𝔅ombshell, ten—tormented.

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"I promised her I'd do my best to save the baby. I'm not planning on breaking that promise anytime soon."

Ninkri's lips curled up into a commendable grin, nodding to acknowledge the Mandalorian's words. Her gaze dropped down towards the Child still placed on her lap, his little claws clutching onto the fabric of her shirt as he played around with the material. There was a brief moment of silence as she comprehended everything Din had explained to her — about your capture, the Empire, the queen, the syringe, everything. Then, her eyes lifted to face him as he stood idly besides the ladder that led downstairs. "I'm sure she appreciates that. But... you've got to prepare yourself, Mandalorian. Just in case. I'm sure she's already done so herself."

Truthfully, Din wasn't at all prepared for that. This entire time, he'd been desperately holding onto that delicately thin thread of hope that a solution could be found. That Din could manage to salvage what he had quickly grown to care about these past couple of weeks. The baby he promised to save. The fact that he could possibly lose this unborn child was unfathomable. He couldn't imagine the pain it would cause you. He couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't simply give up, not yet. There was still the slightest of chance, and he was hell-bent on taking advantage of it.

"You should get some rest. I'll handle the Child."

The suggestion broke him out of his suffocating thoughts. It'd been a while since he's gotten true rest, so the idea sounded great. "Are you sure?"

"I'm completely certain," she bobbed her head in affirmation. "Besides, the princess needs you now."

 With her approval, he swiftly dismissed himself and descended towards the hull of the ship. As soon as he arrived at his bunk, he caught sight of your sleeping form, laying peacefully in the compact cot. Though it seemed like the thought of grabbing a blanket to keep you warm hadn't crossed your mind, likely due to your exhaustion. He stepped back, taking a moment to remove the entirety of his armor — the helmet being an exception — before acquiring one of the multiple blankets he had scattered around the ship. Then, he made his way back to the compartment and carefully draped the covering over your body. Your hands involuntarily clutched onto the blanket in your slumber, pulling it closer to yourself  to immerse yourself in its warmth, before briefly returning to your deep sleep, completely unmoving.

Before he decided to climb in with you, he made sure to switch all the lights off. Next he removed the beskar helm concealing his face, setting it down on a crate nearby the cockpit's ladder, in case Ninkri were to sometime walk in while he slept. Only then did he allow himself his well-deserved rest — crawling into the bunk, shutting its door closed, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead, lovingly wrapping his arms around you and drawing you closer to him, before finally falling asleep.

Prepare yourself, Mandalorian.

Just in case.

Those words rung through his head, obnoxiously tormenting him.

Your anguished cries were what abruptly woke him from his slumber. It was so sudden, so unexpected, that he initially believed this was some sort of bad dream. A nightmare. That's what he desperately tried to convince himself of, but with each passing second, your pain seemingly grew worse and worse. Your hand clutched your swollen belly, a grimace visible on your face as you lifted yourself upright with your free arm. Din sat up with you as well, palm placed on your shoulder in a concerned manner while simultaneously trying to be a source of consolation. But, really, how was he supposed to comfort you when you're in this much pain?

It's just a nightmare. He repeated those words in his head various times, over and over. It's just a nightmare, he'll wake up soon enough besides you, without you feeling like this, the baby will be fine. It's just a damn nightmare.

It's not. This was real.

There was no other option than to stop by the nearest planet and seek a medic. He couldn't stand seeing you like this — your eyes and cheeks wetting with fresh tears, distressed screams escaping your lips, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. Din quickly ushered himself to act now, hopping out of the bunk and placing his helmet over his head again. The thudding of urgent footsteps were audible upstairs, and as Din flicked the lights back on, Ninkri made her appearance from the ladder along with the Child held closely to her. She held a troubled look in her expression, though she didn't question anything as Din hastened up the ladder.

As soon as he stepped foot into the cockpit, he hurriedly searched through the datapad on the control panel. Apparently, they were hours worth of traveling from arriving at Sorgan. Too much wait — you couldn't last that long, and he wouldn't be able to cope with seeing you suffer for such a prolonged amount of time. Instead, he viewed the planet nearest to the Razor Crest.

And it just so happened to be that the ship was about to pass by Tatooine in this precise moment.

Tatooine, of all places. He wasn't bringing you there. He doubted you'd ever even visited the damn planet, and with excellent reason. The past couple of times he'd paid Tatooine a visit was a disaster — first, betrayed by his supposed ally and abandoned in the middle of the vast Dune Sea; second, needing to fight and kill a whole Krayt dragon alongside a group of citizens and Tusken raiders in order to obtain the Mandalorian armor he searched for (and nearly dying along the way). Not to mention the countless occasions he was in a perilous situation and on the verge of death. So, Tatooine was strictly off-limits and not an option.

Downstairs, your pained shouts resounded through the entire ship. That snapped him out of his daze — what the hell was he thinking? It didn't matter whether the planet was extremely dangerous or not. There were medics that could provide a solution, end this misery you didn't deserve, and even save the baby. Besides, he wasn't going to leave your side for one second. Any threat lurking around the corners of the planet wasn't going to reach you with a Mandalorian hell-bent on protecting you.

He tried to ignore his trembling fingers as he punched in the coordinates for Tatooine in the datapad. Should be a few minutes before the ship needs to be pulled out of hyperspace. He hastily descended the ladder once more, taking note of the Child on the floor of the hull. His head tilted with obvious concern, ears drooping down and eyes wide with alarm. Your cries continued as you sat with your feet dangling off the cot, Ninkri right by your side in an attempt to somehow comfort you.

Knowing full well the kid likely shouldn't be present here, Din took a step towards the Child, crouching down to bring him into his arms before calling for Ninkri. "Take the kid and go upstairs. Land the ship. When you contact the tower, request for bay three-five."

The elderly woman immediately complied, taking the infant from Din's grasp and carefully climbing the ladder with the kid held closely to her chest. The Child, though, ended up releasing a loud cry that echoed through the hull, squirming in Ninkri's arms as he attempted to liberate himself from her grip. It seemed the kid wanted to stay by your side, for whatever reason, though that wasn't the most appropriate in this situation. His cried gradually lessened as they ascended the ladder, though still perfectly audible. Din paid no attention to it as he stepped towards you — the only objective on his mind being to end your abhorrent pain.

"We're landing in a few minutes, okay?" he stated, gently grabbing your palm and allowing you to squeeze his hand, if that were to somewhat distract you. Your ragged breaths restricted you from voicing absolutely anything, though your easily eyes spoke for you.

It's too late. As much as he wanted to deny the fact, he was unable to do so. It was impossible now.

For once, he found his hope diminishing, only for a terrible guilt to replace it. This was his fault, no doubt about it. He's been blaming himself since the very beginning. If he hadn't left that blasted night, if he had simply refused to leave and instead solved the problems, or if it weren't for him returning to Rainoh, this wouldn't have happened to you. You wouldn't be overwhelmed by this appalling misery. The baby wouldn't be nearing its death with every second passing — that is, if it hasn't occurred yet. You would be birthing your child in a couple months, naturally with no complications whatsoever. If Din had elected to land someplace else for the Razor Crest's repairs — Nevarro, perhaps — none of this would've ever occurred.

He wouldn't be capable of living with the unpleasant culpability that he'd killed his own baby. It would remain engraved in his brain forever, dreadfully weighing down on him for the remainder of his life.

The ship vibrated in a certain way which unmistakably indicated that they had emerged from hyperspace. Quickly, he turned away from you and opted to place his armor back on, fumbling with the plenty of straps and buckles along the way. His nerves were all over the place though he attempted not to show it too much. By the time he'd finished, the Crest was on the verge of landing in its designated hangar in Mos Eisley. Now fully-armored, he returned to you. It was almost time to leave, but he doubted you'd have the ability to steadily walk. Not like this. Instead, his arms wrapped around your figure — one under your legs, the other around your back, before carefully lifting you up and out of the bunk. Your own arms draped over his shoulders and neck, further supporting yourself.

"Where are w-we?" you finally mustered the strength to ask.

"Tatooine," he replied, apprehension intelligible in his voice.

The hissing as the ship positioned itself onto the ground was heard, the light thud as it officially made contact with land reverberated  through the hull. Seconds later, the side-ramp whirred as it lowered upon Ninkri's command upstairs, bright Tatooine light seeping into the relatively darkened interior of the ship. As soon as Din stepped off the Crest and tread out into the open, the humid climate abruptly hit him. And along with the twin suns blazing down on him, he knew you would utterly despise this damn planet. He always had since the very beginning. Though this was much worse for you. Having been born and raised on an icy planet that spent 98% of it's year covered with thick layers of snow and frequent atrocious blizzards, you were definitely not going to enjoy this. At all.

Droids chattered curiously upon catching sight of the familiar Mandalorian, though they kept their distance, likely still intimidated by him. But today, droids were the last thing on his mind. From where he stood, Din perceived Peli's fiery, curly hair behind the grimy glass of her office. There was a split second of eye contact from there before she stepped outside and made her way towards him, her mouth opening to speak before quickly shutting closed upon seeing you — a princess, writhing with intense pain in his arms. Her brows furrowed with obvious concern.

"Quick —where's the nearest medic?" Din asked, the urgency in his tone loud and clear.

"Oh! Um... Soon as you leave the hangar, turn right and you'll end up finding a door painted a light green with a sign that says 'clinic.'" she raised a finger pointedly towards the exit. Then, "Only problem is, it's run by—"

Din hadn't even allowed her enough time to finish her statement, instead cutting her off mid-sentence and offering a brief 'thank you' before hurrying out of the hangar. That was quite harsh, he had to admit. Unexpectedly arriving at her landing bay, barging out of the ship without a single greeting, and interrupting her as she spoke wasn't exactly nice. Though he couldn't dwell on that, and could merely hope she understood the seriousness of this situation.

So, as he hastened through the grubby streets of Mos Eisley, his visor trailed among the numerous homes and buildings surrounding him. He had taken that right turn as Peli suggested. It shouldn't be too difficult to spot, seeing as the grand majority of these structures were a bland tan and brown which blended in with the natural environment of Tatooine — sand, sand, sand, and some more sand. Dust billowed upwards with each rapid step Din took, dirtying his boots and the cape that lingered just over the ground. A dirty outfit were the least of his worries. His own baby's life is on the line now. He needed to locate the medical site, and quick.

A Mandalorian clutching the ex-princess of Rainoh close to him definitely captivated any bystanders' attentions. If everyone's eyes were practically glued to his shiny beskar when he visited Tatooine alone, this was even worse. Unease crept into the back of his mind, maintaining him on high alert. This planet was littered with all kinds of criminals, as well as bounty hunters who could cause plenty of inconveniences. And if they figure out that the Empire was hunting you guys down... the both of you were in deep, deep trouble.

Ahead, a door painted light green caught his eye, luring him closer to the building. Once approached, he perceived the sign nailed straight into the door — clinic, written in Galactic Basic as well as various translations to other languages underneath it. The door was slightly parted, and he didn't hesitate to shove it open with a kick of his foot. As soon as he entered, all eyes laid on him and your weak figure... Not the usual eyes, though. They were glowing, mechanical eyes.

Droids.

That's what Peli was trying to warning him about.

The medical station was run by a bunch of old, rusty, droids.

He tentatively took a couple paces forward, halting himself to examine his new surroundings. He was in what seemed to be some waiting area — or, the lobby. With this being a medical station, you'd think the place would be somewhat... clean. Well, it was no different from the countless filthy buildings and cantina's he'd paid a visit to here. There was not a single human being—not even a species—in sight, simply a few droids whirring as they wandered around. The walls were a beige color and covered in grime, a few empty chairs sparsely scattered around the clinic. Apparently, they weren't busy. Which led Din to believe this wasn't exactly a popular medical site, for some unknown reason. That didn't help him feel any better about these circumstances.

"Hello!" a droid greeted, slowly stepping towards his direction. A silver-plated protocol droid, just as worn-out and rusted up as the rest of them. It's emotionless, robotic voice continued, "How may we be of assistance?"

Isn't it obvious? Why the hell is it asking?

Nope, he's not doing this. He'll turn around, locate another station that's actually owned by humans. Not droids. He wouldn't trust them with you now. Never will. Especially if his baby's life was in peril.

But once glance at your tear-stained face, your jaw clenching due to the gritting of your teeth, your fists clutching tightly onto the cape wrapped around his neck, eyes shut closed in an attempt to somewhat distract yourself from the excruciating pain — he knew you couldn't last any longer. And you were already sweating as well. You shouldn't be going through this any more time than you already have. His voice modulator crackled as a reluctant sigh escaped his lips. "She's pregnant. Something happened, and... she needs help."

With a curt nod, the droid beckoned for the Mandalorian to follow it, towards a compact, isolated room. A simple cot lay against one of the four walls. At least its mattress and brown blankets had been noticeably washed. As soon as Din gently placed your body down onto the cot, the protocol droid began asking a plethora of questions.

Question after question after question. Most of them answered by Din — what happened? Why is she in pain this early? Do you know what was in the syringe? What color was the liquid? And when he wasn't entirely sure of a certain inquiry, you managed to speak through whimpers and uneven breaths. How deep into the term are you? Seven months, much to Din's surprise. He originally believed you were about five months pregnant, at least that's what you stated back on your balcony in the palace. It occurred to him you were likely forced to bend the truth a bit. Which made absolute sense — you were compelled to marry the prince of Tasseth a couple months or so after your pregnancy was revealed. So, to not cause any suspicions, lying was necessary.

The droid exit the room after he obtained a response to each of its pestering questions. It returned a few quick minutes later, before bluntly saying, "Kaysherik."

Din was utterly confused, and unable to form any words to reply to that. Damned droid must be malfunctioning, or something, because he's never heard of whatever the hell a 'Kaysherik' was. What, did it actually mean to say Kashyyyk? It wasn't until the droid spoke up once more that his puzzlement gradually disappeared as he comprehended the fresh information.

"Native to Rainoh, the Kaysherik is a miniature, purple-colored insect solely found on the icy planet. It's venom, while in small amounts should not cause harm to an adult human being, can be lethal to children, babies, and of course, unborn babies. The liquid in the syringe was likely from the venom of a Kaysherik, according to your explanations."

The name was totally unfamiliar to him. He offered a brief glance towards your direction, hoping for some sort of recognition in your expression, though it seemed you weren't paying any attention to the conversation whatsoever, only writhing in pain on what seemed like a rather uncomfortable, stiff mattress. The desperation in his voice was crystal-clear as he asked, "What do we do, then?"

"There is only one possible solution — we must induce her."

"Induce?" A disbelief dominated his tone as he took a step closer to the mechanical being. "It's too early."

"She is currently seven months pregnant, correct?" the droid recalled, earning a nod of affirmation from Din. "The baby will certainly be premature, though it will save it's life. It is still alive, thankfully. But we must act fast before the venom further harms it."

He sighed — a long, unwilling sigh as his mind weighed out his choices. You're suffering. The baby's on the brink of death. No other option, apparently. Then, "Okay. Fine."

With his approval, the silver droid exited the room once more, allowing Din a couple spare minutes of alone time with you. Beads of sweat trickled off the sides of your forehead, your chest rising and falling in rapid movements with each gasping breath, hands curled into fists as you clutched onto the fabric of the blankets underneath you. Din offered his own hand for you again, your fingers tightly gripping onto his gloves. The leather certainly helped block out a great deal of your death grip, though it didn't impede him from feeling your fingernails digging into his skin. He couldn't blame you, though.

It was hot. Hot enough to easily asphyxiate yourself, now that he realized. He wasn't completely sure due to his helmet obstructing him from any air, but he believed there was no air conditioning in here. Not even a single fan around. Either their unit was damaged and in need of repairs, or they simply didn't own one. No wonder you were excessively sweating already. Even he was beginning to feel the droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. Though his own discomfort was quickly pushed aside, paid no attention to them. The entirety of his focus was you, and you only.

The sound of the door creaking open filled his ears, visor shifting towards the silver-plated droid as it stepped towards the other side of the cot, opposite to Din. It lifted its metal hand, the glinting glass tube of a syringe catching his eye. The purpose for the liquid was likely to induce you into labor. Though his immediate instinct was to grab the droid's wrist with his free hand, abruptly halting before it managed to move the needle any closer to you. His grip was forbidding, tightening with each passing second as if it could even feel the strength. "Is there anyone else who could do this instead? A human, maybe?"

The droid remained utterly silent for a moment, its glowing orange bulbs flickering on and off, supposedly blinking. Then, "Yes, but the Proprieter is currently on vacation. He will return next week. Until then, 4-1B, the nurse droids, and I will be handling the grand majority of the business. Please release my hand."

A tense silence followed. His fingers stayed persistently glued to the droid's wrist. He couldn't do this. He couldn't leave you in the hands of these untrustworthy droids.

"D-Din."

Your voice called out for his attention, soft, weak, barely over a whisper. Though his visor remained trained on the droid.

"Din, l-look at me. Please."

He does. His gaze met with your gentle, tear-filled eyes staring back at him, a pleading look on your expression. It absolutely broke him. Between your sudden breathing and small whimpers, you managed to speak your reassuring words. "It's the only way... Din, we have to. We c-can't lose it." A barely audible whimper escaped your lips, before you continued, your voice lowering into a whisper in an attempt to hide the quiver to your words. "You... y-you promised, right?"

He did. He promised. He couldn't break that promise. Whether he had an intense hatred for droids or not, he needed to stop being so stubborn and selfish. Or else it'll cost him a baby's only chance to live.

With that, he slowly released his hold on the droid. In a split second, the droid had injected the fluid straight into your bloodstream. It could take hours, potentially even an entire rotation  — as the droid explained — for you to birth the baby. And Din suspected the pain wasn't leaving anytime soon. If not, it'd worsen instead. "Is there... is there anything you could use to rid the pain?" Din asked, halting the droid before it managed to step away.

"Other than birthing her unborn child, I am afraid not." 

Nope. He wasn't going to watch you suffer like this for a possible twenty-four hours. "You've gotta have something. Even if it's temporarily."

"No, not unless we utilize an epidural, which would cease the pain for the time being. Unfortunately, we currently don't have that available in stock."

"And why not?" his voice lowered to a rasp, nearly becoming an irritated growl. His patience with this droid was quickly diminishing.

"This is a clinic, not a hospital. Normally, we treat injuries and wounds. We aren't fully-equipped for birthing."

Well, that makes things a whole lot better.

"Is there anything we could use, droid? Some pain-killers? You've gotta have those."

"Pain-killers could cause further trauma for the baby. It is most beneficial to allow her to go through labor naturally."

Naturally. Right. Like being forced to deliver your baby months earlier due to some pestering poisonous bug was natural.

Your grip on Din's hand unexpectedly strengthened, before managing to utter a quiet, "Will you guys... shut... up?"

Din was admittedly taken aback for a second, but you had plenty reason to shut them up. You're in intense pain, your hormones were literally everywhere, and not to mention the droid's mechanical voice was quite bothersome. At least, that's what he thought.

"I must leave but I will return every couple of hours to check up on her," was all the droid said in response before it (thankfully) left the scenario.

A deep puff of breath escaped his lips before he lifted his free hand, wiping the sweat dripping down your face with the leather of his glove. "I'm sorry, Cyar'ika," was all he could offer. He couldn't even think of comforting words to console you. He couldn't simply say 'it'll be okay' or 'the baby will be alright' because, honestly? He had no idea. He'd never witnessed a birth, or even seen the full process of a pregnancy in his life — so, naturally, he was clueless.

So, as the time passed, seconds turning into minutes, and minutes turning into long, grueling hours of waiting in anticipation, he remained glued right by your side. The only time he needed you to release his hand was when he opted to quickly grab a nearby chair and scoot it closer to your cot so he could rest himself, before gently entwining your fingers together again. The droid returned every few hours, as promised, to check up on you before swiftly leaving each time. He wasn't completely certain how much time had passed, though he suspected night had fallen already. The temperature seemed to gradually cool down, though not exactly cool enough to cease your insistent sweating. One of the cons of being raised on Rainoh.

The door suddenly swung open, revealing a rusted medical droid, alongside a couple others of its robotic companions. "Hello," greeted the medic. "I am 4-1B. The Mandalorian may step out now while we take over."

"Take over?" Din repeated, though he didn't have any time whatsoever to react when the others — nurse droids, he assumed — began to shove him out the door, ultimately slamming the door closed once he was out.

Did they... did they really just do that?! His hand abruptly grasped  the knob before giving it a curt jerk. It didn't budge. They locked the damn door. They locked him out, when he should he in there, by your side the whole process. "Damn it," he growled. The exasperation he attempted to contain within him increased in ten-folds along with his fierce detestation for those kriffing brainless, unfeeling droids.

"What happened?"

Ninkri. He whirled around to face her upon hearing her voice, his fingers still tightly gripping onto the stiff doorknob. "Where's the Child?" he asked instead.

"I left her with the mechanic at the hangar — Peli, I think. The little one seemed to trust her. I've been waiting out here for—" She was interrupted by your pained groans which became even louder than they previously were. Din's clasp on the handle strengthened as he abruptly jerked his hand in a desperate attempt to break inside. "Hey—" Ninkri could only grab him by his arm, and drag him away from the door before he managed to yank it clean off the framing. "I'm sure they locked you out for a good reason. It'll only be for a moment. They have got to let you in soon enough. Just take a seat and wait, they can work out the problem themselves."

"Fine." he sighed a deep breath — his nerves truly were taking control right now. He turned, hesitantly stepping away from the door, away from you. Finally, he decided to take a seat in one of the available chairs in the waiting area. Though he was still feeling plenty uneasy about this whole thing — putting you in the care of droids. But, really, there was no other option.

Hours. Not a moment, like Ninkri thought. Hours.

Hours forced to hear you agonizingly suffering with intense pain Din believed to be unfathomable. Yet, there was absolutely nothing he could do about your situation. And that was what pained him the most. Because, in the end, he had caused this. For leaving you. That guilt remained persistently present, beating him up on the inside and breaking him down. With his elbows propped up against his knees as he waited with extreme anticipation, he pondered over these exact thoughts. Lost in this pensive state, he hadn't even bothered to speak to Ninkri who had taken a seat besides him. No words, no movements, no... no sound?

Silence.

Your cries stopped. Completely. It was just utterly quiet. Daunting, nerve-wracking silence.

Something was wrong.

Something happened- he didn't know what exactly, but none of this was right. This wasn't—

Another cry.

Though that one didn't emanate from you. It wasn't one of your whimpers. Not one of your groans of pain. No, this cry was entirely unfamiliar to him. This one was significantly distinct. Its voice was small, weak, consistent.

It came from nothing other than a baby.

It's... it's alright. It's crying. So... so, that means it's okay, right? It's alive.

His head perked up, lips involuntarily curling up into a relieved grin underneath the helmet. It's actually living — you had made it just in time to prevent the poison from reaching it. Din didn't hesitate to stand and race towards your door, attempting to open it again only for it to seemingly still be locked. Until a droid opened it up for him, offering a quick greeting only for him to shove the mechanical being aside and stepping inside.

There you were. Your back propped up against the wall behind you as you remained in the cot. A nurse droid was right by your side, helping you breastfeed the new baby for the very first time — you were completely clueless, but that's why the droid was there to assist. The baby was already enveloped in a set of dark brown blankets, and glued to your exposed breast. By the look on your face, you seemed exhausted. Dark circles underneath your droopy eyes, cheeks still stained with tears, hair in a complete mess over your . But the baby, it was so... so small — of course due to the fact that it was born two months earlier than expected. But it was alive. Premature, but alive nevertheless. That's all that mattered.

"Get out," he commanded the droids. Sure, it was a bit harsh but he was still particularly bitter with them for kicking him out. They instantly comply, gathering their equipment and exiting the room in the blink of an eye. Only then had Din taken tentative steps towards you, still holding the newborn close to your chest. Another wave of alleviation washed over him when he realized your pain had completely vanished. Now you were calm, breaths still heavy due to recently coming out of labor, though you were winding down now. Now that everything was going to be alright, that the baby's healthy, you could relax. And so could Din.

A feeble smile appeared on your lips as he approached, matching the exact grin on his own face, though it remained hidden to your eyes. Your shoulders vibrated with soft laughter as you shook your head. "You didn't have to chase them out like that, you know."

His response was a hum, before he settled himself right beside your legs on the cot so he could obtain a closer look at his baby. The only problem was his helmet. So, he slowly removed the beskar obscuring his facial features, allowing himself a brief moment to perceive you and his baby with his own eyes. No tint of a visor impeding him from seeing clearly, no metal preventing anyone from viewing his face, nothing. Now it was just you, Din, and the baby. And that was all he could ever desire in his entire life. All he ever needed. Now he could ultimately sigh a breath of relief.

"You wanna carry him?"

Carry?

Him?

Yes, and no altogether... and, it's a boy! But... how could he carry something so... fragile? He might... squeeze him too hard, or perhaps even drop it. He wasn't fit to handle something that delicate. Sure, he'd carried the Child in his arms countless times, but this was different. Very, very different.

Din grunted, his gaze flickering from the baby latched to your chest towards your tired eyes. "I don't think..."

"Come on," you encouraged, gently drawing away the newborn from your chest and lifting the strap of your dress to fully cover your breasts. Though before you pulled the infant from you any more, you awaited Din's approval. When you noted his visible hesitance, you tilted your head. "You're not gonna hurt him if that's what you're scared of."

It took him a moment to contemplate it. But then, he thought, why not? How could he deny the chance of holding the baby he'd gone through a plethora of difficulties for, just so he could have a chance at life?

Din quickly opted to remove his vambraces from his forearms, which would definitely provide discomfort for the baby if he were to carry him. Along with his helmet, he set the beskar besides him on your bed, before shifting his gaze back towards your direction. A grin appeared on his lips as he scooted a tad bit closer to you. He was thrilled yet nervous altogether. The joy and delight he felt nearly caused his heart to implode, and he was completely certain that the feeling was mutual. You held a wide smile plastered all over your own expression, one rare smile he hadn't seen since the previous day when he offered you the chance to ultimately see his face.

Carefully, you transferred the baby into Din's arms, and he, slowly, drew him closer to his body. The newborn's little, bald head rested comfortably on his father's forearm, while the other arm placed on his back further supported him. When you held him in your arms, Din hadn't exactly had the opportunity to thoroughly see his infant's face. Now, though, he could perfectly perceive his every feature, and he took advantage of this moment to fully examine him.

The blankets wrapped snugly around his small figure only revealed the entirety of his tiny, round face. He was completely unmoving, eyes shut closed as he immersed himself in deep slumber. If it weren't for the quiet, though still audible, breaths, Din would've found himself double-checking with the droids to prove whether he was alright. His nose, did he have Din's nose? He swore he could pick out a slight curve to it, just like his own, though he wasn't completely certain. Over time, he'd likely find out.

For what felt like an eternity, he stared his baby, his son, with an endearing smile present on his face. Uncontrollable tears discreetly pricked the corners of his eyes. He couldn't believe the delicacy he held closely in his arms. What you both made, together, one pleasurable night without having the slightest of knowledge of what would occur in the near future. There were plenty of burdensome difficulties and tedious situations to go through in order to reach this point, but Din didn't regret any of it. Not at all. It was safe to say that he would endure those torturous times over and over if it meant he could have his baby alive and healthy, and obtain a chance to live right by your side on a peaceful planet, where no troubles or dangers could as much as touch you.

Then, he found himself pondering over another topic: "He needs a name."

After everything you've been through, a name hadn't even crossed either of your minds. You bobbed your head in agreement. "Yeah... we should take some time to think about it, though."

The infant was soon enough returned to you, the fear of dropping it still insistently present. The helmet was also returned over his head, just as his beskar bracers were as well. It wasn't long before a soft knock emanating from the door snatched your attention. Din immediately stepped towards the door, opening it up to reveal the familiar faces of Ninkri, alongside Peli and the Child in her grasp, who had undoubtedly heard the news already. The Child flashed his little baby teeth once catching sight of him, raising his stubby arms towards his direction. Din instantly welcomed him into his arms, with plenty more ease than previously. 

The group was undeniably eager and curious to see the newly-born infant as Din stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Peli conducted a brief introduction before cutting right to her point. "I've heard plenty of you! Mando here seems to really like you. Likes you enough to make this little bundle of joy — he's so cute!" Her coos directed towards the newborn caused you to laugh. An actual, genuine laugh Din had longed to hear for so long.

Seeing you this happy again... it absolutely softened him. 

"The mother and the baby will be required to remain here for a minimum of five full rotations," a droid's automatic voice called for everyone's attentions, eyes focusing on the medical droid standing right by the entrance — 4-1B, Din recognized. "Due to the baby being premature, we need to thoroughly monitor his health in case any complications were to appear. As for the mother, she must rest well and not over-exert herself. Her body's gone through enough stress and trauma already."

Definitely not what he wanted. He would've much rather preferred to get the hell off this planet as quick as possible. The Empire was still a major threat to them, and though Tatooine was isolated out in the Outer Rim, that danger could not simply be set aside. But if five rotations was what was necessary, then five rotations it is. Because he was willing to do absolutely anything for his new baby.

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