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1. Tea and Ominous Whisperings
With the kid gone, his Creed in question, and Gideon apprehended, there's not much left for Din to do but tell Bo-Katan he'll help reclaim Mandalore.
In exchange for helping him take Hutt's old palace, Fett invites their group to stay with him on Tatooine while they iron out their plans. Bo-Katan has passion, but she can be bull-headed. Din's sure they can get more information on Mandalore's situation with a bit more time and resources. So they go.
The hope is Bo-Katan will challenge Din in the interim. They seem to walk on thin ice around each other already. He won't do her the dishonor of holding back, but he's seen enough of her skill to know there's a definite chance he'll lose.
Your lack of faith is disturbing.
And it'll be nice to have some peace and quiet. Din really shouldn't indulge the thing, but it is a powerful Mandalorian weapon. He owes some respect.
"What lack?" he says, sipping some surprisingly good tea from the palace's kitchens. Fett hadn't needed anyone outside of Shand, in the end, but he's still letting them stay.
You believe you will lose.
"I believe there's a chance. It's not the same."
Isn’t it?
"No. But for once, I hope to."
Even after hearing the Darksaber's whispers, Din has maintained he doesn't want it. Pretending otherwise is disrespectful, and also moot, because apparently the Darksaber can sense deception. The lack of privacy is unnerving.
A thousand voices converge in a hiss that almost makes Din wince. You will not lose.
"You seem adamant about it. Do you not like Bo-Katan?"
There is no 'liking.' It is not her right to covet that which she lost in weakness.
"She's stronger now." Din looks at his belt, where the saber remains clipped at all times. It gets cranky if Din tries to leave it behind. "She's been training to rule Mandalore."
She is not worthy! You have won us, Din Djarin. You will not reject us.
Din sighs and finishes his tea. Once done, he replaces his helmet. No one's said anything about what happened on the cruiser, not even Bo-Katan. He does not feel much like a Mandalorian, but he feels vulnerable without his armor.
You are Mandalorian. You are Mand'alor.
Din sighs again, shaking his head. "There's no convincing you, is there?"
We will see you wear the trappings of your enemies. The door swishes open. Din walks back to the throne room. Together, we will see a new golden age. No more hiding in the gutters.
"That would be nice," Din says, rounding a corner, "if you have somebody else at the helm."
No!
"Who're you talking to?" Fett asks.
Din tilts his head to indicate his belt. "Just trying to convince this thing to accept Bo-Katan. I'm sure once she wins it back it'll change its tune."
For some reason, this makes everyone quiet. Guards steal glances at each other. Shand and Fett have gone still in a way that makes Din's muscles tense.
"Pardon my Huttese," Shand says, "but what the actual fuck are you talking about?"
"The Darksaber," Din replies, "Unless you know some other ancient laser sword that wants me on a throne."
We are a saber!
Fett, after some more staring, says, "So it's haunted."
"Guess so. Or maybe it's just sentient. It looks like a Jedi weapon, after all."
"Lightsabers are not sentient."
"With their sorcery? Are you sure?" Din pats the Darksaber for good measure.
Shand rolls her eyes with her whole body. "I need a drink. And you," pointing at Din as she goes, "need to talk to Bo-Katan about this."
2. Diet and Exercise
Din doesn't get a chance to talk to Bo-Katan. As soon as they have a coherent plan, she's forging ahead. A few voices aren't the priority.
First, they need to find more Mandalorians. Din's not sure where the Armorer is, or if any of his covert is left besides her. Instead, Bo-Katan leads the way to a breath of a scent they picked up while fishing around on Tatooine. A lot of people can hide in these sands, and maybe it's because the universe feels bad for Din, but there's a chance that a Mandalorian has bunkered down near Fett's kingdom.
"Let me know if you need an exorcism," Fett says before Din goes, "I know a guy."
Din huffs and clasps his forearm. "You'll be the first to know."
Bo-Katan and Koska are waiting with palpable impatience by their ship. Once again, Din feels a pang for the Crest.
You will have an entire fleet at your disposal.
"Will it have a customized pre-Empire with a faulty hyperdrive?"
Why would you stoop so low, Mand'alor?
Din scoffs.
"What?" Koska snaps.
Din shakes his head. "Sorry, it's not you. Just the thing."
Bo-Katan raises and eyebrow but doesn't comment. She probably knows what's happening. Doesn't even seem bothered by it. And the Darksaber keeps insisting Din is the rightful wielder.
"You still haven't told me exactly where we're going," he says, feeling a bit ridiculous as he's forced to stand awkwardly to the side while Bo-Katan powers up the ship.
Order her to step aside.
Din doesn't dignify that with a response. The blade bristles like cold needles. He doesn't even know how he can feel it under the beskar.
"That's because the place isn't on a map," Bo-Katan says, "It's just a set of coordinates. No name, no landmarks."
For a second, the crushing grief that's as persistent as the Darksaber lifts, just a little, picturing a dusty town and a red scarf. It would be nice to see another friendly face, one unburdened by thrones and "the Force." But he dismisses the thought out of hand. What are the chances of that?
The answer is very high. Bo-Katan rents speeders near the hangar and drives right to—
"Well, well!" Cobb Vanth crows from outside the bar, "If it ain't Mos Pelgo's shiny knight in armor! I see you found some friends, too!"
"You know these people?" Bo-Katan murmurs.
"I helped them slay the krayt dragon," Din replies. Cobb reaches them, hand outstretched. "How have things been?"
"Wonderful, thanks to you," Cobb says. He keeps his teeth so white. How the hell does he do that on Tatooine? "Where's the kid?"
Everything in Din holds its breath. Din clears his throat. "With his kind."
Cobb's smile falls. "Oh. I'm sorry, Mando. You can visit him though, right?"
"...attachments are not encouraged." Before Cobb can reply, Din says, "We're here for information."
Cobb allows the change of subject. "Least I can do is answer your questions. Come inside."
Cobb's jaw drops when Bo-Katan and Koska remove their helmets. He leans into Din's ear to whisper, "Thought that was illegal or somethin'."
"There are...other Ways," Din says.
"Huh. Well, can I get y'all a drink then?"
But Bo-Katan reasonably doesn't want to waste time. Now that Cobb knows some Mandalorians take off their helmets, he can broaden his answers to their questions. Not many pass Mos Pelgo, after all. Turns out, once every few months, there's a shadow speeding past the town, going back the way it came near sunset.
"Not sure where it's headed," Cobb says, "but I can point you in the general direction."
Bo-Katan thanks him. She gives Din a pointed glance as she and Koska leave. Giving Din the opportunity to say goodbye, with a warning not to take too long. She's good at reading people. Something a skilled leader should have.
You are much more skilled.
Din wants to rub his eyes.
See how this town reveres you? Mandalore will be so much more. Your fellow warriors would follow you to death.
"You okay?" Cobb asks.
"Yeah," Din says, "just this saber. Keeps talking to me."
Cobb blinks. "It...what now?"
Din unclips the Darksaber to show him. "I took it from Moff Gideon. But apparently it means I can sit on the Mandalorian throne."
Cobb whistles low. "And it talks t'you?"
"It's old. Looks almost like a Jedi weapon. Must be part of the—Force or something."
Cobb's eyes crinkle. "I don't think that's how the Force works."
"I don't know how else to explain it."
"Well...it's not tellin' you to kill everybody in a murderous rage, is it?"
Din reclips it. "No. It likes to go on about how great a ruler I'd be." A pause. "I don't want it. But Bo-Katan won't challenge me for it."
Cobb's gaze flicks over Din's shoulder. "She seems like the challenging type. I'm sure it's only a matter of time." Cobb claps Din's elbow. "And when you're free of all this royalty stuff, maybe I'll put a blindfold on and we'll have a drink."
Honestly, that sounds...nice. A friend's promise, Din's come to learn, is a powerful thing.
"Maybe," he says warmly. "Good luck."
"Same to you. Your Majesty."
Din makes sure Cobb feels his eye roll.
We enjoy him.
Din's not sure how to react to that.
We do not enjoy many things, Din Djarin.
He settles on cautious.
The lead is a bust. It’s a small-time war criminal named Kelt trying to make her way with her small family, occasionally going to what Tatooine calls a city for supplies she can't grow or make. When she's somewhat convinced they're not there to arrest or kill her, she begrudgingly tells them that no, she doesn't know anyone who looks or talks like them.
"The only living things I've seen are the beasts that try to eat what livestock I've got," she says. Then, after considering them, "If you killed 'em for me and told no one about me, you can keep the meat and I can spare you a place for tonight. This planet's desert is no place for nightly travels."
"We can manage," Bo-Katan says, "You don't have to coerce us into not saying anything. You have my word."
Which is thoughtful and generous. Shows that she sees Kelt's rumpled hut and two sons more than a red ledger. Din's bounty hunter days wouldn't have seen that.
Liar.
Din's too tired and sweaty to deal with this. He can see Bo-Katan and Koska are in similar shape, though they're good at hiding it. Food and lodging will soon be all they can think about regardless.
"If you don't trust our word, we'll take the deal," Din says, ignoring Bo-Katan's sharp look.
Kelt shakes on it. She definitely isn't the type to trust people beyond actions. Din can relate.
You have secured sanctuary where she could not. Who, then, is the true leader?
Oh for fu—
Din's seen a lot, but he hasn't seen creatures like these on Tatooine. It's not a huge herd of weird ass desert lizards, but they make up for it in size. Nothing related to Tusken massiffs. Violence it is.
The Darksaber fills Din's ears in a very inconvenient way, drowning out whatever strategy Bo-Katan's laying out. You have taken on far more with just your wits, it says, but now you have us. No need to hide, Din Djarin. Stand proudly!
It might be fatigue and sheer exasperation, but it does sound like a good plan. The Darksaber's the toughest weapon Din's come across. Surely it can cut through some lizards?
We have only one limit, and it is not flesh.
There are definitely other ways of phrasing that. At least it's quieted down.
"We can do a frontal assault," Din interrupts. "We are Mandalorians."
The words feel both strange and natural. We are Mandalorians. I am Mandalorian. It pleases the saber and tastes bittersweet to Din. To his shock, Bo-Katan doesn't contradict him on it.
She does, however, snap to attention when Din draws the Darksaber. "You're going to use that on a flimsy herd of desert-dwellers?"
"It's a weapon, isn't it?" Din says, thumb hovering over the trigger. "You and Koska can take the air. I'll take the ground."
"By yourself?" Koska drawls.
Din looks at her. "Yes."
He doesn't know why, but her eyes widen and she, the woman who sneered at Boba Fett, shrinks back.
"Okay," Bo-Katan murmurs.
For the first time ever, the Darksaber's actually right about something. The battle is quick enough that hiding and planning seem like a complete waste of time.
The saber hums in prideful satisfaction. The victory is small, but a weapon of a Mandalorian relishes the fight. This one just happens to have a peanut gallery.
But after all the travel and the voices, dealing with lizards has left Din starving. They've barely stopped to eat all day, and after the kid (the kid), Din's fallen out of the habit of going without food.
Well. Kelt did say they could take the meat.
Fuck, Din's mouth is watering.
The Mand'alor eats first.
When he opens his eyes, his stomach is full and he's staring at a lizard's glassy eyes. His helmet is lifted enough for his hand to bring another glob of meat to his lips.
He swallows blood and bile. "I'm not made to process raw meat."
It is how your ancestors showed prowess.
Din stands, wipes his mouth with his cape, and jams his helmet back down. He turns to find Bo-Katan and Koska cooking over a fire.
"You done being crazy?" Koska asks.
Din sighs.
3. Late Night Talks
"Did you possess me?" Din snaps.
We do not control. We simply are.
"Then what the hell was that?!"
...sometimes, our voices reach the bones. They act without the mind.
Din puts his hands on his visor. He hopes he's far enough away from Kelt's hut. He'd rather not have any witnesses to his panic.
"So you did possess me."
...not intentionally.
Din crosses his arms and glares at the sand. "Great. That's just great. So this can happen anytime."
Your child's relationship with the Force is no different.
Grogu. Din sucks in a breath at the fresh wound. He's probably excelling in his studies. He's probably bringing the place down on his teacher's head. There must be much more than a scraped ball to play with wherever he is.
We are your blade, Din Djarin. But you are also our wielder.
"For the last time, I don't want to be."
Yet you are, Mand'alor, the Darksaber snarls. Learn to work with us. We have passed you the stone. Return it to us.
That's a low blow, and Din makes sure it knows. The saber is unmoved.
But this cannot happen again. Din will not be controlled. The Mandalorian uses his weapons, not the other way around. He can't be losing time, especially not now.
He forces himself to unclench his fists. "Until Bo-Katan challenges me."
Fine. The saber sounds smug.
"Fine."
"What are you doing?"
Din whirls around. Bo-Katan is there. Her narrowed eyes tense.
Din realizes he's unsheathed the Darksaber instead of his blaster. The voices chuckle.
That is it.
"What can I do about the voices?" Din demands.
Bo-Katan stares. "The what."
Din puts the saber away. "You know what. You've wielded this thing."
"I have."
"And you want it back, so you have to know. What can I do?"
Bo-Katan's gaze wanders to Din's belt. "It...speaks to you?"
"All the time."
Bo-Katan's throat bobs. "What does it say?"
Din waves a hand. "Mostly just trying to sell me the throne. We've worked through...what happened earlier," kind of, "but it won't stop talking anyway." He huffs. "Now it's laughing at me."
Not at you, Din Djarin.
Din pauses. "What do you mean, not at me?"
A sharp exhale brings his attention back to Bo-Katan. Every part of her is clenched. There's anger there, but it's overwhelmed by something else. As if she's watching her own Grogu get taken away.
"It hasn't spoken to anyone in generations," she says tightly.
Din starts. "That can't be right. I keep telling it I don't want it."
The anger crashes into focus. Bo-Katan gets in his face, crying, "Yet you have it! Not only did you win it, it has chosen you! Do you have any idea what has been bestowed upon you? Mandalorians would die for just a chance! They have died for it!"
We fought to protect them. Our wielder was simply not strong enough.
Oh.
"It resents you."
Bo-Katan looks like she's been slapped. "What?"
"That's why it's talking to me," Din says, "It wants to get back at you. It resents that you weren't strong enough. I'm not saying that's fair," he adds, "but maybe if I could translate for you, you could come to an understanding."
No.
Din nearly gasps in pain at the splitting distortion. It feels like something is unraveling somewhere and nowhere at once.
Perhaps we have learned to resent, the Darksaber intones, but we would not choose a Mand'alor for such petty reasons. You dishonor us, Din Djarin, and you dishonor yourself.
When Din can see again, Bo-Katan is a good six feet away, hand on her blaster, and he's nearly doubled over.
The Darksaber is not done. We have fought with Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze for far longer than you. We have seen her warrior's soul. What qualities you praise to us, we have already witnessed. We know our choice, and it is not her.
Din coughs wetly. His throat is hurting.
...we apologize. We have done it again.
Done...?
Oh, dank farrik. "Is that why my throat feels like it's being sliced?" Yeah, he does sound hoarse now.
The unraveling rights itself.
"Now you know what it's like for me," he says dryly.
Bo-Katan turns on her heel and leaves him to seethe in peace.
4. A Real Piece of Work
Cara contacts Din two days later during a very tense ride to the next rumor.
"Word of Gideon's take-down spreads fast," she says, "We've got someone here who wants to talk to a certain Bo-Katan."
Bo-Katan receives the news with pursed lips. She pointedly does not look at the Darksaber as she changes course. It's not too far out of their way, and it's a far more solid lead.
Din wants to say something. Outside of battle plans, he's not one for speeches.
She must come to terms with not being ours.
Which, as Din has told it on numerous occasions since Tatooine, is bullshit. But once again it refuses to budge. At the very least, there hasn't been another Incident.
Cara and Greef are happy to see Din. Cara nods to Bo-Katan and Koska, and they nod back. Din studies Bo-Katan’s stance and makes a quick decision.
“This might take a while,” he says to Greef, “You got anybody who can look at my blaster? Damn thing keeps jamming.”
From Bo-Katan’s expression, she knows exactly what he’s doing and she hates it. Greef and Cara glance at her and Koska. Koska, though, is keeping her face blank, as has become her new norm since that night on Tatooine.
Greef shifts his weight. “I know all the anybodys. If your fellow Mandos can spare you?”
Bo-Katan turns away. “If he doesn’t want to meet a sibling, that is his decision.”
Din breathes through the sharpness in his gut. “I’ll see them after.”
Cara shoots him a look. Din shakes his head.
“Follow me,” Cara says.
Greef picks a bench in the town square. “I’ve known you for years, Mando.” He sits, hands on his knees. “If there’s anything your kind is famous for, it’s taking care of your equipment.”
Din sits next to him. “Thanks for the backup.”
“Anytime. But I must say, it’s not like you to avoid meetings, especially with your kind.” Greef nods to his belt. “Does it have to do with that?”
Din sighs. “She insists it’s chosen me. Just because I hear voices.”
“You hear…voices.”
Din’s really not sure why everyone is so surprised. “It’s an ancient Mandalorian laser—lightsaber. We may have been against Jedi in the past, but that doesn’t mean weapons are off-limits.”
Greef considers this. “Never heard of a talking lightsaber. Then again,” leaning back, “the Jedi are a mysterious bunch. You met one though, haven’t you?”
“I have. But she trained as a Jedi for years.”
“True.” Greef lets out a breath. “Well, maybe she can help you again. Can you contact her?”
Oh, Din’s an idiot. “Yes. Do you have somewhere I can talk?”
“My friend, there’s always a place for you.”
Lady Tano raises an eyebrow. “The blade itself?”
Din sighs. “Yours don’t do that, do they.”
“Can’t say they do. I’ve heard of voices past through the Force, but never from a weapon. Only feelings. Fleeting images of past battles.” She tilts her head. “What does it tell you?”
We admire her skill.
“It admires your skill.”
Lady Tano’s lips quirk. “I’m honored. Especially when it’s the weapon of the Mand’alor.”
“I guess it’s because you’ve helped me.”
“It is a weapon, above all. It cuts where its master points and stands down when its master wills it.”
“…how do you deal with it? The Force. The voices.”
Lady Tano softens her gaze down her nose. “Meditation is a valuable tool. But I don’t block them out, like you seem to want to. When the Force speaks, it’s best to listen.”
“All it wants is for me to rule Mandalore. I’m not cut out for that.”
Lady Tano smiles. “Perhaps it’s time you stop underestimating yourself.”
We like her.
“Good to know.”
“Introductions are done,” Greef says as Din emerges, “and there’s something you should know.”
“What is it?”
Greef smiles. “Actually, maybe you should see for yourself.”
…no. No, it can’t be.
Din ends up leading the way to Cara’s station, eating up the distance as much as civility allows. In the end, he doesn’t have to see them. He hears the voices, outside of his head, real, and nearly stumbles through the door.
“This is our Mand’alor?” Paz calls, hands on his hips. “Seems pretty scrawny to me.”
The saber clamors in Din’s head, adding to the roiling emotions. Vod. Brother. This is the first step.
Din nearly headbutts Paz, gripping his elbow tight.
“Brother,” Paz whispers.
“Brother,” Din croaks, “I—”
“No. It was for the Foundling. This is the Way.”
Din’s grip tightens. “I’ve—I’ve removed my helmet. I’ve not followed our Way.”
“Kryze has informed us of your situation,” the Armorer says. “Is it true? You did so for the sake of the Foundling?”
Din pulls back, head bowed. “It was selfish. I wanted—I wanted him to remember me. The time before that was in an Imperial base. There is still one alive who has seen me.”
The Armorer approaches him. “So you broke our Creed. The one who swore to uphold.”
Did you?
Din can’t help looking at the saber.
Did you break your oath, Din Djarin?
Din’s hand wanders to it. “I…I did what I did for myself, but also for my Clan.” Paz and the Armorer are watching him closely. He unclips the Darksaber. “Grogu is with his own kind, training to be that which was our enemy, but I know him as Clan.” He turns it over in his hands. “I have seen others who follow their own Way.” He looks to the Armorer. “Yet the core of their beliefs is the same. They fight for their own. How does that not make them Mandalorian?”
Cara’s smiling.
Din clutches the Darksaber. “How does that not make me Mandalorian?”
Bo-Katan and Koska’s lips are parted.
The Armorer nods. “This is the Way.”
“This is the Way,” Paz echoes.
The Darksaber hums. Heat suffuses Din’s throat in a way he recognizes.
He doesn’t let it slice him this time. “This is the Way.”
Paz draws back slightly. Din nearly recoils.
But then his brother is laughing. “So it talks?”
5. Heart-to-Blade
The Armorer agrees with Lady Tano when Din recounts the conversation. “If the Darksaber is speaking after years of silence, you must heed its words. Its guidance rarely fails.”
The saber bristles at rarely but Din thinks of The Meat Incident and it’s forced to concede.
“I’ve said I’ll work with it,” he says.
“Then do so. You’ll find no shortage of training partners.”
There is only one other survivor of the covert. It won’t take long to get to him, but it’s long enough for Din to retreat to the crew’s quarters and follow the advice.
“I guess I’ll start with questions,” he says. “The voices—are they past Mand’alors? Are they what inhabits you?”
No. We use their voices to communicate. They have passed in glory.
“Then why do you say ‘we’?”
We are a royal’s blade.
Din stares at it. “You don’t use ‘we’ because there’s more than one of you in there, but because you want to flaunt your status?”
Not flaunting. We are the blade of the Mand’alor.
“…right.”
So they talk. Properly. Din finds out that when the Darksaber laughed at Bo-Katan, it was not out of spite. More like a parent when a child says they can fly and jumps a centimeter. Bo-Katan wielded it with skill, but she does so no longer.
“And if she does win you back?”
She will not. She knows now that we follow you.
“But why?” Din asks, “You’ve never given me a proper answer.”
We have, the Darksaber replies. It almost sounds amused, or as amused as a bunch of dark whisperings can. You just don’t listen. When you won us, your spirit shined like your armor. You were willing to relinquish us to one you felt was more worthy. You say you do not ‘make speeches,’ yet with words alone you united two Ways. It’s astonishing—you know what you are capable of in battle, yet you do not know your strength.
Din is silent.
Hail the Mand’alor, hisses a thousand voices, Our Mand’alor.
“I don’t want to rule a planet.”
The Darksaber, for once, is quiet.
“I do want us to be in the open, I want Foundlings to grow up in the sun, to laugh and be kids. But I don’t want a throne.”
This time, the voices trickle through his ears. Then perhaps Mandalore does not have to be a planet.
“What? After you going on and on—”
Do not abandon your history, but do not be a slave to it. That is what you have showed us, Din Djarin. We are your blade. If you wish us to carve you a new kind of throne, we will. Reclaim our planet, as you promised. But lead us in your Way.
Din’s entrance in the cockpit draws everyone’s attention.
“Those who wish to stay on Mandalore may stay,” he says, “I’ll help rebuild. But once that’s done, I want to continue helping my people as I always have.”
“You can’t just leave your throne wherever you feel like it,” Bo-Katan says.
“My throne won’t be a fancy chair. It will be my pride as a Mandalorian. Whoever needs my help, I will be there. This is the Way.”
Silence.
Paz turns fully to him. “This is the Way.”
“This is the Way.” The Armorer sounds like she’s smiling.
+1. Darksaber’s Haunted
Four to one should be good odds for a Mandalorian, especially against smugglers who are not trained in the Way. A Mandalorian wouldn’t be caught by surprise like this either. A Mandalorian wouldn’t be many things that Ona is, cornered in an alley.
“Don’t be scared,” she whispers to the child behind her, a girl who can’t be older than five, four years younger than Ona.
“I’m not,” the girl hisses while her hand trembles in Ona’s.
The whispers start then. Slowly, then growing louder, like sharp war drums. The smugglers stop smirking.
One withdraws their blaster. “What is this?”
Ona grins. “All hail.”
A dark figure descends. His visor glows with his blade. There is no time to shoot, no time to call reinforcements. No time to run.
It’s over in less than half a minute. Which makes Ona feel slightly stupid, even if this is the Mand’alor.
He sheathes the Darksaber and gets on one knee. He speaks with the valiant dead: “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Mand’alor,” Ona says. She is not afraid. The Mand’alor has seen her grow up. She has seen the Darksaber many times. “Thank you.”
“You need to be more careful.”
“I had to help! Everyone says to help when you can!”
After a moment, the Mand’alor sighs and nods behind her. “Who’s this?”
The girl retreats. Ona turns and smiles at her. “It’s okay. He’s the one I told you about.” She frowns at her king. “Mand’alor, you’re speaking with the weird voices again.”
The Mand’alor pauses. After a moment, he says, “Sorry.”
“See? It’s okay!” Ona says, “We say he’s a little haunted. But it’s a good haunted.”
The Mand’alor huffs. “I’m not haunted, Ona.” Softer, he asks, “What’s your name?”
The girl swallows. This man is stranger than anyone she’s seen, and she’s seen many things. He moves with violence in his bones. But at the same time, Ona says he protects his people. She says he has a son who he loves dearly and visits whenever he can. That’s important to the girl.
She takes a careful step forward. The blade has a feeling around it she can’t explain. It snarls, but not to the children. With a clarity that sometimes comes to her, the girl knows this man and his haunted sword will not hurt her.
In a small voice, she says, “I’m Rey.”