Chapter Text
Attachments
Elimar Salud wasn’t enchanted with Betha’s plan to have trysts on the Sea Shadow with her former classmate. She should have known that once Din Djarin, the boy Betha had cried over their entire first year on the run, reappeared on Telerath he would cause trouble. She’d thought Betha would have a little fun with him, sate her desires, and they would all move on with their lives.
Instead, Betha was becoming more attached to the man. Her meditative focus was still shot to stang, and her thoughts felt like butterflies. But Elimar and Betha were Jedi, and Din wasn’t. He could use the Force, he was handy for getting rid of Inquisitors, but he’d committed himself to being a Mandalorian, a culture incompatible with Jedi principles. Worse, he was raising what was probably the last living member of Master Yoda’s species to be one, too. The boy wore chain armor and had already killed someone with a wee blade. It might be part of the Mandalorian tenets, but an abomination for a Jedi child.
The young Twi’lek pressed her case. “I didn’t object when you had Siptah stay with us for two months.”
“That was just sex. And he helped us with the cargo. Did I cry when he left with that Zeltron woman?”
“No, but you were cranky for weeks.”
“My libido wasn’t through with him yet. But you have an attachment to Din.”
“To Djarin. Din was his family name. No one at the Temple kept the names straight, and he learned to answer to Din.”
Elimar had heard this story before. “He kept Din in his adopted name.”
“To honor his birth family.”
“The point is, you were attached to Djarin then and you’re attaching to Din now.”
Her besotted friend put her fists on her hips and huffed. “Maybe my libido isn’t through with him.”
“You’re dancing close to a steep cliff.”
“There’s something else I know about him that you don’t,” Betha shot back, smiling like she had a green sylop in her hand at the sabacc table.
Elimar set her jaw. “Go on.”
“Master Obi-Wan said that when the Temple fell, he’d already asked for Din to become his Padawan. He wouldn’t have told him now if he’d changed his mind. Din is Jedi material, not just his son.”
“He did not.”
Betha touched her forehead. “See my memory.”
Elimar’s carefully shaped eyebrows drew together in concentration. “Ah. Flattering, but he’s a Mandalorian now.”
“You’re the one who keeps talking about restoring the Jedi.”
Elimar let her breath out in a hiss. “All right, he can visit. But we need to talk to him about it. He hasn’t seemed interested so far.”
“He might be if you weren’t so prickly. He’ll be bringing his son—where he goes, Grogu goes. It would be very appreciated if you could spend time with him.”
“You mean convenient for sex.”
Betha gave her the tooka eyes, the expression that had launched a thousand indulgences when she’d been more of a little sister to Elimar than an equal. “You’d be able to talk to the child about the Jedi Code while we weren’t there.”
“Hmm.”
The Kelborns’ first sleepover took place while the Sea Shadow was carrying a load of jogan fruit to the prison on Ord Cestus. Kawlan Roken, who led the Hidden Path, would be contacting them during the visit. Din had yet to speak to the man in person, but he was eager to learn more.
He left the Razor Crest in secure docking and joined the women on the ship. His guest gifts were a bottle of Chandrilan Blue and a loaf of fresh bloom-bread. He also brought Grogu, Grogu’s toys, and Grogu’s snacks. Oh, and some clothing and toiletries. It wasn’t a sleepover, it was an encampment.
Elimar greeted him with more cordiality than he had expected. Her dark hair was still pulled back, but in a loose twist with a gold clip shaped like a sheaf of wheat. She thanked him for the gifts and took them to the galley.
Betha pressed her forehead to his helmet, then helped him carry Grogu’s things into one of the empty staterooms.
When he put the child down, the boy toddled out of the room to explore.
“Stay away from the co*ckpit area.”
The boy continued to toddle.
“I’ll know if you go in there, Grogu.”
“Vatstu.”
“Language! Where did you learn that word?”
The pub. Unapi said it when his team lost.
He was going to have another talk with Ba’buir when they got home.
After they watched a holovid, Betha took Din’s hand and offered to let him see her quarters. Elimar thought she would be showing him more than her collection of goddess figurines. That left her alone with the son. She studied the miniature Grand Master sitting across from her on the couch. He was about half Yoda’s height, and Yoda had been smaller than a toddler. Grogu didn’t even come up to her knees. The child’s chain mail would’ve made one glove for a human. The only things large about him were his liquid dark eyes and his ears. He was adorable, except for the sharp teeth and being a little stabby for a Jedi.
“So, you were at the Temple with Din?”
The little goblin nodded.
“Do you remember the things they taught you?”
Another nod.
“Were you old enough to learn the Jedi Code?”
He heaved a dramatic sigh that used his entire body. You don’t like Buir.
It took Elimar a moment to decipher the influx of thoughts. “Sorry, not as fast with Force telepathy.”
You don’t like Buir.
“I don’t know him. I care about Betha.”
He won’t hurt her.
“Emotions can be hurt, not just the body.”
Buir doesn’t want to hurt her. The child was firm. Buir is nice.
“She was very fond of him when they were both children. But now they’re adults. They may not be the same people.”
The baby blew a raspberry at her. Buir is the same. He’s just taller.
A memory entered her mind’s eye; a small dark-haired boy climbing into Grogu’s crib. Red pajamas. Holding Grogu. It was very sweet.
She leaned forward. “If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?”
He nodded again.
It would be bad if either Betha or Din overheard her. Elimar formed her words into a thought and directed it at the child. Your buir is not a Jedi.
Buir is a Mandalorian, Grogu replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy.
But he could be a Jedi. Like Betha.
She likes him anyway.
Elimar couldn’t help it; she laughed. The child laughed as well. Some of the tension went out of her spine.
Are you a Mandalorian? she asked the child.
I’m Buir’s Padawan. He indicated one ear. Leaning closer, she saw a strand of silka beads wrapped around it, close to the head. A tiny frog charm dangled on the end.
“Only a Jedi can have a Padawan.”
I’m a Mandalorian Padawan.
“You can’t be both.”
Tarre Vizsla was.
“Oh, kark.”
Language.
When the lovers emerged from the room a while later, Betha no longer wore her overtunic or her boots. Din, however, had his full suit of armor on. Elimar was impressed; it had to take time to put it back on again.
She and Grogu were floating pebbles. She’d fly them in a pattern, and Grogu would duplicate it. He was really very good.
“Has he behaved?” the Mandalorian asked.
“He’s been excellent,” Elimar replied. “He has more fine control than I thought he would.”
“We practice frequently. I have an obstacle course set up on the ship.”
Grogu had given her mental images. It looked like fun. Unfortunately, there were more serious matters they needed to discuss. “He says he is your Padawan.”
Elimar watched the man draw himself up and broaden his shoulders. “Yes.”
“Are you a Jedi?”
“I am a Mandalorian. Doesn’t mean that I forgot what I learned in the Temple.”
“Eli—” Betha’s lekku curled with concern.
She held up a hand. “Betha is ethnically a Twi’lek. That doesn’t keep her from being a Jedi.”
Grogu blinked at the Lothalite, puzzled.
“If you have a Padawan, you should be a Jedi. Could you set some of your Mandalorian ways aside to be his master?”
Oh, he had snapped his barriers shut. Not going well.
“I am his father,” Din said. “And being a Mandalorian is cultural; I have sworn the gai bal manda and the Resol’nare. If I break those oaths, I shouldn’t be trusted with a new one.”
“You would raise him to kill? To hunt people for money?”
“I will raise him to be able to protect himself,” the man said, voice colder than Hoth.
Elimar sensed the building tension. She needed to correct the course of the conversation.
“Din, you know the Jedi ways as well as anyone. The bond between a Master and a Padawan isn’t just about training. It’s about guidance, mentorship, and instilling a sense of ethics.”
Din’s eyes narrowed slightly, his posture remaining rigid. “And you think a Mandalorian cannot provide that?”
Elimar shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying. But the path of a Jedi requires certain sacrifices, certain commitments that sometimes conflict with other ways of life.”
Grogu tilted his head, eyes darting between the two adults. Elimar sensed his silent plea for peace between them, of understanding.
Din took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was steady but with an underlying note of frustration. “Grogu will choose his own path when he is older. But the galaxy is dangerous; he’s already experienced that for himself. My job is to prepare him to face it and survive. Mandalorian culture isn’t just about fighting. It’s also about honor, loyalty, and family. Aliit.”
“He already has command of the Force,” she replied. “It’s not going to vanish, and his power is explosive. A Mandalorian isn’t going to be able to offer him the guidance he’ll need.”
Elimar couldn’t help but feel sorry for Grogu, who was now puffed up like the mossy sac of a bluebell squish. He didn’t understand that she wanted what was best for him. “He should be raised by Jedi.”
Din had received advice from his buire about the finer points of parenting. He’d had various masters in the Temple ask him to help Grogu learn. But since their time in the homeless shelter on Carratos, no one had ever questioned his ability to raise the child. Punched him for stupid decisions, maybe, but believed him capable. He clenched his teeth so hard they hurt.
Her words replayed in his mind, the doubt he felt from her, her judgement. His hands, curled into fists, shook at his sides.
From the fear he was picking up from the women, he must be radiating his rage. He drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and quelled it.
He turned from them and approached Grogu. “He was being raised by Jedi,” he said, picking his son up. The child whimpered and clutched Din’s cloak. “Both of us were. But the Jedi are gone.”
“Someone who still follows the Jedi Code, then,” Elimar said.
Din chuckled without humor. “I was taught not to argue over who was the better Jedi.” He could tell Elimar that he meditated on one of the older versions of the Code daily, but the Temple followed many more tenets than the basic code.
“So, are you a Jedi or not?”
“I am a Mandalorian who listens to the Force. I’m teaching my ad’ika everything I know, including the Jedi Code. He will choose his own path when he’s older.”
He reminded himself that this was Betha’s best friend and business partner. She’d dedicated her life to saving people like Grogu. No matter how much he wanted to throw her out her own airlock, he should try to find a resolution.
Grogu had no such limitations. YOU WILL NOT TAKE ME FROM BUIR.
The dark-haired woman flinched at the child’s ferocity.
“It’s okay,” Din murmured to the baby. “No one here wants to hurt you.”
“Grogu and I have a Force Bond,” he finally said, opening his aura to both women. “It formed the night we met. The masters could not separate us without the child refusing to eat. I lived in his nursery instead of the clan quarters.”
Betha’s face softened. Elimar’s resolve wavered.
“We are bound by more than the vow of adoption. We will always have an attachment to one another.” It was true; it was why his masters feared that he wouldn’t pass the Trials.
Din sought for common ground between them. “You received all of the basic training, Elimar. Perhaps you could teach—”
BAD WOMAN DOESN’T LIKE BUIR.
Din tilted his helmet towards Elimar. “Do you dislike me?”
She thought for a moment, which worried Din. “No. Like us, you’ve done your best. I’m just concerned that Grogu will use the Force to serve emotions instead of ethics. There are so few of us left to keep the Jedi ways alive.”
He thought she disliked him at least a little, but she had a valid point. “I’ve done my best to teach him how to use the Force, and to use it for good purposes.”
Grogu cooed and tilted his head towards Elimar.
“But you’re also teaching him to be a Mandalorian,” she said. “It could confuse him. He might not learn either path well.”
Grogu’s ears drooped. He glanced back at Din, needing an answer.
“I think he can learn both,” Din said, “and choose what works best for him when he’s older. He has time; he will outlive us all. I want to give him every tool I have for survival. If you can give him more of the Jedi teachings, I’m for it.”
“Pfft.” Don’t want to be her Padawan. Want to be your Padawan.
“We learned from many teachers in the Temple, Grogu.”
NOOOO!
“I think you should stop arguing about Grogu, especially in front of him,” Betha said. She took Din’s hand. “We should go in the other room, get some rest.”
Betha watched Din put Grogu on the bed, which had only been straightened in a cursory fashion. The child whined and held on to his father’s cloak.
“Udesii,” he said, sitting next to the boy. “You’re safe.”
Don’t let her take me.
Din rubbed the top of the child’s head. “Gar morut’yc. You are under my protection.”
Betha sat on the other side and booped Grogu’s nose. “Elimar wouldn’t steal you. We’ve transported lots of children, and she never tried to keep any of them.”
Din’s anger flared. None of them were my child. The unspoken words hovered between them.
“It’s not you.” The Twi’lek put a hand on his arm, but he had closed off his thoughts. “She wants him to be trained in the Force, and she’s a purist. It doesn’t help that he looks like Master Yoda.”
His shields were tight, but she knew his mind was roiling. It was like a distant thrum.
“She’s correct, though,” he finally said. “I’m a Mandalorian, not a Jedi. I’m probably not the best person to be teaching him.”
The baby wailed.
Betha put a reassuring hand on the child’s back. “You’re perfect, Din. You know how to use the Force, and you know how to survive. Most importantly, you love him.”
“That’s attachment. It’s against the Jedi tenets, remember?”
Grogu didn’t like the sound of that. He whined and tugged on Din’s cloak.
Buir, hold me.
Din pulled the child into his arms. “I think someone is tired. At least, I am. He and I should go to the other room to sleep.”
She didn’t want to leave things like this. She pictured them in the guest room, Din uncomfortable with the situation and Grogu worrying about Elimar. “Stay here, please. Both of you.”
“Are you sure?”
Betha pointed to the toddler. “I want him to feel safe. Protected. There will be two of us here.”
Din addressed Grogu. “Do you want to go to the other room, buddy, or do you want to stay here?”
Grogu grumbled. Want to go home. He burrowed against Din’s side.
“Here will have to work tonight.” Din placed his helmet on the bedside table, followed by his gauntlets. Those solemn brown eyes pleaded with Betha. “I tried to avoid an argument. This is her home as well as yours, and I’m the one encroaching on her territory.”
“You’re new to her, and your experiences have been different. She needs time to adjust.” While Din removed the rest of his armor, she slid out of her tunic and pants and put on a sleeping shift. Din left his kute on and worked his way under the covers. He pulled the child onto his chest.
Betha dimmed the lights and pressed herself to his side, close enough to feel his warmth. The bed smelled of honeyblossoms, cooking spices, and the tang of beskar. She draped an arm over his, touching the child. “Everything will be all right.”
Grogu wriggled closer and clutched Din’s collar.
Having them both in her bed felt alien and comfy at the same time. Din rubbed his son’s back idly as they relaxed. She closed her eyes and let the movement carry her to sleep.
Apologies
Din awoke. Grogu was distressed, and he wasn’t in the bed.
He got up quietly and searched the room first. Everything seemed to be in its proper place until he spotted the vent. The cover had been removed.
Kark.
Grogu?
No response.
Behind him, the sheets rustled. “Din? What’s wrong?”
“Grogu is gone.”
Elimar—
It was Betha’s first thought, but she didn’t voice it.
“I don’t think so,” he assured her. “If she’d taken him, he would have screeched from here to Malastare.”
“So, what do you think happened?”
Din bent close to the open vent. “I think he’s hiding. It’s not the first time he’s gotten into a ship’s ductwork. Grogu!” he called.
“I’m going to get Elimar up,” the Twi’lek said, slipping into her robe. “She started this; she should help look for him.”
They went into the lounge area outside. Betha disappeared into Elimar’s room.
Din stood in the center of the ship and opened his senses, searching for Grogu. The kid had tried stowing away on Ba’vodu Konn’s ship so many times, he had this down to a science.
The Lothalite interrupted his concentration.
“I’m so very sorry,” Elimar said, face contrite. “I overstepped my place last night.”
“Yes, you did.” He clenched his jaw.
“Your son has so much potential, and I was … too eager.”
“Everyone in the Temple said the same thing,” Din snarled. “They wanted to enlist my help, though, rather than separate us.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated softly. “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”
An image entered his mind. A memory: Elimar saying, He should be raised by Jedi.
Grogu’s memory.
Come out, Din sent.
No. She was thinking about me. Woke me up.
Elimar dropped her chin to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to frighten him. I didn’t realize he was so perceptive.”
The Mandalorian ran his hand over an area where the bulkhead met the ceiling. “He’s only learning to speak now, but he’s good with telepathy.”
Ah. He’d found Grogu. There you are.
A wave of Force pushed him back.
“Ad’ika, if you want to leave the ship, you have to come out of the ductwork,” Din coaxed.
Want to go home.
Din leaned closer, projecting reassurance. “How about back to the Crest?”
The child agreed to this, but wouldn’t budge.
Elimar joined Din next to the wall. “Grogu, I apologize to you. Sometimes, we want more than the Force is willing to give. That also violates the Jedi tenets. I promise not to separate you from your father. Just come out.”
The baby was thinking hard. Din let him do it. Then the clips on a nearby vent opened and the cover fell off. Grogu slid out of the opening and dropped into Din’s hands.
“Thank you,” he said to Elimar, brushing dust from the boy’s clothes.
She looked at her feet. “The Order is no more, as you said. May I make an alternate proposal?”
“I’m listening.” He lifted his chin. “But Grogu gets to make his own decision.”
“I don’t train him. I train you. He can be there if he wants, or you can teach him.”
It was Din’s turn to think hard. He wanted to learn more about the Force. It had been his goal as a child. He would have an excuse to see Betha more often. But the memory of the small, fearful child he’d held last night made him balk.
He lifted Grogu, looked into his huge dark eyes.
What do you think?
No hesitation. If you are there. I trust you.
“I’m willing to try it.”
With that settled, Din made firstmeal. There was no point in going back to bed; no one was going to be able to sleep. The aroma of brewing caf and Quor'sav-fried steak was comforting, and the addition of hotcakes with poptree syrup gave everyone a splendid excuse not to talk.
Grogu laid waste to everything, washing it all down with a mug of blue milk.
After eating, they watched a holovid, a comedy, to continue soothing frayed nerves. Grogu fell asleep in Din’s lap, which did much to improve his own mood.
Once the time for the call came, Betha contacted Kawlan Roken. She made introductions, emphasizing Din’s contribution to Leia’s rescue and his willingness to help in the future.
Roken was a stocky human with curly hair and a beard. He sat at a desk in what appeared to be a cave. Interesting. He seemed very placid for a man defying the Empire, except for his lively eyes, which studied Din.
“Thank you for your help with the princess. We’re between actions at the moment,” he told them. “We just shipped off a group of refugees. It’ll be a while before the next operation starts, but we always need help with extractions. We’re scoping new locations; our agents have reported Empire operatives sniffing around our safehouses.”
Din nodded. “I understand. You need to keep rotating where you take refuge.” Then, he thought of the Bes’tsad.
“How secure is this channel?”
Roken’s brow furrowed. “Encrypted and scrambled on my end. Yours?”
Din glanced at the women.
“The same,” Elimar replied. “We can’t always communicate in person.”
“I once belonged to a traat'aliit that reclaimed beskar from the Empire,” Din said. “It … disbanded, but we were never bothered at our stopping points.”
“What were those locations? If you’re willing to share.”
“Mostly minor places a bit off the Hydian Way. Harloen, Mindor, Feriae Junction … We hid a ship on Taris once.”
“Taris isn’t a good idea,” Elimar countered. “There used to be Jedi there. The Empire would know where to look.”
“I’m familiar with the history, both Jedi and Mandalorian,” Din said. “But the wastelands were a good place for us to hide a ship. And Senator Pamlo is no friend of the Empire.”
“Maybe it could become an emergency stopover,” Roken mused. “As a last resort.”
“Boltholes never hurt.”
Per Grogu’s wishes, they returned to the planet where the Razor Crest was docked. Din was grateful to leave the Sea Shadow without getting into another argument, but he could still sense the distrust Grogu had for Elimar. The kid was as stubborn as a Gamorrean.
The Apprentice
Perdition Venem didn’t look far to find her new apprentice. Her sister, Malice, had birthed five children. They all had varying degrees of talent with the Force, although they’d thought Sangro was a dud until he struck his twin Talon temporarily blind during an argument over an electrostaff.
Four of the children were male, one was female. Sevver was the most powerful, but Perdition could tell from the shape of his tendrils that he would have a short, violent life. This was an investment of time and effort. Young Renda wasn’t as … direct as her brothers, but she was the most practical. She was also willing to take directions, an important part of being an apprentice.
Since Lord Vader had asked her to spend time outside the Fortress, Perdition returned to Mikkia and told her sister the wonderful news. Malice didn’t warm to the idea until currying the favor of the Chosen One came up.
Renda, who had just found a teratoma in her hepatomancy homework, was instructed to wash her hands and pack her things. She was about to become an apprentice to her aunt. She tossed her homework to the nydaks outside, who promptly ate it. As foretold, the call to adventure had arrived.
Perdition’s niece presented herself and her luggage for inspection. She was a tiny thing, more rose-skinned than true red, with long, graceful tendrils. Malice had dressed her in a proper zeyd-cloth robe. An amulet hung from a strand of basalt beads around her throat.
Perdition examined the amulet. “Harterran moonstone. To enhance your Farsight?”
“Yes, master.”
“Renda is very talented with visions,” Malice proudly stated. “I’ve had all her tools and incenses packed for you.”
They boarded the Agrotera, the Phi-class shuttle Darth Vader had authorized, and left the Venem estate. Their first stop was the ancestral shrine on Mount Clanari, where they entered a circle of stone slabs inscribed in glyphs of the Old Tongue.
“We come from a long and distinguished line,” Perdition said, kneeling before the hearth at the center of the circle. “Our strength is our ability to work together. I’ve brought you here so we can attune ourselves to our ancestors and to one another. As your master, I will use our bond to help instruct you.”
Once the heart was lit, they sat under the dumusinth trees and meditated together on the Code of the Sith:
Peace is a lie. There is only passion.
Through passion I gain strength.
Through strength I gain power.
Through power I gain victory.
Through victory my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
