Bombshell ━━ 𝘋𝘐𝘕 𝘋𝘑𝘈𝘙𝘐𝘕.

8: 𝔖tranded.

𝔅ombshell, eight—stranded.

✷ 　 　　 　 ·
　 ˚ * .
　 　　 *　　 * ⋆ 　 .
· 　　 ⋆ 　　　 ˚ ˚ 　　 ✦
　 ⋆ · 　 *
　　　　 ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧　✵
　 · ✵

Everything blurred past your terror-filled eyes in an abrupt, formidable flash. Snow-topped rocks, plants, and hills briskly passed by while your Mandalorian hastened forward at prompt speeds. Unexpected, jerky motions as he weaved through the innumerable obstacles blocking his path, desperately seeking protection. Arms draped over his neck, your hands staunchly clutched the soft material of his cape, fingernails digging even further with each sudden movement. 

The unmistakable shrieking of TIE-fighters approached too rapidly for comfort. It wasn't long before the ear-splitting sound filled your ears, directly above you. They spotted you. Two of them, you counted, now firing destructive green streaks from their canons. Luckily, the dense foliage and thick tree branches prevented the troopers from drawing nearer, as well as impairing their vision and aiming becoming a challenge for them.

Intense fear forced your eyes shut, tears coursing down your cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. Harsh, bitter wind rushed against you as Din's urgent steps quickened. In this moment you were grateful he acted instantaneously, and lifted you into his arms or else catching up with him would've proven impossible. The pestering azure dress you wore would've interfered with your scurrying hastily through the countless hurdles, and not to mention you were pregnant, and—

Oh, the baby...

The fact alone of suffering the inevitable discouraged you even further. Almost as if somebody had malevolently ripped the will to live from within you — that someone being the queen. The hatred and aggravation you felt simply at the thought of her was immeasurable. But you couldn't dwell on it any longer. You needed to continue. Din was here now. Sure, he couldn't forbid what was bound to occur, but he sure as hell would do anything in his power to brighten your life... despite the unavoidable.

 A curt turn, and suddenly the brightness of day converted into an abrupt darkness, a chilly shade prickling your skin and causing your shivering to intensify. The bumpiness of running ceased miraculously. It's... tranquil, here. Soundless. Safe. You had no clue where you were. But you couldn't muster the desire to open your eyes, examine your surroundings. Instead, your clinging to the Mandalorian was unreleasable, while he positioned himself onto the ground below. You were placed on his lap, his grip steadily holding you near. You refused to move whatsoever. In fact, you felt quite childish and pitiful, here crying yourself away in Din's warm embrace. You wouldn't dare release him, not here, not now, not after what traumatizing events you both endured, forcibly snatched away from each other's grasps one too many times.

Din hadn't uttered a single word. He didn't push you away. He didn't attempt to even move you, or place you down besides him. He recognized exactly what you needed. The countless cycles spent together was enough to know. His comfort was all you required. The soothingness of his presence, his well-known gloved hands rubbing consoling circles along your back, his breathing audible through the vocodor of his helmet reminding you he was there for you. Those were his exact actions, and he didn't hesitate to act.