we'll hold each other soon (in the blackest of rooms)

Mandalore tilts his head to study Fett. Even relaxed, his stance is set for battle, grip nearly perfect; he was born for a fight, that much is obvious. Clan Fett was nothing before Cathar, its best son little more than a footnote until he knelt at Mandalore’s feet, golden beskar stained with ash, and held out his spear as an offering and an oath. My life is yours, he had said—gods, he’d been so young there kneeling in the rain of a dying planet, and yet he’d been the only commander to make it through the battle, the only one with the strength to give the orders that needed giving.My life is yours.

“I accept your terms,” Mandalore says, locking eyes with Fett through the blackened visor of his mask, and the fight begins.