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battlekidx2 · 4 years

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Star Wars the Clone Wars (2008) Thoughts and Review

With season 7 of the clone wars fast approaching I decided to give the series a second shot. The first time I started watching star wars the clone wars I dropped it. I am so glad I gave it a second chance. I watched it chronologically this time around which made a significant difference in the experience. The first time I watched it the show felt incredibly disjointed with characters who had died much earlier suddenly getting introduction episodes and the timeline was all over the place with closing episodes for arcs happening before opening ones. I couldn’t understand why so many people liked this show that was so all over the place, but now that it’s been a few years and there are many lists on how to watch it chronologically returning for the show seemed like a must. This is a truly great cartoon with amazing writing, animation, and characters. It’s a deeply tragic tale where the heroes don’t win every battle. You know the outcome and yet you can’t help but be enthralled by everything that happens. The show becomes steeped in grey the longer it moves along and decidedly doesn’t deal with the absolutes of black and white, light and dark. This show managed to blow me away even though I came in having heard all the praises that were thrown its way. I highly recommend that anyone who hasn’t watched this show go out and start right now.

Animation:

There was a rather large jump in animation quality in season 4. That’s not to say the animation before wasn’t impressive just that it became even better. The character animation is where it was most noticeable. I wasn’t a big fan of Count Dooku or Chancellor Palpatine’s character models at the start, but after the animation bump they were much better. From the clothes, to the hair, to the facial expressions. The character models for everyone were much better. The hair moved now! All jokes aside the clone wars seems to have an endless well of finances for the animation. There were so many different planets and character models utilized throughout the show’s run that there’s no other way they could pull it off. (It was rather famously financed by George Lucas) Considering the last season was released in 2013 I can easily say the animation still looks better than a lot of shows today. I had heard that the animation was good, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how good.

Standout Arcs:

Landing at point rain - This is the episode that really hooked me and made me think this show was something special. There were losses and the plan didn’t go the way our characters wanted. Obi Wan was struck out of the sky and put out of commission because of his injuries. The large scale battles and 3 separate storylines following the 3 generals were all juggles very well and, while not the morally nuanced storytelling that the Clone Wars became known for, it was still a well made war episode that showed the grueling nature of it and what was the start of what was to come.

Padawan Lost arc - This arc made me realize how much I loved Ahsoka. Not saying I didn’t like her before just that I hadn’t realized how much I had grown to love her character. These episodes did a good job of showing Ahsoka’s growth and how capable she was without her lightsaber, master, or army. The intercutting of the discovery of the other taken padawans that were never searched for with the council telling Anakin not to look for Ahsoka, but to trust in the force shows the disconnect that the Jedi council was beginning to have even with its own order. It shows that their rules against connection was, in a way, pushing them away from the light. This was the beginnings of showing how the order has lost its way. I found myself worrying over Ahsoka and her well being. I wanted her to succeed and come out the other side with the other “prey”. Which was an excellent juxtaposition to the council. Ahsoka lets her attachments help her protect the other prisoners and they get to escape because they act as a unit disproving the council’s decisions on connections. It’s fascinating that an arc that seemed at first to be disconnected to the main theme of the series became intertwined with it. I really like how the clone wars can turn your expectations on its head.

The Umbara Arc - What can I say about this arc that hasn’t already been said. Wow, just wow. This arc is incredible and showcases everything that makes the clone wars great. The animation in this four episode arc is phenomenal and some of the best 3D animation I’ve seen put on TV. The clone wars excels at showing large scale fights and this is no different. It was a marvel to look at. There were so many dark themes that were within this arc. The clones having to come to grips with the corruption of their leader and their own ability to choose despite how horrible the choices they are left with are. The revelation that they were shooting on their own troops in “Carnage on Krell” was harrowing and my shock mirrored that of the clone troopers themselves. The betrayal and hurt that all the troopers were feeling was clear as day and the realization at what they had to do to Krell, a leader they were programmed to trust, not only foreshadowed order 66 but also showed that casualties of war aren’t just people but also beliefs and worldview. The growth that the clones, especially Rex and Fives, underwent was amazing. These two became some of my favorite star wars characters with this arc. Fives with his staunch beliefs that he and all clones should stick to what they believe to be right and Rex with his realization that his loyalty and programming were misplaced, that everything that he believed and fought for may have been a lie and corrupt all along. We’ve seen the senate treating the clones like objects and products, but to see the reality of it on the battlefield was a different experience entirely. When they took Umbara it didn’t feel like a victory for the clones or to me. It felt hollow and saddening. We know how this all ends and having the clones humanized in such a way makes everything that happens later all the more hard hitting. This arc was truly great and it alone makes watching the clone wars worth it.

I also really like how it was a reversal of order 66 with the jedi general betraying his clones. It showed that clones banding together can take down even a prepared jedi, alibi an overconfident one. The conflicting emotions that the clones go through when disobeying their orders opens nuance to order 66 and their possible refusal to carry it out. The struggle of going against their programming is at the focus of this arc. The eventual retcon of this struggle by having the control chips in their brain is simultaneously something I don’t like and something I think makes sense. I don’t like it because it removes the implications and possibility to disobey the order on the clone’s end, but it also would be poor planning on Palpatine’s part to let everything hinge on the clones obeying their programming and not question it. The chips also lead to some of my favorite episodes with fives discovering order 66. This doesn’t effect my love of this arc I just wanted to voice my opinion on this point.

Darth Maul Ascendant arc and the Lawless - This arc was phenomenal. I don’t know what to say. I loved just about everything about this arc. From Darth Maul and his revenge against Obi Wan to the fall of Mandalore by its own hands. This arc was beautifully tragic. Nothing went right in this arc for anyone. Obi Wan couldn’t save Satine, Bo Katan couldn’t save Mandalore, Maul couldn’t save his brother or himself. The most popular shot from the episode “The Lawless”:

Perfectly encapsulates how futile and (once again) tragic this episode is. Obi Wan is just a silhouette against the backdrop of explosions and fighting. He’s so insignificant and small. He can’t win. He can’t save Mandalore. No matter how hard he tried. He’s just one person in the middle of this mandalorian civil war. This entire arc is filled with shots and scenes that are like this one, beautiful to look at and yet portraying immense tragedy. And I think this juxtaposition was intentional. You can’t take your eyes away despite all the horrible things happening before you. I think these episodes were some of the best animated content I have ever consumed. There are quite a few clone wars arcs that make me feel this way, but I think this is my favorite or at the very least contains my favorite episode in “The Lawless”. It is easily something I will never forget.

Ahsoka on Trial - This arc is masterful in how it juxtaposes Ahsoka and Anakin’s journey’s. Both have to deal with their disillusionment with the jedi order and the perceived lack of trust the order places in them. With the ending shot (shown below) of Anakin and Ahsoka foreshadowing through lighting the path their choices will bring them down. Ahsoka has a lit up sky behind her while Anakin has the looming, dark jedi temple behind him. Ahsoka continues down the stairs into the light having turned her back on the growing darkness within the jedi order and tentatively towards a path we cannot see but has at least some brightness and hope. While Anakin is stuck going back to an order he doesn’t have faith in feeling like he has failed his task in protecting Ahsoka. This arc is what the show felt like it was culminating towards with Ahsoka. We knew something was going to happen that would take her out of Anakin’s life before the events of Revenge of the Sith, but the way this played out was better than I could have imagined. I couldn’t help getting emotional over Anakin and Ahsoka parting ways and knowing how Anakin’s story plays out just added to my sadness over it all. There is also a very interesting parallel between Ahsoka and Ventress. They are both force wielders that were betrayed by the order that they followed and seeing their interactions after all this time was fascinating. I also couldn’t truly argue with Barriss when she voiced her reason for attacking the jedi temple. We’ve seen through all our main characters the shortcomings of the jedi and the corruption within the senate that the jedi work with. What Anakin says in Revenge of the Sith “From my point of view the jedi are evil” suddenly makes so much more sense after watching this series and especially this arc. This managed to add so much to the prequel trilogy, at least in my opinion.

Fives and Order 66 - I can’t believe the show decided to show someone actually discovering the truth behind order 66. I was rooting for fives throughout this entire arc and was shocked and sad to see he died so close to getting out the truth (despite knowing that he wouldn’t succeed). I had grown very attached to fives with all the episodes he was a part of and liked how his sense of duty was to doing what was right and saving as many lives as he could showing how despite the clones being programmed they all had different interpretations of their programming. This arc showed how capable the chancellor was at covering his tracks. He had a hand in every event that transpired during this series and yet has everyone fooled in one way or another. No one really knows the truth about him. After the episode “Orders” I had to pause the show, sit back, and let what had just happened sink in (like with many other episodes). How could this show tell storylines that I knew were doomed to end only one way and yet still completely emotionally invest me? And I think that question is just a testament to how good this series really is and how good this arc is.

I will say that easily the weakest episodes to me were the ones focusing on the droids such as R2D2 and C3PO. I like them as support characters, but their spotlight episodes were a slog to get through and I probably won’t rewatch any of them. The good news is that these are far and few between, but there is an arc with them in season 5 that I’m not too fond of especially since the rest of season 5 was phenomenal. There were also a few senate based episodes I struggled through, but most of them I was interested by because of how you could see the corruption and how the senate themselves had begun to see the war as a chance to profit and saw the clone troopers as disposable, easily renewable weapons. It was at times fascinating.

Characters:

Ahsoka - I love Ahsoka Tano. I’ve heard that she wasn’t well received upon her introduction. I’m not entirely sure why because I didn’t have a problem with her in the clone wars movie. She wasn’t my favorite, but she had a lot of room to grow and I wanted to see what they would do with her. The very premise of Anakin having a padawan is fascinating to me because while we know what she isn’t around for revenge of the sith we don’t know why. Is she killed? Does something drastic happen that removes her from the story? Does she stay a jedi or fall to the sith? These were all possibilities and thoughts that I had when I started watching the clone wars. I made sure to stay away from spoilers because I like it when I get to watch something unfold. Ahsoka’s arc is fantastic. We get to see her transform into an idealistic, overconfident youngling to a calm and confident jedi. She, like Obi Wan and Anakin, goes through trials and sees her faith is the Jedi order shaken. The disillusionment and what paths it takes them all on is really interesting. Unlike Obi Wan who still wields and believes is the light side or Anakin who wields and falls to the dark Ahsoka becomes something in the middle, not light or dark. They all portray the different paths that their disillusionment can take. Ahsoka’s decision to become something in the middle echoes the sentiment that you should not deal in absolutes, which is a message within the series. Ahsoka’s decision to leave the Jedi order and forge her own path is what I feel the story was always culminating towards with her. This is why I’m excited for Ahsoka vs Darth Maul in season 7. They are both former apprentices that were betrayed by the order that they had sworn their loyalty towards, but while Maul focuses on vengeance and continues down the path of the dark side, Ahsoka focuses on the future and taking her own path separate from the light or dark. They are perfect opposites to one another in how they dealt with their similar situations. Ahsoka is the perfect example of the idea that the power doesn’t matter, it’s what you do with it. She chooses to still do what she knows is right despite not wielding the dark side. I’m really happy that she survived the series and the empire’s reign. I can’t wait to see what they do next with her.

Obi Wan Kenobi - I really liked what they did with him in this series. We got to see how his emotions did clash with his rigid adherence to the jedi code. His most telling moments were in his greatest failures. Even in the darkest times he didn’t lose hope. He continued to believe that a better future was possible in spite of all of his loss. And I think that is admirable. Because we are so often given characters that are either overly idealistic or overly pessimistic and I can understand both of these archetypes, but Obi Wan has seen the worst of people and lost so much and yet he still maintains hope and I think that is powerful. It may also be because I am a huge fan of Obi Wan. But his hope also has its downsides even within the show because it extended to his belief in the jedi order and their code. It prevented him from being with the one he loved and creates a divide between him and Anakin where they can’t really see eye to eye. The dynamic between him and Anakin is amazing and made my rewatch of Revenge of the Sith and their battle within the film so much more heartbreaking. Obi Wan is a character that has to do something and help where he can, much like Anakin, but where Anakin is brash and reckless Obi wan is calm and diplomatic. They are set up as amazing foils to one another. I just love how much this show fleshed out Obi Wan’s character and showed more to him than the movies got to. This show did a fantastic job with Obi Wan and made his transformation from who he is in the prequels to who he is in the original trilogy make much more sense. (I highly recommend SUPER FRAME’s review of this show. I really agree with his thoughts on Obi Wan in this show)

Anakin - Anakin is a character that unlike Obi Wan I wasn’t the biggest fan of coming into this series. I didn’t hate him, but I much preferred his Darth Vader counterpart. This series changes this and I now like Anakin much more and find his fall to the dark side to be just as fascinating as his life as Darth Vader. We get to see that he really does want to save everyone and how his attachment and possessiveness lead to him doing horrible things even from the very beginning to protect those he cares about. His protectiveness becomes closer and closer to possessiveness as the series progresses. This is most noticeable after Ahsoka leaves the order and Padme decides to work with Clovis. Anakin is controlling and demands/orders her to not work with Clovis. He tries to take away her choice in the matter. This is eerily close to who he is in revenge of the sith even if it is just for a moment before it gets shoved back down. All of these moments (once again) make his turn in Revenge of the Sith very believable because it’s clear that he can be capable of the things he does in that film and onwards. He was always teetering on the edge and he just needed a push to start his descent. The tragedy of Anakin Skywalker actually became a tragedy.

This entire show seems to be a story of disillusionment, of loss, of tragedy. What starts out to seem like a tale of triumph and valor is revealed to be a facade for the bleak reality that is war. Even the “good guys” have lost their way. Time and time again we see the council and senate make decisions that aren’t what would be considered the right thing to do. The senate looks at clones like products. Disposable, reorderable weapons to wage a war that they themselves are safe from as long as they stay on Coruscant. The Jedi order has lost their way. They are no longer peacekeepers, but weapons and warriors that perpetuate war by siding with the republic. They can’t help planets like Mandalore because they side with the republic, planets that tear themselves apart and are their own worst enemy. They are supposed to help the people and the further into the war they get the less people they can protect and the more people that die. The clone wars is known to be a tragic tale where neither side wins and both were manipulated. This show perfectly captures the tragedy. I couldn’t help, but understand Barriss’ scorning remarks about the Jedi Order by the end of the series while still sympathizing with Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi Wan’s desperate attempts to do what is right in spite of their terrible circumstances.

There is too much about the show that I want to talk about and this could probably continue for much longer, but I can’t endlessly add to this if I want to get it out before season 7 airs. There were some fantastic arcs like the mortis arc that I didn’t talk about and that’s because I wasn’t sure where to start with them. I would like to maybe later come back once I find the words and talk about them. I found this show got better with almost every season with season 5 being the best, especially since almost every episode was in the correct order. There were many highs within the series and it managed to expand a lot on the Star wars world, characters, and mythos. I liked how they brought Maul back and what they did with Ventress. Maul was something that easily could have gone wrong and Ventress is a character they easily could have just written off or killed. These are two risks that I felt paid off and there were many more. It took risks and managed to effectively comment on the justification and morality of war. It has arcs I find to be some of the best I’ve seen in animation and left me awestruck. I cannot wait for the 7th season. I’m so glad this show is getting the opportunity it deserves to end properly and tie up its loose ends. I will watch the episodes as they drop and I hope everyone who reads this will as well.

(I apologize if some of this seems jumbled. I think I may have a concussion so writing this was a bit more difficult that it should have been)

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #swcw #mortis arc #darth maul return and ascension #madalore #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #anakin #obi wan #ahsoka #padme #this show is amazing #ventress #i love this show #I'm really excited for season 7

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cathrynkenobi11love · 4 years

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Duchess Satine, Korkie Kryze, and Pre Vizsla

"Here we are, Mandelore." I say as me and my master pull out of hyperspace and detach from the hyperspace ring. "Okay, remember, try not to cause chaos." Obi-Wan said and I smirked. "Chaos? Me? Never!" I say and I can just see his eye roll in my mind. "Just don't do anything but be by my side okay?" He said. "But doesn't that defeat the purpose of this mission? I mean, were supposed to be doing investigating so, shouldn't I be investigating?" I said and the line went dead. "Okay don't talk to me." I said and proceeded to fly closer to the planet. R8 beeped something and I laughed. "Yeah R8, something is suspicious about the way Master Obi-Wan's acting. Keep your guard up." I said as I searched me and Obi-Wan's bond for what's making him so anxious. All I get is hard core shields though. Whatever he's hiding is very important clearly.

We enter the atmosphere and I marvel at the surroundings. "Wow, this place has really hit some rough war." I said and R8 agreed. We landed our speeders and I got out of the ship, helping R8 get out as well. Obi-Wan, R8 and me all walked over to the guard dressed in a mix of blue, greens, and purples and he stepped forward. "Master Kenobi, Padawan Ashlyn, the Duchess is waiting for you." He said. "Far be it for me to keep the Duchess waiting." My master said and we got onto the speeder and the dome opens up. "Whoa." I whisper as I see all the glass buildings and the beautiful palace looming in front of us. "Beautiful right? I only saw this once before it was all in rubble." He said and I turned to him. "What do you mean 'only saw this once?'" I asked and he turned away from me. "Well... Uh... Oh look were here." He said and quickly got out of the speeder. "Okay, keep your secrets." I mumbled and R8 beeped a response. "Yeah, I agree. Suspicious." I say and follow him into the palace.

We open the doors into a giant throne room and it takes my breath away even more than the city. The room is absolutely sparkling, like all harm that could ever come to it is far away. To the right is a giant portrait of who I assume is the Duchess, and to the left is a giant glass window/wall. "Okay now this, this is even better." I say and R8 beeps an agreement. As my master walks over to talk to the Prime Minister I walk over to the right side of the room and explore the surroundings, R8 rolling by my side. "R8, how in the universe did these people go from savage murders to," I wave my hands around me for effect. "this, so quickly?" I say and R8 responds. "Yeah, I don't know either." I say and trace my finger along the border of the portrait. "Ashlyn! Hands off the portrait!" My master yells and I quickly raise my hands in a surrendering motion. "I wasn't going to do anything, I just had my hand on it!" I said and he glared at me. Luckily, the Duchess saved me. "Master Kenobi," We all turned to face the Duchess, who was exactly like her portrait, just more beautiful in person. "My shining Jedi Knight to the rescue once again." She said and Obi-Wan sent me a message through our bond. "You got saved be her Ash, I hope you know that." He said to me through our bond and I sent him a message back. "Yeah I know, she's my new favorite person in the universe now." I said and walked over to join him in front of her throne. "Also, do you two know each other?" I asked and he put his shields back up. Someone's cranky. I thought.

"After all these years you're even more beautiful than ever." He said and I tilted my head at him. What's that supposed to mean? "Kind words from a mine who accuses me of treachery." She says. "Were not accusing you of anything, just investigating." I said and that didn't seem to faze her. "Investigating what may I ask?" She asked. "Shouldn't have said that." My master said through our bond and I nodded. "A republic transport was attacked by someone wearing Mandalorian armor." He said and displayed a hologram of the warrior fighting. "Evidence." I said and pointed at the holo. "No Mandalorian would engage in such violence, not anymore. Where is this saboteur?" Almec asked. "He took his own life rather than submit to questioning." My master responded. "It's not a far fetched bet though, when you think about how Mandalorians used to fight in many wars, often against the Jedi." I said. I felt a pull on my leku from behind and bit back an "ow." Instead, I glared at my master who undoubtedly used the force to pull on it. "This is nonsense, every one of my people are as trustworthy as I am." The Duchess said and banged on her thrown with her fist. "Doubt." R8 beeped and I bit back and laugh. "Clearly your investigation was ordered because the Senate wants to intervene in our affairs." She said. "Our investigation was ordered by the Jedi Council." Obi-Wan said. "Defeated." R8 beeped and once again I had to bite back a laugh. "I stand corrected. Perhaps you would like to join me in a walk through the city." The Duchess said and raised her hand out. He walked forward and took her hand and lead her out of the throne room. "Okay, you can just leave me now." I said throwing my hands up. I stood there for a while looking around and my eyes fell on one of her guards that had stayed. "Does she do that often?" I ask and he tilts his head. "What?" "Act angry then be all nice?" I asked and he shrugged. "Okay..." I turned around and swung my arms. "Anywhere in this city I could go, cause I'm super bored." I said to Almec. "The Gardens near the cadet building is a good place to clear your head, I'd say the rafters too but I'm sure the Duchess would probably get angry about that." He said and I nodded. "Come on R8, were going to the gardens." I said and motioned for him to follow me out of the throne room.

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"How are people so nice here?" I wonder out loud as me and R8 walk through the gardens. "Pacifists are nice, except their leader apparently." R8 beeped and I smiled. We pass a boy sitting on the ledge looking at a data-pad and he looks up and sees us but we walk past him. "Hey, is that a lightsaber?" The boy asks from behind us and I turn to him and nod. "Uh, yeah, it is." "May I see it?" He asked and I nodded, unclipping the saber and handing it to him. He took it and ignited it, spinning the purple blade in his hand. "Cool." He said and handed it back to me. I clipped it back onto my belt and crossed my arms at him. "You've never met a Jedi have you?" I asked and he shook his head. "No, no I haven't. The last time Jedi came to Mandelore I was just a baby." He said. "Really?" I asked, thinking Obi-Wan had to have been that Jedi. "Well, this is what they look like, some of them at least." I said and he jumped from the ledge and walked over next to me. "My name is Korkie, Korkie Kryze." He said and held out a hand. "Ashlyn Tano." I said and took his hand. We started walking side by side and talked about our lives. Turns out Korkie's the Duchess's nephew. He's nicer than her though, that's for sure. We reached the end of the garden when my comm beeped. "Master what is it?" I asked into the comm. "The parks been attacked. Were going to Concordia." He said. "Copy that, see you in a minute." I said and clicked off my comlink. "Well Korkie, it's been nice getting to know you, I'll look forward to seeing you again sometime." I said and ran off, R8 rolling behind me.

----- ----- -----

When we got to Concordia and got out of the ship, the governor was there waiting for us. "Duchess Satine. You are most welcome." He said to us. "Thank you, Governor Vizsla. May I present Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Padawan Ashlynn Tano representing the Jedi Council. Governor Vizsla is one of the officials I spoke of. He has been working to find the members of the Death Watch." She introduced us an dwe bowed slightly. "I take it you've heard the rumors about Satine. About how she's supposedly leading Mandalore into an alliance with the Separatists." He said, a little too accusingly. "Our only instructions are to seek the truth." My master said and I nodded.

"This was the man who bombed the Memorial Shrine?" He asked, motioning to the casket next to us. "Yes. He was apparently part of Death Watch." The Duchess said. "A worrisome prospect. If you'll pardon me, General, we must attend to the body and see if we can identify this murderer." The governor said and left us. Obi-Wan then turned to Satine and whispered to her. "I need a favor from you. Please keep Governor Vizsla occupied at dinner." He said and she looked confused. "Where are you going?" She asked. "Just for a look around. I'd like to see one of these mining facilities for myself." He said. "You mean you want to determine if they're still operational?" I asked. "I hope to determine they're not. I want you to wear this earpiece so that we can stay in contact, in case you run into trouble while I'm gone." He handed her an earpiece and R8 beeped "More like you will run into trouble." "Remember that you are here under my protection. Please try not to cause problems where none yet exist." She told us as we ran to two speeder bikes and got on them. "Think of me as searching for solutions." He told her and she put her hands on her hips. "I have to tell you, I'm opposed to all of this." She told him. "I'd be disappointed if you weren't." He said and sped off. "R8, remember to be polite or you might get the Duchess kicked out of here." I told him then sped off as well.

When we got to the facility it looked to be full of armor and weapons. I picked a helmet up and examined it. "This facility doesn't look abandoned to me." I said and Obi-Wan nodded. We then heard noise and I quickly put the helmet down, reaching for my lightsaber. Obi-Wan stopped me though, damn negotiator. "I am here on a diplomatic mission under the protection of Duchess Satine." He said and I glared at him. We are dealing with terrorists that hate her, does he really think saying were under her protection is going to help our case? "We do not recognize her rule." Sure enough, the warrior jumps out of the shadows and attacks him. Another then jumps at me from behind and though I try to fight him, he got the jump on me so I was unprepared. He knocks me to the ground and kicks me in the face, knocking me out.

When I wake up I'm hanging upside down in some kind of yellow force field. There's the whirring of machines around me, and I can since my master behind me. "The commander wants us to sweep the area and check for any other Jedi until he arrives." I hear a warrior say. "These two are harmless enough without their lightsabers." I hear another say and spot them standing at a control table, our lightsabers in their hands. "The boss will love this." The first one says, tossing my lightsaber in the air. "Obi-Wan, what are we going to do?" I whisper to him. "Hold on, I'm calling Satine." He said and I mentally noted he called her 'Satine' instead of 'Duchess'. "Duchess, please acknowledge." He said into the comm. "Yes. Certainly." She responded awkwardly and I assumed she was trying to keep up two conversations at once. Great, this probably won't end well. "We are in a bit of an awkward spot. I'm being held by the Death Watch." He said into the comm, hurriedly. "Sorry to hear that." She responded and I have to admit, it was kind of funny sensing the complete in udder bafalment from Obi-Wan. "There's a tracking function on your comlink. Follow it due east to my location." He said again, almost pleadingly. "I don't know if I can do that at the moment." She said and Obi-Wan looked about ready to throw the comm into the machine. "It's extremely urgent!" He yelled this time. "Perhaps some fresh air would do me good." She said and my master sighed and I gave him a small smile. "Take a speeder, it's rough terrain." He said, more calmly this time. "Oh, I'll find my way, never fear." She responded and he clicked off the comm. "That went well, all things considered." I said and he sent me a glare.

"Start the machine. Time for the Jedi to meet with her fatal accident." I heard the warrior from before say and turned back to the machine in fear. The conveyor belt started to move forward and I froze in fear. "Uh, master?" I said in a high pitched voice as a bunch of rocks moved into the machine and were smashed by two metal blocks, then dropped into a grinder. "This is not good." My master said. "You think?!" I shouted and started to squirm in the forcefield. "Where exactly are you?" I heard the Duchess ask on Obi-Wan's comm. "Listen for the loud, metallic, clanging sound. That would be the machine about to smash my padawan into bits." He responded and I squirmed harder. Alarms started blaring everywhere and I assumed the Duchess had caused a diversion. "There's some kind of disturbance at the entrance. Let's check it out." The warrior said and the two ran off. A second later, Satine came running in, R8 rolling behind her. "Well, it certainly took you long enough!" My master yelled at her yelled at her. "You know, I haven't saved you yet!" She called back and climbed up a later to the control table. "Yes, no need to remind me of that." My master said and R8 beeped "We had enough trouble getting away from that Vizsla guy. So shut up!" "Be patient." She told us and I glared at her. "I happen to be a bit short on patience right now!" He yelled back and I nodded then turning back to the machine I got even more scared as I realized I was almost to my doom. "Satine, turn the machine off!" My master yelled, clearly sharing the same fear. "I'm trying!" She yelled back. "Satine!" We both yelled as I came between the two blocks and was about to be crushed. Just when they were an inch away from me though, they froze. "Oh thank god." I whispered but even though Obi-Wan dropped from his force field, I kept moving. Right, I still had the grinder to deal with. "Oh you gotta be kidding me!" I yelled as I moved to the grinder. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the warriors come back and get a hold of the Duchess. She was able to kick a can into the grinder though, and as I dropped down to it I grabbed onto the can and spun in the air, landing next to the warriors. I knocked them out and pushed them into the wall, using the force to bring to giant crates down on top of them. We then walked back to the elevator.

"For a man sworn to peace, you take an unseemly pleasure in the injuries of others." The Duchess said when we got into the elevator. "For a woman sworn to non-violence, you don't seem troubled that I could have been killed back there." My master said back to her. "But you weren't. And yet I still haven't heard any thanks." She said, crossing her arms and turning away from him. "Well, you certainly haven't changed much." My master responded and I rolled my eyes and glanced at R8. "For two 'adults' you two are acting like children." I said and they glared at me.

When the elevator doors opened, we were in an unrecognizable place. "This is not the way we came in." I said and quickly punched a warrior standing there. "Look there, it's the Jedi." Another warrior said and we had to duck to safety behind a rock. "We'll have to stand and fight. Or in your case just stand." My master said and Satine glared at him. We stood up and my master grabbed the warrior that I punched Jet-Pack and through it in the air. He then grabbed his gun and shot it, causing it to explode and killing three of the warriors. Another one then attacked me and pushed me to the ground. "You there!" I turned to see Satine throw a rock at the warrior to get his attention. She than ran back to the hiding spot and he got distracted, causing me to be able to knock him out. I ran back over to where Obi-Wan and Satine were and hid there.

We heard footsteps and I peaked out from behind the rock to see a cloaked warrior with the symbol of Death Watch on his helmet coming towards us. He shot the warrior that had survived us and called him one word: "Failure." "Now that's badass!" R8 beeped and I shushed him. We came out from hiding behind the rock to face him and he took his helmet off. "Governor?" I was shocked to see the face of the Governor I had just met a couple hours ago standing in front of us. "Ha ha, you got betrayed!" R8 beeped and I didn't even bother shushing him. "For generations, my ancestors fought proudly as warriors against the Jedi. Now that woman tarnishes the very name Mandalorian." He said, pointing at Satine. He then through us our lightsabers, surprisingly. "Defend her, if you will." He said and grabbed a lightsaber off his belt as well. He ignited it and it didn't make the same buzz as normal ones do, no, it made a sort of metallic musical sound. (you know what I mean, I just don't know how to describe it). The sound wasn't the only thing, it also was black. Black with a white glow surrounding it. "This lightsaber was stolen from your Jedi Temple by my ancestors during the fall of the Old Republic. Since then, many Jedi have died upon its blade. Prepare yourself to join them." He yelled challengingly and I turned to my master. "Protect the Duchess, I'll take care of Vizsla." I told him and though he hesitated at first, he then turned and ran back to the rock.

I ignited my purple blade and got into my master's signature stance. Vizsla attacked my and I twirled my blade in my hand and ran at him as well. Our blades clashed and thus began one of the greatest rivalries I ever had in my life. Were not there yet though. I dodged his strikes until he managed to slice into my arm and push me to the ground. He then set off on his Jet-Pack into the sky but I jumped up to him using the force. I was able to push him back to the ground but then he sliced at my arm again. He pushed my to the ground and I kicked him in the gut, pushing him back into his crowd of warriors. "Warriors, finish her!" He yelled at them and I stumbled to my feet. The bent down and shot three torpedoes out of their Jetpacks and I started to back up to the others. "Obi-Wan, Satine!" I yelled and turned around and ran after my master who was carrying Satine in his arms. We jumped into the elevator that had exploded and I rolled on the ground where I fell. "Oww..." I groaned and heard the sound of a droid coming up next to me. "Hey R8, is my master safe?" I asked him as I sat up. He beeped a yes and i nodded, collapsing back onto the ground. "That's good." I said and laid there until I heard footsteps next to me. I opened my eyes and saw the Duchess looking down on me. "Are you okay?" She asked and I nodded, getting to my feet and clutching my arm. "I'm fine, let's go." I said and we got onto the speeders and rode back to our ship.

----- ----- -----

"But if Pre Vizsla fled, we have no way of learning how widespread Death Watch really is." Merrick said later when we were headed to our escort ship that would take us to Coruscant. My arm was in a sling and all bandaged up. "It's obvious the Separatists are supporting the Death Watch." My master said and I nodded. "I disagree. I told you I wanted to stay out of this conflict." The Duchess said and I turned to her. "Meaning no disrespect Duchess, but you can't ignore war when it's right in your face." I said and Obi-Wan nodded. "Given the current situation, I'm afraid staying out of the war may no longer be possible." He said and she glared at him. "I thought you of all people would understand my position on this matter. I will never be a part of this war." She said and stormed off onto the ship. "Reporting for escort duty, General." Anakin said and we turned to see him coming up to us. "Oh. Anakin, am I glad to see you." Obi-Wan said, exasperated. "You sound tired." Anakin said and chuckled. "The peaceful ways of the locals wore me out a bit." He said and I nodded. "Seriously, I am not taking up another politics mission for years after this!" I say and they smirk. We then head back onto the ship, R8 rolling behind us, unaware that the situation we just faced on Concordia was just the beginning.

#obitine #ashlynn ships obitine #ashlynn is the ship master #ashlynn is annoryed #R8 #obi-wan is akward #obi-wan is annoyed #satine #satine and obi-wan

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ncfan-1 · 6 years

Text

Not As You Remember

In which Ursa Wren tries to talk to her daughter. [Gap filler between 'Legacy of Mandalore' and 'Zero Hour'.]

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Whenever Ursa Wren left her family to go fight, bright, staticky holocalls home became a commodity more precious than gold, squabbled over by the operatives, so that even a clan chieftain’s heir was left to barter, threaten and bribe just for a few minutes at the comm. Barter and bribes were beneath her dignity, she knew, but after the last time she’d nearly gotten her head cracked open, Ursa was inclined to be a little more sparing with threats.

Holocalls were a commodity paid for in currency of long watch shifts and meals of Ursa’s least-favorite field rations and unsatisfying, near-tasteless protein paste—often the kind Alrich liked to joke bore a closer resemblance to sculptors’ clay than actual food. (She often found herself missing his humor when they were apart. She could find traces of it in his kin, but those traces only made her hungrier for the genuine article.) But when a time came that their leader thought it likely that transmissions wouldn’t be intercepted or used to discern their location, these things earned Ursa a few minutes more at the comm than she might otherwise have had

First, one of her parents (usually her father, but sometimes her mother) appeared, seeking a status update. The fortunes of Clan Wren, sworn as they were to House Vizsla, were closely tied to the successes and failures of Death Watch. Any report Ursa gave them was to-the-point-this wasn’t the primary reason for her calling, and they both know it.

“Alright, Ursa,” her father would often say, with a shake of his head that signaled a particular kind of exasperated fondness. “I’ll put that artist husband of yours on the comm. Mind, he may not be able to stay awake all through your call. It’s been paint, paint, paint non-stop ever since you left. I don’t know when that boy finds time for sleep.” ‘That boy’ being nearly the same age as Ursa herself, but her father never seemed quite able to accept the younger generations as anything but children.

Alrich would eventually appear, blinking sleep out of his eyes, just as likely to be holding Sabine in the crook of his arm as not.

Ursa found a smile unfurling over her lips, muscles that had had no exercise in what felt like an eternity aching as they were called back into use. “Have you been sending your work to our esteemed Duchess again?”

His eyes sparkled. Ursa wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just the connection dropping momentarily. “My latest piece should reach her any day now.” He flashed a slightly lopsided smile her way, shifting Sabine—fast asleep, though she’d been fussily wakeful the last time Ursa had called—in his arms. “I wonder if the Duchess will finally follow through on her threats to have my gifts to her jettisoned into the sun.”

Personally, if Satine Kryze ever did such a thing, Ursa thought she might storm Sundari and kill the woman herself. What a waste it would be for her husband’s artwork to be destroyed, what an intolerable waste. “Another woman might find cause for concern in her husband sending so many unsolicited paintings to another woman.” He seemed supremely unconcerned, which suited Ursa perfectly. “One day, you will have to forward one of the ah, love notes she sends back to you after receiving your gifts.”

Quick as a shriek hawk, his smile widened to a grin. “I’ve saved them all; I keep them in a scrapbook. I’ll show them to you, the next time you come home.”

Yes, when she came home. Those words made Ursa all too aware of the distance. Holocalls provided the illusion of proximity, but reality gave the lie to that illusion whenever his face shimmered and froze, before the connection was reestablished. The price she paid for fighting for the return of the old ways, Ursa recognized, now that Clan Wren no longer put up a façade of supporting the Duchess’s rule. It was a worthy burden, one she had shouldered willingly, and not one she would abandon now. Still, its weight grew burdensome at times.

“How are things at home?” Ursa asked, more quietly than she had first intended. “How are the children?” How are you? but it wouldn’t budge past the back of her throat.

“Tristan is sleeping, presently. He’s recently progressed to level two of basic blaster training.”

Ursa had thought her older cub’s aim was improving the last time she had overseen his training. She nodded. “And Sabine?"

Alrich shifted the baby’s weight so that her face was more readily visible to her mother. “Also sleeping. At last,” he added, so tiredly that Ursa couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is she so unmanageable as all that?” Ursa teased. “Has my husband at last exhausted all his nerve?”

“She cut her first tooth last week,” Alrich replied tersely. He stroked the soft, dark fuzz on Sabine’s head as he went on, “The doctors have given her medicine for the pain, your mother has supplied us with more teething rings than I think one baby could ever use, but the only thing that will quiet her for more than a minute at a time are the handles on my paintbrushes.”

At that, Ursa’s smile faltered, though Alrich’s despairing tone over the savaging of his paintbrushes might, under other circumstances, have made her laugh. “Isn’t she rather young to have begun teething?” It hasn’t been that long since I was last home, surely?

He shrugged. “I’m told that human babies can begin teething as young as three months old. Don’t concern yourself over it, Ursa; she’s just trying to get a head start on her brother. Now, you are currently stationed on the second moon of Kalevala, are you not?” His eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting that moon. What is it like?”

Ursa felt tension seep out of her spine as he asked a variation on a question that was, by now, intimately familiar to them both. Alrich had grown up in Sundari, and though the nature of his work had taken him to other cities, other worlds, he spent most of his life before (and for a few years after) their wedding in Sundari. (He went into raptures over the architecture whenever the subject was broached. Ursa honestly felt a little guilty about all the times she had blown up buildings in Sundari under orders from Pre Vizsla. She was also just a touch worried about what Alrich might do if the Crusader Mural at the base of the royal palace was ever targeted.)

Alrich had not traveled as Ursa had, and his curiosity led him to ask, “What is it like?”

She started, as ever, with descriptions of the native flora. Ursa was rarely ever stationed inside a city, so descriptions of plant life, geography, the weather, they inevitably came first. If she had visited one of the cities on the world where she was stationed, descriptions of the city followed. Of course they did; Alrich was so hungry for information about local artwork and architecture that he would hardly have let the call end without that information being passed along to him.

That was where it started. As they spoke more and more, Ursa found herself drifting into other topics. Sometimes, the dialect of Mando’a spoken where she was stationed was so different from the ones she had grown up with that she could barely communicate with the locals. At times, she found herself complaining about the weather, which was invariably incredibly unlike the frigid wastes of northern Krownest or dry, sterile Sundari. Petty squabbles among the operatives were discussed, along the reconciliation that followed. A song she had learned. A holonovel that was being passed around camp.

All of it came pouring out of Ursa’s mouth in a torrent, because the timer was reading thirty seconds, and she knew she would have to disconnect soon, but oh, I love you, I’ll speak with you again as soon as I’m able.

-0-0-0-

Ursa had no difficulty picking out Sabine in a crowd or out in the wilderness. In fact, she had so little difficulty that she was actually somewhat concerned. If Ursa could so readily identify her daughter, she had little doubt that vengeful members of Clan Saxon could do just the same. But her armor, in shape and design, was her armor. Even a child was entitled to that amount of freedom of expression.

(She found it buried deep down past her worries, but that Sabine was so easily recognizable gave birth also to a spark of relief. Sabine was a starburst of color in the tundra, and it made it easy for Ursa to focus on her any time she wished to—which, these days, was most of the time.

The only thing was that, when things had settled down enough that they could do so, the bits and pieces of Sabine’s armor that she had had to discard while she was… away would have to be re-forged to fit her properly. Ursa know that there were certain communities that wore less armor than was Clan Wren’s standard, but looking at Sabine with these bits and pieces missing was just… It reminded Ursa of far too much.)

Now, Sabine was out by the eastern wall of the fortress, inspecting a malfunctioning utilities box, brow furrowed as she examined the tangle of wires.

“This is worse than…” Sabine cut herself off with a sharp click of the tongue as she reached further into the box, her eyes narrowed slightly. She now spoke Krownest Mando’a with a provincial, slightly slurred accent Ursa longed to iron out of her voice, but when she had last tried to broach the subject, Sabine’s face had crumpled like paper crushed in someone’s first, and Ursa’s voice had failed her.

Ursa watched as Sabine went about her work, wondering when she would notice her. She always was prone to getting lost in her work. I see that much has not changed.

What had changed was the speed with which Sabine realized she was under scrutiny. All of a sudden, she whirled around, wrenching her hand out of the utilities box and reaching for a blaster, before her eyes focused in on Ursa and she let her blaster fall back into its holster. “Mother,” she greeted her, making like she wanted to fold her arms across her chest, but stopping shy and letting them fall at her sides. "I’m sorry; I didn’t hear you coming.”

“You should be more mindful, Sabine,” Ursa chided her. “I don’t know how much longer we will be able to suppress news of Gar Saxon’s death. His kin will be out for your blood.”

Even if Sabine hadn’t been the one who killed him. Even if Gar Saxon had attempted to do something that every Mandalorian everywhere would recognize as an act of base cowardice (Different communities had differing rules of engagement, especially where duels were concerned, but one rule that was universal was thus: under no circumstances do you ever shoot your opponent in the back after the conclusion of the duel). Gar Saxon had forfeited his own life when he aimed his blaster at her daughter’s retreating back, but Ursa was coming to realize, bitterly, that this would matter not at all to his kin. She was slowly coming to grips with the idea that Mandalorian space would be just as lawless a place as it had been during the Siege.

(Coming to grips, perhaps, with the idea that Mandalorian space had never stopped being a lawless place, that the Empire had painted over the rot with sterile black and white and “do your duty,” and she had never realized. The lawlessness had grown quieter, conducted away from the light. Ursa had been focused on one thing or another, and hadn’t realized what was slipping away from her.)

“They’ll be after yours, too,” Sabine pointed out. “And—“ She stopped herself, clamping her mouth shut. Jaw taut, fists clenched.

‘And’… ‘And’ what? Ursa feared she knew. She hoped Clan Saxon would have sense enough not to jettison the only piece of leverage they had over Clan Wren. She hoped. “How are the repairs coming along?” she asked, and her voice sounded pitifully faint to her own ears, even accounting for the wind. Milksop meek, trembling at the knees.

“They’re… coming.” Sabine scowled at the utilities box. “The wires are messed up pretty bad—we’re probably gonna have to order replacements. But I can bypass some of the bad ones for now. It’s not a permanent fix, but it should tide us over until we can replace the wires.”

Ursa caught her mind snaking in mild confusion even as she nodded. “You seem well-versed in rerouting utilities.” It had been years since she had thrown away Sabine’s old class schedules, but memory held an edge as keen as mullinine. Her daughter, already skilled with repair and mechanical work, had taken many classes to further her knowledge. None of those classes, Ursa thought, would have taught Sabine how to rewire a damaged utilities box.

Sabine flashed a hard-edged smirk her way. “When I was living on Nar Shaddaa, the place where I lived had problems like this a lot. The landlord would remit half our rent for the month if I’d do repair work for him without charging.”

Nar Shaddaa. Ursa had not actively kept tabs on where Sabine went and what she did after fleeing Sundari. What little she knew, she had learned from others (well-meaning informants or political rivals come to gloat), and it painted a picture so incomplete Ursa would have sworn it was moth-eaten. She’d had no news of Sabine after her flight from Sundari that she would have credited, not entirely, not until it was reported that Sabine had joined the Phoenix Squadron.

The idea of Sabine having lived on Nar Shaddaa for any amount of time made Ursa itch. She knew that the life of a fugitive was hardscrabble, but the idea of either of her cubs, let alone the younger, living in such a crime-infested hive was not something that could be borne gladly. “I have never been to Nar Shaddaa,” Ursa remarked, fixing Sabine in a piercing stare. “The closest I’ve come was a visit I paid to Nal Hutta—“ Terrorizing the Hutts and gunning down their lackeys; not once did I ever hope that a child of mine would do something that could top that, not once did I ever hope for that “—and Nal Hutta is, by all accounts, a far cry from the Smuggler’s Moon.”

For the best results, phrasing it as a question would have been better. Ursa wasn’t so green as to not know that. Her lips were pressed firmly shut as she looked expectantly at Sabine.

Sabine’s hand was trained on the utilities box, her eyes narrowed against the glare that made the snow on the ground seemed to glow. “…Nar Shaddaa’s about like you’d expect,” she said finally. “It’s cold—not as cold as here, but colder than Nal Hutta—and dirty, and crowded.” She grimaced. “Really crowded. Plenty of people go there looking for any kind of new start, but can’t scrounge up enough credits to leave if their luck’s no good.”

“Still, you would encounter greater diversity there. Diversity of people, of languages.” Two images flashed through Ursa’s mind like a sudden burst of sunlight through gray clouds. First, there was Sabine, all of eight years old and reading through Huttese workbooks and lexicons when other children her age would have been reading chapter books and comics. Second, the surprise stamped on visitors’ faces when they caught sight of non-human faces among Ursa’s clan; when, when had that become the exception, rather than the rule? Even Alrich had been a touch surprised when he first met Clan Wren as a whole, which in retrospect Ursa supposed she should have taken as a clue.

“Yeah, there was plenty of that,” Sabine agreed. “Lots of diversity with their art, too.” Her eyes warmed slightly, but otherwise her face remained carefully neutral, a mask of skin and muscle stretched over bone, as impenetrable as beskar. “You can see Corellian holo-sculptures and Tatooine sand paintings on the same street. The locals, the people who were born and raised there, have their own kind of art.”

“And what is that?”

Sabine set her toolkit on top of the utilities box, rooting around for whatever it was she needed inside. “You know how shopkeepers on some worlds use neon signs? Nar Shaddaa makes an art form out of neon lights. There’s a whole genre of art there dedicated to neon artwork. Not just flats mounted to a base, either; I’m talking free-standing sculptures, with multiple colors. Malachite, ultramarine and this purple color about halfway between mauve and heliotrope were the most common where I lived, though some people liked to use silver and black, too.” Her eyes glazed over in reminiscence. “There was a sculpture of a Cassius tree in a market square that must have been over four meters tall.” The eagerness in her voice seemed close kin to what Ursa felt in battle—ever-hungry, never quite satisfied. “The ‘tree’ was supposed to be in bloom; its flowers changed color from gold to silver depending on what time it was.”

Listening to her talk like this was like listening to Alrich whenever he returned home after a viewing at one of Sundari’s art galleries (Provided he had actually liked the artwork he had seen there). Ursa smiled and found herself asking, “Did you ever participate yourself?”

A shutter came crashing down over Sabine’s eyes. “No, Mother. You know me; I stick to my paints.”

“…Of course.”

Sabine said no more, and eventually Ursa headed back inside, unsated.

-0-0-0-

She wasn’t coming upstairs for supper much.

Oh, fair, it was rare for all of Clan Wren to be in the dining hall at the same time—the only time they ever were was on feast days, or when they broke their fast after a death. Typically around a quarter of the seats were filled on occasions when Ursa took meals there. More commonly, people took their meals in their own living quarters, or ate outside while on watch duty. Ursa was used to presiding over a mostly-empty hall, and with all the years her husband had been held hostage, her son had served in the ISC, and her daughter had been… away, Ursa was used to having none of her immediate family with her when she took her meals.

Ursa should not have felt the absence keenly. She should not have felt it at all, she thought irritably. After so many years of absence, it should have been more surprising to look down and see her daughter’s head (dyed) and distinctive (brightly colored) armor. Should have been more jarring to hear her voice than not.

Absence was determined to be more jarring than presence.

Sabine rarely came to the dining hall for supper (Ursa suspected she had continued her old habit of going straight to the kitchens whenever she was hungry). Even Fenn Rau showed up in the dining hall more often than Sabine, and half of the warriors of Clan Wren still tensed on impulse whenever he sat down with them. Perhaps it had something to do with the way some of the children had decided that this strange warrior, who spoke a dialect of Mando’a strange to their eras and who had accompanied the chieftain’s runaway daughter home, was just the person to ask the sort of questions they thought a strange warrior from another Mandalorian world might know the answer. If the man was going to be pestered, it might as well not be while he was trying to work.

But tonight, still no Sabine.

Finishing her meal—no rations or veg-meat or protein paste that looked like sculptor’s clay, but toothsome stew packed with enough meat and fruit and tubers that the broth was barely discernible—was like being a child again. All Ursa wanted to do was leave the dining hall and go elsewhere, but she was constrained to sit and finish her stew. As a child, her mother had watched her, keen as a tundra burrowing owl in the dead of night; now, her whole clan watched her, and her dignity demanded that she stay instead of storming off like an impatient child.

Yes, my whole clan watches me. Looks to me for guidance, and depends upon me for protection. They all do, but for the one I—

Ursa credited the years her mother had spent teaching her how to eat properly for the fact that she didn’t just wolf down her stew.

It was difficult to say where Sabine might have gone. She avoided notice quite comprehensively for someone with armor more colorful than the aurora, much more so than Ursa could ever remember from the days before Sabine went away to Sundari. As best as Ursa could determine, Sabine hadn’t really reconnected with any of the distant cousins she had been friends with as a child, not even the ones who were apparently willing to let bygones be bygones concerning the weapon. As best as Ursa could determine, Sabine hadn’t even tried to reconnect with them. Tristan was the most likely to be with her, and he told his mother that Sabine mostly just kept to herself.

Kept to herself and worked—Ursa had noticed that much. Sabine had a preternatural gift for knowing when something in the fortress needed fixing. If a sensor beacon needed repairs, Sabine did the repairs. If the software in the fighters’ targeting computers was malfunctioning, Sabine knew just what needed to be done to fix it. When the shield generator for the fortress began to sputter, Sabine crawled underneath with a toolkit, and there she stayed until it was fixed. For the life of her, Ursa couldn’t tell if she was just trying to make the most of the calm before the storm, or there was more to it than that.

(That Sabine knew how to do maintenance and repairs on fighters had taken Ursa aback, at first. It was Sabine’s expertise with machines that had drawn the Academy’s eye, but this was another thing that the Academy hadn’t taught her. The Academy had taught Sabine slicing and reprogramming in preparation for a ‘glorious’ career in espionage, and weapons repair and creation when she was discovered to have an aptitude for that, but nothing to do with fighters.

It had occurred to Ursa later that living aboard a ship constantly involved in dogfights and being involved with a rebel cell that housed fighters, if a different type than those found on Krownest, had likely given Sabine ample opportunity to learn. She wondered who had taught her, who had left their mark on Sabine in the form of their teachings, but couldn’t find it in herself to ask.)

The fighter bays were empty, as was the control room or the ground-based defenses. Ursa checked the sparring rooms, but no Sabine. The outer walkways yielded up no vibrant color, just the darkness of winter night.

Finally, Ursa went where she supposed she should have gone first, if she’d not assumed that Sabine would still be working. The door to her daughter’s room was shut when she came to it, but not locked, not this time. When Ursa opened the door, she was immediately struck by an astringent odor so powerful it made her eyes water. The sight that greeted her when she got past the smell was still an incongruous one, even though Sabine had been living here for a few weeks now.

She’d found her daughter, alright. She had found both of her cubs sitting on the floor, a floor one could barely walk on for everything that was strewn about. What’s this, now?

None of what was lying out was Tristan’s—Ursa knew that much. Tristan was invariably much more well-organized than this, and he didn’t bring his things into other people’s rooms unless it was absolutely necessary. He was sitting on the edge of the mess, besides, while Sabine was perched in the middle of it, as though sitting behind a shallow wall.

Directly in front of Sabine was a small easel supporting a strip of painter’s wood about three quarters of a meter in height. A box of paints sat open by her right leg, along with a palette and a cup full of water and paintbrushes. A sheet of cleaning paper lay on top of a wooden block, the paper dotted with streaks of paint and water. One of Sabine’s blasters had been disassembled, lying in pieces on the floor while the barrel soaked in a small tub of cleaning solution, the source of the odor that had struck Ursa when she opened the door. Datapads were strewn all around, some of their screens showing fighter schematics, some showing artwork, some showing topographical maps of Krownest, one with text in Bocce, and one with text in a language that Ursa thought might have been Ithorese.

They weren’t talking when Ursa entered the room, instead sitting in a silence that she would almost have said was companionable, if not for the fact that Tristan was looking at Sabine with a sort of concern that was noticeable even past his baseline-worriedness. Silent they might have been, but not lost in anything; they both looked up the moment Ursa crossed the threshold into the room. Tristan nodded mutely, but Sabine’s face creased in light annoyance.

“You might wanna knock next time,” Sabine said, frowning. She picked up a paint brush and dabbed it with a splotch of dark blue paint on the palette. “I could be doing anything in here.”

“I… apologize.” She had a point, after all; it had just occurred to Ursa, like sandpaper on bare skin, that Sabine had been prepubescent the last time she had lived in this room. (Ursa was, perhaps, a little surprised that Sabine’s rebuke had been delivered so calmly; she would have expected more anger, maybe shouting.) “I wanted to tell you that if you want to eat, it would be better to eat while there is still food left.”

Sabine nodded, her eyes straying back to whatever it was she was painting. “I will. I’m working right now.”

Since sunrise she had been working. Come to think of it, Ursa wasn’t entirely certain Sabine had eaten lunch, either. Pursing her lips, Ursa wondered if the crew of the ship Sabine had joined (the Ghost, wasn’t it?) had ever had to force her to eat. Ursa found herself briefly contemplating tying Sabine to a chair and force-feeding her. It would undoubtedly end poorly, but still…

Ursa caught Tristan’s eye. Immediately, he was getting to his feet, nodding at his mother and his sister in turn. “I need to check in with the watch,” he apologized, staring down at Sabine’s head with his brow furrowed. “I have to go for now.”

“’Kay.” Sabine looked up briefly, but her eyes were far away. “I’ll see you later.”

Still fixing Sabine with that concerned look of his, Tristan left.

This left Ursa and Sabine, the latter settling back into her painting as though she had been alone the whole time. Ursa wondered bemusedly if Sabine would even notice if she tried to catch a glimpse of what she was painting. Apparently, she was in that area still perfectly aware, because when Ursa came closer to try to get a look at the wood, Sabine abruptly angled it away from Ursa and glared up at her. “I’ll show it to you when I’m done. I don’t want anyone seeing it before it’s finished.”

Her father was just the same; Ursa could recall with awful clarity how he would never so much as give her a glimpse of the portrait he had made of her until after it was done. That point of similarity wasn’t a balm so much as a thorn, when Ursa had been left to wonder if their work was all of them that she would be allowed to keep.

Ursa settled down in the low wicker chair by the sliding doors of Sabine’s closet and watched her in silence. The lights flickered from time to time (a problem in a room with no windows), but never for more than a moment or two at a time.

Something else to make a note of on the maintenance lists. I let this room stand empty for far too long.

“If you won’t let me see your unfinished work,” Ursa said after a few minutes had passed, “may I at least ask you what the subject is supposed to be?”

Sabine stared at the front of the wood for a long moment before replying, “Have you ever been to Garel?”

Ursa narrowed her eyes as she peered more closely at her daughter. “I’ve never heard of Garel, Sabine. Is it one of the planets you’ve been to?”

The idea that her daughter was well-travelled, let alone more well-travelled than she herself, jarred. It had jarred when it first occurred to Ursa, when she realized that the fact that Sabine had survived all those years… away meant that she had likely traveled to more planets in the space of several years than Ursa, even during her time in Death Watch, had visited in her life. It still had a sense of wrongness to it now.

“Lived there for a while.” Sabine put down her paintbrush and reached for one of the datapads. She tapped the screen with her fingernail, biting her lip. “The cityscape was… something. I’ve been planning to do a piece on it for a while; I’ve just never had time.”

Ursa glanced over the datapads and the disassembled blaster with a jaundiced eye. “From everything else you seem to be trying to do at the moment, I’m not certain you have time now.”

Sabine jerked her head back, her lip curling back from her teeth just a little, less threat than simple reflex. “I’m working, Mother. I’m getting plenty of stuff done like this.”

Familiar ground yielded no traps or tricks. Ursa scoffed, almost smiling. “Sabine, we have had this conversation more times than I can remember.” How many times had she walked into this room when Sabine was younger, only to find her daughter apparently trying to do several different things at once? “I have a hard time believing that you can give your attention to so many disparate tasks. At the very least, I have a hard time believing that you can give all of these tasks as much attention as they require when you try to do them all at once.” She tapped the handle of one of her blasters for emphasis. “For instance, the blaster you are trying to clean. How likely is it that you’ll finish that quickly when you are trying to paint, look over fighter schematics and read maps, and read… whatever it is on those other datapads?”

“Maybe it won’t get done fast.” Sabine stared intently at the screen of the datapad she held in her hand. “But I don’t have watch duty tonight, and I’ve got plenty of other blasters. That’s not even one of my main blasters over there.”

There was a slight bite to her voice, but otherwise, no display of temper. No real show of her teeth. The ghosts of old shouts and complaints clamored in Ursa’s ears, even as Sabine said nothing, even as Ursa said nothing. Sabine tapped a few more times on her datapad, set it down gently, and resumed painting.

This… A shade of a child sat on the floor before her, small and thin, her long, black hair spilling over her shoulders. She was sketching in a sketchbook, slapping away her father’s hand when he tried to filch it and laughing at his exaggerated expression of pain. She was forever trying to do five things at once, paint, sketch, work she had brought home from the auxiliary Academy at the end of the term, work her mother had assigned her, maintenance on her weapons, and any number of other things, depending on where her mood took her. Ursa was never convinced that she could do five things at a time as quickly as she could have done one thing at a time, but she never missed deadlines, never turned in pitifully inferior work.

What sat before her today was a stranger by comparison. The child’s face had been like a window to her mind, revealing thoughts and emotions. None of her experiences were strange to Ursa; she had been present for them all, or had a good idea of what her daughter was experiencing when out from under her supervision. Now, her face was as a mask, stronger than beskar and more opaque than Chandrilan SinguBlack*. No weapon could break it; no light could pierce it. No eyes could discern the truth behind its wall. There was no key with which to turn the lock.

Her child, the child who had left these halls to go to Sundari, had devoured and repurposed herself, cannibalizing hair and lips and armor and voice and hands. Hair dye in lieu of war paint, garish paint on her armor eradicating blood and scrapes and the marks that had been made at their forging. Heart chewed up, rent to pieces, stitched back together in a shape Ursa didn’t recognize. Similar, yet different. Technically the same person, and yet no one Ursa recognized.

For a moment, one horrible moment, a protest dripping with her blood battered against a wall of teeth. However ignorant she had been, whatever cruel innocence had caused her to wreak that abomination, Ursa found she wanted back the child who had left for Sundari, snowflakes catching in her hair.

She was Ursa Wren, chieftain of Clan Wren, ruler of Krownest. She mastered herself, and with a silent nod, left her daughter to her painting.

-0-0-0-

Years ago, Ursa Wren made a choice. A choice that was perhaps no true choice at all, the choice of a woman with a blaster digging into her back and a firing squad before her. Still, she claimed it as a choice, because whatever her cub had done, whatever perversion she had wrought, there were things a mother owed her child. Her child was owed an explanation that didn’t involve mealy-mouthed justifications for what she did. Her child was owed the truth, however unpleasant.

Years ago, Ursa Wren made a choice, and resigned herself to living with it. She could have her daughter back, or she could have her clan (less her daughter and her husband) safe, for a certain value of “safe.” She could have her daughter by her side and her clan hunted to the ends of the galaxy, or she could cast her daughter away and live under the yoke, but still, live. It was a matter of what she wanted: did she want the knife trained over her neck to fall, or didn’t she? No, of course not. Ursa Wren was not just a mother, and what her daughter had done…

“You will never see her again. She is exiled; whatever path she walks will never lead her here. She will die in the great expanse, or you will die before she ever returns.”

This was what Ursa told herself to quiet her mind.

“Your sister is gone. She can never return. I will not ask you to forget her, but do not speak of her if you wish for your father to live and your clan to survive.”

She had said something similar to Tristan. Her daughter was gone but her son was still with her, and a mother had as much of a duty to the one as to the other. He had accepted it in his quiet, unhappy way, and they never spoke of Sabine. Not once in all those years. With nothing else to do, Ursa had not… had not forgotten, exactly. She had locked memory away as you would lock a dangerous prisoner in a high-security prison cell. Monitored closely and kept quite comprehensively under control.

With glacial slowness, memory had crystallized.

And then, Sabine returned.

It was nearly as much a curse as a blessing that her daughter had returned. Everything Ursa had done to keep her clan safe was at risk, but she could not find it in herself to regret allowing Sabine to live under this roof again, any more than she could regret gunning Gar Saxon down. However many problems it created for her, fighting for survival and dominance came more naturally to Ursa than did politicking and bowing and scraping to the Empire.

She’d not dared to hope for her daughter’s return. She’d not dared to hope that Sabine’s exile would be rescinded, let alone that she would rescind it on her own initiative.

Neither had Ursa expected that Sabine would return to her so different.

When the Jedi insinuated that he knew her daughter better than she did, Ursa had bristled. How likely was it that a man who had had her daughter for only a few years would know Sabine better than the woman who bore her, who raised her for over a decade? How likely was it that Sabine would ever open her heart to a Jedi? Ursa still wasn’t certain of just how well the Jedi knew her daughter. But neither was she certain any longer that she knew Sabine so well herself. She had changed the locks of her mind, and not furnished her mother with a key. Ursa wasn’t certain she ever would.

-0-0-0-

The morning dawned as winter mornings were wont in the polar tundra of Krownest—marginally lighter than the dead of night, but the sun did not grace the earth for long, nor with any strength. The stars shone bright and cold, glittering like shards of broken glass. Though trying to find Sabine once the day had begun could be like trying to track down a single pebble in a quarry, it was easy enough to find her when morning was still “dawning.” Sabine wasn’t the early riser she had once been; Ursa didn’t even have to rise that early herself to catch her on her way out of her bedroom door.

“Sabine?” she called, her voice damnably faint again.

Faint enough that Sabine, it seemed, did not hear her the first time. She was blinking sleep out of her eyes, hiding her yawns behind her hand. There she went, walking away, and Ursa followed after her as though she might never…

No, that was foolish. “Sabine?” she called, and it was as though her voice had never been faint at all.

Sabine paused and turned around, blinking rapidly. “Mother?” Ursa was greeted with a look of blank incomprehension. “What’s wrong?”

A slightly disbelieving smile curdled on Ursa’s mouth. “I wish to speak with you. Is that so difficult to believe?”

Silence drew up between them like a fogbank, clouding an already indistinct impression. Sabine’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been wanting to talk to me a lot lately. I just have to wonder…”

You were gone for so long. Is it really so difficult to believe that I would want to speak with you often? Even were she at her most reckless, Ursa knew (hoped) she had sense enough not to say such aloud. If ever there was something fit only for driving Sabine further away from her, that was it. And Ursa had already given her as much of an explanation as was needed, spelled out the necessity of it. If there was nothing more to be said on the matter, then let nothing more be said.

“There were…”

‘There were’ what?

Ursa closed her mouth and opened it again, even as Sabine’s eyes searched her face with caution. As Ursa groped for something, anything to say, she met only emptiness. What was it… what could she say that would not sound trite even to her own ears? She had only a vague idea of what Sabine would be responsive to, and what would drive her walls higher, her mask thicker, her heart harder.

“Sabine, I—“

Whatever Ursa might have said died suddenly when a siren started going off, then another, then another, in a cacophonous din. But what her ears recognized immediately, her mind was slow to accept. She stood there, open-mouthed and gaping like a fish stranded on dry land, while the words slipped further away.

Sabine glanced past her down the hall. “Sounds like trouble,” she pointed out in the provincial, slightly slurred accent that Ursa longed to smooth and sharpen until it was just the same as the voice Sabine had possessed when she left for Sundari, lightyears and eons ago. “We should get moving.”

Before Ursa could say anything, Sabine slipped past her, caution etched still on her face.

After entirely too long staring at her daughter’s retreating back, Ursa followed, nearly choked with formless words.

-----------------

*Ersatz VantaBlack paint.

#Star Wars: Rebels #Fanfic #Ursa Wren #Sabine Wren #Alrich Wren #Tristan Wren #Meet Ursa Wren and her inability to open up emotionally when she needs to

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thestrongeststars · 7 years

Text

Sabezra Meeting the Father

Okay, so anonymous requested a Sabezra where Ezra meets Sabine’s father.

Ezra and Sabine stood at the bottom of the stairs of the Wren estate, just like they had when they had gone to meet Countess Ursa Wren.

Now, not only was Countess Wren standing above them, but there was Tristan and Fenn Rau. There was another man, Sabine’s father.

He was tall, slim, and graceful. His blonde hair, highlighted with gray, was cut short, close to the skull. His green eyes looked at Ezra with a trusting unease. He trusted Ezra because Sabine trusted him, but he hardly knew Ezra. The green eyes took in everything, Ezra’s posture, his lightsaber, of which he took a keen, unspoken interest in. He moved like a cat, like Sabine. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Sabine moved like him.

“Sabine, I thought I made it clear that we were to tolerate no visitors.” Countess Wren spoke, glaring at her daughter.

“Yes, Mother, you did, but Ezra,” Sabine started to say, but was stopped short.

“No excuses.” Came the sharp knife.

“Ursa, let her speak.” Came the smooth chide. Sabine’s father. He spoke calmly, but his words held a deep, hidden power and fire in them.

“Riole, I won’t-"

"Yes, Ursa, you will.” The man, Riole Wren, said. Ursa glared, but stepped behind her husband.

“Sabine, speak.” Riole said, flicking his eyes over to Sabine.

“Thank you. This is Ezra Bridger, a friend of mine.” Sabine said, gesturing to Ezra.

Ezra inwardly sighed. Of course he had accepted it as fact. It had taken him years, but he had. He was aware that all he would ever be to Sabine was ‘the friend that was once a strange thief trying to steal the supplies that they were stealing from Lothal’.

Better to be a friend than an enemy.

Worse to be a friend than more.

“Ezra, this is my father, Duke Riole Kryze Wren.” Sabine said, with a practiced tongue.

“A pleasure to meet- wait, how does that work? You’re a Duke, but you’re married to a Countess.” So much for smooth or classy first impressions.

Riole Kryze smiled, all teeth, no humor. A deep bitter filled his eyes.

“Ah, a funny story, no?” It sounded anything but funny.

Not only had Ezra’s first impression been a bit bad (okay, very bad), but now he had managed to get this man fired up.

Great.

“How about a walk, boy?” Riole said, walking down the steps. Well, walking wasn’t the right adjective. Sauntering was much more accurate.

Riole sauntered down the steps, a hand needlessly hovered above the rail.

“Yes, I’m up for one.” Ezra said, not backing down. Riole stood a head taller than Ezra, seemingly taller because of his sheer slimness.

“Great. Where to?” Sabine jumped in, sensing a tight tension between her father and Ezra.

Sabine didn’t view Ezra as just a friend, even if it did seem that way. It was just the fact that Sabine couldn’t trust Ezra to stay with her. That was what happened with Sabine’s late aunt, Satine. She had loved a Jedi, but since Jedi can’t know love, they never went anywhere beyond infatuation. It had hurt Satine, and eventually, it was used against her. Sabine didn’t want to suffer.

But she did want Ezra.

“Oh, Sabine.” Riole turned to look at his daughter and Ezra saw similarities. Same slimness, same grace, same slight nose, same eye shape. “You’re not coming."

"What?” Sabine asked, glaring at her father.

“You’re going to stay here while,” Riole’s bright eyes glanced at Ezra, briefly, just for a second. Then they were no longer on him. “Padawan Bridger and I walk together.” Riole then patted his daughter’s head, tentatively, nearly fearful. “You, however, can knock some sense into your brother."

"I heard that.” Tristan mumbled from on top of the steps.

“Don’t worry Sabine, I’ll see to it that no harm befalls him, or me for that matter.”

“Have fun, Ezra.” Sabine said, a mere breeze in the storm Ezra felt in his head.

Ezra only felt the breeze.

They had been walking for about 10 minutes before Ezra spoke up.

“How did you know I was a Padawan?” He asked. Riole contemplated how to answer.

“I used to know a few Jedi and Padawan before the Empire.” He said, his voice low and full of regret and remorse.

“Who?” Ezra asked. He had only heard of a few Jedi. Kenobi, Skywalker, Billaba, Ahsoka. Well, technically Ahsoka had only reached the Padawan point. But she still counted.

“Back when I was younger, when I was true royalty and back before the Clone Wars, we had a conflict in Mandalore. Naturally, the Republic sent two Jedi, well one Jedi and a Padawan, over to help resolve it. My sister, Satine, was to be constantly guarded by the Padawan. She grew rather attached to him, as he did to her."

"I thought a Jedi can’t love.” Ezra retorted. Riole’s eyes only briefly glanced over at him, before looking straight ahead once more.

“A Jedi shall not get attached, is how the Padawan said it. Love and attachment are two different things. Besides,” Riole now smirked and looked down at Ezra. “I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter.”

Ezra choked and stumbled.

How could he have said that so calmly?

“But that’s not the point, is it? You asked about me being a Duke and in order to understand why I have no power, you have to know about the Kryzes, Death Watch, and a few other particulars.”

“Right, so lets start with the Kryzes.” Ezra said. Riole grinned.

“I like how you think, boy.” Riole nodded. He looked up as if to collect himself for a long story. “I have, or had rather, two older sisters. One was Satine and the other Bo-Katan. Satine, being the eldest, inherited Mandalore first. She sought for peace after Mandalore’s long history of being feared warriors. During the Clone Wars, she lead the neutral systems. Bo-Katan, on the other hand, did not believe in peace. She wanted Mandalorians to be warriors once more. She joined a,” Riole paused, looking for the right word. “Organization, if you will, called Death Watch. They were feared, but in the worst way possible. Now,” Riole grinned as he sat down, Ezra beside him. “Remember this part, because this is Sabine’s history. You’ll have to tell it to my grandchildren at some point, so pay close attention, boy.”

Ezra gaped at him. How in Force’s sake could this man be so blunt?

“Death Watch was lead by Sabine’s great-uncle, on Ursa’s side named Pre Vizsla. He was the last Mandalorian to wield the Darksaber before Sabine. Pre Vizsla was intent on killing my sister and usurping her rule. He came across a former Sith lord.” Riole’s eye darkened, filled with anger and hate. Ezra could feel the hate emitting around him. “Maul.”

“Maul?” Ezra should have stopped speaking, but he couldn’t. “I knew him.”

“Knew?”

“He’s dead. He was killed by another Jedi.”

“Who?”

Ezra contemplated lying. But, Ezra was now a Jedi Padawan, not a thief.

Besides, its not smart to lie to who could be his future father-in-law.

“Kenobi.”

Riole’s anger fled from him. It was replaced with something akin to awe.

“If I didn’t know Kenobi well, I would say that revenge has been exacted.”

“What do you mean?” Ezra asked, confused.

“The Padawan, boy, that I spoke of earlier, the one that had to constantly guard my sister, that was Kenobi."

Ezra took a few deep breaths and meditated on this information.

"It was Maul that killed Kenobi’s master, Qui-Gon Jinn. It was Maul,” Riole’s breath shook, a traumatic memory flooding over him. Ezra could feel the pain, feel the grief. “It was Maul that killed Satine. She died in Kenobi’s arms.”

“I, I don’t know what to say.” Ezra said, shocked. Riole took this moment to grin.

“I know what you can do. First of all, don’t hurt Sabine’s feelings. Second of all, don’t tell me where Kenobi is. Third, take care of Sabine. She really needs a guy like you."

*3 years later*

"So,” Sabine said, sitting up in the bed, looking over at her partner. “What did my dad tell you?”

Ezra stared up into her eyes and his heart skipped so many beats, he thought he was going to need a doctor.

“Well, he began with…”

#sabine wren #ezra bridger #ursa wren #tristan wren #mandalorians #sabezra #meeting in- laws #hope you like it

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shadowsong26fic · 7 years

Text

The Rabbit Hole AU

So, I babbled at my wonderful roommate nightlightflame (who is so much fun to bounce ideas off of omg) and decided I had to write this one up.

This is, essentially, an exercise in the Greek mythological concept of fate/destiny. Some things are Meant To Be.

...but how we get there, and what shape it takes when we arrive, well, that’s a different story.

And so, I present to you: the Rabbit Hole AU, aka Temple-Raised Palpatine.

So, Palpatine is identified as Force-sensitive as a tiny. (Which, how this was avoided in canon, IDK; his explanation in Plagueis makes little sense to me. As nightlightflame pointed out, the Son was probably involved)

Which means this is probably the Father going “hey, you see this kid over there? The kid who is clearly meant to be a Sith Lord? Let’s give him to the other guys and watch what happens.”

Anyway, Palps is identified and his father does the Right and Proper Thing and signs custody over to the Jedi Order.

For the purposes of this fic, I’m adjusting a couple things. Namely, Palpatine is five years older than his probable canon/Legends age, and Qui-Gon is approximately five years younger than his probable age.

They grow up together.

They’re friends.

(or, well, as close as Sheev can get to such things. He is still Palpatine, after all. But more on that later)

I’m going to skip over the next few years for the purposes of this outline, because they mostly deal with Qui-Gon and Palps being friends, and Qui-Gon occasionally functioning as Sheev’s external conscience, and Sheev occasionally poking at Qui-Gon until he at least acknowledges that the bigger picture exists.

And then they’re old enough to be taken as Padawans.

(this is where the fun begins)

How ‘bout some role-reversal? :D

This is the main reason why I fudged the ages.

Because given canon ages, it’s vanishingly unlikely that Dooku would take Palpatine on, particularly since this would have to happen IMMEDIATELY after Qui-Gon’s trials.

So, they’re the same age.

I’m not entirely sure who would train Qui-Gon.

Maybe Yoda?

Probably Yoda.

The only other timeline-appropriate Jedi I can think of is Jocasta Nu maybe? How old is she?

Or, wait, isn’t Plo Koon a long-lived species?

...I don’t think I want Plo Koon though, for reasons that will probably become clear later.

Dooku ably shepherds Palps through what is bound to be a fairly volatile adolescence. Palpatine develops into a shrewd, silver-tongued, and occasionally somewhat ruthless Knight. He takes his Trials at about 20/22, does remarkably well. Dooku is very proud.

Qui-Gon probably graduates around the same time, and they occasionally work together and maintain their friendship.

And then Xanatos happens.

Qui-Gon may, sadly, be backed into a corner where he has to straight-up kill Xanatos right at this point. I haven’t decided yet.

Qui-Gon, I think, straight-up leaves the Order afterwards.

MEANWHILE

Plagueis finds himself lacking in apprentice/partner candidates. He’s working to build up to the Clone Wars, because that was always the plan.

He focuses on the actual broad logistics for the time being, building the armies, etc., all while keeping an eye on several up-and-coming politicians on a variety of worlds, spinning his web.

(This will be important later.)

Some years later, Palpatine is in the Temple between missions, and idly observing a class of senior Initiates.

He sees one boy at the end of a row and deep from the bottom of his ice-cold heart comes a resounding cry of mine.

He is slightly concerned by this. Partly because he’s not overly fond of children and hasn’t ever really liked the idea of raising one (especially after what happened to poor Qui-Gon and Xanatos), but partly because...uh...

Look, Sheev knows he’s not like the others--he’s cold, calculating, finds it extremely difficult to find the empathy and compassion expected of a Jedi.

He can fake it well enough, and he’s built himself a rigid set of rules for his own behavior with Dooku’s help (which mostly but not entirely line up with the official Code), but he knows that there’s something atypical with his approach. Especially among the Jedi.

He goes to his former Master with his concerns.

Dooku’s advice boils down to, “it’s probably a very strong signal from the Force. The way it was phrased/the way you perceived it does cause some concern. Meditate for a while, speak with the boy, speak with his other instructors. Don’t rush this decision, but don’t discount the idea because of your initial reaction.”

This is very wise advice and Palpatine follows it.

Long story short, Palpatine takes Obi-Wan as his apprentice.

They are an incredible team, guys. Seriously, just think of the possibilities.

I don’t want to say much about the actual adventures they have, because that takes work I haven’t yet put into this AU, but I do need to mention Mandalore. And Satine.

Palpatine was going to recommend Obi-Wan for his Trials at that point. Then he decided “....I’ll give him a year or two to restabilize and then recommend him.”

When the time is right, he tells Obi-Wan, “when we get back to the Temple, I’m recommending you for your Trials.”

Obi-Wan: thank you, Master. I won’t fail or let you down.

Palpatine: I know. If I thought you would, I wouldn’t recommend you.

then they smile at each other because this is How They Do.

Obi-Wan, of course, passes with flying colors.

They continue getting teamed up, much like Obi-Wan and Anakin do in canon, because they work so well together.

(Also, Obi-Wan is pretty good at helping Sheev supplement his rules with Actual Decent Humanity)

Side note: Palps butts heads with the Council just as much as Qui-Gon does. But where Qui-Gon hears them out and then goes and does whatever the hell he wants to do anyway, Sheev, on the other hand, tends to hear the Council out, patiently discuss the issue, and then politely accept their judgment and withdraw. Five minutes later, the Council realizes that he just talked them into authorizing the EXACT OPPOSITE of what they wanted him to do.

Ten years later, Obi-Wan starts utilizing that same skill.

Yoda has several drinks and deeply, deeply regrets authorizing this partnership.

But doesn’t split them up because, again, super-effective and they make up for each other’s emotional weaknesses.

Qui-Gon, meanwhile, has somehow come in contact with Plagueis.

Exactly how, I’m not sure.

Now, he’s not a good candidate for the political face Plagueis needs, but he would make a decent Sith Lord.

So, he becomes the Apprentice.

He needs a Sith Name.

Any ideas?

We are now up to approximately the point where Episode I happens.

Plaugeis, as mentioned above, has been keeping an eye on several up-and-coming politicians. And his puppet King on Naboo, Veruna, is beginning to try and cut his strings.

We can’t have that.

But there is this bright, charming, idealistic, ambitious young girl.

(If only, Plagueis thinks, she were Force-sensitive)

As it is, he can split those responsibilities--this young lady, in time, can be the public face of things on the Republic side of the coming War, and Qui-Gon can assist him with those parts of his plan that require Force use.

He has another candidate in mind to run the political wing of the Separatist movement--a certain brilliant, passionate, stubborn, idealistic Duchess...

But more on her later. Let us return to Naboo.

Plaguis makes contact with the young Padme Naberrie, and encourages her to put herself forward as an alternative to Veruna’s corruption.

(From here, in time, it will be child’s play to get her into the Senate and persuade her that his way is the best to counteract the corruption in the Republic as a whole).

The planet is blockaded.

Master Palpatine and Knight Kenobi are sent to negotiate.

This first part goes much as in canon, only with Plagueis, rather than Sidious, pulling the strings.

They are still forced to take refuge on Tatooine for repairs.

Palpatine identifies the boy immediately of course. And promptly claims him for the Order. He can work out the logistics later.

Of course, he doesn’t want to lose the child. But he also doesn’t really relish the thought of raising another one.

So, naturally, he goes to Obi-Wan. “This boy is powerful, and this boy is fragile. The Sith are extinct, but the Jedi are not the only power in this universe. We cannot allow him to be manipulated by the wrong people.”

“So, instead, we manipulate him ourselves?”

“Precisely.”

Obi-Wan agrees in principle, but is a little hesitant about taking the child as an apprentice. “Master, I’m still relatively inexperienced. I’m not sure I’m ready to take on any Padawan, let alone one who will need special attention.”

Palpatine gives Obi-Wan the same advice Dooku gave him--sit with the boy, speak with him, don’t make this decision lightly or in haste. And, if Obi-Wan says no, resolves to train the boy himself. Because without one of them advocating for him--insisting--the Council will never admit him into the Order. He’s too old.

Obi-Wan follows his Master’s advice. And deep from the bottom of his warm, kind heart comes a resounding cry of mine.

Maul is probably still involved here, because I don’t think I want to drop the Qui-bomb this early. He probably gets very dead (like, for real, actual, permadead this time) because Palps and Obi-Wan together? Ahahahaha, good luck.

Qui-Gon is keenly distressed by the death of his apprentice. (Especially after Xanatos. Who he has personally killed by now, if not when things first went wrong). And then to learn it was at the hands of his one-time best friend?

Ten years pass.

Anakin trains as a Jedi. Obi-Wan and Palpatine still frequently work together, now with their tiny tagalong.

Padme finishes her term as Queen of Naboo and enters the Senate, still receiving counsel and training from Plagueis.

Finis Valorum’s term ends as scheduled. Bail Antilles is elected to replace him, replaced in his seat by Bail Organa.

And then, under the charismatic leadership of the Duchess of Mandalore, a secessionist movement begins to take shape.

Obi-Wan feels slightly conflicted. They have a reasonable point, and he can’t help but remember Satine--but his loyalty is to the Republic, to his Order, to his Master and to his Padawan. Mostly to those last.

He discusses his concerns with Palpatine, who agrees, but maintains that the chaos of factioning would be worse than the corruption Satine and her Separatists are protesting.

Anakin has no opinion. Anakin, much to his Masters’ despair, has a tin ear for politics, and will simply follow wherever they lead him.

(he’s a little better than in canon, because Palpatine, rather than aggravating his issues, is trying to ameliorate them, but some things can’t be helped.)

And then comes an attempt on Senator Amidala’s life.

(”You may need the sympathy vote to help you become Chancellor after we remove Antilles. Even your unimpeachable reputation as the Steel Flower of Naboo might not outweigh your youth and inexperience.”)

Anakin and Obi-Wan are assigned to protect her, as in canon.

Padme: ‘oh no he’s hot’

Padme: ‘kriffing hell.’

Padme: ‘my Plans for the Republic do not allow for pretty, dumb, pretty Jedi boys.’

Anakin: ::awkward attempts at flirting::

Padme: ‘WHY IS THAT ENDEARING.’

Padme: ‘kriffing hell.’

Obi-Wan: ::headwalls::

I’m not sure where Palpatine is. Possibly involved with some other investigation--while he and Obi-Wan mostly work together, sometimes only one of them is called for, and if he was on a solo mission he probably wouldn’t have been recalled.

Anyway, a poison dart still leads Obi-Wan to Kamino, and Geonosis.

Padme and Anakin still go to rescue him.

(They still make a detour to Tatooine.)

(Palpatine doesn’t really care about Shmi, sadly, so would make no efforts to free her. Obi-Wan and Anakin would probably handle it about the same as they do in canon, until it’s too late.)

(Palpatine senses what’s going on and extracts himself from his other mission immediately to go see to his flailing child, and guide him back from the brink. Because he knows what that’s like; who better to help?)

(But by the time he arrives, they’ve already left the planet.)

(He reaches Geonosis around the same time Mace’s team does.)

Geonosis is probably where I drop the Qui-bomb, actually. Mostly as muscle backing Satine--an ex-Jedi supports the Separatists!

Obi-Wan is Very Conflicted on seeing his former lover.

Satine has a Moment herself. Not enough to challenge her convictions--nothing short of actually exposing her patrons for what they are will do that--but it gives her pause.

Satine is taken out of the arena to safety.

Qui-Gon leaves as well.

Anakin and Obi-Wan pursue.

Anakin still rushes in. Anakin still loses his arm.

Palpatine is caught up in the thick of the battle, not there for his children when they need him.

(He regrets this intensely later. Not nearly so much as Qui-Gon will, of course. Friends they may have been, once upon a time, but no one harms Sheev Palpatine’s children. No. One.)

Padme requests that Anakin escort her back to Naboo. He is all too eager to agree.

His masters, who are neither stupid nor blind, meet each other’s eyes and sigh.

Palpatine: well, this is probably for the best. They’ll spend a week or so in bed, and he’ll get this infatuation out of his system.

Obi-Wan: I’m...I’m not so sure it’ll work that way, Master.

Palpatine: Five credits says I’m right.

Anakin returns to his Masters some days later and, having a different relationship with them than in canon, immediately confesses all.

(Obi-Wan discreetly holds out a hand for his credits. Palpatine, equally discreet, passes them over.)

Padme returns to the Senate and gives a stirring and passionate speech about what she witnessed at Geonosis.

Another of Plagueis’ patsies follows up by accusing Antilles of underestimating and mishandling the Separatist threat, and proceeds to call for a no-confidence vote.

The newly minted wartime Chancellor Amidala hides her smile and promises to guide them safely and surely through these troubled times.

The War begins, with Plagueis pulling strings behind both Padme and Satine.

Anakin is quickly Knighted.

Obi-Wan, while still recommending him, does see that Anakin still has trouble letting go. Especially after what happened to his mother. He consults with Palpatine, who agrees.

The Battle of Christophsis happens.

A tiny teenaged Togruta turns up, announcing she’s been assigned to Anakin.

(Some time later, deep from the bottom of his wildfire heart comes a resounding cry of mine.)

The War continues. Padme gradually accumulates power.

Palpatine begins investigating some things that don’t quite add up--it starts with tracking his obsession with Qui-Gon (he knows it’s not Jedilike, he knows it violates the Code, it comes perilously close to violating his internal rules, but that was his child.)

Things come to a head...I’m not sure exactly when.

Possible point #1: The Second Battle of Geonosis, where Anakin nearly loses Ahsoka.

Possible point #2: After the children get back from Mortis, and tell Palpatine what happened.

(This would, of course, be slightly different than in canon, but I haven’t quite worked out the details)

Possible point #3: After Umbara.

Possible point #4: After Kadavo.

(This one is less likely, because while Palpatine strenuously objects to the idea of sending his younger son there, he would acknowledge that time is a factor and there was no other team close enough.)

Anyway, at one of those four points, Palpatine is completely Done with the situation. He is taking his children and his clones and they are leaving. They are taking a third option. They are not Sith, but they are not Jedi anymore, either--what they are is a family, with an army, and a singular goal: to see peace restored to the galaxy and protect what is theirs.

Padme: what

Satine: what

Plagueis: WHAT

Palpatine, his children, and their armies form a third faction in the War. Their intent is to basically make both the Separatists and the Republic sit down, shut up, and stabilize.

They go to Padme, and lay out everything they think they know. Mostly at Anakin’s insistance, because he can’t leave his wife.

Padme hears them out, thinks back over everything she’s done with Plagueis, everything he’s asked her to do, every word he’s whispered in her ear, and says, “I’ll help you.”

They try to reach out to Satine, too, but they have no real ties in Separatist space, so it’s taking them longer.

With their generation’s most brilliant tactical mind running their offenses, they quickly make strides and gain ground. Which is nice, because it gives Padme cover to communicate with them--it’s only proper, after all, that the Chancellor should attempt to negotiate, now that the war has grown infinitely more complicated.

(She plays her part with Plagueis perfectly, of course.)

I admit, the ‘how’ of the next part is a liiiiiittle shaky, but it all basically ends with Palpatine murdering Qui-Gon in the face (with extreme prejudice), Anakin (probably with Obi-Wan’s help) killing Plagueis (this may or may not result in Anakin losing another limb or three on Mustafar because why not), and Ahsoka (with help from the clones; she’s their favorite) ending Grievous. Their faction has now won the Clone War.

The Separatists may need some mopping up, I need to work out exactly what would happen with Satine and all.

Padme graciously steps down, and Palpatine is installed as Chancellor for Life.

He does not take the title of Emperor, but that is in effect what he is now.

His sons, his daughter-in-law, and his granddaughter are at his side.

Obi-Wan does most of the day-to-day running of things--he’s very good at it, after all, and Palpatine would rather concentrate on larger problems. Handling any lingering issues with the Separatists, and one never knows what one might find outside the Republic’s borders...

Padme assists--her political acumen and strength of will are a terrible thing to waste, after all.

Anakin is happy and stable; a loving husband and father, and, together with Ahsoka, ensures that justice and stability actually exist in Palpatine’s realm.

So, to make a (very) long story short...remember what I said at the beginning, about Greek concepts of Fate?

The Clone War still ends with Palpatine ruling the Galaxy.

Anakin is still his right hand; his enforcer.

But how we got there...well, that’s the story, isn’t it?

#shadowsong26fic #shadowsong writes star wars #things shadowsong will never actually write #au outlines for the win

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ncfan-1 · 7 years

Text

Diplomacy Is a Process

Well, this time had gone better than last time. At least this time he actually talked to her.

-------------------------------

The interior of the corvette was refreshingly cool after hot, dry, dusty Atollon outside, though by the time Sabine and Chopper had made their way down to Cell Block A, Sabine thought the air was starting to get a bit stale. Not a lot of people went down here, and it told in the cold, silent air. Oh, well. At least down here, Chopper didn’t complain about how the dusty winds were ruining his paint job; he’d been griping about that for over a month. (Though to be fair, Sabine had had to touch up the paint on her armor rather more often than usual since settling here.)

She had warned Hera and Kanan about what she was planning on doing, before the first time. With everything else that was going on, Sabine was pretty sure that them finding out after the fact, without her even apprising them of her plan, wouldn’t have ended well. Chopper agreed to help if only because he was “sick of watching Hera mope.” For all his moaning, Sabine was pretty sure Chopper did genuinely want Hera to feel better. It was just that that impulse was deeply buried. Very deeply buried, a mile or so up from where the planet’s crust met the mantle.

Sabine had gone in expecting that she’d have to fight Hera and Kanan both for permission. She’d avoided Rau like the plague ever since she and Kanan had brought him back from Concord Dawn—not that that was difficult, considering the only time Rau ever saw daylight was to be transferred from one ship’s brig to another. On top of that, Sabine wasn’t entirely certain Kanan believed she wouldn’t try to kill Rau, or at least wound him a bit, if the two of them had to be stuck in the same confined space for any length of time. For the record, no, she wouldn’t; Hera had been back on her feet for a long time, and Sabine’s anger had cooled from a fire to a few lukewarm embers.

But Sabine’s expectations had betrayed her. Far from being recalcitrant to what she was proposing, Hera and Kanan were surprised, but pleased. “That’s… I’m glad, Sabine,” Hera had told her, with a smile so infectious that Sabine forgot her own mixed feelings and smiled back.

Not to say that they didn’t have some ‘advice.’

“Just please remember to be civil. Recruitment tends to work better that way.”

“I can be civil!”

Kanan laughed. There were still bacta patches hooked to the too-white bandage over his eyes, and a combination of pain and painkillers made his voice a touch weaker than it should have been, as he remarked, “Yeah, you can be civil. What we’d like is for you to be civil. If you’re successful at all, it probably won’t be immediately, so remember to be patient.”

Hera leaned over and rested her hand lightly on Kanan’s shoulder. “Diplomacy is a process, Sabine. Remember that, as well.”

The first time, however, it wasn’t a matter of Sabine being civil or uncivil; she never got a chance to be either. The first time, Rau didn’t just not take her up on a game of cubikahd, though he must have been bored to tears in that empty cell. He did not say one word to her, instead fixing her in a long, hard stare that Sabine could only hold for so long before she had to look away. Not exactly a rousing success.

Hopefully, this time around, he would at least talk to her.

Sabine nodded to the guards, who nodded silently back and deactivated the force field just long enough to let her and Chopper through. Rau sat straight and stiff on the bench opposite from Sabine’s—she didn’t know if he’d had advance warning of her coming, or if he’d just heard her and Chopper coming down the hall. Either way, he did not seem surprised to see them. A little annoyed, but that was about normal.

“Hello,” Sabine said quietly, feeling awkward in spite of herself. She had to fight the urge to fidget.

She got no response, and after a couple of minutes of silence, began to wonder if this really was just going to be a repeat performance of last time. I wonder if he treats the people who bring his food this way. Maybe I’d have more luck if I started serving in the mess hall. But just as Sabine was starting to think she was going to have to call this one off too, Rau said, sounding only a little like a man who had barely spoken in months, “Tell your droid to set up the game board.”

Well, this was already getting off to a better start than last time, not that that would be hard. “I’m standing right here,” Chopper grumbled (or, at least, that was a close approximation of what he said; what he actually said didn’t really bear repeating), but he brought the board up anyways.

There was a lot of variation to favored hologames among Mandalorians, with Mandalorians from different worlds or clans favoring different games. Cubikahd was the only game Sabine could think of that was universally enjoyed, and it was the one game she could think of that she and Rau were both bound to know how to play. It had been a very long time since Sabine had last played cubikahd. Most of her family didn’t have much time for it, when she was growing up; with the kind of lives they led, leisure time was difficult to come by. She’d mostly played against one of her second cousins, who was a few years older than her, and who in retrospect she suspected had been going easy on her. Judging by how quickly she lost the first game, yeah, her cousin had definitely been going easy on her.

The look on Rau’s face as Chopper reset the board was an odd mixture of sardonic amusement and something that looked almost like disappointment. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to savor an admittedly petty victory over one of his captors, or be disappointed that the only other person around who actually knew how to play this game happened to be a lousy player.

When Rau made that face, he reminded Sabine irresistibly of a couple of her older uncles (Or, rather, parents’ cousins whom she called ‘uncle’ in deference to the fact that they were much, much older than her). He reminded her of some of her older relatives in general, the ones who could remember a time before the civil wars long before Sabine was born, and hadn’t become directly involved with Death Watch afterwards. Less aggressive than those who had joined Death Watch, but still markedly watchful of anyone who might logically be a threat to them. She hadn’t wanted to see it before, but she could now. And there wouldn’t be any telling Rau that; he’d probably be even more offended than her uncles if she said so. Of course, they’d probably all express their offense in exactly the same way, and prove Sabine’s case for her, but this would probably trigger another breakdown in diplomacy. Possibly one involving blunt instruments. She kept her mouth shut.

It did make her feel just a little lonely to see, though.

“I heard about Jarrus,” Rau told her suddenly, during a lull in the second game. His voice was decidedly, deliberately neutral, and he eyed her sharply as he spoke.

Herself, Sabine had to fight to keep from scowling. Of course. He probably heard the guards talking. Probably the only reason Rau had been any more responsive today than he had the last time Sabine had showed up was because he was trying to worm information out of her.

Figures. My version of diplomacy’s digging up an old hologame and hoping the guy I’m playing against will actually want to talk with me after long enough. Figures he’d just take this as an excuse to pump me for information.

He wanted to worm information out of her? Sabine narrowed her eyes. Well, fine. Two could play at that game.

“What have you heard?” Sabine asked carefully. The game was now forgotten, her attention fixed on the other player, though she could still feel Chopper looking at her.

“That he bit off more than he could chew during a mission.” Rau broke eye contact with her and stared off to his right, at the wall of the cell opposite from the doorway. He frowned deeply. “Seems a shame.”

Sabine bristled, and said hotly, all with Hera’s ‘Please be civil’ ringing in her ears, “He can still fight!”

“Yes, I imagine being a Jedi helps with that,” Rau shot back, his voice practically dripping sarcasm. “It still seems a shame. There’s little use in getting yourself maimed if it doesn’t even serve to achieve your mission objective.”

“He’s still alive.”

“He is, indeed. Dying to achieve your mission, unwavering, is not an unworthy act. Not that I would expect you to appreciate that.”

His tone was positively withering, and somehow, Sabine didn’t think he was talking about her involvement with the Rebellion. She tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

There came no answer, except a look that gave Sabine the impression that Rau thought she ought to have known exactly what he meant. As it stood, Sabine didn’t, and she didn’t particularly want to have to press further to figure it out. I wonder if the Empire alerts the Protectors when someone defects from the Imperial Academy on Mandalore. It would make sense to put them on alert. Or it might be house politics; he does think my house is an even bigger embarrassment to our people than I am, after all. And with that thought, the probable answer slotted into place. Death Watch. He was talking about Death Watch.

“Rau…” Sabine frowned at him, staring intently into his face. “…How old do you think I am, exactly?”

Again, Sabine got no answer, and this time, she shook her head and bit back a sigh. “I was born two years before the Siege was lifted, and the Empire took control of Mandalorian space,” she explained, willing herself to be patient, to keep her voice level and impersonal. “By the time I was old enough to actually remember anything, Death Watch had already gone to ground. For a while.” Rau blinked, his eyes widening slightly, only just enough to be noticeable. So she had his attention. Good. “I don’t remember when Satine Kryze ruled. I don’t remember Pre Vizsla, or Maul. The only rule I’ve known anywhere in Mandalorian space is the rule of the Empire.” She forced herself to meet his gaze, forced herself to say, “The Empire wants us to treat them the same way we’d treat any clan chieftain who prevailed over us in war, but I think we both know that that isn’t the same thing.”

I figured that one out the hard way. Someday, you might, too.

Once more, Rau seemed to have nothing he particularly wished to say. Instead, he looked her over closely, as if trying to pick her brain apart with his eyes. He leaned back against the cold metal wall of the cell, the shadows falling over his face like a veil. Sabine said nothing, clamping her mouth shut so fast that her teeth made an audible click against each other.

There was no way he’d seriously thought she was old enough to have actually fought with Death Watch. It didn’t matter how old Rau thought Sabine was; she knew she didn’t look old enough to have been of fighting age during the Clone Wars, let alone beforehand. But it did seem he’d thought her old enough to at least have clear memories of that time period, of what Death Watch had done before the Empire came and they all, every warring faction, had gone deep into hiding. Well, more fool him.

Half-buried memories of history lessons surfaced from the back of Sabine’s mind as silence fell thick and fraught in the cell. After the civil wars ended (if they ever really had ended; Sabine could remember a few times when she was very young when it seemed like they had never stopped) and the Duchess Satine had cemented her control on the throne, she made it clear to the warriors of Mandalore that they were to lay down their arms and submit to her authority, or be exiled from Mandalore. Sabine’s people had refused to do either, and were restricted to Concordia. They weren’t the only ones.

The Protectors had recognized Satine’s victory, and thus her rule, as legitimate. Not exactly surprising; their allegiance was to the throne directly, rather to any particular clan or house. However, they had refused to lay down their arms, and had gone into a voluntary exile in the Concord Dawn system. From what Sabine had heard, the Duchess had still occasionally called upon the Protectors to track down especially dangerous fugitives, and she allowed them to recruit from the warrior clans (she must have; there was no way Rau was old enough to have already been with the Protectors by the time the wars had ended), but the détente was at best an uneasy one. Joining the Protectors meant exiling yourself from the Mandalore system, and the rise of the Empire had not changed that. The last thing the Empire wanted was the Protectors free to operate on Mandalore, or any of the other Mandalorian worlds; they’d gone so far as to put a moratorium on recruitment a few years before Sabine joined the Academy.

Sabine didn’t know when, exactly, Rau had joined the Protectors. It would have had to have been before the Clone Wars, for him to have been a flight instructor on Kamino, but no matter the exact figure, it would have been a very long time ago. The Mandalore Sabine Wren knew bore little resemblance to the Mandalore Fenn Rau knew. The Mandalore Fenn Rau knew probably had much more in common with the stories Sabine’s family had told her than to what she had known growing up. She knew that. She’d known that. He might know that now, too.

“Wren,” Rau said at length, sharply, but he couldn’t mask the sudden tiredness in his voice, and Sabine stared at him, surprised to hear it. He didn’t look directly at her. Instead, he focused his attention on the holographic game board in front of them, waving his hand so the image crackled and winked around it. “Either keep playing, or get out.”

It would have been kind of nice to be able to just leave, to get away from someone who played nice with the Empire just to keep their wrath from falling on him, and yet judged her choices and found them wanting. It would have been nice to get away from someone who looked at her with such scorn. But Sabine thought of Kanan, who would never fully recover from what had happened to him on Malachor, who now found himself having to adjust to blindness. She thought of Hera, whose face was perpetually strained with grief and worry, who hadn’t smiled wholeheartedly in over a month, and who Sabine occasionally caught rubbing at bloodshot eyes. She thought of Chopper, who would have loved for everyone to believe he didn’t care, and yet still followed her here without a single complaint. She thought of Ezra, who had grown distant and unsmiling, Zeb, who barely seemed to know what to do now, Rex, whom she caught staring off into the arid wilderness with a look in his eyes as though he was galaxies away.

She thought of the family of her blood, who had, long ago, made the same choice as Rau. Maybe for the same reasons, or maybe not. Sabine knew his reasons, but she had never been sure of theirs, had never been able to guess whether it would have been easier or not, had she known. She hadn’t been able to make them change their minds, but maybe, just maybe…

The Rebellion needed all the allies it could get.

Diplomacy is a process, Sabine told herself, and kept playing.

#Star Wars: Rebels #Fanfic #Sabine Wren #Fenn Rau #Fun fact: the working title for this fic in my head was 'Game Night in Cell Block A #Take One'#Set between seasons 2 and 3 #Some spoilers

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