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Chapter Text

Finn sat on the edge of the bed in their parents’ room, Grogu in his lap and Rey pressed up against his side as they watched their buir and papa flit and flutter and fuss about the room.

“Luke, ner ka’ra, it’s fine—“

Luke shushed him, gently slapping Din’s chest plate with the back of his false hand, the sounds of beskar against beskar ringing like morning bells, stilling him into submission before Luke went back to adjusting the cape. It was Din’s ceremonial one, the fabric stained a deep wine red with gold embroidery telling the stories of Mand’alors past, the golden thread flickering like firelight with every little movement and still captivating Finn even now. It had been Finn and Rey and Grogu’s favorite blanket as a child, and Finn could still see loose threads and faint stains from how much the three of them had used it. They would huddle underneath it at night, shining the firelight from the nightlights onto the fabric just to see the gold threads dance and flutter and tell the stories Finn would beg his ba’buir to tell. Their buir would carry them around in the cape when they were still small enough, would let Finn and Rey borrow it so they could play their games of Jedi and the Mand’alor. Their papa tried to be more gentle with it, but he always let them sleep underneath it on the days where buir was gone and off planet and they were missing him fiercely.

For being a ceremonial piece, it had certainly seen its fair share of use.

Rey pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle, but it was a little too late. Din tilted his head, shooting all three of his children a blank look as Luke artfully draped the fabric of the cape over Din’s shoulders to his liking. He stayed perfectly still as Luke worked, only twitching his head to look back at his husband as Luke pinned the fabric into place with a stylized mudhorn pin. It was a near perfect match to the pin Luke wore, only Din’s was painted black while Luke’s was left in the silver color of raw beskar.

“There,” Luke smiled, pressing a kiss to Din’s cheek before picking his helmet up off the vanity and slipping it back over Din’s head. “Perfect.”

“It’s just your sister,” Din mumbled, obediently tilting his head down so Luke could adjust his helmet.

“Who is also the Queen of New Alderaan.” Luke said easily. He straightened Din’s helmet, patting the side of it with his hand–his real one this time–before smoothing out the last little bit of the cape. He hummed, then adjusted the pin to sit at an angle that was more pleasing to the eye. For as much as Finn’s papa whined and complained about the high strung fashion of these political meetings, he did seem to get awfully into it. “You know how she gets about these things, starlight.”

Din tilted his head back and let out a long sigh.

“Oh, comon, you love Leia,” Luke needled.

Even with the helmet Finn could see the blank look his buir was giving his papa.

Luke just smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to the side of his helmet.

Finn did not know all that transpired between his buir and ba’vode Leia during the Rebellion. It was not something they spoke about and didn’t dare to acknowledge. But Finn knew it had been a rocky relationship at best, their differences and arguments that lived on back then never quite fully settled even now. The two of them had been left to lead an army while Luke went off to train in the way of the Force. They were thrown together through circumstance and necessity while grieving the loss of loved ones–Leia without Han and still grappling with the loss of so many of her people, Din watching Luke drifting away from him while separated from his Tribe by thousands of miles, all through no fault of their own. There had been very little options for choice back then. Leia had told Finn once that for a long time she and Din had only tolerated each other because of Luke. Din was his husband and Leia was his sister and Luke loved the both of them dearly, and even though they argued and hurled insults at each other on a near daily basis before Luke came back to the Rebellion, they put the worst of it aside. For Luke.

We were just too different then. Too young and angry, Leia always said. Your buir and I had to go through many things before we could understand one another.

Finn had always wanted to ask more about the Rebellion and their time leading it, but neither Leia or his parents liked to talk about it, so Finn never did. He let it live on through the history stored in data pads and holocrons and his own imagination.

“It’s just for a few days,” Luke said it sweetly, trying to sooth and pacify Din. He had both hands on Din’s shoulders now, just gently resting there while he tilted his head up to properly look at his husband. “Then they’ll be gone.”

Din hummed. He tilted his own head down, pressing his helmeted forehead against Luke’s. “The next time Leia asks me to host negotiations, tell her I’d rather shoot myself.”

“You don’t mean that,” Luke said easily. He patted Din’s chest, then slid his hands down Din’s torso to settle on his hips. The negotiations in question were between the Republic and a planetary system looking to join–the Gordianian people, Finn reminded himself–and they had wanted to meet on neutral ground. Mandalore was, perhaps, not entirely neutral, seeing that the Mand’alor and the Alderaanian Queen were family, but Leia always did like to have the upperhand even when she wasn’t supposed to have it. She had contacted Din about a month ago with the request, and he had mulled it over for less than a day before telling her fine.

Finn suspected his papa had something to do with the quick decision, but he had never asked.

“I do.” Din deadpanned.

Luke rolled his eyes, lingering a little while longer before pulling away from Din to spin on his heel to look at his three children. Luke had gotten ready a while ago, wearing his black robes and beskar shawl around his shoulders, just as wine darkened as Din’s cape, with pretty white sweet berry blossoms threaded in his hair in the old tradition of the Duchess. His lightsaber hung from the belt around his waist, bright and shiny. There was a touch of gray in his hair now, and while Finn pretended not to see it, Rey mercilessly teased their papa about it.

“Alright kiddos–” Luke clapped his hands together. “--your turn.”

“What?” Rey stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry. Grogu tilted his head up to watch his sister, then did the same thing. “Papa, no–”

“Papa yes.” Luke stepped away from Din and closer to the three of them, leaning down to pluck Grogu from Finn’s lap and settle him against his hip. Grogu happily settled in, shooting Finn and Rey a rather smug little look. He didn’t have to get dressed up for these things, not like Finn and Rey did. “If it were just a social visit I’d let the three of you look like little gremlins, but this is a diplomatic visit. It’s not just Leia we’re meeting.” Luke paused, glancing between Rey and Finn before nodding like he had settled on a good reason to back him up. “If your buir has to look nice, so do you.”

Yeah. Alright.

Finn couldn’t really argue with that.

Din’s shoulders hunched up as he gave an apologetic shrug and Rey’s indignant squawk “Sorry, prudii’ika.”

Rey frowned and wrinkled her nose, but she knew when she had lost. Getting their buir to dress up for anything, Luke often said, was far more difficult than leading an entirely planetary system. “Fine.” She stood sharply, taking hold of Finn’s wrist and pulling him up with her. She frog marched her brother out of the room, Luke following after them.

–

Rey was fidgeting in her spot between Finn and Luke as they all stood in the docking ports waiting for Leia’s ship, tugging at her own beskar shawl–her’s was not the same wine dark color and their parents, but a lighter more vibrant shade of red, matching the red lines and streaks on Finn’s armor–to keep from fiddling with her hair that Luke had painstakingly tied back in a braided crown. After a moment Luke handed her Grogu, and Rey stopped rocking back and forth on her feet in favor of bouncing Grogu on her hip.

She was like Luke in the way that she couldn’t wear a full set of beskar armor. It disoriented her too much, made her sick and nauseous and bed ridden. The shawl she wore was just about her tolerance limit, but even then Finn knew once the night was over Rey would be scrambling to get it off. Her connection to the Force was so much stronger than Finn’s and just about on par with Luke’s, and while Luke had been made to force himself to adjust to the beskar in his false hand, Rey had no such luxury. Rey had tried for a while, trying to force herself to adjust to the nulling effect of beskar, but Din and Luke had put a stop to it quickly enough when Rey made herself physically sick with it. Your ba’buir told me a long time ago that not one set of armor is the same, Luke had said. It’s not shameful if beskar isn’t part of yours.

Finn wasn’t affected by beskar in the same way Rey and their papa were, and he was able to wear his armor with no problem. The helmet was a bit much for him, however, so as they stood waiting for ba’vode Leia’s ship Finn had his helmet off and cradled in the nook of his arm.

He ran his thumb along the orange jaig eyes just above the visor of his helmet, outlined in the same vibrant red as Rey’s shawl. The paint was faded and starting to chip. Finn was going to have to go over it soon, and he knew it wouldn’t hurt to go over the rest of his armor either. White got very dirty very quickly, and there was only so much cleaning and polishing Finn could do before he just had to repaint it.

Rey always told him to just pick a different color, but Finn liked the white and orange.

“Ah,” Din sounded annoyed already. “There they are.”

“Be nice,” Luke smacked his shoulder. There wasn’t much heat behind his words. It was more of a fond annoyance.

Bo-Katan, who was there both on guard duty and to make the formal introductions required in diplomatic visits like this, rolled her eyes at Din and Luke’s antics. “Please do be courteous, Din,” she said, stepping forward as the ship started its landing sequence. “It’s not just Queen Organa you're hosting this time.”

Finn couldn’t see his buir’s face, but he was sure he was scrunching his nose in annoyance.

It didn’t matter how old Finn got, he always found it odd that these formal greetings were required for his ba’vode Leia. When he got a little older Luke had explained that not very many people knew Leia was their ba’vode, and that it was important to keep it that way. Alderaan was not like Mandalore. Family names were and bloodlines were very important, and it was for Leia’s own safety that people remained unaware that she and Luke were siblings. It was even more important now, now that she had been officially crowned as Alderaan’s queen.

“I’ll have you know I was bullied into this–”

Din cut himself off as the ship's ramp opened and Leia came sweeping down it, her pretty white gown flowing out behind her like turbulent ocean waves. Her hair was wrapped around her head with ribbons and braids in the traditional crown of Alderann, and while she looked grim and serious the expression slipped away quickly into a relieved smile when she saw Luke. She looked at him for a moment before skipping her eyes to Din, and it was only then that Leia lost the tiniest bit of tension in her shoulders. It didn’t look like her husband was with her, and neither was Ben or the twins. Cara wasn’t with her either, which Finn found odd. Cara was the ambassador between Mandalore and Alderaan. She was required to come along for every visit.

But there was someone coming down the ramp with her.

Finn tried to see who it was, but he was following behind Leia at just the right distance that Finn couldn’t make out much more than tousled dark hair and a black fitted pilot’s jacket. A little BB unit came zooming down the ramp, chirping merryly away as it waited for Leia and whoever it was that was with her.

Rey nudged Finn’s shoulder, nodding to the droid when he looked at her. “You match.”

Finn glanced at the droid and snorted out a laugh.

They did, he couldn’t deny that. The droid was white and orange, just like his armor. It was only missing the scattered red line here and there that was on Finn’s armor.

“Your majesty,” Bo-Katan greeted.

“Lady Kryze,” Leia’s smile went a little tighter as she stopped in front of Bo-Katan. The droid rolled around the two of them, beeping up a storm. It stopped for a moment, then let out a happy chirp and rolled its way over to Finn. Din visibly tensed, but settled a moment later when Luke placed a hand on his shoulder and murmured something softly to him.

Rey snorted out a laugh as the droid stopped in front of Finn and beeped and chirped.

“That’s what I said!” Rey said to the BB unit.

The droid wiggled in delight and rolled around in a few circles.

For all that Finn had grown up around Artoo he still didn’t understand Binary nearly as well as he should, but judging by Rey’s grin and Luke’s soft smile and his own vague understanding, he made the assumption that the droid had declared what Rey had said only a moment ago. That it and Finn matched.

“Is your family not with you?” Bo-Katan asked, drawing Finn’s attention away from the droid and back to Leia.

“Ah, no. Not this time I’m afraid. Just my pilot.” Leia stepped aside then, and Finn finally got a good look at who was with her and–oh. “May I introduce Poe Dameron, the finest pilot in Aldeeran’s fleet.”

He had a charming smile, and maybe it shouldn’t have made Finn’s heart flip and flutter but it did. He tilted his head as he looked Bo-Katan over with a critical eye, that smile never once wavering. For a pilot Poe Dameron wasn’t wearing standard pilot’s gear–the jacket was a standard Alderaan flight jacket, but it was left open and showing off a pretty button shirt tucked into high waisted pants. Finn was surprised Leia had let Poe Dameron get away with his choice of clothing. Finn was immensely pleased that Leia had let Poe Dameron get away with his choice of clothing. Finn thought he should probably stop staring at Poe Dameron, but found it was a very difficult thing to do when Poe Dameron tilted his head just so and smiled just like that.

Finn blinked.

He could feel Rey looking at him.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Kryze.” Poe Dameron said. He lifted a hand, carding his fingers through his hair to pull it back and out of his face and–oh, what a handsome face it was. A sharp jaw, stubble that hadn’t been shaved in maybe two days or so, a nose that was just the slightest bit crooked from being broken one too many times, pinks lips turned up in the infuriating smile…

Bo-Katan didn’t look that impressed.

“Yes, I’m sure it is.” She hummed a single note before turning back to Leia. “Are the Alderaanian delegation not with you, your majesty?”

“They insisted on riding in with the Gordanians. Cara is with them.” Leia said curtly. “They’re just behind me.” Then she swept past Bo-Katan, bypassing Luke entirely to march right up to Din and pull him into a tight hug. It happened so fast that no one quite realized it until the BB unit was chirping excitedly, moving away from Finn to zip around Din and Leia before rolling back over to Poe Dameron.

“Thank you for doing this.” Leia murmured.

“What’s wrong?” Din immediately asked, slipping into Huttese and wrapping his arms around her in a loose hug.

“Tonight,” she murmured back in Huttese. Din and Leia didn’t speak Huttese unless it was important and they didn’t want anyone to know. It was how the three of them always communicated important information during the Rebellion, Finn’s buir explained, because it was a language no one bothered to learn unless they lived on Hutt planets or were involved in Hutt activities. It was not a language many spoke. It had come in handy during Din’s first months as Mand’alor, and after that it had just become a habit to speak it when they didn’t want the kids to know about something. It had worked well enough until Rey, who had spent the first few years of her life speaking Huttese and very little of anything else, came into their lives. “We’ll talk tonight.” Leia pulled away with a bright smile that looked incredibly forced, ignoring Luke’s concerned look. “Poe, come here, let me introduce you.”

Poe Dameron came skipping over, the BB until happily trilling after him.

“Poe, this is Mand’alor the Noble and his husband, Luke,” she settled a hand on Poe’s shoulder as he got close enough, gesturing to each of them in turn. “And these are their children, Grogu, Rey, and Finn.”

Poe nodded at each of them with the same critical eye he had given Bo-Katan before settling his gaze on Finn. His eyes were a deep brown, like the fertil soils by the Kelta. His expression softened after a moment, and Finn was seized with the awful thought of wondering how difficult it would be to count all the shades of color in Poe’s eyes. Not very, Finn thought, if he were hovering right over him with the firelight of the palace's nightlights right above them.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Poe didn’t take his eyes off Finn. Finn didn’t take his eyes off him either. “Queen Organa speaks often of you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Din said sharply. He was looking at Finn and Poe with a tilted head.

“Sweetheart, what did I say?” Luke said in a sing-songy voice.

Din grunted while Rey snorted out a laugh.

Luke huffed, shook his head, then turned to Leia. “I’m sure Leia will tell us all about Poe later tonight, won’t you?”

Leia's smile tightened, and Finn could feel something unsettling slip into the Force.

—

“Do you think she’s okay?” Luke was pacing up and down the length of the living area in the royal wing on the palace. The meeting with the Gordanians and the rest of the Alderaanian delegation had gone quickly. Din, when he wanted to, had the sort of air around him that made politicians weary to hang around him and exchange small talk, and so after a stiff greeting they had all parted rather quickly. They had exchanged even quicker greetings with Cara before she muttered something about needing to see the delegation safely to their rooms, and now here they all were, waiting back in the palace for Leia. Something was obviously wrong, but Finn couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “Is Han okay? Are the kids okay?”

“Luke,” Din said softly. “Come here.”

Luke dropped onto the couch next to him like a sack of potatoes.

“She felt really scared,” Rey murmured. She was lying on the floor on her stomach with Grogu and Finn. They were tossing Grogu’s silver ball between the three of them, catching it with their hands and sending it back with the Force. She looked up and Din with a frown as she caught the ball, rolling it between her fingers before sending it back towards Grogu. “And she never hugs you.”

Din hummed.

Rey was right, though. Luke and Leia were always touchy and tactical towards each other. Ba’vode Leia was never that way with Din because she knew Din didn’t like it.

“Do you think it has something to do with why she asked you to host negotiations?” Finn asked, holding a hand up to catch the ball as Grogu tossed it at him. Despite being a little over sixty, Grogu was still too young to fully understand the severity of the conversation going on around him, which Finn supposed was for the best. “Everyone knows you two worked together during the Rebellion, so it’s not exactly like Mandalore is neutral grounds.”

Before Din could answer there was a hesitant knock on the door, and then Leia was sticking her head in. She looked exhausted. “Is your helmet on?”

Finn stiffened at the question.

She wouldn’t ask that unless someone else was with her.

“Give me a second,” Din said.

Leia waited, only coming into the room once the helmet was secure on Din. She had changed since the last time Finn had seen her. Instead of the formal gown she was now wearing a soft pair of sleep pants and a shirt that looked like Han’s, her hair taken down from the crown and cascading down her back and around her shoulders in pretty brown rivers. She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, then opened the door a little further. “You’re okay to come in.”

Poe Dameron slipped in a moment later.

Finn rolled over and sat up quickly, ignoring Rey’s delighted smile.

“Hi,” Poe said. He didn’t look at everyone else this time. He settled his gaze right on Finn, smiling softly as he leaned against the wall beside Leia, placing his arms in front of him with his hands clasped together while he crossed his ankles. His droid wasn’t with him this time and he had lost his pilots jacket, showing off strong looking arms and just the hint of a tattoo poking out form his rolled up sleeves.

Finn smiled. He was sure he looked like an idiot, sitting on the floor in his armor like this. “Hi.”

“I’m going to guess you’re not just Leia’s pilot,” Din cut in. He sounded annoyed again.

“Ah—no,” it took a moment for Poe to look away from Finn. A harder smile settled on his face as he looked at Din. One that was more guarded. It reminded Finn of the smiles his papa would wear when he was sizing up new Clan Leaders and representatives in the Republic Senate. “I am a pilot, I also just so happen to be a special operatives agent in the Alderaan military. I was assigned to Queen Organa’s guard a few months ago.”

Luke understood what that meant immediately.

He was back on his feet, crossing the room to ba’vode Leia without a second thought. “Leia,” Luke said her name so softly, placing his hands on her shoulders before pulling her into a tight hug. Leia melted into him, going limp and boneless. “What’s going on?”

It didn’t take Finn much longer to put it together either.

A special operatives agent.

A bodyguard.

One that was on parr with the Handmaidens of Naboo.

Someone wanted ba’vode Leia dead, and the only person standing between her and an assassin was Poe Dameron.

“I—“ Leia started before cutting herself off with a choked off sob.

“Leia,” Din stood, sweeping across the room. This was not, at the moment, Finn’s buir. This was the Mand’alor. A leader. A warrior king. A man who led a rebellion before he was twenty five, who reunited his people after years of civil war, who brought the First Order to their knees before they could become anything more than a shadow. Finn was used to looking at his buir, at his soft smile and softer laugh and silly faces. He often forgot that his buir was the king of an entire planetary system, that he defended that position with his life, that he was the Mand’alor not because of some fluke, but because he was as physically powerful as he was tactically. “Come here and sit down. Rey, can you go get your ba’vode a glass of water?”

“Yeah—“ Rey scrambled up, running off to the kitchen.

Luke led Leia to the couch, sitting down beside her even as she reached for him. He kept a hold of her hand while Din knelt in front of them, tilting his head as Luke pulled Leia against his side and ran his hand up and down her back in soothing motions. Leia took in a few deep breaths, her chest stuttering for only a moment before evening out.

Finn settled Grogu in his lap, running his fingers along his long ears as Grogu looked around with concern.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

Finn startled, then blinked and looked up at Poe. He was smiling softly, apologetically, almost, like he hadn’t meant to startled Finn. “Oh—” Finn cleared his throat. “No, go ahead. I don’t mind.”

Poe really did have a pretty smile.

“The Gordanians aren’t here for negotiations, are they?” Din asked once Rey came back. She settled onto the couch with Leia and Luke, squishing herself between Leia and the arm of the couch. Leia lifted an arm, letting Rey snuggle right up next to her. Once Rey got comfortable and Leia let go of Luke’s hand, Rey passed the glass of water to her.

Leia took on a deep breath, holding the glass of water tightly. “No, they are Din. They’ve been trying to get us to sit down for negotiations for months. They just want to go through Alderaan first and have us back them up when they go to the Republic with a formal request to join,” She said. She took in another deep breath, holding it a little longer this time. “It’s my delegation I’m afraid of.”

“Enough that you need a special operatives agent with you?” Luke asked it like he already knew the question.

Leia smiled tightly. “You say that like this is the first time someone’s tried to kill me.”

Luke took in a deep breath. He looked like he wanted to argue. He looked like he knew he would get chastised if he tried. “Leia, why didn't you say anything?”

“Because I can’t prove anything.” Leia countered. She looked angry now, any fear she had gone. “It’s all just been accidents. Easy, explainable accidents.” She paused, then looked back at Din. “That’s why I asked Han and the kids to stay back on New Alderaan with the rest of the royal guard. That’s why I asked you to host the final negotiations. They wouldn’t dare try anything on Mandalorian soil, not when they know they’re already on thin ice just being here. It should give me time to find evidence–to find out who it is that’s trying to kill me.”

Din hummed. “Smart.”

Luke frowned. “But I don’t understand–who would want you–” Luke cut himself off and glanced at Rey. Like he was afraid to say it. “Do you think it’s a First Order sympathizer?” he asked instead.

“I don’t know,” Leia said softly. “I’m afraid to know.”

There was a moment of unsteady silence before Din tilted his head to look back at Finn and Poe.

“You were assigned to her guard after the first attempt?”

Poe nodded. “It was an engine failure in her ship. It looked just like an accident, like Queen Organa said. She asked me to take a look at the ship the day after. It took me a while to find it, but there was a hole punched into the fuel source for the hyperdrive engine, small enough to be written off as a faulty part. Gas leaked where it shouldn’t have, and the thing blew up. We were just lucky Queen Organa wasn’t actually on the ship.” Poe spared a glance at Finn before looking back at Din. “I told her what I found, and she requested I transfer to her personal guard the next day.”

“And you’re sure it’s someone in the Alderaan delegation?” Din asked.

“Positive,” Poe said. “They’re the only ones outside of the guard with close enough access to the Queen to put Jargin fruit powder in her food.”

Luke looked back at Leia, horrified.

Jargin fruit was incredibly poisonous.

“You don’t think it could be a member of your guard?” Din asked Leia this time.

“I know it’s not,” Leia said. She looked so tired. “Poe has been the only member of my guard that’s been with me the past few months.”

Din took in a deep breath, his chest stilling as he held it. Rey was looking up at Leia with wide eyes, her worry and fear leaking out into the Force. Grogu whined, and Finn did his best to soothe both of them, but wasn’t entirely successful until his papa reached out into the Force and calmed all three of them.

“Shit, Leia,” Din finally said.

“Yeah,” Leia laughed wetly. “Shit indeed.”

Chapter Text

“Shouldn’t you be in there?” Finn asked.

It had grown late–late enough that the lanterns in the halls had been lit with soft firelight and the moons were already well across the sky, spilling their pale silver light in through the glass windows. Finn had put Grogu to bed a while ago while their buir and papa and ba’vodu Leia went to talk politics, had sat up with Rey and listened to the quiet sounds of the palace until her eyes grew sleepy enough that she could no longer keep them open. They seemed much too old for it now, to help lull one another to sleep, with Finn neary twenty and Rey only a few years behind. But Finn imagined they would both be old and gray by the time they stopped helping ease each other into rest on nights like this.

Well.

Finn was still wide awake, but at least Rey had fallen asleep.

Poe Dameron shrugged, the movement like silk falling off bare skin.

Finn watched it with rapt attention, at the way he seemed so relaxed even though every twitch and pull of Poe’s movements showed just how on alert he was.

He was leaning against the wall just outside of Din’s private office, hands tucked behind his back, ankles crossed, a pretty smile on his face and his BB unit gently bumping into his legs like an affectionate loth cat. Buir and papa and ba’vodu Leia had disappeared inside a while ago, right around the time Finn was sent off to put Grogu to bed. The moonlight and firelight were doing wonderful things to Poe, painting him in the shades of silver and gold of melted beskar. Finn found it awfully hard to look away from him. If he had been pretty before in the sunlight, he was beautiful now in the moonshine and firelight, with the sort of sharp edged and violent beauty of the old gods of Mandalore. It was a ridiculous comparison, Finn thought, even though he could see in his mind murals and paintings on the old Keldabe palace walls of gods of war and pleasure who looked just like Poe Dameron.

Finn blinked and shook his head and stopped that train of thought before it could go any further.

He wondered if this is what his buir meant when he said that he was starstruck the first time he saw Luke, not entirely convinced that he was real, that someone could look so beautiful in a place not meant for beautiful things.

Luke always flushed when Din told the story. You did not think that, he would say.

I did, Din always replied. I do.

And then Luke would smile as bright as the sun, and Finn always thought that he would like someone to smile at him like that.

“Family meeting,” Poe finally said. He pushed himself off the wall, smile softening just a bit as Finn sucked in a sharp breath of surprise a moment later. Poe said it in a tone that was not teasing, but rather a statement of fact. A fact that he was not supposed to know. “Queen Organa told me about her and Luke,” he said quickly before Finn could even think to ask how he knew, because know one was supposed to know. “Your secret’s safe with me, highness.”

Finn felt his cheeks warm just as quickly as his panic left him. Leia would not tell Poe if she did not trust him. “Just–just Finn. You can call me Finn.”

Poe smiled a little wider. A little brighter.

“Finn,” he said, the name rolling around his mouth like sweet sugars and ale. “Finn,” he said again, a little firmer. “That’s a pretty name.”

Finn ducked his head down. He bit his cheek and tried to fight off his smile, but it was no use. He could feel it creep at his lips like sticky sweet molasses, warming his cheeks and the tip of his nose and all the way down to his chest. Poe seemed utterly delighted by that reaction, his smile widening as he stepped closer and closer until Finn could just faintly smell the sweet scent of Aldeeran winter flowers and the sharp tang of oil and ozone. Finn glanced up to see Poe standing just a breath away, and–oh. He had been right. It was quite easy to count all the different colors in Poe’s eyes with the firelight on him like this.

“A pretty name for a pretty face,” Poe finished.

A laugh spilled from Finn’s lips. It was startled and unexpected and felt wonderfully genuine. “You’re just saying that.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true,” Poe said easily. He was so close now, eyes flicking down to Finn’s lips for just a moment before coming back up to his eyes. It was awfully easy to get lost in Poe’s eyes. “You’re–stars, you’re so beautiful.”

Finn felt his heart flip and flutter against his ribs.

It was not the forwardness of it that had startled him so. There had been plenty of others who said the same thing, plenty of others who had been so forward in their advances because that was just the way Mandalorians felt about things like that. Life was too unpredictable, Death too close to their heels, and no one wanted to wait for chance to strike first. But no one had sounded so breathless as Poe had, so in awe. Finn was not sure what to do with it, with the way Poe had so openly given it. But Finn wanted more of it.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Finn murmured. It would be terribly easy to lean forward, Poe was so close.

“Yeah?”

Finn hummed. “Very pretty eyes.”

Poe’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

The droid chose that moment to start beeping up a storm, trilling and buzzing as it rolled its way between the two of them–not entirely unlike the way Artoo would butt his way between Luke and Din when he thought Luke wasn’t paying enough attention to him. Finn stumbled back while Poe was pushed back up against the wall as the droid kept bumping to his legs and pushing him back. Finn only caught about every other word the droid was saying–something about galactic incidents and Leia said and keep it in your pants.

“I am keeping it in my pants, BB-8,” Poe snapped. Then he glanced up at Finn, the coloring on his cheeks growing darker as he groaned and slapped a hand over his face. “Oh, for kriffs sake–”

Finn tried very hard to stifle his laugh.

“Sorry,” Finn offered. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your droid.”

“Yeah, well, my droid needs to learn to mind his own business.” Poe grumbled. He gave a very light kick to BB-8’s side–more of a tap, really–but the droid shrieked like it had been punted across the room and rolled its way into Poe’s legs again. Poe tilted his head back and sighed deeply, the sound muffled as he slowly moved his hand from the bridge of his nose to his mouth. Finn followed the line of Poe’s jaw down his neck and to his collarbone. It was sharp, defined, and for one wild moment Finn wondered what it would feel like to sink his teeth into it.

Poe looked back at him.

Finn did not look away fast enough, lingering just a little too long on the dip in Poe’s collar bone and the flash of a silver chain resting there to disguise the look as anything other than Finn shamelessly ogling him.

Not that Finn had felt particularly inclined to try anyway.

“Poe Dameron what are you doing to that poor droid–” and then there was ba’vodu Leia, sticking her head out of the now open office door, her frown quickly morphing into a look of surprise. “Finn, what are you still doing up?”

Finn shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He had not taken his armor off. It felt far more heavy than it actually was, a sure sign that he had been wearing it for far too long. He rolled his shoulders, lifting a hand to knead at the muscle on his shoulders that his pauldron didn’t cover.

Leia looked between the two of them, eyes narrowing as she lingered on Poe.

BB-8 had moved away from him, but Poe was still pushed up against the wall, hand still over his mouth, eyes wide and cheeks still flushed a pretty pink. He wasn’t even looking at Leia. All his attention was still on Finn. An odd sound slipped from his lips and Finn looked back at him, and then Poe was clearing his throat and shuffling back and forth on his feet, lowering his hand from his mouth to tap his fingers against his collar bone, twitching like he was going to pull his shirt a little higher up. Poe didn’t, and shoved his hand in his pocket instead.

Finn smiled.

Leia snapped her gaze back to Finn. “Lucky for me then,” she said slowly, opening the door a little wider. Finn suddenly felt like he was a child, being scolded by his papa for digging up his nice flowers again. “I have something I want to run by you two.”

“Sure,” Finn said quickly, slipping past Leia and into the office as she stepped aside.

His buir was sitting in his chair behind the large wooden desk, his fingers resting on his temple like he was trying to fight off a headache, never mind that he was still wearing his helmet. His papa was siting up on the desk, legs spread to let Din settle between them as Luke trailed his fingers up and down Din’s spine, already working out knots and tension that had grown throughout the day. It was a familiar sight to Finn, one he had seen often growing up. For with as much grace and dignity that his buir carried the title of Mand’alor with, he was still just a man. No one saw nights like this, where Din was exhausted and tired, where the only thing that could give him any sort of respite was the gentle touch and care of his husband.

Luke looked up as Finn entered the room, his movements stalling for a moment before picking up again. He didn’t look away from Finn, his eyes following him as he moved across the room.

“You’re still wearing your armor,” his papa said. He had let go of Din, slowly shuffling around so he was fully facing Finn.

Finn nodded, taking a seat on the plush couch that Din had insisted be added so he could take a nap when he grew tired of looking at paperwork. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Luke continued, hopping off the desk to quickly cross the room to Finn. His papa gracefully fell on the couch beside him, settling his warm hands on Finn’s cheeks. His prosthetic hand always ran a little cooler, a constant reminder of the beskar that lay underneath. Finn leaned forward on impulse, resting his forehead against his papa’s. Luke didn’t wait for Finn to answer before he continued. “At least take your chest plate off.”

Finn didn’t try to argue with him, knowing he would lose the fight before he even started it. He pulled back so he could work loose the straps and buckles keeping the white beskar in place. Finn glanced up, saw Poe hovering by the door and watching. He looked away quickly when he noticed Finn watching him back, and Finn couldn’t quite keep back his smile as he loosened the rest of the buckles and pulled the chest plate off. He felt lighter almost immediately. Felt like he could breathe easier.

“Why don’t you take the rest of it off,” Din said suddenly. He stood from the chair, circling around the desk to come stand in front of Finn and Luke. He held out his hand, waiting for Finn to hand him the chestplate. “I’ll polish it tonight with mine so you can repaint it tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to,” Finn said quickly.

Din hadn’t polished Finn’s armor since he was a child, when he could quite hold the pieces right, couldn’t quite clean away all the dirt and grime. Finn remembered sitting in his buir’s lap, watching him run a fine silk cloth over their armor pieces, walking Finn though each and every tiny little step. Rey would sit with them sometimes, watching with rapt attention as their buir meticulously cleaned each and every little piece of both his and Finn’s armor. Grogu would sit with them too, watching just as intently. Papa would sit with them if he wasn’t busy, telling all three of them stories upon stories of all the times he would help clean buir’s armor, of all the things he had had to scrape off the pretty beskar.

“I don’t mind,” Din said softly. His shoulders relaxed, his body losing some of the tension it had still been carrying. “And you need to take it off anyway.” He paused for a moment before he slipped into Mando’a. “I can see how exhausted you are, Finn’ika. You’ve been wearing it for far too long.”

Finn couldn’t really argue, not with the way his papa looked back at him with a frown. So he worked the rest of it off quickly, grimacing at all the dust and dirt that had gathered along the raised edges of the armor. It really did need a good clean and polish. Finn didn’t feel odd about taking all his armor off in front of Poe, even though Poe was desperately, and rather poorly, trying to pretend that he wasn't watching. Din and Luke had always taught Finn to take his armor off when it became too much regardless of who was around. It was not worth the pain and sickness that came from it. And…well, Finn kind of liked the way he could feel Poe’s lingering gaze on him.

“You really don’t have to,” Finn said again.

“Hush,” was all Din said as Finn gently set his armor in his open arms.

Finn leaned forward and knocked his head against his buir’s, lingering for a moment before settling back on the couch. He looked at Poe, smiling and scooting over closer to Luke. “Sit.”

Poe dropped beside him like a pile of rocks, Leia coming to stand in front of them with BB-8 by her side.

Din hovered for a moment, looking between Finn and Poe before finally settling his gaze on Luke. He tilted his head in a silent question. Luke shrugged, hooking one arm on the back of the couch. He lifted a leg, resting his ankle on his thigh as he smiled brightly at Din. Finn couldn’t see his buir’s face, but with the way he raised his shoulders and marched back towards the desk he imagined that Din probably had a scowl on.

Poe shuffled nervously beside Finn, his eyes following after Din.

“Poe,” Leia started, settling her hands on her waist. “You know I trust you with my life.”

“There’s a but coming, isn’t there?” Poe immediately asked, snapping his gaze back towards Leia.

Leia smiled just as brightly as Luke. “But the Mandalorian Court is difficult to navigate. I’ve been working with them since they signed the treaty with the New Republic and I still don’t understand all the nuisances of it.”

Din snorted.

“You won’t be working with the Mandalorian Court.” Poe said. He tilted his head, puzzled.

“Oh, she will.” Din said. He was back by the desk, gently laying each piece of Finn’s armor out. The gentleness of his actions were a harsh contradiction to the sharpness of his tone. “Being a member of my Clan makes no difference to me. I will not have the Aldeeran Queen negotiating treaties with the Gordanian’s on my soil without knowing exactly what’s in those treaties.” He looked up to spare a glance at Leia. She didn’t look offended. “A member of my Court will be sitting in on these meetings.”

“Can’t argue with that, I guess,” Poe mumbled. He settled his hands in his lap, picking at his fingers. He seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else, mumbling nervously under Din’s sharp stare. Finn couldn’t say he blamed him–Din had made more powerful men than Poe Dameron babble nervously. “Mandalore is its own system independent of the Republic. You can’t exactly give them free reign to do whatever they want–a neutral system showing favoritism means it’s no longer neutral.” Poe hummed softly, glancing up at Finn. “That’s what happened under the Duchess’ reign, right?”

“Correct,” Din said. He sounded mildly impressed. “I only agreed to Leia’s request because she asked me personally. But that won’t mean I’ll let the Republic run amok in my system.” He paused for a moment, setting the last of Finn’s armor down. “Leia’s safety comes first, make no mistake about that. But I won’t let the Republic just slip by, regardless of our agreement to remain peaceful.”

People often told Finn that his buir was a great king, as wise as he was strong.

They often said that they had not had a king so wise and strong since the days of Mand’alor the Great.

It wasn’t until moments like this where Finn really saw it. Where Din Djarin stopped being just his buir, where Finn was abruptly reminded that Din was the head of the Mudhorn Clan, hero of the rebellion, king of Mandalore, a man who did not bow easily to peoples whims and desires. A wise and noble king, his ba’buir said. When it is your turn, you will be just as wise and noble, Finn.

It was a difficult mantle to live up to.

“That’s where you come in,” Leia said, smiling at Finn and pulling him out of his thoughts. “We need this to stay discrete. We’re not all sure who is involved, so Din wants the Court to stay out of it.”

Finn nodded.

“Leia—“ Luke cut in. He was frowning, worrying his lip between his teeth. “There’s got to be someone else. I’m sure Paz would—“

“Paz wouldn’t know discrete if it bit him in the ass, Luke.”

Luke bit the inside of his cheek, his fingers digging into the fabric of the couch hard enough for Finn to see the white’s of his knuckles. “You’re asking my son to—“

“Luke, ner ka’ar,” Din said softly, stopping Luke from saying anything else. He crossed the room again, coming to a stop in front of his husband. He dropped to his knees, gently taking Luke’s hand in his as he tilted his head up to look at him, his cape billowing out behind him and settling around him like a calm red sea. This was a sight that was familiar to Finn too, for as much as his papa took care of his buir, his buir took just as much care of his papa. It’s the way they’ve always been, they always told Finn. Since they first met each other in a Tatooine ship hanger and knew nothing about each other, they still took care of eachother. “At least let Leia explain.”

Luke clicked his tongue, then sighed. “I don’t like this.”

“I know,” Din murmured. He gently squeezed Luke’s hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles across his wrists. “Riduur, I know. But Finn’ika knows his limits.”

Finn’s papa let out another heavy sigh, ducking forward to press his forehead against Din’s helmed one. “Just—get it over with.”

Leia at least had the grace to look guilty.

“Finn,” she said his name softly, eyes lingering just a little longer on Luke before looking between Finn and Poe. “I want you to shadow Poe. Keep him out of trouble during the negotiations.” She glanced at Luke again. He was looking back up at her, a hardness in his eyes that Finn so very rarely saw. His papa was always soft. Always open and warm and welcoming. It was jarring to see him so suddenly closed off like this. “You’ve grown up around the Court and understand how they work far better than I do. And—“ and here she paused. “And you would be the only Mandalorian sitting in on these negotiations. No one will recognize you in your full armor. And on the off chance they do, you’re the crowned prince. They won’t question you being there.”

Finn understood what ba’vodu Leia was getting at.

Neither the Gordanian’s or the Aldeeran delegation would recognize him as Mandalore’s prince in his full armor, since Finn so very rarely wore it. It would be easier for him to slink though the delegation, to listen to conversations he wasn’t supposed to listen to, to tell his papa and buir everything he had heard. It was not strange for Finn to be around the King and consort of Mandalore—his parents—nor was it strange for him to be ducking in and out of the negotiations if someone did recognize him, given that he was the next in line for the Mandalorian throne. If something were to go wrong Finn was more than capable of defending himself. He most likely wouldn't be able to carry his saber with him, since that was far more recognizable than his armor, but that wouldn’t hinder him.

Ba’vodu Leia wanted him to play spy, and he wasn’t sure he could argue with her. He was the logical choice to do it, and Finn did want to help. He could help this time. He didn’t have to stand back with his papa and his siblings while his buir fought to keep his throne.

It took Finn longer to realize why his papa was so against it.

“You’re worried about me wearing my armor for so long,” Finn said suddenly, looking back at Luke.

Luke took in a steadying breath. Din let go of his hands so Luke could reach for Finn, could settle his hands on Finn’s cheeks again and hold him close. “Finn,” Luke said softly, pausing almost immediately after. “Sunshine,” he started again, the nickname slipped from his mouth easily. “I trust you. You know I trust you, but I just—I can’t see you that sick again.”

Finn felt something like guilt settle heavy in his stomach.

He had been so young then.

He hardly remembered it, both because of how long ago it was and because he had been so delirious during the illness. He had gotten his first set of armor, pure beskar, and no one had quite thought of the ramifications of it. Where they had caught Rey’s illness early, had seen the violent way she reacted to the beskar, Finn’s snuck up on him. Finn could stand to wear beskar longer, but that meant he didn’t always notice when it became too much. That was what had happened that first time, when he was a child. He had been out of it for so long, lost to sleep and fever while the Force struggled to return to his body, and when he came back it was to his sister and brother curled up against his side and his papa hovering over him, singing quiet songs with tears in his eyes.

Finn’s papa has never wanted him to put on the armor ever again, had held him close for weeks after and hadn’t let him go, but buir had gently talked him down and watched Finn like a hawk that first month he wore his armor again.

Beskar was different for all Force users.

Luke had been forced to adjust to it.

Rey couldn’t stand it.

Grogu wasn’t affected.

And Finn just had to be careful.

“I’ll be alright,” Finn said.

“Finn—“

“I want to help ba’vodu Leia, papa,” Finn gently cut him off. He took in a breath, giving as reassuring of a smile as he could. Finn knew his limits now. Knew when enough was enough. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Luke bit his cheek, worrying his tongue between his teeth.

“I can—“ Poe started, nervously clearing his throat when both Din and Luke snapped their heads up to look at him. “I can keep an eye on him. If, um…if you tell me what to look for.” He tapped his fingers against his knee, staring at BB-8 and not looking at anything else. “Not that you need looking after, but, I, uh—I would appreciate your help. So. I can—yeah. If you want.”

Finn couldn’t quite hold back his smile. “You’re sweet.”

Poe shrugged, his cheeks going a pretty pink.

“Luke,” Leia said. Her voice was soft. Guilty. “If you’re really not okay with this—“

“No, no you’re right, Leia. Finn is right.” Luke closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. He held it for a while before slowly letting it out. “I’m trusting you with my family, Poe Dameron. Do you understand that?”

Poe nodded. His face grew somber and serious, a little more handsome in its straight lines and still expression. “I do.”

Chapter Text

“I’ve been wondering—“ the Gordanians and Alderaan delegation had broken for a short break, and Poe had turned to look at Finn the very second that Leia had called for the recess with her fingers pressed to her temples in irritation. The negotiations–and Finn used that term loosely–had mostly been a lot of yelling and ba’vodu Leia silencing them all with a stern glare. It had not been entirely unlike Finn’s buir’s own Court meetings. But where buir’s Court meeting took place in the throne room and had a sort of forced air of civility around them, this was taking place in a council chamber that had gathered a thin layer of dust from how long it had sat unused and only had a faint hint of tolerance about it. Din at least had the courtesy to make sure it was cleaned before anyone arrived, but even through the HUD unit in his helmet Finn could still see the glimmers of dust floating through the sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows. “—do the colors of your armor mean anything? Or are you just really into the vintage Rebel pilot look?”

Finn snorted out a laugh, the question unexpected.

Poe smiled.

His whole face lit up with it.

“The colors we paint our armor with do have different meanings,” Finn and Poe were settled along the back wall of the room. It was the best place to watch and hear the negotiations while staying out of everyone’s way, as well as the best vantage point of the door. No one had gotten in or out without them noticing. No one had gone in and out during this first session, the two delegations staying firmly put at the large table in the center of the room. It had been a rather boring start to the day, if Finn were honest.

But boring was good.

It had given him plenty of time to just watch and observe, which both Bo-Katan and ba’vodu Leia always said was the first step in understanding your enemy, political or otherwise.

“Yeah?” Poe tilted his head, shuffling a little closer to Finn. He was back in his formal flight jacket, hiding away the hits of the tattoo Finn had seen last night. A part of Finn wanted to reach out and peel back the layers, to see what was so important to Poe that he had sunk it into his skin. “What’s the colors of your armor mean, then?”

Finn hummed, crossing his arms over his chest for a moment before lifting a gloved hand to settle on his pauldron.

Poe’s eyes followed the movement.

“White is the color of rebirth. Of new life,” Finn said it softly, splaying his hand across the newly white painted pauldron before trailing his fingers to the orange lines on the raised edges. He had gotten up early to repaint his armor, sitting with his buir beside the fireplace as they mixed paint and watched the sunrise through the floor to ceiling windows of the royal quarters in the palace. “Orange is for shereshoy. And red—“ Finn moved his fingers to his signet. This was newly painted too, a deep red like the spice berries that grew on the wasteland shrubs. “—is the color of family. Of honoring those that came before.” Finn paused, thinking about it for only a moment before tilting his head and dipping his voice just a little lower. “Although I am very into the vintage Rebel pilot look.”

His voice sounded different though the modulator of the helmet, more robotic and even, but with the odd little noise Poe let out Finn figured he was successful enough.

“I, uh—“ Poe cleared his throat, lifting a hand to press against his cheek for a moment. Color was diluted through the HUD unit, but Poe’s flush was dark enough that Finn could still see it. He felt immensely pleased by that. “What’s—what did you call it? She—sheroy?”

He completely butchered the pronunciation, the inflections of his own accent making it nearly impossible for Poe to pronounce the harsher vowels correctly.

Finn couldn’t help but think that it was cute.

“Shereshoy,” Finn repeated it a little slower, watching Poe’s lips as they mouthed the word back at him. “The literal translation is a lust for life, but it’s more of a—a belief I guess. A way of life for us. Living without fear, taking every day as a gift.” Finn let his hand fall from his pauldron, hovering it between them for a moment before he reached out, placing his fingertips over Poe’s wrist. Not holding. Just touching. Poe relaxed into it, leaning a little closer into Finn’s space. Even with the filtration unit in his helmet Finn could still faintly smell woody spice of whatever scent Poe was wearing, like moss covered wood and spice berries. “Living in the moment, not letting the possibilities of a bad future stop you.”

Poe hummed softly, flexing his fingers before turning his palm up so Finn could settle his hand in his. “Living in the moment, huh?”

“With our way of life–” Finn placed his hand in Poe’s and watched as Poe lifted his other hand to skip his fingers along Finn’s vembrace and wrist guard. His hands were rough and scared, the skin holding too much wear for just a pilot. “--we never know when Hod Ha’ran will change our good fortune.”

Poe nodded solemnly like he understood every word. “Makes sense.”

Finn bit his cheek, but it still did not keep back his smile. “Do you even know who Hod Ha’ran is?”

“Absolutely not.” Poe said without missing a beat. “But they sound important.”

Finn couldn’t hold back his laugh at that one. It slipped out of him without his permission, and Poe grinned like it was the sweetest thing he had ever heard. He curled his fingers around Finn’s wrist, and Finn was not sure how he hadn’t noticed that he was taller than Poe until now.

“He’s an old god from the ancient religion. I can—“ Finn paused for a moment. It had been many centuries since the ancient religion was widely practiced, since the temples on the outskirts of Sundari and Keldabe saw a constant flame, since Mandalorians fought with a sacred purpose instead of out of rage and jealousy. After Din took the throne there had been a quiet resurgence in the practice of the old gods, temples being restored and their flames being lit again. The practice of the Old Way had not been permitted for a long time, but with a Mand’alor who followed the way of Kad Ha’rangir–a Mand’alor who was respected and loved–there was not much that the Court could do in opposition. The ancient religion was not secret knowledge to those that were aruetti, and even if it were Finn thought that quite a few people would be glad that Finn was sharing the knowledge of the old Way, that Mandalorians found a sacredness in the change and perseverance that destruction brought. “There are murals in Keldabe. I could show you, after this.”

This, being the negotiations with the Gordanians.

This, being finding whoever it was that was threatening Leia’s life.

Poe smiled softly. Even this smile made his whole face light up, a warm gentle glow that Finn could spend hours getting lost in. “I’d like that.”

Finn felt his own smile crept onto his lips, and for a moment he wished he wasn’t wearing his helmet so he could see what Poe’s eyes looked like in this light. Would they be darker than what they were last night, without the firelight dancing in them?

“You two having fun?”

“Your majesty,” Poe stepped away from Finn quickly, straightening his posture as Leia approached them. Finn’s outstretched hand hovered between them for a moment, quietly mourning the sudden loss before he lowered it back to his side. “You know I’m always having fun.”

Ba’vodu Leia was looking at Finn’s hand, her eyebrows raised.

Finn cleared his throat. “Are New Republic negotiations always so shouty?”

“They’re worse.” Ba’vodu Leia answered immediately. She blinked and shook her head before looking back up at the two of them. Her hair was back in its braided crown, a pretty silver ribbon threaded throughout her hair. She looked proud and regal, her exhaustion only slipping through because Finn knew what to look for. He wondered if Poe saw it too. He must have, with the way he took a careful step closer to Leia. “Believe it or not, this is them on their best behavior.” She smiled pleasantly, clasping her hands together. Her wedding ring glinted in the sunlight. “You can’t tell me the Mand’alor’s Court meetings are any better.”

Finn shrugged. “There’s not as much shouting.”

“That’s because they’re all scared shitless of your dad,” and there was Cara, striding up to them and parting the crowd of people like it was nothing. It did not matter to Finn how long she had been the Mandalorain Ambassador. It was always odd to see her wearing such formal clothing, her hair pinned up and held out of her face with the traditional Alderaan styled ribbons and her Alderaan Tear proudly displayed. Still, Finn easily accepted her hug, lingering for just a moment before pulling away. She still smelled like the carasynthia flowers she was named after, sweet and light and achingly nostalgic. She didn’t get to come back to Mandalore often anymore, and Finn missed her. “What are you doing here, kid?”

“Keeping an eye on Poe,” Leia answered before Finn could. Then, in a softer tone, “We don’t want anyone to know he’s here, though.”

Cara understood immediately. “Of course, your majesty.”

“He’s not—I don’t need a babysitter.” Poe said. He turned to face Cara, crossing his arms high over his chest as a scowl tugged at his lips. Cara blinked at him, and Poe’s scowl deepened.

“Of course not,” Leia said indulgently. “You are perfectly capable of staying out of trouble.”

Finn bit back a laugh as Poe sputtered.

There was a story there that he was going to have to get out of one of them.

“You doing okay in all that armor?” Cara asked softly, ignoring Poe in his entirety. She stepped a little closer to Finn, lifting her hands and gently placing her palms on the sides of his helmet, holding him as she looked him over. Finn had talked to Poe about what signs to look for for beskar sickness last night, the shakiness and dizzy spells, the slow reaction and slurred speech, all of which Cara seemed to be looking for now. “Do your parents know you're in all that armor?”

“Both papa and buir know,” Finn was quick to sooth her, knowing her sudden worry was from her inability to do anything before. Cara had rushed back to Mandalore from New Alderaan when Finn had the beskar sickness. Leia had been unable to leave and so she had sent Cara in her steed, although Finn was sure that Cara still would have come even if Leia had been able to leave New Alderaan. She had hovered by his side when Din and Luke could not, caring for him in those rare moments because Din did not trust anyone else to do it. Finn remembered her hand resting on his forehead just as much as his buir’s and papa’s, her words of comfort and reassurance mingling with their own. “Papa’s not happy about it, but...”

Finn shrugged as he trailed off.

I wanted to help was left unsaid and fully understood.

Cara’s face softened.

“You’re a lot like your dad, you know that?”

“People do tell me that a lot,” Finn mumbled. He never really believed it, because when people compared him to his buir they compared him to Din Djarin. Mand’alor the Nobel. The one who had led the Mando’ade home. They did not compare him to Finn’s buir. The man who smiled softly and laughed softer. The man who told his husband I love you every morning and his children I love you every night. The man that only Finn and Rey and Grogu and Luke ever got to see.

Finn could maybe see a little bit of himself in his buir, but not in Mand’alor the Nobel.

He could not see himself in a king.

“Well, they’re right,” Cara hummed, ducking her head down to gently knock her forehead against Finn’s. When she pulled back Finn saw Poe looking at him, head tilted curiously. There was an uptick of noise, sudden and loud, and Cara bit her cheek in irritation. “We’ll catch up tonight at dinner, okay?”

Finn nodded, watching as Cara took off after Leia to see what the fuss was about.

—

Buir looked annoyed.

“How can you even tell?” Poe was leaning against Finn, his shoulder pressed into Finn’s back as he tried to get a good look at Din. They were sitting at the head table in the Hall, the dinner banquet already well on its way to being done. Despite Din’s misgivings about hosting negotiations on Mandalorian soil, it was tradition to offer a meal to guests, so the next few nights would be filled with banquents like this–loud and rambunctious and lasting well into the night. Buir had gotten roped into some conversation with a few members of the Alderaan delegation a while ago, and he was now standing at the edge of the Hall with Leia and a few others from the Alderaan delegation, a sleepy Grogu held tightly in his arms as he stood perfectly still. Luke was hovering nearby with Cara, not joining in on the conversation but ready to intervene if needed.

Rey, who was sitting beside Finn, was staring at him and Poe with her eyes narrowed.

“His shoulders are all hunched,” Finn answered, ignoring his sister. He had taken his armor off as soon as the negotiations for the day had ended, trading it for tight thermals and a loose sleeveless robe, and he was rather distracted by the warm steady heat of Poe Dameron. He didn’t even have the energy to wonder what it was that was making Rey stare at him so hard. “And he’s got Grogu. Papa always gives Grogu to buir when he’s annoyed.”

Finn had watched with amusement as papa had plopped his youngest brother into buir’s lap before the approaching senator had even reached the table.

“Huh.” Poe said. “Interesting.”

He made no move to pull back.

“Finn,” Rey said loudly. It startled Finn, which jostled Poe and caused him to slink away and back into his own seat. Finn missed the weight and warmth of Poe immediately, which was stupid and ridiculous but Finn found himself leaning back anyway as he chased after it. “Will you hand me the spice berries?”

Finn blinked. “Huh? Oh–yeah, here.”

He handed her the bowl of spice berries that was between him and Poe, never mind that there was another one right next to Rey that she could have reached easier.

“I should go make sure she’s okay,” Poe said, already getting up from the table. His hand clung to the back of his chair for a moment before he lifted it and settled it on Finn’s shoulder. He squeezed gently, dipping his hand a little lower and ghosting his fingers along Finn’s shoulder blades as he moved away.

“Good luck,” Finn called after him.

Poe gave him a smile and a loose salute as he worked his way through the crowd. It had thinned quite a bit, many calling it a night and heading back to wherever it was they needed to go. Finn was sure that those that remained in the Hall would start up the drinking songs any second now, ba’vodu Paz at the helm of it all. He wondered if papa would sing the songs with Paz tonight. He wondered if Poe would like the drinking songs, if he would know any or if they would all be new to him. Finn wondered as he watched Poe slide up to Leia, settling a hand on the small of her back and expertly placing himself between her and the senator that was getting just a little too close.

“You like him,” Rey said.

Finn blinked, not quite registering Rey’s words. He blinked again, shaking his head before he looked back at her. “What?”

“You like him!” Rey repeated. She had a rather accusatory tone, but there was a maniac sort of delight on her face as she popped a spice berry into her mouth.

“No I don’t,” Finn lied.

“You do!” Rey was grinning. She pushed the bowl of spice berries away, slapping her hands on the table before jabbing a finger in Finn’s cheek. Her fingertips were stained with juice from the berries, and Finn could feel a sticky residue being smeared across his skin as Rey poked him. “You’re blushing!”

Finn’s cheeks grew warmer as he swatted her hand away and drug his own down his cheek to get rid of the berry juice. “He’s just—he’s sweet.”

“And pretty.” Rey said.

Finn sighed heavily. “Yes. And pretty.”

Satisfied with that answer, Rey sat back in her chair and picked up the bowl of spice berries again. She scooped up a handful and dumped them in her mouth, chewing slowly as she stared at Finn. Finn stared back at her, refusing to be the first one to look away. “Are you going to do anything about it?” Rey asked, kicking her feet up into Finn’s lap as she popped a few more berries into her mouth. Finn settled his hands on her ankles to keep her steady. “Are you going to court him?”

She whispered the last part, but she still said it loudly enough that ba’vodu Paz–who was passing by–perked his head up to look at them.

“He’s not Mandalorian,” Finn hissed, actually keeping his voice to a whisper. “He wouldn’t understand it.”

“So?” Rey asked. “What’s the worst that’s going to happen?”

Finn didn’t answer right away.

Mandalorian courting practices weren’t anything complicated or annoyingly specific like they were on other planets–Alderaan came to mind, where there were all sorts of hoops and hurdles to jump through. Han often complained about it, even though he had been married to ba’vodu Leia for years. On Mandalore, courting someone was simply the act of giving, of providing food and practical things. Some Mandalorains liked to engage in a traditional fight before accepting the courting proposal, wanting to see their potential spouse prove their strength and resilience. Others were content with the gift of a weapon, often hand forged in their Clan’s armory. Buir and papa never had the chance to properly court one another, their marriage far too rushed for that, and even though they both said they didn’t mind, Finn knew that there was the tiniest bit of regret lingering.

“I don’t know,” Finn finally said.

Rey worried her bottom lip between her teeth, then she set the bowl back on the table and took her feet off of Finn’s thighs so she could lean forward and take his hands in hers. “Why don’t you buy him some sweets from the market?” she suggested. “You can give them to him before the negotiations start tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a bad idea.

Sweets were easy enough to explain away if they weren't received well.

“When did you get so smart?” Finn asked, gently knocking his forehead against hers.

“I’ve always been smart,” Rey said, sounding quite pleased. Then she stood up, dragging Finn up with her. He stumbled from the sudden movement, but Rey had a tight enough hold that she kept him from tumbling to the floor. “Come on then. Let’s go.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” Rey said impatiently. “I know you didn’t paint that orange on your armor because you liked the color.”

Orange.

Shereshoy.

Living in the moment.

Finn couldn’t really argue because Rey was right, so he let himself be dragged across the Hall by his sister like they were children again. Luke caught sight of them as they passed, blinking in confusion as he did a double take. He had gotten pulled into the conversation with Din and Leia and the delegation, but he easily excused himself to catch Finn and Rey before they could slip out of the hall. Finn stopped so papa could catch up, yanking on Rey’s hand to pull her back.

“Where are you two going?”

“To the markets so Finn can buy Poe some sweets.” Rey answered.

“So Finn can buy Poe some sweets,” Papa repeated, blinking slowly.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Finn said, even though it was exactly what it sounded like.

Luke stayed quiet for a little while, just looking at the two of them. He blinked again, a single contemplative hum slipping past his lips.

“Don’t stay out too late.” He finally said.

“We won’t!” Rey said cheerily, then she yanked on Finn’s arm and pulled him away from papa and out of the Hall.

–

Luke slid up next to Din, clasping his hands together in front of him and settling into the perfect poise of grace and serenity. Din adjusted Grogu, the child now fully asleep, and shuffled a little closer to his husband. He always got uneasy when Luke was like this. It usually meant that Luke was up to something that Din wasn’t going to like.

“Where are they going?” Din slipped into Mando’a as he watched his two eldest slip out of the Hall, not caring if it would seem rude to the senetor that was still insisting on talking to him. It was late, but he wasn’t worried enough to go chase them down. Finn was an adult, and Rey was old enough to be on her own, and Din couldn’t baby them forever.

“To the market,” Luke responded sweetly, the Mando’a slipping from his tongue like sweet sticky honey. “So Finn can buy Poe some sweets.”

Din blinked once.

Twice.

“Oh, for the gods’ sake–”

“Hush,” Luke said before he could get any further.

Din did.

Chapter Text

“No—Grogu, you don’t like these,” Finn said patiently, snatching the spiced chocolates from the air. “And these aren’t for you anyway.”

Grogu pouted, lifting his hand to try and use the Force to grab the box of chocolates again. He had been trying all morning, stealthy at first but now horribly obvious in his attempts. Finn hummed, tucking the cloth wrapped sweets into a deep pocket in his flight suit as he reached for the sleeve of blue cookies he had stashed in the cupboard above the sink. Grogu cooed in delight when he saw it, pushing thank you’s and I love you’s through the Force to Finn as he handed it over to Grogu. He ripped open the silver packaging with his claws, shoving two cookies in his mouth in one go.

“Papa’s gonna yell at you if he finds out you gave those to Grogu.” Rey said. She was sitting at the table with their baby brother, a spoon shoved in her mouth. She was eating some leftover tiingilar, the scent of the warm and heavy spices mingling pleasantly with the lingering scent of the caf papa had made earlier this morning.

Papa had left already, hoping to catch ba’vodu Leia before the negotiations started for the day. He had sat with Finn for a little bit at the kitchen table as the sun rose, sipping his caf and looking Finn over with a worried eye as he meticulously put his armor on. But papa could not linger long enough to fuss over him, so he finished his caf and put his mug in the sink and pressed a kiss to Finn’s temple with a softly murmured I love you before leaving the royal quarters to find Leia.

Finn shrugged as Grogu shoved another cookie in his mouth.

He had bought the package of cookies last night when he bought the chocolate, knowing Grogu would try to get into the sweets. His little brother would have run off with the spiced chocolates by now if Finn didn’t have anything to offer him instead.

Ba’vodu Paz said that Grogu’s determination to get his hands on any sweets he could was a sign that he would be a strong and great Mandalorian.

Buir said it was because Paz spoiled him too much.

“Love you too.” Finn said to both of them. He circled the table, gently knocking his temple against Rey’s, then Grogu’s. Grogu dropped his cookies on the table in favor of lifting his hands and placing them on Finn’s cheeks, holding him still for just a moment longer as he pushed more thoughts through the Force. Love you please be safe I don’t like when you’re sick love youloveyou–

“I’ll be okay,” Finn said softly.

Grogu frowned, but he let Finn go after knocking their heads together one last time with a sort of vaguely threatening air about it–you come home safe or else.

Finn huffed out a laugh, scooping his helmet up from the table and slipping it on.

—

“I got you something,” Finn said it softly once the delegation broke for a recess halfway through the morning, almost afraid that someone would overhear even though no one was paying any attention to them. Things had gone today much like it had yesterday. A lot of shouting and very little negotiating, and now the Alderaan delegation and the Gordanians were mingling together and exchanging pleasantries like they hadn’t just been yelling at each other. Only a few people even bothered to glance their way. Finn had already seen Cara looking at them curiously as he slipped the wrapped chocolate from his pocket, and he would have tilted his body to hide Poe so no one else could see if it weren't such a huge security risk. They needed two sets of eyes on the room, so he couldn’t crowd Poe against the wall no matter how badly he wanted to.

And gods did he want to.

Poe was still wearing his jacket, but he had cuffed the sleeves and rolled them up enough to show off tanned skin and another brief hint of the tattoo that lay below his clothes. It was just a flash of dark ink, only visible when Poe moved his arm in just the right way for the sleeve to ride up a little further. Finn could see it now, only a glimpse of a dark line curling up just above the crook of his elbow. Tattoos were not things that were often permitted of the Alderaan royal guard, as they were meant to blend in and be as inconspicuous as possible, and any identifying marks like that were either removed or covered.

Although even if he didn’t have the tattoo, there was nothing inconspicuous about Poe Dameron, Finn thought.

He was handsome. He turned heads. And when he spoke Poe could take command of an entire room without hardly any effort, just like buir could. He was so different from everyone else on ba’vodu Leia’s guard, but maybe that was the point. Whoever it was that was trying to kill Leia knew what to expect from the royal guard, but not Poe Dameron.

Poe tilted his head curiously at the cloth wrapped package, his eyes lighting up as Finn carefully undid the twine he had used to tie it.

“It’s a spiced chocolate,” Finn held it out, gently placing it in Poe’s hand. Poe took it, his fingers grazing along Finn’s wrist with the lightest touch. He lingered, fingertips resting just on the edge of Finn’s vembrace, the touch light enough that Finn could hardly feel it but keeping him still all the same. “This kind is only made in Sundari. The spice berries they use don’t grow anywhere else.”

“It smells wonderful,” Poe lifted his other hand, his fingers skating along the edge of Finn’s palm before breaking off a piece of the chocolate. It made a satisfying snapping noise, the scent of the spices growing a little stronger. Poe hummed a pleasing note before he popped the bit of chocolate in his mouth, and Finn found it difficult to look away from Poe’s lips as he slowly chewed. A soft moan spilled from his throat a moment later as Poe’s eyes briefly closed. “Kriff that’s good.”

Finn didn’t even try to fight back a smile.

Poe went to break off another piece, but he paused.

He went very still, his hold on Finn’s wrist tightening suddenly as he stared at something just over Finn’s shoulder. Finn heard it a moment later. The door to the chamber was closing, and even though the door was being pushed slowly in an effort to keep it quiet, Finn could still recognize the heavy groan of the weight of the stone leaning on the metal hinges. The doors were large and heavy, and it took years of practice to be able to close them with little noise–practice that whoever was closing them now didn’t have.

“Who is it?” Finn asked. He didn’t turn around to look, not wanting whoever it was that had slipped inside to know that Poe had spotted them.

“A Mandalorian.” Poe answered. He took the chocolate from Finn, all business now as he wrapped it back in the cloth and tucked it into his own pocket. Finn watched as Poe’s face went into a carefully neutral expression, his muscles tightening as he got ready to move. His eyes were the only part of his body that was moving, tracking the intruder as they moved across the room. It was like watching a jai’galaar circling a herd as it picked out its prey, eyes cold and hard as it watched and studied before making its move. It was such a change from the soft smiles and easy laughter Finn had been coaxing out of Poe for the past three days, but Finn did not like this weathered hardness of Poe’s any less. “Black armor. Blue accents.”

Finn’s heart stilled. “There’s not supposed to be any Mandalorians in here.”

“I know.” Poe said. He pulled back from Finn, moving with an easy and fluid sort of grace that Finn couldn’t help but to take a moment to admire. It was hard to look away, to not let his eyes wander down the long lines of Poe’s body as he moved with the gait of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Finn wondered if this is what his buir meant when he said that there were some fights during the rebellion where he could not bear to look away from papa. “I’ll go to Queen Organa. You circle around and block the door.”

Finn nodded.

Ba’vodu Leia looked confused as Poe quickly approached her, but Finn didn’t linger on it as he walked along the walls of the room and towards the door.

Alarm bells went off in his head when he saw a metal rod slipped between the handles, keeping the doors locked from the outside. He turned around quickly, mouth opened to warn Poe, but Poe seemed to be two steps ahead.

Finn watched in what seemed like slow motion as Poe stepped between ba’vodu Leia and the approaching Mandalorian, placing a hand on the armored chest and grabbing his wrist with the other. He jerked the man’s arm up as a blaster shot rang out. It was loud and thunderous, raining down bits of splintered wood from the wooden beam it had hit instead of the man’s intended target–Leia.

Someone screamed.

Finn wasn’t sure who.

He watched as Poe worked with a brutal efficiency, squeezing the man’s wrist hard enough for him to drop the blaster, pushing him back and keeping him unsteady enough so he couldn’t reach for another weapon even as Poe easily reached for his. There was a glint of metal in Poe’s hand. He ducked low, avoiding the Mandalorian’s wild swing with ease. Whoever was wearing that armor clearly didn’t know how to fight and wasn’t expecting any opposition, and was only working on instinct and reckless abandon to defend himself. He was panicking, and Poe was quick to take advantage of it. Poe took a step back before bringing his weapon–a metal knife, Finn realized–down in a graceful arc just as the man brought his own arm down to guard himself.

The knife connected with the pauldron.

Finn heard a loud crack not even a second later.

“Interesting,” Poe said, his voice easy to hear over the panicked noises of the Gordanians and the delegation. “I thought Mandalorian armor was unbreakable.”

Then he shoved the man to the ground, placing his knee on his chest and slipping the tip of the knife up and underneath the helmet while ba’vodu Leia stood behind him, eyes wide in shock and surprise.

The move was so graceful, so fluid and natural, and Finn…

Hod Ha’ran help him, Finn had to court Poe Dameron.

—

The throne room was a cacophony of noise, thundering and deafening as everyone tried to speak at once.

Buir sat at the center of it all, looking regal on his throne as papa and ba’buir stood by his side. Rey and Grogu were with them, Grogu nestled in Rey’s arm as she stood against Papa’s side. She was looking at Finn, head tilted as she tried to figure out what was going on.

Papa kept looking between Finn and ba’vodu Leia, one arm wrapped firmly around Rey while the other hung loosely at his side. He looked calm enough, but Finn knew from experience that the only thing keeping papa from rushing over to them was buir’s steady presence by his side. Finn was sure that papa’s fingers were tapping patterns against his thigh, his agitation and worry brimming just underneath the surface of his graceful composure. It had helped a little that Luke had accompanied Paz down to the cells as he took the would be assassin from Poe’s hands, but Finn knew his papa wouldn’t truly be calm until he would be able to look both him and ba’vodu Leia over.

Bo-Katan had shown up at the council chamber first, only a few moments after Poe had subdued the attacker, but the Nite Owls had not been far behind.

She easily took control of the situation while Paz hauled the assassin to his feet, asking Poe what had happened while Bo-Katan sent one of the Nite Owls to summon the Mand’alor to the throne room. The Gordanians were sent back to their rooms while the delegation was herded into the throne room in that quick and efficient manner that only Bo-Katan seemed capable of, trying to separate them as quickly as possible to keep a better eye on them. She had then disappeared to the cells once buir had arrived to take over, but while papa and Paz had come back, she had not.

Now Finn and Poe and ba’vodu Leia stood before the throne, waiting for the Mand’alor to address them as the Alderaan delegation yelled behind them.

“This is an outrage–!”

“--you expect us to stand here while one of your people attacked our Queen–”

“You’ll be punished for this Mand’alor–”

“That’s enough.” Din did not shout it, but his voice carried loud and clear. Silence descended upon the room like a heavy blanket. Finn could feel Poe shuffling beside him, his sudden nervous energy enough to pull a small smile out of Finn. Din could be quite intimidating on his throne, but after what had just happened it seemed silly for Poe to be nervous of Finn’s buir. “Queen Organa, tell me what happened.”

Ba’vodu Leia looked the perfect picture of calm. Finn could see her hands shaking from where she had clasped them together in front of her. “I didn’t realize anything was wrong until Poe had the attacker on the ground. I’m not sure what happened myself.”

She glanced at Poe, who stepped in to explain after a moment of hesitation. “I had noticed the doors to the chamber opening, and then I saw the attacker slip inside. He was staying close to the walls and making his way right towards Queen Organa. He was trying to stay unnoticed, which I thought was odd.” Poe paused for a moment, then looked at Finn. “I’ve never known a Mandalorian to sneak around, so I went over to Queen Organa to intercept him while one of your guards went to check the doors.”

It wasn’t quite true, but it would do them no good to let the delegation know that that the Mand’alor and the Queen of Alderaan had already agreed that Finn was the only Mandalorian that was supposed to be in that room.

Buir looked at Finn, gesturing for him to continue the story.

“He had locked the door,” Finn said. “He put a bar through the handles so it couldn’t be opened from the outside. I went to warn Poe, but by then the man had already attacked.” Finn took in a breath to steady himself. In the moment he hadn’t been worried, the adrenaline keeping him focused and in the moment. But now that things had settled Finn could feel it creeping up his chest and into his lungs. They had been expecting a quiet attempt on Leia’s life. Not…not this. “He had fired his blaster, but Poe was quick enough to intercept it before the attacker could aim for Queen Organa. He subdued the attacker, and then the Nite Owls took over from there.”

Din stayed quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Leia.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

Ba’vodu Leia relaxed just a little bit. Finn shuffled on his feet, leaning a little closer to her to offer her just a little bit of comfort. “Yes. I’m alright. Poe stopped him before he could get to me.”

Din nodded. “Where is he now?”

“Paz and I took him to the cells,” Buir wasn’t asking one specific person, so papa answered. He was holding Rey a little tighter while she looked between papa and Finn with wide eyes. Rey, as far as Finn knew, had still been in the royal quarters with Grogu when the attack happened. Koska must have rushed them off to papa and buir once Bo-Katan gave the word. It was a precaution in situations like this, when they didn’t know if there were other attackers lurking around the palace. The Nite Owls were still doing their sweep for intruders, but Finn was certain they wouldn’t find anyone. “Bo-Katan is—“

“Mand’alor,” one of the senators spoke up, cutting Luke off and stepping closer to the throne. He was older, and ba’vodu Leia wrinkled her nose in annoyance as he spoke. “One of your people has just tried to attack our Queen, I hardly think this is the time to—“

“I was not speaking to you.” Din snapped. He stood in a sudden movement, his armor glinting dangerously in the firelight of the throne while his cape settled around him like a bloody tide. “Interrupt my husband again, and I will throw you out of this room myself.”

The senator swallowed and stepped back.

Buir stared at him for a while longer, then turned to papa and stepped closer so he could settle his hand on Luke’s wrist, just gently holding it and offering a comforting touch.

Luke gave a small smile, his hand still rubbing up and down Rey’s arm. “Bo-Katan is with him now. I’m sure she’ll be up here soon enough. She told me she had something she wanted to check before she joined us.”

Buir nodded, and as if summoned by her name alone Bo-Katan came storming into the throne room.

Poe jumped as the doors snapped open, cracking loudly against the stone walls.

She looked furious, pushing her way through the delegation like they were nothing more than bothersome flies. Bo-Katan had something in her hand, but she was moving too quickly for Finn to catch a good glimpse of it. He stepped out of her way as she marched towards the throne, bumping into Poe. Poe reached a hand out, settling it on Finn’s hip to keep him steady. Bo-Katan climbed the steps of the throne, pressing whatever it was she was holding into ba’buir hand. They exchanged no words, but when the Armorer turned to Din all three of them broke into harsh whispered Mando’a. Rey’s eyes widened as she listened, and Finn could see papa’s chest hitch in surprise.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Poe leaned over to whisper quietly to Finn. His hand was still on Finn’s hip, warm and steady.

Finn shook his head.

They were being too quiet.

After a moment, ba’buir handed a pauldron to Din.

It was the one the assassin had been wearing. The one Poe had cracked and chipped.

“Mand’alor,” someone else spoke, a little more hesitant. Buirba’vodu Leia wrinkle her nose in annoyance, spoke up again. “He was wearing your armor.”

“The armor he wore is not Mandalorian. It’s not crafted in our Way.” Buir tossed the pauldron to the floor. It skidded across the tile, stopping at the senator's feet. Finn could see paint streaked across the floor, rubbing off on the plastoid as easily as water ran off glass. Mandalorian armor may be crafted from plastoid if beskar and steel was not available, but the paints were always made in the old ways. Every armorer and forge always kept enough beskar to create the coating they covered their armor with. Paint faded over time because the sun beat down upon it and washed away the color, but it did not flake off armor. “He wears no signit. He carries no allik. His paint chips.”

He spit out the last word like it was a curse.

“So?” The senator said.

“Our paint is made with beskar.” Ba’buir finally spoke. She leveled her gaze at the senator, her tone flat and frightfully even. “It does not chip.”

He swallowed and took a step back.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” someone else spoke. “Whether paint chips or not does not determine if someone is Mandalorian–”

“Do not speak to me as if you understand our traditions better than I do,” Din cut this man off too, the cold anger enough to silence him and make him take a step back. Buir turned away from papa, walking down the steps of the throne, kicking the pauldron a little further away as he approached the senator and streaking the stone floor in flaking black paint. “Our armor is sacred–it is who we are, senator, and even if by some wrath of the gods it chips away no Mandalorian would dare to take a single step in armor that does not carry their allik.”

The senator stumbled back, but Din didn’t seem phased.

“No Mandalorian would dare to show such disrespect to the Way like that–” buir stopped just in front of the senator, the eerie calmness in his voice holding the room in a tense silence. “--and I would hope that you only suggested it because of your ignorance to our ways, senator, and not because you think we would do something as cowardly as what this aruetii did.”

The senator had gone awfully pale.

Buir was right, however.

No Mandalorian would wear armor without their Clan symbol, or –if they did not have one or hadn’t earned one yet–the symbol of the Mythosaur, whose bones forged the first armor of the first Clan. You carried your family’s legacy with you while building a new one, keeping it proudly on display because you were you Clan and you Clan was you.

Even Rey and Grogu and papa, who did not have traditional armor in the way Finn and buir did, still wore the mudhorn around their neck.

Whoever was wearing that armor had never been a Mandalorian.

That armor had been made to look like Mandalorian armor, and that was all.

“Of course–” the senator hurried to say. “--I meant no disrespect, Mand’alor–”

He trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Silence fell upon the throne room again, so thick and tense that Finn felt like it would shatter if anyone moved. Buir rarely got like this, where his anger, so cold and so silent, spilled out and became visible and covered everything in a thin layer of ice. Papa was the only one who could ever seem to navigate it and thaw it. He did so now, silently walking down the steps of the throne, moving like sweetly falling snow.

“Riduur,” Luke said softly. He had a hand on Din’s shoulder, and that simple touch was all it took. “Udesiir.”

“Negotiations are done for the day,” buir said. His voice was no longer so cold, but no one dared to move yet. “You will stay in your rooms until the Nite Owls finish their search. Ner ka’ra, will you accompany Queen Organa to the medical rooms?” He glanced at ba’vodu Leia. “I believe you when you say you’re alright, your majesty, but for my own piece of mind I’d like to have someone look you over.”

Finn knew what buir was doing.

He was giving Luke and Leia time to be alone.

“If it will put you at ease, Mand’alor, of course,” ba’vodu Leia agreed easily, gesturing to Finn and Poe. “You won’t mind if Poe and your guard accompany me?”

“Take them wherever you wish,” Din said. Then he looked back at Bo-Katan, jerking his head towards the doors. She nodded, slinking off into the shadows that the firelight of the throne created. “Lady Koska will see the rest of you to your rooms.”

Buir turned to papa in an easy dismissal of the rest of the delegation. Papa murmured something softly, his fingers gliding down buir’s arm before taking his hand. Buir tangled their fingers together, squeezing gently as he lowered his head in a soft and easy keldabe kiss. They lingered like that for a moment before pulling away, Din disappearing off to wherever Bo-Katan had while Luke went back up the steps of the throne to Rey and Grogu.

With the Mand’alor now gone, noise started to slowly creep back into the room.

“Your dad is scary,” Poe murmured, his hand finally slipping off of Finn’s hip.

Finn rolled his eyes and settled his own hand on the small of Poe’s back, not quite ready to let go yet. He ignored the way ba’vodu Leia was looking at the two of them, eyebrows raised in a silent question that Finn didn’t want to answer quite yet. “Come on, I’d like for a medic to look you over too.”

Poe smiled, bright and teasing. “Sure. If it will put you at ease, highness.”

Ba’vodu Leia reached a hand up and gently smacked him upside the head.

Chapter Text

“Are you alright?” Papa asked.

He had dumped Grogu in Finn’s arms the moment they got to the medical rooms, effectively trapping him and preventing him from running away as he worked Finn’s helmet off. Luke was gentle with this, he was always gentle with this, removing Finn’s helmet with the same care as when the Armorer first placed it upon his head. He set it down on one of the beds as softly as snow, cupping Finn’s cheeks between his hands with that same gentle grace he did everything with. Buir always said papa was like spring flowers and rolling ocean tides, like one the great lovers of Mandalore’s old gods, Clever Chance and Fickle Fortune. Graceful and kind, dangerous and deadly when wronged. Papa frowned as he tilted Finn’s head this way and that, looking for any visible sign of injury. Grogu was frowning too as he peered up at Finn, lifting his own little hands to place on Finn’s chin as he stared at him and you said you would be safe Finn you saidyousaidyousaid–

Finn had seen his papa’s anger before, how it was so much quieter than his buir’s, how it snuck up on you and struck with the venom of an asp.

How it was as unpredictable as Hod Ha’ran, who changed someone's fortune with every swing of his hammer.

“I’m okay, Grogu, see?” Finn lifted his brother a little higher so he could get a better look at him. It was a little difficult to do with papa still cradling Finn’s cheeks between his palms, but Finn made it work. “Poe kept me and ba’vodu Leia safe.”

Grogu glanced over Finn’s shoulder at Poe.

The little white and orange droid was rolling anxiously around and beeping up a storm, and Poe had knelt down to try and calm the BB unit down. He was murmuring quiet words to the droid, running his hand up and down BB-8’s side in a soothing way as the droid wiggled and chirped and rolled insistently into Poe’s thighs. There was a bruise on his cheek, so light and faint that you would not notice it unless you were familiar with what the beginning of a blossoming bruise looked like. Finn hadn’t realized the assassin had managed to get a hit in, and he felt something warm and tight rise in his chest as he took it in. Poe didn’t seem to notice either the bruise or Grogu and Finn looking at him. All his attention was on his droid.

Din and Leia had agreed that droids were not allowed into the negotiations for security reasons–and because the only droid buir regularly let into the palace was Artoo–so Luke had made a pitstop to collect both BB-8 and Artoo from their charging docks on their way to the medical rooms.

Finn knew that during the Rebellion, when Din and Luke had been worlds apart, Artoo had been papa and buir’s primary source of communication. Any com lines the Rebellion had were never guaranteed to be secured, and with Luke being chased across the galaxy by his father and Din at the head of the Rebellion with Leia as one of its top generals, it just wasn’t worth the risk. So they recorded messages and songs and quiet I love you’s, placing the drives in Artoo and sending him back to the other whenever they were close enough in the galaxy for Artoo to make the trip himself. They would go like that for months at a time, thousands of stars between them, with a little droid being the only thing keeping them from completely losing each other. Finn wondered if that’s what they were doing now, if papa had Artoo here so he could record whatever conversation they were about to have and relay it to buir. Old habits and even older instinctive reactions, Finn supposed, drilled into them during the Rebellion and still lingering.

At the mention of Poe papa let go of Finn, circling around him to drop to the floor next to the pilot in a move as graceful and regal as a diving jai’galaar. Poe looked up, startled. “What about you?” he asked, taking hold of Poe’s cheeks in the same way he had with Finn, careful not to press too hard against the quickly darkening bruise. It was going to ache something fierce tomorrow, Finn was sure. He was seized with a rather sharp and hard thought of draping Poe in shimmering beskar cloth so this would not happen again. “Are you alright?”

Poe blinked dumbly.

“I, uh–” he cleared his throat, stumbling over his words. “--yeah, I’m fine your majes–um Master Skywalker.”

Papa smiled. It was his amused smile. His relieved smile. “You can call me Luke.”

“Can I?” Poe’s voice sounded a little strangled.

“You can,” Papa repeated. He gave Poe one more look over, frowning tightly at the bruise, then got back to his feet in one smooth and elegant motion. He moved like a swath of shadow across the room to Leia, as graceful as the swing of Hod Ha’ran’s hammer before it fell. She already had a medical droid looking her over–buir was not fond of the medical droids, but papa had insisted and buir had relented as long as they stayed in the medical wards, and because he really was quite bad at telling Luke no–but Luke shooed it away. The droid sputtered, but one hard look from papa and it rolled away to some of the other patients in the open rooms of the ward. They were in the Mand’alor’s private room in the medical ward, which saw far too much of the Djarin Clan for all of the healers’ liking. They had once remarked that someone should check to see if the Mand’alor’s armor really was beskar, what with how often he ended up here.

“Are you alright?” Luke asked softly, taking ba’vodu Leia’s hands in his and holding them steady. “Are you sure you weren't hurt?”

Ba’vodu Leia frowned, but Finn could see the way she was holding papa’s hands tightly enough to hurt. Her knuckles were white, her hands pale, the gold of her wedding ring sitting starkly against her skin. “I didn’t assign Poe to my personal guard because he’s pretty to look at, Luke.”

Poe let out an odd sound while Rey slapped a hand to her mouth to try and stifle her laugh.

“Well, I never know with you,” Papa said calmly.

Grogu patted Finn’s cheek, then pointed down to Poe. I want to say thank you Finn can I say thank you?

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Poe asked quietly, leaning closer to Finn as he knelt down beside the pilot. He must have showered either late last night or early this morning, because Finn could smell faint notes of ripe oranges and sweet spices in his hair. He leaned a little closer, and for a moment Finn wished he were not wearing his armor so he could properly feel their shoulders bump together. He settled for gazing at Poe’s face instead, open and unabashedly. Even the harsh white lighting of the medical ward complemented Poe’s physique and complexion. It cast shimmering highlights across his cheeks. Drew out regal shadows along his jaw. Put the softest of stars in his eyes. Finn wondered what Poe would look like under nothing more than the starlight, where there were no moons to help the stars light the gentle and quiet nights of Mandalore. He wondered if it would harden Poe like it hardened the waters of the Kelta, or if it would soften the pilot’s countenance like it softened beskar.

It would not, Finn thought, be terribly difficult to find out. He could ask Poe to walk with him along the Kelta’s banks. That wasn’t an unusual ask of someone you wanted to court. Finn could ask after the banquet tonight. They could take a walk along the riverbank, and then maybe Finn could take Poe to the night market to find a salve for the bruise on his cheek. It would not heal it, there was nothing to do but to let bruises heal on their own, but it would soothe the ache and sting.

Finn caught sight of Rey looking at him with her hands pressed against her lips, but it was not enough to hide her grin.

He narrowed his eyes at his sister, but he did not pull away from Poe. If anything he leaned a little closer, coaxing BB-8 over to him before depositing Grogu in Poe’s now empty hands.

Poe looked like a startled lolth cat, eyes wide and shoulders hunched and staying as still as stone as Grogu babbled happily at him. He reached up and placed his little hands on Poe’s cheeks–thank you thankyouthankyou for keeping my brother and ba’vodu safe–then knocked his head against Poe’s jaw.

Finn winced in sympathy.

“He wanted to say thank you,” He said at Poe’s baffled look. Even that looked good on him, that confusion that was accompanied with the smallest of head tilts. Finn didn’t think there was much of anything that would look bad on Poe Dameron. Like Mandalore’s gods of war and pleasure, he could be covered in dirt and blood or the finest of beskar silks and iridescent crystal and Finn would think him beautiful either way. “For keeping me and ba’vodu Leia safe.”

“Oh,” Poe blinked. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Grogu frowned, then butted his head against Poe’s jaw harder. Tell him I mean it Finn I really mean it thank you thankyouthankyou–

“He’s very insistent on saying thank you,” Finn said, sparing a brief glance at Rey as she sat down in front of them before turning his attention back to Poe. A stray lock of hair had fallen across Poe’s eyes, dislodged from his earlier fight and the natural pull of gravity and time. Finn didn’t even think twice before he lifted his hand and brushed it away and tucked it behind Poe’s ear. Poe snapped his eyes up to look at him, now widened ever so slightly in his surprise, but he did not pull away. A flush dusted across his cheeks and his nose, and then Poe tilted his head and tipped his bruised cheek into Finn’s palm. Finn traced his thumb around the edge of the discolored skin. He could almost feel the heat of it though the leather of his glove, and if he pressed down he was sure he would drag a wince across Poe’s handsome face.

“Well–” Poe smiled so sweetly. All his attention was on Finn. He shuffled a little closer, tilting his head a little further into Finn’s palm as he settled Grogu more comfortably in his lap. “--you’re very welcome then.”

Grogu reached up and shoved Finn’s hand away. Finn don’t be gross like papa and buir don’tbegrossdon’tbegross-

“Did you like the chocolate?” Rey cut Grogu off. She sounded innocent enough when she asked it, but Finn could hear the gleeful curiosity in her tone.

“I did,” Poe said. He was still looking at Finn with his pretty eyes that were as deep and dark as the Kelta’s riverbanks. Finn was seized with a rather possessive thought that he wanted to lay Poe out in the shallows of the river and see how close in color the riverbanks really were. “I really did.”

Finn’s heart skipped and stuttered, and then it skipped and stuttered for an entirely different reason as the door to the medical room was thrown open.

“He’s a hit-for-hire from Coruscant,” Where papa moved with the grace and elegance of every swing Hod Ha’ran took with his hammer, buir moved with the steady beat and flow of Gol Ga’ran’s fires. He was the other half of the two gods of the forge, of Mandalore’s Great Lovers. Hod Ha’ran, who was Fickle Fortune and The Armorer of Kad Ha’rangir’s forges, and Gol Ga’ran, who was Clever Chance and the Firewatcher that tended to the fires of those same forges. Papa often said that Din moved with the purpose and steady rhythm Gol Ga’ran had when he stoke coals and embers, and even though buir was moving quickly to cross the room to papa and ba’vodu Leia, he did not once waver and he did not stop until Luke’s hands were in his and he was standing before Leia as a king would stand before a queen of his equal making. “Said his contact gave him that armor–I’ve already sent his information to Boba to see if he knows anything.”

Ba’vodu Leia went eerily still.

“It really wasn’t a Mandalorian,” she sounded defeated.

“No.” Din said softly. “It wasn’t.”

An odd stillness fell across the room.

Everyone had already known that, but there had still been the smallest glimmer of hope that maybe they had been wrong. That maybe Leia had been wrong and it really had just been a series of accidents. But with this confirmation everything finally settled and clicked into place in a heavy and nauseating way.

There were not many people who knew Queen Organa had gone to Mandalore for these negotiations.

There were fewer who knew where these negotiations were being held.

And they were all on Mandalore.

Perhaps Finn would be more alarmed if he had not grown up watching his buir fight challenger after challenger after challenger to keep his throne, if he did not know what lengths his buir would go to keep his family and his people safe. His buir was Mand’alor the Noble. The Herald of the Mythosaur, some called him. The Bringer of the New Age. Din Djarin had survived The Night of a Thousand Tears. He had avenged their lost and their fallen as he fought side by side with his husband in the Rebellion. He had brought his people home, and while the heavy crown of the Mand’alor may have come to him unwanted, he had fought with every bloody tooth and bone in his body to keep it. Finn’s buir was a formidable man. A frightening man. A man who, sometimes, seemed just as mythical and untouchable as the Mand’alors of legend. The same ruthlessness and ferocity of Leia Organa’s favored general of the Rebellion had followed Din into his rule over Mandalore, into his reputation and his legacy, and while it had been a long time since he had to be that man, he had not forgotten how.

Buir glanced at Poe, tilting his head down as he leveled his gaze at the pilot. “You said all the attempts had been staged as accidents until now?”

Poe nodded.

Even with an assassin slinking through the shadows of Mandalore, Finn had no doubt in his mind that this was the safest place his ba’vodu Leia could be.

“Good,” buir said. “That means they’re getting desperate.”

Chapter Text

Finn had been right.

The bruise on Poe’s cheek had darkened and molted quickly, and by the time they had made it to the Hall for the dinner banquet it looked like someone had smeared the dyed charcoal and beskar powders of armor paint across Poe’s skin. It was a hauntingly beautiful thing underneath the firelight of the Hall, and it made Finn’s heart ache as much as it made it flip and flutter against his ribs. Poe should never have gotten hurt, but he wore it with the same pride and grace of any Mandalorian. Finn wanted to reach out and ghost his fingertips along the bruise, wanted to see if it was warm to the touch yet, wanted to kiss it better like how papa had done for him and Rey when they were younger, like how he still did for Grogu, like how buir did for papa.

“Does it hurt?” Finn asked, knowing the answer well enough already.

Poe gave him a sweet and pretty smile, lifting a hand to work his fingers through his curls and tug them back and away from his eyes. It was a smooth motion, a well practiced one. Finn did not miss the way the corner of Poe’s lip twitched in a barely concealed wince. “I’ve had worse.”

Finn frowned.

Poe glanced away. “…yeah. A little bit.”

It was, Finn knew, a terrible idea considering what had happened this morning, but it was with that quiet admission that he made up his mind. He caught Poe’s hand in his own as the pilot lowered it back to his lap, and since Finn was not sure he would welcome a kiss to his cheek, he pressed a chast kiss to the back of Poe’s hand.

“Come to the night market with me.” Finn said.

Poe blinked. There was a dusting of rose across his cheeks and nose, a small smile tugging up at the corner of his lips. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

Rey snorted out a laugh and Grogu cooed softly from his spot in her lap.

Finn ignored both of his siblings and gently tugged Poe to his feet. He followed after Finn like a quiet breeze, gracefully and easily and without any hesitation. Poe was close enough that they were nearly chest to chest, and now that Finn was not in his armor he could feel the warmth that clung to Poe. Finn wanted, for just a moment, so very badly to close that last sliver of distance between them, to place his hand on Poe’s waist and hold him close and sweep him up into a slow dance in time with the quiet melodies that were playing behind them, to see if he was just as graceful with this as he was when he fought. “There’s a woman who sells salves–Mettie,” Finn continued, offering an explanation before Poe could ask for it. “It won't heal the bruise, but it will help with the pain.”

Poe hummed a pleasant note, lacing his fingers together with Finn’s instead of letting go of his hand while he glanced at ba’vodu Leia.

There was a quietness in the Hall that Finn could not remember ever being there. There was still music and laughter and warm voices, but it was diluted. Stilled. Leia was sitting beside buir at the head table, papa moving quietly throughout the Hall with ba’vodu Paz. It would not be terribly strange to anyone, seeing the Mand’alor’riduur walking the hall without the Mand’alor by his side, but it was strange to Finn. It was not often he saw his buir and papa apart like this, where they were not standing side by side as a united front for Mandalore. When they were together they were as strong and immovable as the gods of the forge, who, in the old Songs, had been and always were what stood between Mandalore and its ruin. But there was a strength in being apart like this. When they were together they were immovable, apart they were malleable and harder to break. Ba’vodu Leia had said that was what made Din such a good general during the Rebellion. For as good of a fighter as he was, not even Din was immune to distraction when he was with papa. But when they were apart ba’vodu Leia said that was when buir was at his best. He was calculating and resourceful and ruthless, respected by those under his command just as much as he was feared by those that weren't.

Din Djarin had become Leia’s head general because when papa was not with him, buir had someone he was fighting to get back to.

“I’m not sure if…” Poe trailed off as he looked back at Finn.

“It’s not like you’ll be gone for that long,” Rey said. Finn looked over Poe’s shoulder at her. She was resting her chin atop Grogu’s head, and they were both doing a very bad job at hiding their smiles. “Papa and buir can keep an eye on Queen Organa.”

There were far too many people here for any of them to call Leia their ba’vodu.

Poe bit his bottom lip in thought. Finn let himself stare for a moment or two before snapping his gaze back up.

“Let me talk to her,” Poe gave Finn another small sweet smile, squeezing his hand once before letting it go.

Finn’s heart did something funny as he watched Poe slink through the Hall.

“You’re welcome,” Rey was smiling as brightly as Tatooine’s suns when Finn turned around to look at her. Grogu cooed and smiled and I like him FinnIlikehimpleasedon’tmakehimleave. Rey looked down at Grogu, then nodded in agreement. “I also like him. Just...don’t go off and marry him in a cave yet.”

Finn grinned. “I make no promises.”

–

Finn loved the night market.

He had spent as much of his childhood here as he had playing in his buir’s throne room, darting between the booths and stalls and sneaking sweets and gawking at all the new things that filtered in and out every single night. He loved all the bright colors and twinkling lights of the firelit lanterns and the stringed lights, the scent of caramelized sugar and spice that hung in the air, the cacophony of music and song from the stories being told to captive audiences and the cheery voices shouting to be heard above it all, how even through all the lights and colors and noise you could still see the blanket of stars up above.

“I didn’t realize it was this big,” Poe said.

He was looking around in curious delight. The lights painted Poe in the colors of the stained glass windows in the palace and laced stars throughout his hair. When he looked back at Finn he was smiling even though it must have hurt, his eyes wide and bright and full of a childlike wonder. Finn’s chest hitched, and for a moment he did not know how to breathe. He remembered, once, that he had asked papa why he had stayed married to buir. Ba’buir Beru always liked to tell them the story of how Din and Luke met, and when Finn had been young he had not entirely understood it even when Rey found it equal parts romantic and so sweet that it was, in her words, gross. You didn’t know each other Finn had said. And papa had smiled, soft and sweet and fond.Maybe, he had agreed. But when I saw your buir for the first time I knew I was going to love him.

He had accepted his papa’s explanation, even though he still had not fully understood it.

Finn thought that maybe, now, he did.

“It used to be smaller,” He said weakly.

The market took up most of Sundari’s center city square now, but Finn remembered the days when Mandalore was first being resettled, when the market hardly filled up the courtyard outside of the palace. It had been no less bright and colorful and lively then as it was now.

Poe looked at him in disbelief.

“Mettie is this way,” Finn cleared his throat, reaching for Poe’s hand and gently tugging him through the crowd. Poe tilted his head back in a pretty laugh, lacing his fingers with Finn’s again and following after him.

–

“Mand’alor’ad!” Mettie greeted Finn with a bright smile when she saw them approach, her rosy cheeks shining brightly underneath the colored lanterns she hung up around her booth. She was not wearing her armor tonight, only a simple dress that always smelled of a thousand herbs and spices. It was what she wore when she was mixing more salves and powders and liquids. It must be a busy night for her. “I would say it is good to see you again, but you only visit my booth when you’re injured.”

“That’s not true,” Finn was sure he was smiling just as brightly. Mettie’s booth had been one he frequented as a child. Shad always been very accommodating to him and let him help her mix salves on busy nights, always amused when either papa or buir came up to her asking if Finn was with her as he sat on the counter of her booth with a bowl in hand and sweetberry juice on his fingers and cheeks. “And I’m not injured, thank you very much.”

“Ah, but your friend is.” Mettie stepped out from behind the counter. “Come here, let me see.”

“Oh, I’m not–” Poe tried to protest, but Mettie already had his jaw cupped between her palms. She gently tilted his head down, then to the right so she could get a better look. She was a rather small woman, and Poe had to bend down at an awkward angle so she could properly look at him. “It’s just a bruise–”

“He is very handsome,” Mettie cut Poe off, tilting his head up to get a look underneath his jaw. “Where did you find him at?”

Finn lifted his hand and pressed his fingers to his lips to hide a smile. “He’s one of Queen Organa’s pilots.”

“A pilot!” Mettie sounded delighted. “X-wing?”

“Yeah. Mostly,” Poe answered that one.

Mettie’s laugh was like ringing bells, bright and clear and joyful. “Oh, Mand’alor’ad, you grow more like your buir every day.” She patted Poe’s cheek, the one that was not bruised, then let him go as she slunk back behind her booth with the grace and speed of a lolth cat. She had been a Nite Owl once, a very long time ago, before the Night of a Thousand Tears. She was one of the best, Bo-Katan had said. She always sounded regretful when she spoke the words, but Bo-Katan never gave more explanation than that. When Finn had asked Mettie, she had smiled and shook her head. You are too young yet for some stories. “Come, come, I have something that should help.”

Poe looked back at Finn, and he looked so pretty underneath the light of the colored lanterns that for a long moment Finn just looked at him.

He had never given anyone courting gifts before. He had never even tried to court anyone before, but he wanted so very badly to do this right with Poe. He wanted so very badly to properly court him, to gift him more sweets and food, to have ba’buir help him craft a weapon for Poe that was just as beautiful and strong as him. Finn wanted. He wanted.

He wanted to love Poe Dameron.

He knew he was going to love Poe Dameron.

Finn was terrified that he was going to mess this up.

He wondered if this was how papa felt.

“Finn?” Poe called his name softly.

He blinked, and it was with a considerable amount of effort that Finn drug himself out of his thoughts. Poe was smiling softly at him. His curls had finally fully escaped whatever product he had used to keep them back and out of his face, and as they fell across his eyes Poe carded his fingers through his hair and tugged them back. The motion gave Finn another glance of his tattoo, of the curved lines and pattern. But Finn, for once, was not drawn in by that tattoo. It was Poe’s smile that held Finn’s attention, and he could not–did not want to look away.

“Just…thinking,” Finn said.

Poe’s entire demeanor softened. “Yeah?” He turned back towards Finn, closing the small distance he had put between them. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Finn said honestly.

That pretty rose color came back to Poe’s cheeks.

“Here we are,” Mettie paused, glancing between the two of them with a bright twinkle in her eyes. She had a jar in hand, and even from here Finn could smell the sweet wood and sharp spice of the oils she had used for whatever salve was in that jar. “Sorry to interrupt you boys.”

“No, that’s okay,” Poe’s voice sounded a little strained.

Mettie hummed as she slipped out from behind the booth again. “This should help with the ache and inflammation,” she pressed the jar into Poe’s hand, then, before he could even open his mouth, “Free of charge.”

“No, I can’t–”

“You can,” Mettie smoothly cut him off. She smiled brightly at Poe, squeezed his hands once, then let go and stepped back and looked at Finn. “Have you been to Berold’s yet? Word is he’s just made a fresh batch of uj cake.”

“Uj cake?” Poe asked, still holding tightly to the jar.

–

“I could eat only this for the rest of my life and I’d die happy,” Poe popped the last piece of his uj cake into his mouth, chewing slowly to savor the last of the spiced dessert. “Fuck this is good.”

Finn let a laugh spill from his throat. “Is it better than the chocolate?”

“It might be,” Poe answered.

They should have gone back to the palace a while ago. They should have gone back after seeing Mettie, but Poe had grown curious when she mentioned uj cake, and it had not been terribly hard for Finn to talk himself into taking a little detour. It had been even easier to talk both of them into lengthening their detour. They took the long way back to the palace by following the Kelta, walking along its banks. Keldabe is on the other side, Finn had said, watching Poe look across the river at the twinkling lights of Sundari’s sister city instead of looking with him. It was the capital before Sundari–the old palace is still there.

Is it like the one in Sundari? Poe had asked.

It's bigger, Finn had answered. But it’s unstable. They’ve preserved what they safely can, now they’re just trying to figure out how to save the rest.

I’d love to see it, Poe had said it so softly that Finn was not quite sure he had heard him right.

“You’ll have to try ba’buir’s,”Finn braced his palms on the ground behind him and leaned back. They were sitting on one of the few grassy patches along the riverbank, even if it wasn’t terribly comfortable. The grass was tough and brittle, still struggling to grow after years and years of lying dormant. But it was still better than sitting in the sand. “She makes the best uj cake.”

“She’s your grandmother,” Poe was smiling as he said it, teasing in his tone. “You’re obligated to say that.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Finn countered.

Poe’s laugh was a pretty thing.

It sounded like how Finn imagined stars sounded when they shimmered and twinkle. It sounded like how the river gently lapped at the shore. It sounded like how uj cake tasted, sweet and spiced and warm and pleasantly sticky. Finn wanted to wrap himself up in the sound of Poe’s laugh. He wanted to trap it in a bottle and keep it with him. He wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. He wanted to be the reason that Poe laughed. He wanted to be the reason for that pretty sound.

But eventually the last of Poe’s laughter faded into the quiet spells of Mandalorian nights, and all Finn was left with a sweet smile and warm eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Finn asked when Poe did not speak again.

“I’m thinking,” Poe said softly, “That I would really like to kiss the prince of Mandalore, but Leia said I couldn’t cause an intergalactic incident this time.”

He leaned closer to Finn until their shoulders were pressed together.

“Well, lucky for you–” Finn twisted himself to properly face Poe, placing one hand on the pilot’s thigh to steady himself. Poe had been beautiful in the colored lights of the market, but here, where they were far enough away from the city for only the moonlight to reach them, he looked ethereal. He looked like Rashe Sa’rangir, the cup bearer of Kad Ha’rangir’s Hall and the goddess who led the Mand’alors past to their place in the sky. Poe looked as she did on the mural in the throne room of the Keldabe palace, dark haired and regal, eyes depthless and dark, wearing no helmet so she could pluck the stars from her hair. “--no one said that the prince of Mandalore couldn’t cause an intergalactic incident.”

He lifted his hand, being very careful to not press down too hard on Poe’s bruised cheek as Finn kissed him.

Chapter Text

“You were out late last night.” Were the first words that greeted Finn that morning.

He blinked slowly at his buir, who was sitting at the kitchen table with a stony look on his face. It wasn’t a look of anger, but one of worry and concern and…resignement?

“It wasn’t that late,” Finn mumbled.

Buir just stared at him.

Grogu was in his lap, babbling and giggling, and if Din were not Finn’s buir the sight of it would have taken away from the seriousness of the moment. As it was, Finn recognized the stillness in Din’s shoulders, the carefully neutral expression his face fell into, the calm before the storm. It was not a look Finn saw directed at him often–he couldn't even recall the last time he had that look turned on him. He must have been a child, getting into things he knew to stay out of, running off into desert sands before Mandalore was properly settled, messing around with his lightsaber without the supervision of his papa–

Oh.

Finn was in trouble.

Buir let out a quiet breath. “Finn’ika, I know you’re an adult and that I can’t make decisions for you, and I know that you’re…that you like Poe–” buir frowned when he said it. “--but he also has a job to do.” He fixed Finn with a heavy look. “A very important job that you can’t distract him from.”

Guilt crept in.

Finn really hadn’t meant to be out so late.

Kissing Poe had been…Finn had gotten drunk off it. The softness of Poe’s lips, the sweetness of the uj cake on his tongue, the silkyness of Poe’s hair between Finn’s fingers, the warmth of his skin seeping into Finn’s own, the sharp curve of Poe’s jawline on his fingertips, all of it. It was far more intoxicating than any spiced mead Finn could drink. He wanted more of it, as much as Poe was willing to give. And Poe had given him so much. He had kissed Finn until they were both breathless, pulling back just long enough to let air slip into their lungs before kissing him again and again and again. It was not until the moon was starting her descent to the morning sky did they reluctantly part and head back to the palace, lingering together as long as they could before Poe had to slip away, leaving Finn’s hand cold and empty and his lips warm and tingling from the weight of Poe’s own against them in one last kiss.

Finn winced.

“...sorry, buir.”

Din sighed.

“I’m not telling you to not court him,” buir’s voice softened to a gentle understanding. “But maybe save the nighttime excursions for after we catch your ba’vodu’s assassin.”

Finn nodded.

There was a moment of silence, and then Finn drifted forward and took a seat at the table across from his buir.

Din stayed quiet, waiting for Finn to gather his words.

“..were you ever scared that you’d mess it up?” Finn asked softly.

His buir did not answer right away. He readjusted Grogu to a more comfortable and steady hold, then lifted a hand and placed it palm up on the table. Finn did not hesitate to take it, suddenly feeling like nothing more than a child seeking comfort and reassurance from his father.

Finn had never really stopped being that child, he thought.

He didn’t think he ever would.

“Your ba’buir used to tell a story about the gods of the forge when I was young,” his buir started. “She told me how Gol Ga’ran was the first of the Old Gods to step foot on Mandalore, that he spent a hundred years building the Great Forge, then a hundred more building and tending to the fires until they were hot enough to shape and bend beskar.” He paused for a moment, taking the time to choose his words. “When Kad Ha’rangir asked him why he was doing this, Gol Ga’ran told him that the Great Forge and the fires within were a courting gift. When he asked who Gol Ga’ran was courting, he told Kad Ha’rangir that he would know when he saw them.”

Finn vaguely recalled this story, a distant hazy memory that seemed more like a dream.

“And then Hod Ha’ran came to Mandalore to find material for armor and weapons, right?” Finn asked.

Din hummed in agreement. “Gol Ga’ran gifted him the forge, and in return Hod Ha’ran used this gift to craft Gol Ga’ran the axe he uses to harvest the wood for the forge’s fires.”

That was the story of Mandalore’s Great Lovers, the foundations of their own courting rituals, why the gift of a weapon was so important.

“...buir, I already know this story,” Finn said.

His buir smiled softly. “Then you know that Chance has always loved Fortune, and yet he spent two hundred years on a courting gift.”

Finn blinked slowly.

He was being about as cryptic as ba’buir.

“He was afraid he was going to get it wrong. I was afraid that I was going to get it wrong, but look at where we are now,” buir gave Finn’s hand a gentle squeeze, a gesture that was as familiar as it was comforting. “I’ve seen the way Poe looks at you, Finn’ika. I’m pretty sure he’s not going home with Leia once all this is figured out.”

Finn should probably feel more embarrassed.

Instead he felt his heart leap in excitement.

“Really?”

Buir groaned while Grogu laughed.

—

“Did you get yelled at too?” Poe asked.

He was already waiting in the throne room when Finn and Rey and Grogu entered, leaning against one of the stone pillars while BB-8 zipped around him.

Poe looked tired.

He looked beautiful.

He looked like something that Finn wanted to see every single morning for the rest of his life.

Finn smiled, easily closing the distance between them, taking Poe’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to his palm. “Just a little bit.”

A pretty shade of rose bloomed across Poe’s cheeks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips like the sunrises that crested over Mandalore’s horizon. He stepped closer to Finn, settling his free hand on his pauldron, right over the mudhorn. “I would say I’m sorry–” Poe traced over the points and curves of the signet with an odd gentleness, almost as if he were afraid it would break. “--except I’m really not.”

“Good,” Finn tangled their fingers together, not wanting to let go of Poe’s hand just yet. “I’d hate if you were.”

“Stop being gross.” Rey demanded.

“No.” Finn replied.

Rey made a gagging sound, sending Grogu into a fit of laughter.

“Be kind to your ori’vod, ade.”

Both Finn and Poe jumped at the sound of the Armorer’s voice. Finn twisted around to see his ba’buir crossing the throne room in easy, graceful strides. She had a piece of the assassin’s armor with her–the chest plate, it looked like–which she set on the throne dias without once breaking her gait as she continued walking towards Finn and Poe. The only time she paused was to gently press her temple to Rey’s, then Grogu’s, offering them softly murmured hellos in Mando’a, but outside of that the Armorer continued straight on to the two of them.

“Poe Dameron,” she greeted once she reached them.

“Um. Hello.” Poe fiddled with the edge of Finn’s pauldron, the only visible sign of his nervousness. Finn couldn’t blame Poe for it. His ba’buir was a frightening woman–he didn’t know anyone who wasn’t at least a little intimidated by her. Even Bo-Katan hesitated to question or disagree with her. “Ma’am.”

The Armorer looked at Poe with a steady gaze, her expression entirely unreadable beneath her golden helmet.

Poe shuffled awkwardly.

“Jeeze,” ba’vodu Boba’s voice drifted into the throne room, a distant echo that grew louder with each word. “Don’t scare him away yet, my Lady–you’re gonna make the kid sad.”

“Ba’vodu Boba!” Rey said.

Boba knelt down, catching Grogu as he Force jumped out of Rey’s hold, easily transferring him to the crook of his arm so he could catch Rey with the other. She knocked her forehead against ba’vodu Boba’s, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. Finn couldn’t hold back his smile at the sight of it even if he tried, so he didn’t.

“Boba Fett,” the Armorer said. “You have impeccable timing.”

“It’s a gift.” Ba’vodu Boba said it with a bright smile. Then, “Where’s this armor?”

Ba’buir nodded to the chest plate on the throne dias. “The rest is in the forge, but I can’t imagine you’d need it.”

It took Finn a moment to connect the dots.

A big part of the Hutt trade and underground markets–outside of spice, anyway–was the trading and selling of Mandalorian armor and weapons. There was still so much of it that had been lost to the Purge, and the task of returning it back home to Mandalore’s forges was certainly a daunting one. With how ironclad his grip on the Hutt trade in the Outer Rim was, Boba was and had been neck deep in it for years, pulling the authentic Mandalorian armor from the market while letting the knock offs and forgeries go through. This armor was a forgery, of that there was no doubt, but if ba’vodu Boba could recognize the make of it, it would certainly help them narrow down the possibilities of where it came from.

Boba hummed as he got back to his feet and crossed the room, Grogu nestled snugly in his arms while Rey trailed after him.

“I can tell you right now it wasn’t hand forged,” Boba made the observation before he knelt down again. “Not completely, anyway. The body is a standard mass produced model.”

“Yes,” ba’buir said dryly. “I figured that out myself.”

“Of course you did.” Ba’vodu Boba didn’t say it unkindly. He tilted his head as he looked at the armor, adjusting Grogu to a more comfortable hold while humming a thoughtful note. “Looks like old clone trooper armor–someone just modified it to look more Mandalorian.”

“Clone trooper?” Poe cut in.

He sounded surprised.

And worried.

Both ba’buir and ba’vodu Boba looked at him.

“Gonna share with the class, kid?” Ba’vodu Boba prompted when Poe didn’t continue.

“The Republic’s been putting all the unclaimed clone trooper armor in storage,” Poe said quickly. He let go of Finn’s hand, but not before giving it a final parting squeeze. “It’s part of the new Preservation Laws–some of that armor still has their data chips intact.” He moved away from Finn to kneel beside Boba, hesitating for only a moment before picking up the chest plate to get a closer look. “Those have all the backlogs of battle reports and confidential information that was passed back and forth during the Clone Wars–a lot of it is out of date now, but it’s still too much of a security risk to let that armor stay with the public. Who the kriff knows what’s on those chips.”

Boba was looking at Poe with a curious expression.

Poe didn’t seem to notice. He was entirely focused on the chest plate in his hands, looking it over with narrowed eyes. “Shit–it is clone trooper armor–how the hell did I miss that–?

“Their armor was based on Mandalorian armor–it was already pretty similar looking before this particular set was modified,” ba’vodu Boba said. “If you’re not familiar with both styles it’s almost impossible to tell the difference.”

Poe didn’t look particularly reassured by that.

“So you think this came from Republic storage?” Finn asked.

“Either that or the underground markets,” Poe set the chest plate down, looking back up at Finn. The smile and laid back look he had before was gone, replaced with a stony expression covered with a thick glaze of concern. Finn wanted to wash it away and unearth that smile again, but he didn’t know how. “Clone trooper armor is in pretty high demand right now, what with the Republic snatching it all up–it’s right up there with Mandalorian armor now, I think.”

Boba hummed. “You’ve got a log of this stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” It took Poe a moment to look away from Finn and back to ba’vodu Boba. “I don’t have access to it, but Queen Organa does.” He paused for a moment. “You think the serial number is still on this set?”

“Not really, but it’s worth a shot,” ba’vodu Boba said.

Ba’buir leaned down to pick up the chest plate. “I suppose you did need all the armor after all.”

–

“Wow–” Poe looked around the Great Forge in awe, a curious wonder painted across his face in delicate brushstrokes. “--this place is insane.”

Rey and Grogu had run off to go find papa and ba’vodu Leia, leaving the four of them to journey to the forge alone.

“This is the heart of Mandalore,” ba’buir said. Even with the song of ringing hammers and roaring fires her voice rose above it all, a steady presence among the ever changing tides and flames of the forge. Finn had not spent nearly as much time here during his childhood as he had in the night markets, but the Great Forge still brought him that same sort of nostalgic comfort. Finn could–and has–spent hours in here, just listening to the beat and pulse of Mandalore’s heart. Din would sit with him sometimes. They never spoke much during these moments, taking the time to just listen. “It is here the Great Lovers dwell, where Fickle Fortune steadies the swing of our hammers and Clever Chance keeps our fires burning bright.”

“Neat,” Poe said eloquently.

Ba’vodu Boba snorted out a laugh. “Where’d you find this one at, squirt?”

“Poe is ba’vodu Leia’s personal guard,” Finn answered.

“No shit?” Boba looked back at Poe with that same curiosity he had back in the throne room.

“The armor is over there–do not touch anything else.” Ba’buir interrupted before the conversation could continue. She gestured to one of the unoccupied workbenches, where the assassin’s armor was neatly stacked. Finn had been half expecting it to be strewn about, but the Armorer always showed the deepest respect and care to any piece of armor. It is what keeps us safe and protects us from harm, she had once explained to him, so we must treat it with kindness to show our gratitude for all it does for us. In hindsight, Finn didn’t know why he thought this one would be different. “Finn, come with me.”

Finn blinked, confused, but followed after his ba’buir.

“You wish to court Poe Dameron, yes?” she asked once they were out of earshot of Boba and Poe, not waiting for Finn to answer before continuing. “Have you thought of what weapon to gift him?”

“A knife.” Finn said without really thinking. Then, “Wait, how did you–?”

“I am not blind, ad’ika.”

Finn felt his cheeks warm.

He knew they weren’t exactly being subtle about their interest in each other, but he didn’t think it was that obvious.

You made out with Poe on the bank of the Kelta last night, his brain unhelpfully supplied. Buir told you off like you were a teenager again. You can’t get much more obvious than that.

“Tell me–” ba’buir, oblivious to his plight, continued deeper into the forge. Finn hurried to follow after her, throwing a glance over his shoulder. He did not like the idea of leaving Poe alone in the Great Forge where so many Mandalorians were congregated, some not as receptive to outsiders as others, but he was with ba’vodu Boba. He might not spend much time on Mandalore, but Boba was a Clan leader and one of the Mand’alor’s head advisors. Ba’vodu Boba was respected here. As long as Poe stayed with him he would be alright. “--what is the significance with your choice of weapon?”

Finn’s gaze lingered on Poe for a second longer before he turned back to the Armorer.

“He carries a knife with him–a metal one, not a viroblade,” Finn explained. “He’s…he’s very skilled with it.”

Ba’buir hummed thoughtfully. She had come to a stop in front of some of the stock shelves, looking it over before reaching for a bar of beskar. “That is a very difficult weapon to master.”

Finn nodded in agreement, watching her pull another bar from the shelf.

“Come see me tomorrow morning,” ba’buir said. “I’ll have something ready for you then.”

“Ba’buir, you don’t have to—”

“You want to court him, do you not?” She cut Finn off, not unkindly.

“... ‘lek,” Finn answered, the Mando’a rolling off his tongue like rain water. Because he did want to. Badly.

“Then I shall have a weapon made.” The Armorer said simply.

And that was the end of that.