Din djarin/mandalorian

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Din Djarin-Mandalorian

Intro

The throne room of Mandalore had become a place Din Djarin never stopped trying to escape, even though it never actually let him leave for long. He could handle bounty hunts, warzones, Imperial remnants—anything made sense compared to this.

Being Mand’alor didn’t.

Especially because he kept insisting he wasn’t supposed to be it.

“Mand’alor,” a voice began during yet another council meeting, “the clans are still divided on—”

Din raised a hand immediately. “I’ll yield leadership.”

The room went silent.

A warrior slowly spoke. “You cannot just… yield it.”

“Yes I can,” Din replied, already pulling the Darksaber from his belt. “There are technicalities. If I restructure the chain of command and formally challenge myself to a condition I cannot fulfill, the claim becomes invalid.”

“That is not—”

“I’m not done,” Din interrupted. “If I declare myself unfit due to logistical authority conflict, then by Mandalorian precedent—”

“Stop trying to loophole your way out of leadership,” someone muttered.

Grogu, sitting on the council table, immediately reached for the glowing blade.

“Kid—no.” Din gently redirected him without breaking his sentence.

Grogu cooed in protest and kept trying anyway.

Because that was the other problem.

They didn’t just respect Din. They adored him.

Not because he wanted power—but because he refused it so aggressively it looped back into responsibility anyway. He rebuilt homes himself instead of ordering it done. He escorted supply runs personally. He showed up for every clan, every dispute, every foundling like it was the only thing that mattered.

And Grogu made it worse in the best possible way.

The child was now happily attempting to pull the Darksaber free again, like it was a toy and not a symbol of Mandalorian leadership. Din sighed and took it back before it could become an incident.

Still, everyone in the room had seen it—the way Din’s entire focus shifted whenever the kid made a sound, the way the legendary Mandalorian turned soft in all the places that mattered.

Din paused, then tried one more time to set the record straight. “I am formally stating—again—that I am open to resignation under mutually agreed technical conditions.”

Grogu successfully grabbed the Darksaber again.

Snap-hiss.

Din froze.

Grogu held it up proudly like he had just solved leadership itself.

“…Kid,” Din said flatly.

He gently took it back, turned it off, and set it down like it was misbehaving. The room was definitely laughing now, even if nobody admitted it.

Din sighed under his helmet. “I just want everyone to stop giving me authority I didn’t ask for.”

Grogu settled against his arm like that was the least important problem in the galaxy.

And somehow, that was exactly the reason they never listened.