Work Text:
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The echoes of the hammer against beskar rang against the metal walls surrounding this forge of hers, the violet light of the flames matching the reflection of sound beat for beat.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She stood apart from the covert she had watched over for the last… many years. Years only measured by the growth of the children and her own hair. She stood apart, and yet she led. She had no clan, no family left, and no name for them to speak. She stood as the Goran, the Armorer, the Chieftess, the Mother of the Covert.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had once been a Countess, until the Empire came knocking for the last time.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had lost her proudly crowned helmet in the Purge, yanked forcibly off her head in the depths of Nevarro.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had lost her honor, her beskar’gam, her family in one fell swoop. Her inherited buy’ce also bore a mark of nobility, but was not the same as the one she had lost. She had worn it now for so long, and it still did not yet feel quite right.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She knew she was hiding. Knew that the sound of the hammer ringing was about the only thing keeping her here, in the present. Knew that she was using her work as a shield for her feelings, as she had done for so long now.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had heard that Din Djarin had returned via a message from Ados. The news had also come with the information that Din had brought guests with him.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had left the comfort of her forge to greet Din and meet his companions. It was her duty as Alor to ensure that the Ori'Beroya was well.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had drifted out into the common area, only to find a knot of her Mandalorians surrounding the newcomers.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Din was easily recognizable in his pure beskar armor. The small green Jedi child was still with him. There was a woman, two droids (The astromech was oddly familiar…), an unfamiliar female Mandalorian, and…
Clang. Clang. Clang.
A tall man with a beard that almost reminded her of a young man who had pleaded for her aid years ago, who pulled her daughter back into his Rebellion’s fight. And…
Clang. Clang. Clang.
A male Mandalorian wearing the Protector’s colors, who could only be Fenn Rau. And…
Clang. Clang. Clang.
And… A woman in full beskar’gam, brightly painted with a riot of colors, purples prominent. Her helmet was a distinctive shape with a viewfinder. This woman could only be Sabine.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Her only daughter. Her eldest child. The one she had left behind so that could support Bo-Katan through the Siege of Mandalore. The one she had wished for so long to be alive, and yet she had never sought confirmation for fear that those hopes would be in vain.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She was here. She was here, wearing her armor proudly. Standing close to Din, passing the Child between them as needed. There was a level of care she could see in Sabine’s body language in relation to Din, care that did not belong to anyone else in the group other that the Child. And even that was different than what she showed Din.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had stood, unable to move, for some time in the shadows. She had unfrozen only when Din’s visor met hers and she could feel his eyes without seeing them. She hadn’t fully fled, but she had made a quick retreat into the safety of her forge.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
She had rooted about for something, anything, to work on. She had found this order for a chest plate.
Fsshhhh.
She had melted the requisite beskar, formed it, refined it, now she dunked it to cool it enough to work on further after a rest.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
Her thoughts seemingly became blank. But not fully empty. The scene of welcome she had just seen played in her head on repeat, begging analysis.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
The vocoder did so much to her voice.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
The chest plate was finally cooled enough for the wiring.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Circuitry of this sort was finicky. Maybe not as fine as what went into a buy’ce or vambraces, but necessary all the same.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
It was consuming enough at least to keep her mind off of Sabine’s arrival among the friends Din had brought with him, and the other recognizable faces among the motley crew as well.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
She didn’t know how she was going to greet Fenn Rau, much less Sabine. Would she dare to show her face? She did not know, and likely would not until morning came.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
How close was morning?
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
How long had she been in here? How long had shaping the chest plate taken?
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
How many circuits had she placed and soldered?
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Her feet ached, and yet she could not rest. Her mind was too scattered.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Was that really Ezra Bridger in the party? Last she had heard, he was lost in Wild Space after he sacrificed himself for Lothal.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Sabine had thrown herself into the rebuilding of Lothal. Sabine was convinced that Ezra wanted her to find him.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
How had he been found? How was he here in the first place? Was that even him?
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Not to mention everyone else. How had they found this place?
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Hang on. Wasn’t that astromech named Chopper? Didn’t he belong to that other Jedi? The one wearing green?
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Her thoughts were a whirl, dancing to and fro from topic to topic, driving her deeper into the abyss of her panic.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
A quick break to forge a signet for another request. A detour into a pauldron.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
A return to the chest plate.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Squeak.
That sound was new. Leather, maybe?
Clump. Clump. Clump.
Boots. Heavy boots accompanied by the jingle and ring of beskar. Slightly muffled, as though her guest was attempting stealth and had forgotten the finer details.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
Her guest was silent now. Presumably standing in the doorway.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
She kept her hands moving, working. Deftly placing and securing the bits of wire and such.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
She could ignore the guest no longer.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
“Come.” she invited, keeping her eyes on her work.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
The guest seated themself on one of the barrels.
Fzzt. Fzzt. Fzzt.
She couldn’t delay further. She set down her tools, leaving the chest plate be for the moment.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
Without turning, she greeted Din. For who else could be visiting her at this time of night?
“It’s good to see you alive.”