is new,” she says, smiling a little. 

He nods. “Yeah.” He brings up one arm and pulls back a sleeve to show her the vambrace. 

She laughs a little. “I was wondering why your hug felt different.”

Kylo smiles and looks down at his vambrace as Leia follows the lines with her fingertips. “It’s my beskar’gam. My armor.” He can't help the joy that leaks into his voice. He's proud of his armor. But he's nervous, unsure of how they'll react. Mandalorians aren't exactly either of their favorite people, and he’s… kind of a Mandalorian. His smile flickers a little, and he looks up at his mother’s face.

She's still smiling, soft and accepting. “I hear a Mandalorian’s armor must be earned,” she says. When he nods, she pulls him into another hug. “I'm so proud of you. You've done so well, thrived when we couldn't help you.”

A larger hand on his shoulder, and Kylo looks up to see Han with a smile on his face as well. The smile is crooked and his eyes are wet, and he doesn't look mad, or upset, or disappointed. “Not what I expected, but that's never stopped you before,” he says. Han leans in closer, whispers into Kylo’s ear, “and how the ever living fuck did you make friends with Boba Fett? I'm pretty sure he’s smiling behind that bucket. Can you tell? Is he smiling?”

Kylo looks back, and Fett does indeed have the smile head tilt. “Yeah,” Kylo says, turning back to his parents, “yeah he is.”

“Freaky,” Han mutters, and Leia elbows him. “Oh come on, you don't agree?” he protests. 

Kylo looks back at Fett again, then frowns. Din isn't there. He glances around the room, trying to find him, but he's gone. He pulls away from his parents and looks at Fett, tilts his own head in question. Fett sighs, and indicates behind the throne, to the door leading to the private wing. 

“Tion’jor?” he asks.

“Din urmankalar kaysh o’r ara’novor,” Fett says, his voice almost tired.

Kylo steps forward, towards the door, shaking his head. “Me’ven? Nayc.” 

Fett scoffs. “Ni kar’taylir. Kaysh mirsh solus.”

“Ben?” Leia asks, tone concerned. Beside her, Han is glancing at Fett, a confused accusation in his eyes.

“I…, Di- Mando, I need to go check on him, I need to see if he's okay.”

“He's important to you,” Leia says gently.

Kylo nods. “Yes. He saved me, he took me in. He's…” Kylo pauses for a moment, debating. “He's family.”

Leia nods. “Then go. Make sure he's okay. We’ll be here.”

___________________

Kylo runs down the hallways. He checks the kitchen first, then his bedroom. He finds him in the training room, decimating a dummy with his spear. He freezes as soon as Kylo walks in, pulling the spear back from where it's buried in the dummy's neck. His grip on the spear is tight, and Kylo is sure his knuckles are white beneath his gloves. 

“You should be with your family,” he says quietly, head bowed and refusing to look at Kylo. The Force around him screams pain, and hurt, and resignation, and an all encompassing sorrow. 

“Din…” 

Din shrinks in on himself a bit, still not looking at Kylo. Which is absolutely not acceptable. He steps forward quickly and wraps his arms around Din, avoiding the spear still in Din’s hand and resting his forehead against the front of Din’s helmet. Din seems to stall for a moment, frozen and not sure what to do. Kylo starts to worry he made a mistake, that this will just make it worse, when Din drops the spear and returns the tight embrace, pressing his helmet firmer to Kylo’s head. 

“They're not my only family. I am capable of caring for more than two people, you know? Just because they found me doesn't mean you and Grogu mean nothing to me. I'm not leaving, even if they ask. I haven't had a home with them for a long time, but I have one here . Here with you, and Grogu, and Fett and even Shand and fucking Peli, even though they both still scare me a little.”

“Everyone’s scared of Fennec,” Din says roughly. “It would be more concerning if you weren't.”

“I'm pretty sure she could take over the galaxy if she wanted to,” Kylo laughs.

“We're all lucky she just doesn't feel like it,” Din agrees. They're both quiet for a while, just taking comfort in each other’s presence, arms around each other and heads pressed together.

Eventually, Kylo sighs and pulls away. “We should go back before Fett kills Dad.”

“He promised not to hurt him,” Din protests half-heartedly.

“My dad can annoy anyone into wanting to kill him, honestly I'm surprised Mom hasn't tried already.” Kylo considers for a moment. “You know what, maybe she has. I'm told they didn't get along when they first met. Just wait, you'll want to kill him too.”

“I'll do my best not to.”

“Oh good, Chewie would be upset if he got hurt.”

“The wookie, right?”

“Yep.”

“Hm. I like my arms where they are, I suppose he can live.”

“Remember you said that in ten minutes.”

“Said what?” Din has his head tilted in a smile, and Kylo grins back.

Chapter Text

Fortunately Han is not dead when Kylo and Din return. Probably because Leia has a firm grip on his elbow and has dragged them to the side of the room, out of the way but still within easy sight, and is not letting go despite Han’s whining. 

“Ah,” Fett says as they walk in, “kaysh yaimpar.” 

Din nods stiffly and settles behind the throne, leaning against the wall beside Shand. Kylo pauses, looking over at his parents then to Din. “Liser val urcir Grogu?”

Din stares at him a moment, then turns his head to look at Han and Leia. Leia just calmly returns his gaze, while Han stiffens and meets his gaze challengingly. Kylo doesn't push, lets Din think. He wants desperately for his parents to meet Grogu, but Din has to be okay with it. Grogu is Din’s son, and Kylo would never do anything Din doesn't approve of in regards to him (well, maybe give him a few more snacks than Din would, but that's different ). 

“Ven’gebi,” he finally says. “Nu jii.”

Kylo grins, “vor entye.”

Kylo wants to pull Din to his parents, have them all talk, see if they could maybe get along (Leia and Din would probably do fine, Han however…), but he can see how stiff the Mandalorian is, can feel in the Force his extreme discomfort. So he doesn't protest when Din reclaims his spot beside Fett, a discussion starting between the two as far as Kylo can tell. Fett has that look , the look that means he's being a little shit and knows no one can do anything about it. Din has the look that means he'll get what's coming to him eventually. Not now, maybe not tomorrow, but Fett will not go unpunished.

Han rocks a little nervously on his heels. “So…” he says.

Kylo allows his father to flounder, because it's great not being the one unable to find what to say for once.

“So,” he repeats, and Leia does the dignified equivalent of a face palm. “Uh, that's a new language,” Han finally settles on.

Kylo can't help but grin, and decides Fett has the right idea and now is a good time to be a little shit. “Yep.”

“What… what is it?”

“What's what?”

“Ben sweetie, have mercy on your father, you know he has the social aptitude of a concussed rancor,” Leia scolds, though she doesn't even bother to try hiding her smile. Beside her, Han gapes in offence. Kylo laughs, and it feels good to laugh with them, to not be scared of them (there are things still to discuss that Kylo knows will hurt, but for now, he lets himself have this). 

“Mando’a. It's called Mando’a,” Kylo explains, tapping his vambrace lightly.

“Right. Yeah, that makes sense. Cus of, you know-” Han gestures vaguely in Din and Fett’s direction “-Mandalorians.”

“Yeah, Mandalorians,” Kylo agrees.

Leia smiles at Han and pats his shoulder. “Well done dear.” She turns again to Kylo and asks, “are you fluent?” 

Kylo shrugs. “Getting there. They prefer Mando’a, so I get lots of practice. There's a lot of, just, smashing words together into different words, and I'm not very good at that yet. But doing pretty well I think.”

“Kylo,” Fett calls from the throne.

Kylo spins to face him. “‘Lek?”

Fett stands and gestures to Kylo’s parents. “Val copaanir skraan?”

Kylo turns back. “Hungry?”

Leia shakes her head. “Oh, no we don't want to imp-”

“Elek,” Kylo says, cutting her off. Fett snorts and tilts his head in a ‘follow me’ motion, then walks out the door leading to the part of the palace no one uninvited is allowed to go.

Kylo slides his hand into Leia’s, and gently tugs until she begins to follow. Han, not wanting to leave them and noticing that Din has made his way behind them to herd them along, sticks close. Kylo thinks of when he first arrived, of how he had felt escorted like this, and takes sympathy on his father. He reaches out and grabs Han’s hand as well, squeezing it firmly and nodding reassuringly. Han squeezes his hand back, and tries to give a confident smile. It doesn't work, but Kylo lets him think it did.

Kylo talks about nothing as Fett leads them to the kitchens, of which vendors in the market are willing to haggle and which absolutely will not, of which pat his cheek when he's polite and which prefer to use foul language as their main form of communication. He tells them about the jawas’ stall, how he can usually find something interesting that they're willing to negotiate for, though he does make a point of keeping an eye on his belongings. They had only tried to nab his saber once, and after he had made it clear any further attempts to steal it would end very poorly for them, they stuck to trying to snatch anything that may be in his pockets. He assures his parents they haven't gotten anything yet, and it's a good exercise in staying aware of his surroundings.

When they reach the kitchen, Kylo leads them to the table he had chosen his first time, the one where the whole room is visible, no way to sneak up from behind, easy access to exits. Fett is already grabbing food, and Kylo comes up beside him with three plates. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Mm. What for?” 

“I know you, eh, dislike Han. But you're letting him be here anyways, you're feeding him, and I know that wouldn't be happening if it weren't for me. So… thank you.”

Fett doesn't say anything in response at first, just finishes filling his plate. He pauses before turning to sit at a table like he's thinking of saying something, but in the end just nods. He leaves without saying anything and Kylo finishes the plates for his parents and him. 

Kylo returns to the table and sets the plates down, then sits and begins eating. Hesitantly, Han and Leia join him. At the table across the room, Din sits with Fett, leaned back in his chair. Fett hasn't removed his helmet yet, focusing on a ‘pad laying on the table in front of him. 

“Is he not gonna eat?” Han asks, nodding not so subtly at Din.

“Probably later,” Kylo says. “He doesn't remove the helmet around other people.”

Han frowns. “Ever?”

“Not unless they're part of his Clan, no.”

“So, have you ever seen his face?”

“No.”

“Weird,” Han mutters, and Kylo stops himself from defending Din. It wouldn't make a difference, and he'd rather not have an argument about Din’s Creed. There's plenty of other things they'll inevitably fight about. He does get some satisfaction from Leia kicking Han under the table though. 

There's a few peaceful minutes of Leia asking about the best places to get good bantha wool before Han’s eyes widen and he spits his drink back into his cup. Leia shoots him a glare and Kylo follows his gaze to see what elicited that reaction.

Ah.

Fett has removed his helmet.

“What the absolute fu -” 

Kylo slaps his hand over his fathers mouth before he could finish. “Don't. Just, don't. ” 

“What-”

Kylo grabs the back of Han’s jacket and hauls him to his feet, then shoves him out the door, following after him and closing the door behind them. His mother would be fine, she knows how to make nice and when to mind her own business. 

“What part of ‘don't’ did you not understand?” Kylo hisses. “There are very few topics that are absolutely not brought up , and that is one of them.”

“Okay, but how the fuck does that even happen ?”

“Gee, Dad, I don't know, what was Fett doing last time you saw him?”

Han snorts. “Falling ass over teakettle into…” Kylo can see dots connecting in his father’s head. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, ‘oh’. So let's not bring it up, and not make things more difficult than they already are, okay? It’s a fucking miracle he's let you in here without shooting you in the face, don't make him regret it, cus I'd actually like to stay on good terms with him, got it?” Kylo waits until Han nods before opening the door again and pulling him back inside. Properly chastised, Han sits quietly and eats his food. Leia raises an eyebrow and sends a questioning look to Kylo. Kylo just shakes his head.

Once food has been finished and plates cleared, Fett replaces his helmet and makes his way back to the throne room, business for the day not yet finished. 

Din falters, unsure of whether to stay or follow Fett. He seems to make the decision to go, but Kylo catches up and snags his wrist before he leaves. “Stay, please? This is, this part’s going to be hard, and I need, I don't want to be alone.”

Din nods. “Of course ner ad’ika,” he says softly, gently tapping Kylo’s forehead with his helmet. Kylo takes a deep breath and presses back for a moment, then pulling away and returning to Han and Leia. Din pulls a chair from another table and sets it so he'll be behind Kylo’s shoulder. Kylo sits back down and just breathes for a moment, taking comfort in Din behind him.

Leia reaches out across the table and pulls Kylo’s hand into her own. “You don't have to, Ben,” she says kindly, of course already catching on to what Kylo intends to talk about.

“I do though,” he whispers. 

“Okay sweetie. How do you want this to happen?”

“I-” Kylo suddenly can't find the words to talk, doesn't know what to say, how to start, what to confess to first.

“Questions and answers?” Han suggests, and Kylo nods, grateful they understand.

For a moment neither of them said anything. Leia rubs a thumb over his knuckles, gentle and soft. “Why did you run from the school? What happened to you?” she finally asked.

“It was the middle of the night, and something screamed at me to wake up. Not, not outside, but in my head. I don't know if it was the Force or the Voice, but whatever it was woke me up, and when I opened my eyes Unc-, Luke was standing above me.”

Leia’s hands tightened around his own, and Kylo couldn't look at her, couldn't look at his father, so he closed his eyes. “He was, his saber was lit and raised and I managed to call mine to me so I could block him, and I pushed him back, and then everything was collapsing, and everyone was waking up and running around, and I had never heard the Voice so fucking excited and happy before. Others had seen Luke go into my room and then the walls collapse, they didn't know what happened, they just assumed , they thought I attacked him out of nowhere, and they kept attacking me. I tried, I tried to get away, but they kept coming, and the Voice kept yelling and laughing and I didn't mean to, I didn't want to but I killed- I don't know how many, I think two? Everything was on fire, and I don't know if I did that, or if it was the storm, but there was fire everywhere and kids were running and the Voice wanted me to kill them all but I didn't. ” 

“Ben-” Han tries to say something, but Kylo keeps going.

“I took a ship, and I left, and I don't know where I ended up but I was alone with the Voice and it was telling me I did good, that I did the right thing, and I didn't believe it, I didn't , but it wouldn't stop. I fell asleep, or passed out, I don't know. That's when Mando found me.”

Around him, Han and Leia and Din all had the same feelings in the Force. Sorrow and pure anger . He knows that with Din at least the anger is not with him but with Luke, but he can't be sure the same is true for Han and Leia.

“Ben,” Han says again. Kylo shuts his eyes further. “Ben, son, please look at me,” he pleads. Kylo shakes his head and curls in on himself, pressing his head to the table and letting his hair fall to shield his face. He feels Leia’s hands shift around his, braces himself for her to pull away. Instead, she covers them as much as she can, thumb going back to rubbing small circles.

“Ben, sweetie, we love you so much,” Leia says. “None of what happened was your fault, none of it. We’re so sorry you couldn't come to us, that we hadn’t proven we will put you before anything .”

Another hand rests on his, his father’s. “Ben, you're the most important thing in my life. You could kill me and I'd come back as a ghost to say how much I love you.”

“I wouldn't kill you,” Kylo mumbles into the table.

“I know. But if you do, make sure it's dramatic.”

Kylo snorts, still hiding his face. “I'll make sure it's on a bridge, so there's a long epic fall.”

“Perfect. If you could put some explosions somewhere in there, we’re golden.”

“Sounds doable.”

Behind him, Din does his huff laugh. Kylo reaches out with one hand and smacks whatever part of Din he can reach, which ends up being his chest. “Don't laugh, we can plan your death too, you know.”

“I'd like to see you try.”

Kylo turns his head so he can look at Din. “What, you don't think I could?”

“If the Krayt Dragon couldn't manage it, I don't hold much hope for you.”

“How dare you, the nerve. The absolute gall . Do you really have so little faith in me?” Kylo stops, repeats Dins words in his head, then jerks upright and spins to fully face him. “Wait, what the fuck do you mean ‘Krayt Dragon’ ?!”

Din just laughs.

Chapter Text

After much incessant badgering from Kylo, Din finally explains the Krayt Dragon (summarizes, Kylo knows there's a bigger story than the few short sentences Din provided), resulting in Leia’s hesitant respect and Han’s heightened paranoid vigilance. Because in Han’s mind, a Mandalorian is bad news, so the leader of the Mandalorians is bad news, and the leader of the Mandalorians that killed a Krayt Dragon by allowing it to swallow him so he could blow it up from the inside was just all sorts of dangerous.

Kylo hoped he'd get over that. He knows Han won't apply those prejudices to Kylo in any manner, but some amiability between him and Din would be nice (Kylo’s not naive, he doesn't expect anything with Fett, just them not killing each other is good enough for him). 

They'll work on it. Like socialising an aggressive pet. Patience and praise. He could probably get some advice from Chewie. 

Which reminds him. “Where’s Chewie?”

Han looks up from whatever the thing he's currently ‘fixing’ on the table in the Falcon (he and his parents had retreated to the ship to just… breathe. To be around each other. To not talk about anything that needs to be talked about but instead more about the local markets and what modifications Kylo made to his vambraces). “Oh, he’s with the students that didn't have anywhere to go, they've decided he is the best thing ever and he likes looking after them.”

“The students?” Kylo is confused for only a minute. “Oh, oh. Oh fuck, they, I, fuck, I-”

“Ben, breathe,” Leia coaxes. 

“How long did they stay with Luke? Did they, where did they go, I destroyed the- fuck, how many-”

“Ben-”

Kylo jerks to his feet and paces, fists clenched. “Shit!”

Leia catches his arm as he paces by her, stopping him. “Ben, sit down, breathe, and I’ll explain, okay?”

He stares at her, mind spinning. How had he not even thought of them? How had he forgotten to worry about the other students, the ones he hurt, or terrified, the ones whose lives were thrown into chaos the same night his was? He thinks about the ones he killed. He sees their faces in his nightmares, screaming at him while blood drips from their mouths. But had he really just forgotten the rest? Is he that selfish?

The hand around his arm squeezes, and he hears his mom again, “Ben, breathe sweetie, there you go, good job. Now come sit down, okay?”

Kylo blinks hard and nods, sitting down again, closer to his parents this time. 

“Thank you. Now, would you like me to tell you what happened to the kids?”

Kylo nods, not trusting himself to speak without panicking again. 

“Okay. Chewie and Han got to Yavin IV the day after everything happened, and Luke left. I got there the next day, and we contacted parents to come gather their children. The ones that had nowhere to go came with me to Coruscant while your father and Chewie looked for you. Some of them ended up going to the families that had had their children at the school, some of them found other families to live with. Six of the kids stayed with me, and Chewie would spend time taking care of them as well. Most of them are around ten years old, one is fifteen, another is five. But they all love Chewie. They're doing well.” Leia rubs his back gently as she explains, and Han had shoved a random part of his project into Kylo’s hand for him to mess with, both of which he appreciates.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “Thank you for keeping them safe, for getting them away from Luke.”

Han scoffs. “Bastard didn't stick around long once Chewie and I got there. Just left us there with no idea what happened, a gaggle of scared kids, and you gone. He only sort of explained a week later over a holo.”

“He abandoned them?”

“Pretty much.”

Kylo is quiet, and his parents quiet as well, Han going back to his project (minus the bit Kylo was still fidgeting with), and Leia taking out her pad to do, probably, paperwork. 

Luke left them. Kylo’s glad the other students got away from him, but he hadn't expected him to just… leave. He'd always shown so much care to every student, and Kylo is confused by Luke’s apparent willingness to drop them as soon as he could. Kylo thought it would have been a fight to get them all away from him, not this. But they're safe, and either with families that love them or probably climbing all over Chewie, and that's what's important.

Kylo smiles a bit. “Well if you're looking for somewhere they can go, just give ‘em to Mando.”

“Give them to- why, why would we give them to crazy Krayt killing leader of a race of warriors?” Han sputters, and Leia smacks the back of his head.

“Children are important to Mandalorians,” Kylo explains, glaring at his father a bit. “ Really important. The worst thing someone could be called is a demagolka, someone who commits atrocities, a monster, someone so evil they would experiment on children. Hurting a kid is pretty much a death warrant to them.

“They take in kids a lot, they call them foundlings. Orphans, basically, that are found and brought in, raised as their own kids. It would be hard to find a family that doesn't have at least one foundling somewhere. And no,” Kylo says when Han opens his mouth, “they are not forced to be soldiers. They're taught to fight, to defend themselves, and yes, fighting is a large part of their culture, but no one is forced to fight. It takes more than warriors to run a planet. Food, infrastructure, clothing, art, ships and machines and droids, there's plenty of things that need to be done that don't involve fighting.”

Han ducks his head, and pretends to focus on his project, but Kylo can see him thinking. Leia has a thoughtful look on her face as well, clearly considering what Kylo has said.

“Does the Mand’alor have children?” she asks. 

Kylo pauses. “Yes,” he says. “Two.” 

“Are they on Mandalore?”

“No, both here, he’s probably with Grogu right now.”

“And the other?”

This was a mistake. He should have just said one, he shouldn't have brought this up. This will only upset them, Han in particular, alienate them, why would he even imply what he is to Din? What Din is to him ?

“Ben,” Leia says softly. “It's okay. Neither of you are very subtle about how much you mean to each other.”

Kylo’s brain stuttered a bit. “Oh.” 

Han snorts. “‘Oh’ he says,” he mumbles, though his voice doesn't sound upset.

“And you're… ok with that?”

Han looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “That you found someone you can trust and rely on to help you? That you’re happy? That you're safe and have a place to live and someone who loves you the way we do? Oh no, the horror, how could you?” he says, completely deadpan. “Now, was I surprised it was with Mandalorians? Yes. Did I expect to find you living with Boba Fett? No. Was my initial reaction ‘oh shit’? Yes, absolutely. Your mother said ‘Boba Fett’ and I just about had a heart attack. Am I upset about it? No, Ben, of course not.” He points a stern finger at Kylo, “don't think this gets you out of coming home for Life Day though, you know Chewie will fly over and drag you back by your ear if you miss it.”

And with that tumbled a whole new pile of revelations. “You're not, you're not going to make me go back with you?”

Leia gathers Kylo into her arms, surrounding him in a strong hug. “Ben, sweetie, you are always welcome with us, and we will always want you, but we won't force you to come back, of course not. This has been your home for nearly a year, a home you chose, that you feel safe in. We wouldn't want to take that away, even if we could.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure Mando-dad would skewer us with that spear of his if we tried to make you leave if you didn't want to,” Han says, shivering a little.

Kylo and Leia both slowly turn to look at Han. “ Mando-dad? ” Kylo says, the word coming out rougher than he intended.

Han throws his hands up, “I don't fucking know, he's a mando, he's your other dad, what else am I supposed to call him?!”

“How about Mand’alor, you dumbass?” Leia retorts, unwrapping her arms from Kylo so she can punch her husband in the shoulder.

Han jerks away and rubs his shoulder as though Leia had punched him hard enough to do any actual harm. “I am not using an official title for someone I am sharing custody of my son with!” he protests.

“You are if that person is the leader of their people!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I promise you I am not.”

“I think he'd prefer if you just called him Mando, actually. He's very under the radar with the whole ‘Mand’alor’ thing,” Kylo interrupts before they can really get going.

“Ha! See?” 

“You still aren't calling him Mando-dad,” Leia says sternly.

“You can't stop me.” Han crosses his arms and leans back as though he's accomplishing something.

“And here I thought you didn't want to be skewered with his spear.”

“He can't do that, I'm his… brother-in-law? How does this work, what are we?”

“Not that.”

“Are you sure? Ben, I'm right, right? What am I? What would Mando-dad call me?”

“Di’kut, probably.”

“I don't know what that means, but the way you said it makes me think it's an insult.”

“It is.”

“Cool, teach me an insult to call him back.”

“No, no , no Han, you are not insulting the Mand’alor.”

“I feel like that should be allowed considering the circumstances. Family gets to insult each other.”

“You are not-!” a deep breath, “Darling, if you insult the Mand’alor, I will not interfere when he decides to shoot you in the face.”

“Nah, he can't do that, Ben, tell her that he can't do that.”

“He can, and he will. He gets stabby when someone annoys him.”

“Come on Ben, help me find a good insult for your Mando-dad.”

“Absolutely not. He’d get revenge. I have weapons and combat training with him. We finally moved on from the Gaffi stick, and I will make you train with me if you bring it back. He will make me train with Fett with the Gaffi stick. Do you know how good Fett is with the Gaffi stick? He's terrifying, it's insane.”

“Boba Fett knows how to use a Gaffi stick?”

“Yes, and trust me, you do not want to be on the other end.”

“No one but the Tuskens know how to use a Gaffi.”

“Yeah, they're the ones that taught him.”

“They taught- what?”

“Yeah, he lived with them for a while, not sure how long. Longer than Mando did though.”

“Mando-dad lived with-?!”

“How do you think he knows Tusken?”

“ He knows-?! You know what, I don't care. I am calling him Mando-dad, and he will either have to live with it or kill me.”

“Han, I love you, but you are so fucking stupid.”

“I know.”

Chapter Text

“Leia!”

“No.”

“Wait, no I know where Ben is!”

“Yeah, me too; in his room sleeping with his brother.”

“Han, I'm serious, he's on Tatooine, I’m-”

“Yeah, I am too you piece of shit.”

“I, what?”

“We have our son Luke, no thanks to you!”

“Leia, I’m-”

“Oooh, is that Skywalker? ”

“Fuck off Fett.”

“Fett?”

“Oh no, I've got some things to say to Skywalker.”

“ Boba Fett?”

“Would you let us scream at my brother-in-law in peace you fucker?”

“Either I get to threaten him or I go get Beroya.”

“I honestly don't know which is worse.”

“What the fuck? ”

“Hush Skywalker, we’ll get to you, don't you worry.”

“Actually, you know what, I kinda wanna see what Mando-dad will do.”

“Good, because he's almost here.”

“Ibic kaysh?!”

“‘Lek, Beroya.”

“Ibic hut’uun meg aarar ner ad?!”

“I don't know if I want to hide or get popcorn.”

“Shut up Han.”

“Shabla demagolka ne’tom osik!”

“Popcorn, definitely popcorn.”

“Ni shuk gar shabla epan dayn !”

“Leia, do you know what he's saying?”

“Why would I know that?”

“He's saying he's going to rip Skywalker’s guts out.”

“Ah, yes. Understandable.”

“Mand’alor?”

“What?”

“I'd like to have the chance to threaten my brother myself, if you don't mind.”

“Fine. You, Skywalker, if I ever see you, if I ever hear you've been anywhere near my kid again-”

“I am a Jedi, you can hardly threaten me.”

“And I am Mand’alor! My people have been killing yours for centuries. Your saber will be tossed into a box to collect dust with all the others while your corpse is left for the scavengers. Your name will be known as one of a demagolka like your father. The tale of your slaughter told to children as a bedtime story, the monster vanquished so the ade can sleep without fear. Your magic does not scare me, jetii, it just makes the fight more satisfying. Try it, little Jedi, and find out why my people are feared.”

“...wow.”

“Well Luke, you heard the Mand’alor. Stay the fuck away from my son. I may not be able to hurt you the way I want to, but I can sure as hell stand aside as he does.”

“Leia… I didn't mean-”

“It doesn't matter what you meant. Be careful, because my son made some powerful friends in the last year, and none of them are scared of you.”

Chapter Text

He knew he’d have to explain sooner or later, knew Han and Leia would pick up on the fact neither Din nor Fett call him Ben. Knew he'd have to tell them he isn't Ben, not really. He was, but then his uncle tried to kill him and a Mandalorian adopted him, so he made himself into something new. 

They're in Kylo’s room in the palace, Han in the desk chair, spun so he is facing the room, Leia and Kylo on his bed. Din had come and taken Grogu before they had been shown in, Kylo still half asleep when Leia had sat carefully on the bed and started to run her fingers through his hair. He's awake now, though still laying down, his head in his mother’s lap.

“They don't call you Ben,” she says softly. “I've heard the Mand’alor call you adeeka? I think I've heard Kylo a few times as well. I don't know if those are names or…”

Kylo curls in on himself a little bit. “Ad’ika means little one. Basically an affectionate ‘son’ or ‘daughter’, but neither because Mando’a doesn't really do gender.”

Leia doesn't stop slowly petting his head. “So that's him calling you son.”

“I… yeah.”

“And Kylo? What does that mean?”

This is hard. Kylo knew it would be, how could telling his parents he changed his name be easy? But he can't just, not answer. “That’s, that's not a word. That's my name.”

Han leaned forward a bit. “Mando-dad gave you a different name?”

Kylo shakes his head as best he can while not moving from where he's pressed against his mothers legs. “No! No, it’s, I did.” He takes a deep breath and centers himself, stopping the panicked stutter in his breath before it could turn into hyperventilating. 

“When Di- when Mando found me, I didn't feel like I was the same person. Ben had, he had friends, he had an uncle he loved, he was learning to be a Jedi, he was safe . I didn't have any of that anymore, and I felt, still feel, disconnected from Ben. When Mando asked me what I wanted to be called, I didn't know. He hadn't, he didn't ask for my name, didn't expect me to be someone.” Kylo takes another deep breath. “He let me choose who I wanted to be, gave me time to figure myself out. I chose Kylo. Kylo was a new person, he had a clean slate, cin vhetin. Kylo could be someone different.”

Kylo forces himself to relax, to loosen his tense muscles and unclench his fists. “Kylo was a fresh start, and I like Kylo. I like who Kylo is, who I am now. I’m not not Ben, Ben is still a part of me, but not all of me. Kylo is all of me.”

Leia scratches her nails gently along his scalp, calm and soothing. Kylo chances looking at Han. He's leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, but not in an angry way. Just thoughtful. Contemplating. 

Finally Han nods. “Okay.” 

Kylo blinks. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

His father shrugs. “Solo isn't some family name that was passed down. I was given it because I was alone, because I had no one. I took the name because I wanted to be something new, something more than just Han. It's part of who I am now. You've done something very similar, I think. Names are important, and deeply personal. It's not for us to decide what your name is. We gave you a suggestion when you were born, something we felt meant something, but you don't have to keep it.”

Leia takes a deep breath, still running her fingers through Kylo’s hair. “I kept Organa as my family name, even after I knew I had been born a Skywalker. I had no connection to the Skywalker name, not one I was proud of, but I do have that connection to Organa. The Organa’s were my family, and they are who I want to honor, theirs is the legacy I can be proud of. I chose that, because it means something to me.” 

Kylo doesn't need their approval of his name. Doesn't need them to acknowledge who he is, who he has turned himself into. But he is so fucking happy to have it. For them to not only accept it, but also understand , it lifts a weight from his chest.

He smiles, and laughs a little. A breathy laugh, as much a sigh of relief as it is an actual laugh. He makes a childish grabby hand toward Han, who smiles back and indulges him, getting up to sit on Leia’s other side so Kylo can hold his hand while still using his mother as a pillow. They stay there, cuddling for lack of a better word, for a long time.

Chapter Text

Kylo does finally drag them back to the kitchens around time for evening meal. Din is there with Grogu, an emptied plate beside him and a messy plate in front of Grogu, who has just as much food on his robe as he has probably eaten. 

He stops Han and Leia before they get through the door, blocking Grogu from their view. “Liser val urcir Grogu?” he asks quietly. Din nods tightly. “Gar mirutre’la?” he says, noting the obvious hesitance. 

Din takes a slow breath and nods again. “Elek.” 

“Vor entye,” he says, then turns back to his parents. “Okay. First off, yes, we know he looks weird, no reason to comment on it,-” Kylo sends a stern look to Han, who pretends to be offended at the very implication he may accidentally insult a child, “-second, no, what don't know what species he is. Third, Mando will stab you if you so much as look at Grogu wrong. Has done so before, will do so again.” 

He looks again at Han, making sure he is paying attention. Han nods enthusiastically and gives a big thumbs up, which is as good a reassurance Kylo thinks he's going to get. Leia smiles and nods as well, but in a much more believable manner, while also gripping Han’s upper arm firmly so she can drag him out at the first sign of trouble. Trouble being Han putting his foot in his mouth and inciting the understandable desire to punch him in the face. 

Grogu looks up from where he's still making an absolute mess of his dinner when they all walk in and studies Han and Leia with his eyes wide. When he looks at Kylo curiously, Kylo sends him memories of him with his parents; flying the Falcon with Han, reading with Leia, playing games with them both. Grogu’s ears perk up and he babbles happily.

“Oh no, he’s adorable. Oh fuck Be- Kylo you didn't tell us he's adorable,” Han whispers. At the table, Din’s hands are fisted and pressed against his thighs, anxiety seeping through him despite his best attempts to stay calm. Kylo can see the slow rise and fall of his chest plate as the Mandalorian takes deep breaths, likely working hard to keep himself still and not scoop up Grogu to hide him away.

Han can sometimes act empty headed and oblivious, but he isn't stupid, and he didn't make it through the underworld without learning to read body language. Kylo can see his father keeping his own body loose and relaxed, hands in plain sight and making himself as non threatening as he can. He sees how tense Din is, how ready he is to act if he thinks Grogu is in danger, and takes the proper precautions. 

Leia can't seem to help the smile that crosses her face as she looks at Grogu, and her eyes widen a little in surprise after a moment. “Oh, well hello Grogu,” she says, smiling wider.

Din’s gaze snaps to her. “You can talk to him too?”

Leia looks away from Grogu and to Din. “Kind of. Probably not as well as Kylo, but some.”

“Hm.” Din nods once and goes back to watching Grogu, though his attention remains fairly focused on Han and Leia. Kylo sits at the table across from Din and Grogu, his parents coming to sit on either side of him. Din remains stiff, watching closely and ready to move. Grogu reaches out and waves at Leia, who smiles and waves back. 

Excitedly, Grogu pulls out his pebble from his little pockets in his little robes and floats it easily to Leia. It lands softly in her hand and she frowns a small bit. 

“I’m not very good at that, Grogu. I’m sorry.” Leia sets the pebble onto the table and slides it back to Grogu. Grogu’s ears fall slightly, but then he gets that stubborn look on his face and floats the pebble to Kylo. Kylo sends it back without thinking, and when Grogu has it in his claws, he sets it on the table. 

Grogu checks to make sure Leia is watching him, then uses the Force to gently slide the pebble to her. He points at her, then the pebble, his expectation clear. 

Leia looks up at Kylo, still frowning. Kylo just shrugs. “He knows you can use the Force. This is one of the first things he did with me too. For a long time it wasn’t safe for him to use the Force, and he wants to show you it’s safe to use it here, that no one will hurt you for it.”

“Oh, Grogu. I believe you that’s it’s safe, I just was never very good at moving things,” Leia says, sliding the pebble back over to him with her hand. 

Grogu frowns at the pebble in front of him, picking it up and looking back at Leia. He makes a very decisive sounding grumble and toddles across the table to Leia, plopping down to sit beside her and placing the pebble in her hand. Then he sits back and closes his eyes, allowing his mind to drift as he meditates lightly. 

When Leia just watches him, he opens one eye and pokes her arm, then resumes meditating. Leia sighs and closes her eyes, following Grogu’s lead. 

Kylo watches as they drift together, curious as to what they are doing but giving them their privacy. Across from them Din is watching with a curious tilt to his head, still cautious but more relaxed than when they had first come in, the quiet and calm helping assure him Grogu is safe. 

Kylo feels a light poke on his shoulder and turns to look at Han, an eyebrow raised. 

Han points to Kylo’s right arm, at the vambrace resting on the table next to him. “Is that what I think it is?” Han whispers. 

“Depends on what you think it is,” Kylo whispers back. 

“Please tell me you have a flamethrower, I need so badly for this to be a flamethrower,” Han says, still quiet so as not to disturb Leia and Grogu. 

Kylo smirks. “Yeah, it’s a flamethrower.”

Han pumps his fist. “ Yes. Fuck yes, I am so proud of you, you are showing that to me later. What else you got in those?”

So Kylo shows Han everything on his vambraces, the whipcord, the knives, the small blades for him to guide with the Force (those have required a lot of practice, such fine control of multiple small objects is hard ), lets him poke and prod the armor, promises he’ll show him how it all works tomorrow. 

They’re distracted by Grogu suddenly clapping and squealing happily, and when they look over the pebble is floating a few inches above Leia’s hand. Her eyes are still closed but there’s a large grin across her face and when Kylo reaches out with Force he can feel her radiating excitement. 

When the pebble drops and Leia opens her eyes, Kylo is smiling back at her. Han looks a little confused but excited that his wife and kid are excited. Leia scoops Grogu into her arms and holds him close. 

“Thank you little one,” she says softly. Grogu coos. “Yes, I’ll practice.”

_______________

A few days later Leia speaks with Din about the six Force sensitive children left in Chewie’s care, and Kylo can see Din wants to scoff. As if he wouldn’t take them, as if there wouldn’t be families who not only would want them, but could do right by them. 

There are Force sensitive Mandalorians, Din says, it’s just called something different, it’s not taught the same way. He’d only been looking for a Jedi for Grogu because the child is more powerful than any of them had seen, knew more than anyone else already. 

No, the kids, the foundlings , would be well taken care of, Din promises. A few days after the discussion Chewie shows up covered in kids, and the next day a ship with five Mandalorians lands at the palace. They all bow their heads to Din, who nods back to them. One Mandalorian, huge in blue armor ( ba’vodu Paz! Grogu screams through the Force, slamming into the man’s armored leg hard enough to make an audible clunk), greets Din with clasped arms and a rather violent head butt.

Kylo watches from out of sight (he didn’t want to scare them, didn’t want them to have to remember the night their lives fell apart, same as his) as the kids are introduced to the armored warriors. They’re all wary at first, aware of the same stories Kylo had heard about Jedi-killing Mandalorians. 

There Mandalorians didn’t push, didn’t force the kids to greet them. Paz and Chewie have an arm wrestling match on one side of the courtyard, two other Mandalorians cheering Chewie on. The other two sit closer to where the kids have gathered, not directly facing the former padawans, but not turned away either. Open, but not demanding. One has their helmet off and set beside them, and both are leaned back, relaxed,  as unthreatening as a Mandalorian can be. 

Before long, one of the kids is shuffling towards the two sitting near them. A slight head tilt is all the indication either of them give they’ve noticed the kid sneaking up on them. The former padawan creeps just close enough to touch the one without a helmet’s armor, and gently pokes their pauldron then immediately scrambles away back to the group. The Mandalorian makes no indication they'd noticed, so the kid does it again. After a few pokes, the kid stays a little longer, touching more of the armor before fleeing. Each time they stay longer, and soon another kid joins them, then another, then there are four Force sensitive children cautiously exploring both Mandalorians’ armor while the warriors sit and allow it. 

Then a question is hesitantly asked, and calmly answered, and then the Mandalorians are covered in children all asking as many questions as they can fit into one breath. The other three Madalorians wander over one at a time, also sitting and letting the kids explore their armor and ask more questions than could be answered. Paz is quickly claimed by the youngest, a small togruta named Niria if Kylo remembers right. She sits on his shoulders and talks non-stop, and Paz listens to every word, responds to questions, makes the appropriate sounds of shock and awe in response to the young girl’s stories. 

At the end of the day, after a great many hugs to Leia, Han, and especially Chewie, the kids follow the Mandalorians onto their ship, most holding the hands of the warriors, Niria still sitting on Paz’s shoulders, though her head is now resting on the top of his helmet. 

Din holds Kylo for a long time that night as he shakes, guilt and fear and sorrow and anger and relief flooding through him, dredged up by seeing his once fellow padawans. Din doesn't say anything the whole night, just occasionally hums soft songs Kylo is familiar with by now. 

Kylo falls asleep held by Din, the beskar hard and uncomfortable and safe.

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When Han and Leia leave, it's a quiet thing. Kylo is the only one to see them off, after long hugs and the understanding they will be calling at least once a week, and the expectation that unless he told them beforehand he couldn't, he either answer or reply within a few hours because if he didnt, as Han put it, “we will assume Fett went nuts and killed you, meaning we'd have to declare war on Tatooine and probably Mandalore”. Leia just told him that if he needed anything, to reach out, and they'll always do their best to answer as soon as possible. 

Kylo watches the Falcon as it takes off, then stands for a moment when it disappears from view. That went… considerably better than he had ever thought it would. Before they arrived, Kylo would have said the best case scenario was them ignoring him and never trying to find him. But they did, and he can't help but be grateful for it. They found him, and they still love him. 

Something small bumps into his leg, and he's not surprised to see Grogu when he looks down. He kneels and scoops him up, settling the child in his arms as he turns to head back inside. Inside, Din is leaning against a wall just past the doorway, arms crossed and a finger tapping against the opposite vambrace. The finger stops tapping when Din sees them, and he pushes off the wall to meet Kylo. 

Din is… not nervous, exactly, and not quite excited. The Force that swirls around him reads as a sort of mix of both, a buzzing that can't decide whether it wants to be invigorating or annoying.

“I,” Din stops, visibly takes a breath before continuing, “I have something for you. Come on.” Din leads Kylo through the palace, on a path that Kylo quickly realizes is to Din’s makeshift forge, and his heartbeat skyrockets. They've been spending time there, working on his pauldrons. Not nearly as fancy as Din’s, honestly just durasteel hammered into what passes as a pauldron, but he loves them anyway. Just need some fine tuning on the straps and then paint before they're done. 

But Din wouldn't be this anxious over those. This is something else. 

He has a thought, a hope.

But he refuses to listen to it too closely. 

When they reach the forge, Grogu squirms until Kylo sets him down, and immediately races off to his little corner to play with his own tools. Kylo watches him with a smile, though his eyes are drawn to the center of the room when Din sets something down on the table, fabric draped over whatever it is. Din’s gaze is heavy, and suddenly Kylo is terrified. He's… not sure what of, but breathing is suddenly harder and his heart races . 

“I spoke with the Goran, a few weeks ago. She was able to finish in time for Paz to bring it.” Din slides the object across the table toward Kylo, expectant. Kylo steps forward carefully, slowly reaching out until his fingers are touching the cloth. He hesitates, looking back at Din. When Din nods, he slips the fabric off.

Kylo starts crying. He can't help it, and he doesn't have the brainpower to try to hide it, because there, on the table, is a helmet. Similar to Din’s, almost simpler though, and absolutely beautiful. It's the bright shiny silver of beskar , and Kylo runs his fingers along the edge of the visor reverently. 

He doesn't know how long he's stood there crying, how long he's been tracing every line of the helmet with his fingers, he just knows that one moment he is, and the next he’s pulled to Din’s chest. He keeps one hand in the helmet, his helmet, and the other arm wrapping around Din to pull him in tight. Din shifts, not pulling away, but reaching up for something. There's a faint hiss, a thump as something is set on the table, and then Din’s voice.

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad, Kylo.” Din’s voice is soft, warm, and not altered. Kylo pulls back and looks at Din, at Din’s face . Warm eyes, a gentle smile, everything he might have expected if Kylo had ever dwelled on what the Mandalorian might look like. 

Din leans his head forward and presses his forehead against Kylo’s, the gesture so familiar but somehow so different when there's warmth against his skin rather than cold metal. Kylo presses back, still crying. For the same reasons, for a new reason, for reasons Kylo isn't quite sure of, he cries.

____________________

The helmet and pauldrons get the same colors as Kylo’s chest plate and vambraces. Blue and teal with accents of orange. Something new is added to his chest plate as well. In the top right corner, opposite Grogu’s handprint, is a mudhorn skull. Painted on in white with careful hands, Kylo bears it with pride. 

Din, his buir , guides Kylo through the verd’goten, and it's not long until he swears the Resol’nare. Leia and Han visit shortly after, both proud of what their son has accomplished. Han calls Din Mando-dad, Din punches him in the stomach and knocks him on his ass (Fett wheezes with laughter on his throne, ecstatic at least someone got to punch the former smuggler), and Han continues to call Din Mando-dad. Leia will only refer to Din as Mand’alor, because she knows it annoys him and she basks in the knowledge that he can't punch her for using his proper title. 

Din begins to split his time between Tatooine and Mandalore, Kylo sometimes following, sometimes exploring on his own. His visits to Mandalore are never boring. Din’s vode from his covert steal Kylo away as often as they can, Paz in particular. Whether they're showing him what's changed since he last visited, sparring (they always insist he use the Force so they can practice, while in the same breath complaining about cheating), or taking him to see the ade, he always has fun.

He visits Leia, thrilled with the faces of the other senators and high ups when they see a Mandalorian sauntering (not his words, but he had been told a few times he saunters , and he doesn't hate it, so…) where none of them expect a Mandalorian to be. Leia loves it too, says it’s good for them, that they need to be reminded they aren’t invincible once and a while. The occasional appearance of a tall silent armored warrior seems to work just fine for that.

He and Han will spend days holed up in the garage, only emerging when Chewie drags them out kicking and screaming (trained Mandalorian Kylo may be, but Chewie is still a wookie, and will always be able to toss him around like an errant child). 

Kylo has friends, he has family across the galaxy, he has safety when he needs it and challenges when he wants them. There's always somewhere he can go where he'll be greeted with smiles, always has someone to turn to.

Kylo never has to be alone again.

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