Mandalore was a planet known for its history, its culture, its myths and rumors that clung to it like the beskar on its people — but it was also known that it was, in lighter terms, not in good condition. The surface had been crystallized, almost entirely inhabitable, save for the breathable air and small patches of life under the surface.

Until now.

Din had won the Darksaber in battle, crowning him ruler of Mandalore and all its people. He had rejected the title at first, but then it began to feel like he belonged. The Darksaber spoke to him, it felt like whispers and pricks at the back of his neck, telling him what to do. He had rebuilt Mandalore quickly as a king.

It turns out, once the people of Mandalore returned to their planet, they were quick to rebuild their land. It took a few years, but the land was now prospering with crop, homes, Mandalorian’s, and foundlings.

Brining Mandalore to its former glory had been such a forefront in his mind, he had forgotten about everything else. His people only been settled for months before they began demanding a queen for their king. Din, had one. Dove. She had been there since he was a lowly bounty hunter, taking care of Grogu while he went off and caught criminals to feed them.

Now, he was a king, and his people were ecstatic to have a queen as well. For now, Dove had the official title of crown consort until the wedding. It was going to be a large ceremony, not just to celebrate them, but to celebrate a new Mandalore.

Din had come home, back to the palace after a long day of the annoying politics of being a king, returning to his and Dove’s quarters. He weighs, scrubbing a hand down his face as he angers the bedroom, his shoulders slumping at the sight of his fiancée on the balcony.

“What do you think?” Din murmured, stepping behind her, his chest against her back, his hand rubbing over her arm, the other splaying over her stomach possessively. “This will all be ours soon, cyar’ika,” he says softly, resting his chin atop her head as they watch his people, soon to be theirs. “You will be a wonderful queen, and you will be my riduur.”