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“I got you a gift.”
Luke hummed sleepily. He did not open his eyes yet, happy to let the shifting lights of the coal lanterns twinkle like exploding stars behind his eyelids. He always found it fascinating how Mandalorians used such old lighting methods—a way to stay closer to the forge’s fire, Din always said. The heart and soul of their culture. Luke stretched his arms up and over his head, back arching off the bed, silky sheets slipping from his hips and legs and pooling back on the mattress. He didn’t bother to cover himself back up, knowing it would be for naught anyway. He rolled onto his stomach, blinking his eyes open. Din was a beautiful sight, lit by warm fires and dark shadows.
“Did you?” Luke asked, dropping his chin into his palm. He could feel a lazy smile tug at his lips as he lifted his hand and beckoned Din closer.
Din crossed the room in long strides, eerily silent despite the armor he wore. His cape swirled around his legs and ankles like a turbulent red sea. He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, removing his helmet and setting it down beside him with a gentleness he did not often share. Luke took the moment to gaze upon the king's face, at his soft pretty eyes, the laughter lines and scars, the small twitch of his mouth as he pushed down a smile. Din lifted his hands, cupping Luke’s cheeks between warm leather covered hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
Luke hummed, tilting his head and parting his lips. Always ready to indulge him, Din slipped one hand to the back of Luke’s neck, tangling his fingers in Luke’s hair. He gave a sharp tug, swallowing Luke’s happy groan as Din found his way into Luke’s mouth.
“Was that my gift?” Luke asked, licking the taste of blood and copper and zinc and something that was entirely Din off his lips.
“No.” Din slowly dragged his hands away, leaving warm trails behind where his fingers had touched Luke’s skin. He tugged off his gloves with deliberately slow movements, placing them beside his helmet before he reached into one of the pouches in his belt. Din carefully pulled out a small package wrapped in linen cloth, offering it to Luke on open palms.
Luke unfolded it in Din’s calloused hands.
There were new cuts and bruises on Din’s fingers and palms, ones that Luke would address and care for.
“You said you wanted something new to wear to the Senate Gala.” Din softly explained as Luke lifted up a delicate golden chain. It held thousands of glittering red stones, reflecting the firelight in a thousand different ways. Red, the color of home and family and life to a Mandalorian.
Luke smiled sweetly as his heart fluttered against his ribs. “You spoil me.”
Din did not answer right away.
He took the necklace from Luke’s fingers, undoing the tiny clasp and placing it around his neck. The red stones settled across Luke’s collar bone, a hardly noticeable weight against his chest. The gems bloomed across his skin like a thousand little stars in a sand dusted sky. Luke lifted his hand, traced along the ridges and hills of the red and gold. It must have been expensive, wherever Din had gotten it from.
“I adore you.” Din corrected, then he leaned forward and kissed Luke again.
—
“The Nite Owls are there for a reason, Mand’alor—“
“And I still don’t need them.” Din effortlessly cut Bo-Katan off. He didn’t even look at her as he loaded another of Luke’s trunks into the Razor Crest, Grogu babbling happily in the makeshift birikad slung across his chest. Luke hid a smile behind his hand, imagining all the complaints Bo-Katan must be keeping to herself about Din using a ceremonial cape as a baby carrier. This cape was just a shade of red darker than the usual one he wore–embroidered with golden thread depicting ancient Mando’a ruins and bones of mythosaurs and jai’galaar–and almost entirely stained with baby spit up. “Luke and I will be fine.”
Bo-Katan’s eye twitched.
“They’re just going to Naboo, Kryze, chill out.” Paz flicked the back of Bo-Katan’s head. “Nothing exciting ever happens there.”
“Plenty of exciting things happen on Naboo, Paz.” Luke tilted his head and smiled as Bo-Katan slapped Paz’s shoulder. “You just don’t ever see them.”
Before Luke had come to Mandalore, before he had—quite literally—been swept off his feet by the new king of a nearly forgotten planet, he had been on Naboo with his father and sister while their mother was on Concordia and being elected as the Supreme Chancellor. By the third assassination attempt on his life, Luke was thrown into rigorous training and disiplin and soul breaking work. For his own safety, his parents had said.
His mother’s handmaidens taught Luke more than just self defense—they taught him an art, ancient and sacred and so closely kept that only a handful of people knew of it. They taught him how to move gracefully without sound, where to hide the cold steel of a knife in the folds of silky fabrics. They showed him how to be unassuming and unseen in plain sight, how to blend into shadows and empty rooms. Luke knew how to break a man’s neck seven different ways, knew where the skin was weakest and where the veins were most exposed. He knew exactly how much force it took to slip a knife through the roof of a mouth and into the skull, knew exactly how pretty and inviting he had to look before he could get close enough to even try.
“You’re not helping me, cyar'ika.” Din said, but there was no irritation in his voice. Only a fond warmth.
Still, Luke offered him an apologetic smile before turning to Bo-Katan. “My mother will make sure he’s in the safest hands.” He nodded his head, smile growing just a little wider. “The Mand’alor will return home in one piece, just like he did last time. I can assure you of that.”
—
To Din’s people, Luke was nothing more than a glorified whore.
He had come to Mandalore unexpectedly, a pretty thing that had been traded in order for a treaty to be signed that only half of them even wanted. Most could not understand why a mother would give away her son like that. They could not understand why he would be tossed away as nothing more than a footnote in a hundred page treaty. It was unthinkable to them. But when they saw how Luke hung off Din’s arm, how he dressed in pretty silks and linens and jewelry that were not practical to Mandalorians–that, rather, were unseemly and dangerous to a warrior–the rumors started to spread like wildfires. They hopped from person to person, twisted and changed every time. Not a single one was quite the same.
But it all boiled down to this.
Luke had seduced their king with pretty eyes and prettier words while he had been on Naboo, had slunk into his arms with a well placed smile and a kiss for money and expensive things and oh, what a shame it was that their king was so weak to such pretty things.
“Let them think what they want,” Luke had said one night, lying in their bed while the last red glow of the setting sun washed through the windows. He held open his arms, becond Din closer and placed the king’s head upon his chest. He had never been bothered by the slander, not like Din was. “It makes my job harder if they knew what I was really doing, my love.”
Din had wanted to argue, to fight and defend Luke, but he had understood and kept his mouth shut and let Luke kiss the worry away.
To Din’s people, Luke was a stranger in a strange land.
To Din, Luke was a living, breathing weapon. A warrior trained to kill with every part of his body, to walk with a violent sort of grace that left him poised and ready to strike with a poison that was incurable. Someone to protect Din when he couldn’t protect himself. Someone to stand by his side, to be his equal, to help lead his people from the shadows.
Luke was deadly, beautiful, and entirely his.
—
“Mama,” Luke left Din to drag all his trunks off the Crest while he ran to greet his mother. He wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her off her feet for a moment and stealing the breath from both of their lungs as they spun in a circle from the force of it all. He breathed in the scent of millaflowers and her sweet perfumes with a fond ache. “I’ve missed you.”
His mother held him just as tightly.
“I’ve missed you too, my sundrop.” his mother squeezed him a little tighter, then pulled back enough to be able to cup his cheeks between her hands as she looked him over. “Has the Mand’alor been treating you well?”
Luke hummed. “He keeps me just as spoiled as I was as a child.”
Padmé let go of him then, lightly smacking Luke’s chest amidst his laughter. She couldn’t really argue against it. She and Anakin had spoiled him and Leia almost senseless as children, not wanting them to miss a single part of a life they had almost lost. “Lukas,” she still chided, then paused when she noticed the necklace he wore. It looked even more beautiful in the sunlight. The gold shone almost white, and the little red gems showed hints of oranges and purples and yellows in their faucets. Luke stood back a little bit, let his mother get a proper look at the necklace. “Oh, he does spoil you, doesn’t he?”
They both looked back at Din, still unloading the trunks from the Crest while speaking in soft Mando’a to Grogu. The child was babbling back, laughing and giggling while Din nodded along.
“He does,” Luke agreed, his voice achingly soft.
–
The first time Din had been on Naboo he had not even taken three steps on the planet’s soil before someone had a blaster trained on him and he was stumbling back from the force of a blaster bolt bouncing off his chest plate.
He had reacted quickly, had drawn the Darksaber and slid into a fighting stance before he even fully registered what was going on, ready and poised to attack. The Nite Owls with him had been nearly as quick in their reaction, blasters drawn and ready to fire. But before anyone could do anything the would-be assassin was already dead. A single slash across his throat exposed to the Naboo sun, red and wet and open.
And then there was Luke, standing peacefully next to his mother and tucking a glint of silver metal back into the folds of his silky robes. He had smiled pleasantly when he caught Din staring at him, tilting his head and tucking his hands into the large and flowing sleeves of his dress shirt.
His Nite Owls had not noticed anything, but Din could not stop noticing.
Because Luke was everywhere Din went, hiding in the shadows, just barely out of sight.
—
“What do you think?”
Luke gave a little twirl, the soft yellows and purples of the fabrics shimmering with the movement. Much like a Nabooian sunrise.
Din took his hand, leading Luke through the last of his spin and pulling him close to his chest. The doors to the balcony of their room were open, letting in a gentle breeze that teased at Luke’s hair.
“I think you look beautiful,” he said softly, settling one hand on Luke’s waist. The back of the jumpsuit sat tantalizingly low on his back, the jeweled silver lake lily pin the only thing really keeping it in place. Din squeezed Luke’s hip gently, a quiet promise of later, and pressed his helmeted forehead to Luke’s naked one. Luke wished Din had waited a little longer to slip his helmet back on, but he still pressed a kiss on the king’s cheek, the tang of beskar lingering on his lips.
“It was my mothers dress,” Luke settled his hands on Din’s shoulders. “I just…altered it.”
Din hummed, his hand slipping a little lower on Luke’s hips and down his thighs and underneath the loose fabric of the sleeves. When he pulled it back, one of Luke’s knives was dangling between his fingers. The light caught the metal, glinting off the knife harshly. “I can tell.”
“You put that back!”
Din laughed, and Luke smiled and slid Din’s helmet up enough to kiss his lips. Din was still laughing even as Luke kissed him, his mouth open and inviting.
–
“So, how are things going with you and the bucket head?” Han slid up next to Luke in the little corner he had taken up residence in, eyes firmly fixed on the new bruise on Luke’s neck.
Luke hummed, shifting on his feet and lifting a hand to trace his fingers along the pleasantly aching skin. He did not take his eyes off the ballroom floor, scanning it every so often before drifting back to Din. “Wonderful,” Luke answered. He was watching Din and Leia now. They were having a rather animated discussion, and it took him a moment to look away long enough to spare a glance at Han. He had already undone his tie and collar, and they were not even halfway through the night. “How are things with you and Leia?”
Han narrowed his eyes. He was still staring at the bruise. “He really brings out your resque side, huh.”
“Din likes to indulge me like that.” Luke easily answered. He glanced back at Din. There was someone Luke didn’t know creeping closer, gliding across the ballroom floor with practiced steps that Luke knew very well. He slipped a hand into his robes, and didn’t pull it back out. “Excuse me for a sec.”
Luke pushed himself off the wall, dropping his drink into Han’s hand.
Luke easily made his way through the crowd, slipping by and around people without so much as a word. Being the first Senate Gala Din had attention with Mandalore officially a joined nation of the Republic, Luke knew someone was going to try something. Tensions and anger about Mandalore’s new status were still high and very often the subject of many Senate floor debates. It wasn’t just Din’s people who were angry about the treaty–it was nearly everyone.
Luke reached the strange man soon enough, grabbing him by the shoulder and jerking him back before he could get any closer to Din.
“Would you care for a dance?” Luke asked, not waiting for an answer before he swept the man into a brisk waltz.
The man looked startled for a moment, then narrowed his eyes when he recognized Luke. “Aruetii.”
“You’re Mandalorian.” Luke was not nearly as surprised as he probably ought to be. The music swelled and picked up, and Luke led the man into a graceful spin as he tried to kick his leg out and knock Luke off balance. As it was, Luke just hopped over it. “Death Watch?”
The Mandalorian scowled. “That dar’manda does not deserve to hold that saber. Pre would have killed him, he has so disrespected the Children of the Watch–”
He tried to yank his hand out of Luke’s hold, to go for whatever weapon he had hidden beneath the black robes, and Luke responded by tightening his grip and jerking the man’s hand at an angle. He heard a satisfying crack. The Mandalorian’s face went slack before paling to the color of Mandalore’s desert sand.
“Better not make any noise,” Luke hummed, squeezing the broken wrist a little tighter even as the man let out a low whine. “Wouldn’t want to attract any attention.”
Luke glanced up at Din as he spoke. Din was already looking at him.
The king inclined his head, and Luke smiled.
“Why don’t we take a walk?”
–
“Who was he?”
“Death Watch.” Luke answered. They were back in their room, the Gala long since over. Luke was lying tangled in sheets and blankets on the bed, wearing nothing but the red jeweled necklace as he watched Din cross the room. His mothers dress was hung up neatly in the closet, while Din’s armor and cape were scattered across the room. Luke could count the bruises and bites he had left on Din’s spine like he could count the stars. “We’ll know who sent him when we go back home.”
Din didn’t answer for a moment. He dipped a white cloth in the wash basin left by the vanity, lifting it out a moment later to squeeze out the excess water. It was a gentle sound in the quiet of the night, like a rushing river across a bed of pebbles and rocks. Din tossed the cloth over his shoulder, then gathered up the water pitcher and a glass before returning to the bed.
Grogu, thankfully, was with Anakin and Padmé for the night.
“Was there anyone else with him?” Din gently urged Luke to sit up, pouring him a glass of water. Luke took it, taking small sips as Din worked the warm cloth across his stomach to rub away the sticky residue. It felt good. Nice. Soothing enough to make Luke ever so sleepy.
Luke shook his head. “No, my love. Just him.”
Din cleaned up the last of the cum from Luke’s stomach, then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Luke could still taste a little bit of himself on the kings mouth. “What did you do with him?”
“Slit his throat.” Luke murmured. “Tossed his body in the Gungan swamps–they’ll have him eaten by morning.”
“I wish I could have seen it,” Din murmured.
“Next time,” Luke answered, then kissed him again.