Kyr'bes - King of Crowns

Morut'yc

(This chapter is getting to me. I nicknamed Mando, Ian, but that's my husbands name. So now all I can see is my husband when I say Ian and it's driving me crazy.) 

You should've expected this sort of hostility. You were wearing plastoid armor, after all.

You didn't expect him to leave you alive, even after you risked everything to rescue his kid. You were going to start calling that child in his arms 'his kid' since he's taken a liking to it in the past few hours of your adventure out beyond the base.

No words were spoken to you. All he did was lead you to the lower level of the ship, where he shoved you against a wall and slapped a pair of cuffs on your wrists, and he left.

He may have spoken to you, but his words fell on deaf ears as you insisted on waiting out your new sentence. You may have escaped, but you went from one hand to another in terms of imprisonment. Whatever he wanted, you just wanted to get this damn armor off.

Your next task was to kick as much armor off your body as possible. You managed to get off your wrist cuff, the vambrace and the pieces on your shoulders, and you fumbled with the piece covering your hips as the other pieces fell to the floor of the hull with a loud clatter. It was sure to get the Mandalorians attention, but you were shaky, and you were still on an adrenaline high.

The ship was cold. It smelled like smoky gun metal, some sort of chemical and something sharp, the scent of a man. You knew all he had down here were some supply crates, a lonesome bunk, and a refresher. He really did live out of his ship.

You shivered in the sudden cold, and eyed the airlock behind you. If he really wanted to, all he had to do was undo the lock and you'd shoot off into space, dead in an instant, and he'd have one less problem to worry about.

You were wondering why he didn't do so yet while your boots worked on the pieces on your leg. They were the hardest to get off, attached securely to the flight suit underneath, and it was also the piece you had the most difficulty with every morning.

Grunting with effort, feeling warmer by the second, the Mandalorian had descended the ladder after too long, and spotted your armor that had scattered over the floor, and watched you struggle with your legs, trying to kick the white plastoid off as soon as you could. The faster you could, the less likely you would throw up.

You paused, only to glare at him, hair in your eyes and grit teeth against your lip, as you shook your head in annoyance and just continued with the pieces attached to your legs.

"A little help would be nice." You scoffed, sarcastically.

With one hand on the rung of the ladder, the Mandalorian just stared at you, watching as you grinned in triumph as the piece finally came loose, clattering to the floor.

You sighed, a smile on your lips, and tried to shake the hair from your eyes.

"Why?" Was his first word to you, outside of the hostile environment.

"Why, what?" You echoed, beginning work on the other pieces.

"Why did you save the child?"

Ah, that.

You should've known that he was curious. You thought fast about the others, who may have survived, who knew you by name and wondered if they hated your guts, or thought you had finally snapped. You were sure that strange man who obsessed with the child would be curious as well, but you paused in your current task and looked up at the intimidating Mandalorian.