Chapter Text
Grogu bounced excitedly on his toes as the shuttle they’d all been waiting for arrived in the hanger.
They were on his father’s flagship, the Razor—named for Din Djarin’s favorite make of pre-Empire spacecraft. This ship wasn’t nearly as interesting as a real Razor Crest, of course: it had started life as a consular ship in service to the Empire before being captured by Mandalorians. It was very white, and very sterile, and absolutely no fun at all to fly. But it had room for several dozen Mandalorians to carry out the daily functions of planetary governance remotely as well as private rooms for sleeping in at night. It spent most of its time in orbit, part of the security cordon around Mandalore Grogu’s father has instituted years ago.
Din Djarin believed in setting an example for his people. He took his turn serving as part of the planetary defenses just like everyone else. He just had to do it with an entourage trailing after him. Hence, the Razor.
Grogu glanced over at the shiny Naboo starfighter parked at the other end of the hanger, and grinned. At least his father had let Grogu fly his own ship up here.
The shuttle, a beat up but serviceable New Republic-era model, looked entirely unremarkable as it lowered its ramp for its passengers to exit. And it was, deliberately so. The First Order wouldn’t have given it a second glance.
It was the people it was carrying that were important.
Grogu glanced up at his friend Quil, standing in the reception line just to his left. In recognition of the status of their guests, Din Djarin and Bo-Katan Kryze were both there, as was the Armorer and the other members of Djarin’s council.
Quil was radiating hope-fear-longing-anxiety, for a variety of different reasons. Grogu smiled encouragingly at him. He couldn’t see Quil’s eyes under his helmet, but Grogu was pretty sure Quil winked back.
On Grogu’s other side Luke Skywalker was radiating much the same feelings, so much so that Grogu was surprised the man hadn’t levitated himself off the ground from the sheer force of them.
At least Skywalker looked respectable and well-rested now. The Mandalorians had seen to that.
Grogu watched with interest as a very small woman was the first to emerge down the shuttle ramp.
He had seen holos of Leia Organa-Solo over the years, and of course he’d heard stories. Lots and lots of stories. Princess. Rebel. Hutt-slayer. Senator. General. Daughter of the monster that had been Darth Vader.
Grogu didn’t hold that last one against her, any more than he did against Master Skywalker. Children were not responsible for their parents’ actions. But he gathered there were still many in the galaxy who would disagree.
The General was dressed in practical clothing, including a utility vest and a flight jacket to help keep her warm in space. Her grey-brown hair was tied into an elaborate braid and wrapped around her head. Like a crown, Grogu realized with a small smile.
Through the Force Grogu could sense the deep exhaustion in her body. That made him frown and wonder if perhaps she would let him attempt a healing while she was here. But her posture was ramrod straight and her eyes bright and keen as she scanned everyone in the reception line. They lighted on Din Djarin, and she inclined her head slightly in greeting.
“Manda’lore,” she said. “Councilmembers.” Her voice was low and husky. Grogu liked it very much. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Her eyes roved over the others in line, quickly settling on her brother. The Force snapped and glowed between the two of them. Organa-Solo might not be a Jedi, but there was no question she was as strong in the Force as her brother.
“General,” Din Djarin said back, also inclining his head in the same respectful way. “You are welcome aboard our ship. We know you wish to reunite with your aliit before any discussions begin, so please take all the time you need. This is the Way.”
With a gesture of his gauntleted hand, Djarin dismissed the receiving line. He himself moved a respectful distance away, seemingly engrossed in a conversation with Bo-Katan but really giving their guest the space and privacy she needed.
With the crowd gone, the General threw her arms around her brother. Skywalker wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he looked giant compared to his sister’s diminutive frame.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to punch me or hug me,” Grogu heard Luke Skywalker whisper against his sister’s ear as she squeezed him.
“Hugs now,” Organa-Solo whispered back. “Punches later.”
“Noted.” His smile was radiant. “Where are…?”
A small whine drew Grogu’s attention back to the ramp. A woman in partial armor was trying to make it down it, but a small child was clinging to her leg and impeding her progress.
The child was only a toddler, dressed in a dark blue dress of coarse cloth and off-white leggings. Her blue eyes were wide and teary as she peeped around her mother’s leg at the vast new space and the new people within it. Frightened, the little blonde girl tugged at the fabric of her mother’s flight suit under her beskar’gam and whined again.
Grogu sent warmth and welcome through the Force, and the child immediately stopped grousing and glanced over at him shyly. He gave her a three-fingered wave of welcome and the child smiled back shyly, popping several of her own fingers in her mouth.
“It’s all right, ad’ika,” her mother said soothingly, stroking the child’s hair. “We are among aliit here, remember?”
Skywalker came forward then, kneeling and holding his arms out for the child. Tears instantly forgotten, the little girl shrieked with joy at the sight of him. Releasing her mother, she half-jumped, half-fell into his arms.
“Little bird,” Skywalker whispered into her hair as he held the child close. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I’ve missed you so much.”
“She’s grown since the last time you saw her,” Amana Kryze observed as she followed her child to the bottom of the ramp.
“I’m sure she has,” Skywalker agreed.
He reached out a free hand to touch his wife’s face, running a thumb along her cheekbone and down her jawline. Then he gently pulled her forward, kissing her on the mouth in full view of everyone still in the hanger.
This earned him disapproving glances from the Mandalorians nearby. Public shows of affection were not something Mandalorians did.
“Sorry,” Skywalker said to his wife as he let her go. “Forgot where I was for a moment.”
“Understandable,” Amana Kryze said. She didn’t smile, but Grogu could tell she wasn’t really bothered by Skywalker’s actions. After all, she had lived away from other Mandalorians for a very long time.
“Buir,” Quil now said, stepping forward.
Amana immediately reached out a hand to her foundling.
“Ad,” she said proudly, drawing him to her so they could touch foreheads in the traditional way. “I’m so glad to see you again. I have missed you.”
“We thought we had lost you,” Quil said quietly. Even through the helmet Grogu could hear the emotions in his friend’s voice.
“But you didn’t,” his buir corrected him. “All is well. This is the Way.”
“This is the Way,” Quil echoed.
Amana then introduced Quil to his baby sister, Mei. Quil seemed a bit in awe of the small child and only gave her a wave. The girl in turn gave the young man a wide smile but then quickly buried her face shyly in her father’s neck.
Grogu walked over to where Leia Organa-Solo was watching the proceedings with an approving smile.
“General,” he said. “Nice it is to meet you, at last.”
“Grogu.” She held out a hand, and Grogu took it willingly. He could feel the warmth and strength in her just through her touch. “Thank you for being here, and thank you and your father for taking such good care of my brother. He can be a handful, I know.”
“Know this, I do,” Grogu agreed.
“Hey, I resent that,” Luke Skywalker said, his small daughter still perched on his arm.
Leia Organa-Solo retaliated by punching him gently in the shoulder.
“Ok, I deserved that,” he admitted.
“And much more,” his wife said. Her voice was calm, but she spoke in the same low tones Grogu’s father used with him when it was clear they were going to have WORDS later.
Skywalker blushed under his beard. Organa-Solo quickly stepped into the breach, chatting about the journey, and pointing out to the baby all the interesting things to look at around them in the hanger.
Grogu allowed himself to feel a twinge of pity for the Jedi master, but only a twinge. Skywalker had acted heroically, but they had nearly lost him. Grogu wasn’t going to forget that any time soon, and he bet Skywalker’s wife and sister wouldn’t either.
While they chatted, the shuttle pilot exited, and Quil quietly stepped to one side. When the pilot reached the end of the ramp, he and Quil stood silently in front of one another before gently touching their foreheads together in the Keldabe kiss.
“Su cuy’gar,” Grogu could hear Quil say somewhat breathlessly.
“Su cuy’gar,” Xan Kryze said, pulling off his helmet to reveal a wide smile. His coppery hair glinted under the lights.
Grogu smiled approvingly.
He’d grown up with both men, and he was happy for them to have found each other. Their relationship was still new, and uncertain, but Grogu was determined to encourage them every step of the way.
They came from the same clan, but distant branches, and anyway, Quil was a foundling. Both were honorable fighters. It was an eligible match all the way around and, if they ever decided to make it permanent, Grogu was sure there would be no objections.
He wondered idly, as he often did these days, if he’d ever fall in love himself. He hadn’t ruled out the possibility of an attraction to or even a relationship with a member of one of the many other species inhabiting the galaxy, but so far it hadn’t happened. Maybe it would take meeting a female of his own species to feel that way about someone. Or maybe he would stay happily single his whole life, like his buir. Grogu wasn’t sure.
Quil had removed his own helmet, and shyly led Xan over to his buir. Amana looked surprised, but she held out her hand to Xan and the two grasped each other’s forearms.
Quil asking for his buir’s acknowledgment of his affections for someone was a big step.
“Xan,” she said gently. She then glanced back at her foundling. “Quil.”
The latter blushed and stared down at his boots. Xan just smiled his most charming smile. It was often said around Kalevala that Xan Kryze could talk a whistling bird out of the sky if he wanted to, and Grogu was beginning to see what they meant. Xan had obviously not said anything to Amana on the journey, but he was clearly determined to win her approval now.
Grogu took a step back from the family drama playing out and idly glanced up at his former Master.
It was only then he realized Skywalker was staring at the young man as if he was seeing a ghost. His face had paled a bit, and as he adjusted his hold on his squirming daughter he glanced across the hanger at Bo-Katan.
In the middle of listening to a council member, Bo-Katan just stared back at Skywalker without expression.
Grogu frowned.
Something was passing between the two, something that felt like anger-surprise-hurt-resignation.
As far as he knew, and despite now being connected by marriage, Skywalker and Bo-Katan hadn’t exchanged one word directly with each other in their whole lives.
But whatever this was, it was important. Grogu sensed that.
Important how, though? And why?
For the life of him Grogu couldn’t figure out what it all meant.