I LIVE.
I've received a lot of messages during my hiatus asking me to come back and wrap this fic up, and with the worldwide quarantine going on, I finally have enough time away from school and work to finish it! Expect a lot more content in the coming weeks, as I'm going to be updating regularly due to the quarantine. There's about three to four chapters left, and I'm working hard to give this fic the ending it deserves.
May the manda be with you.
The New Mand'alor: Chapter 19: The Capture of Sundari (Part 2)
"The great revolution in the history of man, past, present, and future, is the revolution of those determined to be free."
-John F. Kennedy
"Oh, kriff," Arc swore for what must have been the hundredth time. "Holy kriff." She looked around at her awe-struck warriors, staring up at the AT-ATs with wide eyes. "Get down!" Arc yelled at the last second.
Red lasers burst from the lead walker's turrets. Arc dodged a barrage of them, covering her face with her arms as dust engulfed her. She quickly put her helmet back on gasped greedy breaths of filtered oxygen. Tactical displays lit up her visor, illuminated the area in front of her with red-dotted lines and heat signatures.
Walkers, Arc thought to herself. Unbelievable.
The AT-ATs were so huge that every step shook the ground. Arc's mind whirled endlessly as she tried to think of what she could do. Lasers were going off everywhere-screams echoed throughout the streets. The sound of metal twisting and glass shattering rang in Arc's ears.
Think, think, think.
She had never fought off an entire AT-AT before-much less three. They were sending her troops into a frenzy, turning well-trained warriors into panicked prey, all fleeing the falling debris and reigning plasma bolts.
Think, think, think-
Suddenly, Arc's visor flashed a proximity warning. The tell-tale creak of metal joints overhead sent Arc into overdrive and she rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a giant AT-AT foot. It was inches away, and vibrated all of her insides until her teeth chattered.
Think. Arc, think.
She took shelter behind a concrete slab and tried to settle her rapid breathing. "Okay," she said aloud, her voice trembling to her own ears. "Walkers. We're doing walkers now."
Think.
"They have a weak point in their armor," Arc said to herself and hoped she could jog her own memory. She snapped her fingers repeatedly "Where was it at…"
The tactical displays pinged from her visor and Arc's eyes shot up. The display outlined the walker that had just passed in an angry red. A glowing bulls-eye appeared on the AT-AT's rubber casing that served as its neck.
"That's it," Arc breathed. The neck. The chink in the armor.
She didn't have anything powerful enough to actually bring it down, but the rocket from her jetpack could at least penetrate it. Maybe even make an Arc-sized hole that she could climb through.
Arc spared another precious moment to catch her breath, before pushing off of the slab of concrete to dash after the AT-AT. She fired up her jetpack and leapt into the air, head-first into the smoke. Her heart pounded in her ears as she rose, relying on her viewplate's readings so that she didn't ram into a skyscraper or stray speeder. Arc landed soundlessly atop the walker and rocked back and forth with the monster's each gigantic steps.
"Stay still," she muttered as she fumbled with her gauntlet. She clicked a button and the rocket launched from her pack. It exploded spectacularly against the AT-AT's neck and Arc shielded her face from the inferno.
When the smoke cleared, a ragged hole was revealed in the rubber casing and Arc smirked underneath her helmet. Oh, yeah.
Arc slipped into the hole and landed boots-first inside the AT-AT.
The neck of the walker was its skinniest body part; there was only enough space for a one-person catwalk. Sliding doors were at either side. Arc debated which side to enter, before choosing the back end, hoping that extra ammunition would be stored there. She pressed the control panel and the automatic door slid open.
A platoon of stormtrooper's heads shot up and stared back.
Arc stiffened, eyes darting to each of the soldiers. Kriff. Okay. Play it off.
Arc leaned against the doorframe and put a hand on her hip. "Hey boys. Anyone know where the refresher is?"
All at once, the stormtroopers reached for the guns and some got to their feet. Arc scrambled to get behind the doorframe, dodging bolts of plasma and repeatedly pressing the close button on the panel. When the door finally slid shut, Arc slammed the butt of her pistol into the control panel to short it out.
"Great. Just great." Arc holstered her pistol and went to the front of the walker. Her hand hovered over the panel. "Second time's the charm."
The door slid open, revealing two pilots at the controls and an officer in between them. All three whirled around, eyes wide.
"Wassup," Arc said breathlessly and jerked her pistol from its holster.
One shot and the Imperial officer went flying, so hard that his body slammed into the glass viewport and cracked it. The two pilots commandeering the walker started, and Arc fired off two more rounds.
She pushed the smoldering body off of the controls and took the yoke. Except when she tried to pull back, the stick jammed.
"Haar'chak," Arc cursed under her breath. "Yoke's stuck in forward position."
The AT-AT marched on, crunching layers of duracrete and parked speeders under its giant feet. Arc became more desperate as she punched buttons-almost quite literally-yet nothing seemed to work.
Arc slammed her finger against the earpiece on her helmet. "Sabine," she hissed. "I've got a wild walker here and the controls are caught. I don't know how to get this thing to stop." Arc waited for a reply, but got only static. "Sabine?"
Just before she could press further, something flashed from the corner of her eye.
Arc took off her helmet and peered out through the walker's tinted glass. No, her eyes weren't playing tricks on her-the second walker? The one across from her? It was falling.
Something was cutting its legs out from under it.
Arc was too far away to know for certain, but it appeared to be… well, a person. Wielding some kind of lethal lime-green glowstick.
The realization came with a flash and something heavy sank like a rock in her gut.
"Who," Arc Wren said through clenched teeth, "is that?"
Sabine pressed her thumb against the comm on her helmet. But for the fifth time, she got static. "Arc's channel's gone off," she said.
Luc looked around distractedly. "I'm sure she's fine," he brushed off. "Ezra's going to get her. Anyway, I just got a S.O.S. message from one of the squads guarding the perimeter. We might be compromised."
As soon as he had finished his sentence, an eruption of laserfire burst around them. Sabine engaged the shield emitter on her gauntlet and covered her head. Luc took her free hand and yanked her towards the steps.
"Into the palace!" he yelled.
"Wait!" Sabine protested. When Luc didn't listen, she wrenched her hand back and unholstered the pistol at her hip.
"Sabine!" Luc yelled. He tried to go back for her but ducked for cover when another surge of blasts reigned down.
Sabine raised her pistol to the sky, scanning the buildings with her naked eye for the snipers (her helmet had come off in the confusion).
There. From a window on a building's 30th-40th floor. "Gotcha," Sabine whispered, and fired off two rapid shots. Her aim was true, but so was the sniper's. There was a sudden rush of pressure that hit her gut; like Zeb had thrown a fresh suckerpunch.
And then the pain hit.
"Sabine!" Luc's voice was high-pitched with panic. But Sabine hardly heard him.
She crumpled to her knees, and then fell to her side, jaw clenched so tight that she thought her teeth might crack.
Sabine had been shot before. She knew what it felt like. But still-it still got her every time. It felt like acid. Acid that ate away at her skin bit by bit.
Luc rushed to her, worry written all over his features. "Sabine-?"
"I'm fine," she said and waved him off. But even as she spoke, she felt herself get lightheaded and the world started to spin. She struggled to her feet, only to have darkness slam against her vision and Luc to catch her under her armpits as she fell.
Sabine wasn't totally unconscious. She could feel her body being dragged across the concrete and up the steps as warning shots pinged around them. More snipers, if Sabine had to guess.
She kept her eyes closed, predominantly because every limb felt leaden with exhaustion and the blaster shot to her gut wasn't making that any better. She also kept her eyes closed because listening to Luc scramble around her in a panic was way too entertaining to not indulge.
When Sabine had finally deemed that Luc had had enough suffering, she blinked and looked around.
Luc sighed and visibly caved. "You're alive."
They were on the first floor of the Sundari Royal Palace. It was a towering, high-ceilinged room complete with a glittering chandelier that threatened to fall at any moment. Bodies littered the polished tile floor, some with the black armor of death troopers, and others outfitted in familiar Mandalorian armor. Sabine tried not to look at those.
Luc had dragged her to an overturned table and was splaying the medical equipment from the medkit in front of them.
"I'm alive," Sabine muttered and winced. "But I kinda wish I wasn't. Holy kriff, I forgot how bad blaster wounds hurt."
"Well, it's about to hurt more. Bite this."
He handed her a thick cloth and in the same breath, scrubbed the raw wound with an antiseptic wipe.
Sabine swallowed a scream and bit down hard on the cloth, nearly gagging herself.
Luc wasn't gentle as he wiped away the charred bits of flesh around the wound. "Alright," Luc said and dropped the wipe. "Hard part's done." He looked like he was going to say more but stopped when he saw her expression. "Are you about to pass out?"
Sabine struggled to form coherent words and the gag slipped from her mouth. "Just a little," she slurred as the world tilted maddeningly.
Just before she lost consciousness, Luc put something small and smooth into her mouth.
"Swallow," he demanded.
Sabine did, and in a few seconds, her nausea subsided and the floor stopped spinning.
"That'll keep you lucid until the dizziness subsides."
Sabine didn't respond, just listened to the background noise of her soldiers shuffling around their taken territory, checking the fallen ones for pulses. The POP POP POP of blasterfire echoed from the higher levels as the rest of her warriors engaged with the Imps.
"Where are your bodyguards?" Luc demanded, not looking up from where he bandaged her side.
"What?" Sabine's mind struggled to catch up.
"Your bodyguards." He glanced at her abdomen and roughly pulled her hands away from the wound. "I thought Bo-Katan ordered them to stay at your side."
"She did," Sabine said with a grimace. She spoke slowly since her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. "But I didn't need them earlier so I told them they could-"
"Manda, Sabine! She assigned them to you specifically in case something like this happened-"
"I know," she snapped and tried to sit up, only to wince and slide down to her back. "I know that, Luc."
His eyes stayed on her, expression wavering somewhere between disappointment and pity, before he dug another roll of bandages from the pouch at his hip. He sighed. "Ezra's gonna kill me for letting you get shot."
Sabine gritted her teeth as Luc touched her wound gingerly. "It's not like it's your fault," she bit out.
"Oh, I know," Luc said easily as he focused. "But he'll still kill me. There. Done. Lucky for you, it was only a bad graze. I'd recommend bed rest for a week till it heals but-"
"-but we're in the middle of a battle." Sabine listened to the muffled shouts sounding from the floor above and pursed her lips. She could already smell the carbon scoring from the vents.
"Do you think they're okay up there?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how stupid of a question it was. This was war. People were dying a floor above her head. Of course they weren't okay.
But thankfully, Luc didn't remark on it. "We outnumber the Imperials in the palace," was all he said. "But we'll wait until they clear the second floor- just in case."
"I should be with them," Sabine persisted. "It's not fair that my men fight while I-"
"Look," Luc interrupted. "Bridger gave me one job: keep you safe. I gave him one job: keep Arc safe."
"Girlfriend solidarity," Sabine said and laughed in spite of herself.
Luc's face got uncharacteristically red. "It's not like that. Anyway, the point is that Mandalore's liberator can't liberate anyone if she's dead or bleeding out. So just sit tight." He paused and they listened to a distant scream. Luc's expression grew solemn. "Sit tight," he repeated, almost to himself.
Sabine closed her eyes and tried to block out the round of blasterfire that followed. Sure, she thought. Sit tight. But for how long?
Ezra had taught her breathing techniques that the Jedi used to calm nerves a while back. Inhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, then exhale for four seconds. She repeated the exercise over and over again until her mind felt relatively empty. Her heartbeat slowed.
She was in the middle of the exercise when there was a whispered breath in her ear. Her eyes snapped open and she whirled around.
But Luc was still fiddling with the medkit. He wasn't anywhere near her. He saw her staring and frowned. "...You okay?"
Sabine swallowed hard. The whisper was growing stronger, getting louder until she could make out the faintest of words.
Help.
"Ezra," Sabine gasped and stood to her feet.
Luc pulled at her cape. "Sabine?" he whispered furiously. "Get down. You need to rest-"
"Shh." Sabine closed her eyes and listened harder. Help me. Sabine. "Ezra needs me."
"What? How could you possibly know that-"
"I don't know, it's just… it's a feeling. Trust me. Can you find me a speeder?"
"It's a warzone out there, Sabine, you can't just leave."
"Luc," she said with a hint of a growl. "I appreciate your concern but I wasn't really asking. That's an order."
He sighed and got to his feet, before walking out the plaza. "Thanks for bandaging me, Luc," he mocked under his breath. "Thanks for trying to keep me from killing myself, Luc. Thanks for being the only one with an ounce of common sense, Luc."
Sabine paid him no attention, instead focused on the sense of panic that she was receiving from Ezra. If she had to guess, it had to do with Arc. And if that were true, then Ezra might not have a lot of time before Arc tried something she would regret.
Hang on, Ezra, she thought to the boy, hoping he would hear her. I'm coming.
Arc struggled to think clearly.
Anger always did that to her; made her mind go red. She had earned a reputation of being too violent in her family when she was growing up-long before she became the leader of Clan Caladon. Some of her family members had thought that she had actually enjoyed taking things too far in a sparring match. Little did they know that she was just as horrified as they were when she snapped out of the trance.
That was the same kind of anger that turned her blood to fire and made her eyes glaze over. That was the same kind of anger she was feeling right now.
Arc struggled to think of a time before lightsabers and Jedi had flipped that "red haze" switch on in her mind. So when she saw someone who wielded what looked precariously like a bright green lightsaber, all of Arc's functions seemed to turn off one by one.
Arc shot the AT-AT's viewport twice and cracks spiderwebbed from the spots. She kicked the glass in and stepped outside. Smoke rolled in waves around Arc, the acrid scent making it hard to breathe, but she ignored it. She watched the humanoid with the lightsaber twenty stories below instead.
He jumped from leg to leg of the other AT-AT with the whirlwind speed and grace Arc normally associated with a trained dancer. Only a Jedi could move like that.
Anger must be making her brain slow. That was the only explanation. Because if it wasn't, then Arc would have used common sense to deduce that if the Jedi had cut down the two other AT-AT's, then hers was next. Which was why she was caught completely off-guard when the Jedi disappeared under the belly of the AT-AT and she felt the walker shudder, before jerking forward.
Arc was suddenly freefalling, too distracted to realize she hadn't fired up her jetpack and too numb to realize that she was about to go splat on the duracrete ground. Arc brought her arms up to cover her face in a feeble defense moments before she made impact, when someone suddenly tackled her.
When she dared to open her eyes, she was not on the ground, bruised and body bent and twisted beyond recognition. No, she was being cradled in someone's arms with an almost tender hold; as if she were porcelain and if she were squeezed too hard she would crack.
Ezra Bridger placed her gently on the ground and yanked off his Scout Trooper helmet with one hand and disengaged the blade of his lightsaber with the other.
Arc stared up at him, the realization not setting in. Her brain worked furiously trying to process what was so obviously apparent, but it wasn't clicking. It was like a clock trying to spin its minute hand when there's a clog missing, so the needle bounces uselessly but never actually ticks down. Just bounces in place.
"Arc," Ezra said, panic making the words seemingly fall out of his mouth all at once. "I wanted to tell you before, and I know we shouldn't have kept it from you this long but I-but I can explain, I swear."
He said something else, but his words were lost to the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears. Arc felt like there was a weight on her chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. It was then that she realized it wasn't only anger she was consumed by-it was fear.
Arc backed away from him, hands groping through the soot and ash for her dual pistols. Ezra tried to approach her, saying something soothing, but Arc scrambled back even further. "Get away from me!" she screeched.
Ezra froze. His expression faded from concerned to confused. "Arc…?"
"I mean it!" Arc's hand finally found her pistol and she pointed it at the boy. Fury and terror made the blaster tremble in her grasp. Jedi. The word raced circles in her head.
Arc saw the last man who had pulled a lightsaber on her in her mind's eye. Saw it's sickly golden glow. Five years ago, a Master Jedi, his apprentice, and Arc Wren had entered an abandoned canyon, far away from camp. Five years ago, only one of them had walked away alive.
"I killed your kind before," Arc blustered, but her voice sounded so hollow that even she didn't believe herself. "I'm not afraid to do it again."
Ezra pursed his lips, eyebrows creasing in worry. "Not afraid? Arc, you're shaking like a leaf."
He took another step forward and she panicked. "I said stay away-!" Arc pulled the trigger without even realizing it, but the shot sailed harmlessly over Ezra's head.
"Arc," Ezra's voice lowered from concerned to solemn. "Put that thing down; you're gonna hurt someone."
Arc wanted to laugh at the irony of the statement but she was trembling so bad it would have come out as purely maniacal.
I should have seen this coming.
The thought swarmed inside Arc's head, spinning endlessly. She had lived with Jedi for years- she should have been able to recognize one right off the bat.
And now that she thought about it, she wondered how she hadn't known before. The whispered conversations between Ezra and Sabine suddenly made sense. So did their shared glances and the way they would seem to talk to each other without saying a thing. It was what two people looked like when they had a secret to hide.
"You lied to me?" the words were out of Arc's mouth before she could stop them. It seemed pitiful, when she heard them with her own ears.
Guilt flashed in Ezra's eyes. "We didn't want to."
"I let you into my home," Arc said slowly, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. "You ate at my table with my people and you have the audacity to lie about your very identity?"
"Look, I know this looks bad-"
"No!"
Something in the way her voice completely broke must have scared Ezra because he flinched and stepped backwards. That was when Arc saw something very familiar flash in the boy's eyes.
He was afraid.
As he should be, was the only thought in Arc's mind, drowning out the parts of her that pleaded with her to stop. And so, with a horrible, horrible certainty, Arc raised the blaster again. Her hand wasn't shaking this time.
Ezra's lips moved in something inaudible.
The skin around Arc's scar twitched. "Speak up, Bridger."
"I wasn't talking to you," Ezra said. His voice was unnervingly calm. "Sabine will come for me."
"You need her to fight your battles?"
"I'm not fighting you, Arc. I won't."
Arc grit her teeth, finger teetering on the edge of the trigger. "Why?"
Ezra straightened. He looked at her unblinkingly, then unhooked his lightsaber off his belt. Arc gripped her gun tighter.
"Because," Ezra said, and dropped the lightsaber. It rolled to a stop by her feet. "I am a Jedi."
Sabine flew faster than she had ever flown on a speeder before-and that was really saying something. She kept on pressing against the clutch little by little, testing her luck centimeter by centimeter. Buildings passed by on either side of her at a dizzying speed.
Ezra's whispered voice stayed in her ear. Sabine. Hurry.
She was going too fast to even get a bearing on her location or try to pinpoint where Ezra and Arc were. She could only follow that gut feeling. So she spun crazily down the abandoned Sundari streets, dodging buildings blanketed in smoke seconds before smashing into them.
I'm not going to fight her, came Ezra's voice again. It was tinged with uncertainty, as if he wanted to follow up with a Right?
Don't hurt her, Sabine thought to him in a panic. She followed the trail of destruction left in the AT-AT's wake on her speeder, zooming past fires and clumps of upturned earth. The unsaid realization hung in Sabine's headspace, as did the reason for Ezra's hesitation.
Because if it came down to it, if it came down to Ezra's life or Arc's… Sabine didn't think she could choose. She just had to get to them before it came to that.
But if it did, said the neurotic part of her. Who would you choose?
Sabine curved sharply, following the drop of her gut. She thought about her late night talks with Arc as children. She thought about the pranks they pulled as kids. She thought about the sparring sessions and big family dinners and endless amounts of inside jokes. And then Sabine thought about Ezra; she thought about all of their close-calls and the times they saved each other's lives. She thought about the nights they spent stargazing on top of the Ghost while docked on Atollon. She thought about all the times they complained to each other when Kanan or Hera were working them too hard, or when Sato was being particularly overbearing, or when Chopper was downright unbearable.
How could Sabine choose between past and present? Blood and soul? Who could choose between the two?
There!
Sabine braked hard enough to almost throw her off the bike. Ezra and Arc stood between the trio of fallen AT-ATs, smoke curling around their ankles and soot staining their faces. Sabine didn't even wait until the speeder was fully stopped; her boots thudded against the ground as the speeder spiraled out of control behind her. She didn't care. She didn't care either about the spike of pain that raced up her abdomen at the dismount. Her blaster wound was far from her mind; her attention was solely focused on the standoff before her.
Arc was crouched like a caged animal amongst the piles of ash, arm raised and blaster pointed in Ezra's direction. Ezra was just as still, frame taut and hands balled into fists. His lightsaber laid uselessly at his feet and Sabine somehow knew this was intentional. It was a blatant claim. He was a Jedi. A man of peace.
He wouldn't fight Sabine's blood.
At least, Sabine knew that was what he was thinking. She was personally cursing him for being so hopelessly noble. Everyone should have one hand on a weapon when Arc was in the room.
"What's going on here?" Sabine said, making an effort for her voice to be as even as possible. Arc's eyes flicked to her while Ezra's stayed glued forward.
"Hey, Sabine," Ezra remarked, gazed still fixed on the blaster trained on his head.
"Hi." Sabine swallowed hard and looked to her cousin. "Arc?"
"What the kriff do you want me to say?" Arc exploded, her furious gaze landing on Sabine. "Howdy? Your boyfriend's a Jedi for manda's sake-when were you going to tell me?"
"I should have told you sooner," Sabine said slowly. "I admit that. Look, why don't we just put the gun down-"
"He's dangerous, Sabine! Jedi, they're- they're ticking timebombs. And you let one roam around my quarters for months-"
"If I hadn't thought that you would react like this," Sabine gestured wildly to the standoff, "I would have told you about it while we were still at the Death Watch camp. But you did-you are-- reacting like this and I just- for the love of the manda, Arc, please put the pistol down."
"Shut up, Sabine," Arc snapped.
Unironically, Arc raising her voice did just that. Sabine recoiled, something stern settling in her stomach. The uncomfortable thought resurfaced about what she would do if she had to choose. If she had to choose between Ezra's life or Arc's.
I can't choose, Sabine protested, even as her fingers twitched with the urge to curl around the Darksaber's hilt. I can't.
"Arc," Sabine tried again, more desperate. Because she knew in the back of her mind exactly what would happen if she was forced to choose. "You have every right to be mad." She slowly began to approach Arc, hands out and palms open. "You have every right to be furious; but if you're gonna point that gun at anyone, it should be me. I'm the one that forced Ezra to keep his secret for so long." She could hear a sound of protest from Ezra, but she shooed him away.
Arc's eyes were glassy as she looked from Ezra to Sabine, the blaster wavering between the two of them. A single tear fell from one of Arc's eyes, cutting a path through the soot that caked her face. It was so completely out of character to see her like this that Sabine froze for a moment, unsure of how to continue. The crying, she meant. The crying was out of character. Not the pulling-the-gun-on-them thing. That was something she would do.
"You don't know what they can do," Arc whispered. Her gaze was laser focused on Ezra. "You don't know what they're capable of doing."
"Then tell me, Arc!" Sabine insisted, losing her patience. "Talk to me! What happened-"
"I should have died, okay?!"
Sabine stopped, her anger fading away. "What do you mean?"
It was a while before Arc responded. And when she did, her voice was slow and shaky. "There was an argument." She glanced from Ezra to Sabine and back again. "Between the Jedi and I. I antagonized him. I knew how short his temper was, and I provoked him anyway. Provoked him constantly. Everyday, it was a constant decision-until he snapped." Arc looked to Sabine again, her eyes wild in a way that made Sabine swallow. "Do you know what it looks like when a person snaps, Sabine?" she seethed. "When years of pain and torture break in one moment-" on the last word, Arc's arm jerked and the blaster was pointed firmly at Ezra again. "He snapped and the boy I loved took a blade for me. So forgive me if I don't have a lot of tolerance for Jedi or lovers- or in your case when they're one in the same."
It was a jab. Sabine registered it somewhere in the back of her mind. She knew Arc was trying to make her angry, but the way she was shaking made any indignation Sabine felt drain out of her, leaving something that was painfully similar to pity behind. But Sabine squashed that down just as quick. She knew Arc didn't need nor want her pity.
"Arc," Sabine began again, "What you're about to do isn't lack of tolerance- this will be attempted murder."
Arc looked to her, something morbid twisting at her features. "Attempted?" she reiterated, a humorless smile turning her lips upward.
"Yes," Sabine said and narrowed her eyes. "Attempted."
The threat got across.
Arc's eyes stayed on her. And then slowly, her arm lowered. Sabine could see Ezra breathe a sigh of relief from the corner of her eye, but she didn't share his reassurance. Her muscles stayed tight with tension, poised to act at any moment as Arc stalked closer. There was something almost predatory in the way she moved to Sabine, danger emanating from her in waves.
She stopped just inches shy away, close enough that Sabine had to crane her neck upwards to keep eye contact.
"You really think you can stop me?" Arc said quietly, voice thick as another tear streaked down her cheek.
Sabine caught the tear with her thumb, rubbing it off of Arc's chin. "I won't have to," she answered.
Arc's brow furrowed. "How do you know?"
"Because I believe in you, Arc. I know you think that killing that Jedi made you into a monster but you're not. You took a life in self-defense. And reacting out of fear doesn't make you a monster-it makes you human."
Arc smiled slightly. It wasn't menacing, like before. It was… sad. "Sabine," she said softly. "Ad'ika. You are so good. And you are a much better person than I am. So if I, with all my cynicism fell prey to the Jedi's lies of peace, what chance do you have? I can't let you make the same mistake I did. The years of regret and heartbreak I had to cope with after? I can't let you be subjected to that."
"You loved him," Sabine deciphered. "And he died because of it. Look, I'm the least qualified person to defend love. But I love you. And I took a risk doing that, hoping that you didn't have some alterior motive by pushing me to become the Mand'alor. And I…" Sabine exhaled shakily before forcing the words out of her that had been so long buried deep inside herself. "And I love Ezra. I have for a long time."
From behind Arc, Sabine could see Ezra's eyes soften. Sabine met his gaze, something warm flooding her chest. She had always known- but there was something about saying it out loud that set her heart to racing like she was in the middle of a firefight.
"Love is risk," Sabine finished, dragging her gaze back to her cousin. "It's always a risk. But it's a risk that I am willing to take-over and over and over again if need be." She reached out and grabbed Arc's hand, which was still curled firmly over the handle of her blaster. "And I'm asking you to take that same risk and love me too. I know you think you're protecting me from pain, but I need you to love me enough to let me go."
At that, Arc visibly collapsed. Her last bit of determination crumbled and Sabine caught Arc in her arms, cradling her. The pistol clattered to the ground and Arc wrapped her arms around Sabine's waist, clinging onto her for dear life.
Sobbing. Sabine tried to think about the last time she had seen Arc sob. Never, she eventually decides.
But Sabine took the vulnerability in stride, letting her legs buckle, which sent a cloud of ash into the air as their knees hit the ground.
"I'm sorry," Arc choked out. She buried her face further into Sabine's hold. "You shouldn't have to see me like this-"
"Stop," Sabine insisted. She hugged her tighter. "You've been strong for so long…
"...It's okay to be vulnerable for just a little while longer."
Ezra stood off awkwardly to the side as Sabine and Arc hugged, feeling like he was intruding. If anything, Arc deserved a little privacy. He could understand her not wanting to see her in the state she was- Kanan had that same "saving face" routine. He thought he had to be strong all the time for everyone to the point where he wouldn't let anyone see how exposed he was.
Ezra hesitated at the fringe of their "bonding moment," wanting to give them some privacy but not wanting to leave without somehow telling Sabine goodbye. A tense moment had just passed between the three of them-it didn't feel right if Ezra simply were to walk off without somehow addressing it.
Sabine seemed to know what he was thinking and looked up at him from where she cradled Arc.
Ezra's breath caught in his throat when her gaze lingered on him. I love Ezra. I have for a long time. Sabine's earlier words seemed to practically draw themselves out between the two of them. I suppose we'll have a lot to talk about when this battle is said and done with, he thought to himself.
He knew Sabine was thinking the same thing, but her face confirmed it. Not now, she seemed to say. But soon.
Ezra nodded.
Sabine seemed to hesitate, looking from Arc's curled form in her arms and back to him again. 'Thank you,' she mouthed, and buried half of her face back into Arc's shoulders, eyes staying on him. Ezra got the rest of the message. Thank you for not fighting her.
Ezra made a Mandalorian gesture, dragging his hand across his chest to trace an invisible symbol. It was one Sabine had taught him; it meant, "On my honor."
Ezra could have sworn that Sabine's eyes grew glassy at that, but she shifted her weight and buried the rest of her face in Arc's clothes. Ezra decided to take his leave, leaving the two to their moment.
The smoke had slowly started to clear, but fires raged near and far in the AT-AT's wake. Ezra walked the perimeter, helping citizens to their feet and checking with the other Mandalorian soldiers.
"It's bad," one Mandalorian soldier grunted, holding his arm that was bent at an odd angle. "The damage to Sundari, I mean." Ezra blinked, tearing his gaze away from the man's broken arm. Mandos had nerves of steel; he was sure of it. "The walkers destroyed the buildings along the southern half," the soldier continued. "People are trapped under the collapsed buildings. We're helping who we can and bringing them to the hospital but it's not enough. We need more manpower."
"I'll talk to the Mand'alor and see what we can do," Ezra assured the man, fighting back the nausea that rocked his body. All this destruction-it made his stomach sour. The acrid scent of blood and smoke permeated the air. Gray ash blanketed everything and everyone for a good mile-radius.
Ezra's heart twisted painfully when he saw the citizens that wandered the streets, covered in soot, their clothes turned to rags and blood trickling from cuts and scratches too many to count. It wasn't fair that their homeland was as close to being destroyed as one could get. The sight was so achingly familiar to Lothal with her burning fields and the smog that stained the sky that Ezra's chest tightened in horrible empathy.
He used to think that he could have nothing in common with Mandalorians-except maybe their reverence of Sabine. Now, Ezra saw how wrong he was. He wasn't much different from these war-ridden nomads. They fought because it was all they had ever done; how true was that for Ezra too?
Fast, frantic steps met Ezra's ears before he could ponder it more and he spun around, whipping his lightsaber out on reflex.
A Mandalorian courrier stumbled back in shock, eyes disks.
"Sorry," Ezra stuttered. He recognized the symbol of Sabine's crest on his shoulder—a stylized starbird—and extinguished the blade. "What is it?"
"Commander Bridger," the courier said breathlessly. "I have urgent news for the Mand'alor."
"She's busy," Ezra responded, thinking of a teary-eyed Arc. "You can tell me."
The courier shifted his feet. "I'm not sure if you're aware, sir, but while the Mand'alor's forces were taking the palace, we've been scouring the ground for Imperial's—"
"Yes, I'm aware how mission briefings work," Ezra snapped, beginning to get annoyed. He should be out helping pull people from the rubble, not sitting here and listening to this guy—
"You don't understand; there are no Imperials on the ground."
Ezra stopped. "What?"
"I was assisting with General Arc's ground force," the courier began. "We searched the Imperial barracks, the military bases, the streets… The Imperials were gone. It was as if they had vanished into thin air."
Ezra frowned, and could feel the crease between his brows grow steeper. "Well, their forces have to be massing somewhere. There were Imperials in the palace but that was still only a fraction of them. Maybe they have a hidden base somewhere?"
The courier shook his head. "We've scouted the city for months. If they had a secret headquarters big enough to house all of them we would have known about it."
"Well, where did they go?"
The courier hesitated. "We don't know."
Ezra narrowed his eyes. "There's something else."
The courier dared to meet his eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. "The comms with Clan Ordo just went off-line."
The news was like a slap in the face. Sharp. Stole the breath from his lungs. "How long ago?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"They've been radio silent for six minutes."
"But they were supposed to guard the tunnels," Ezra sputtered, the words spilling out of him with no signs of stopping. "They're our last line of defense—"
"Sir, I think the walkers were a diversion while Imperial forces stormed the tunnels," the courier blurted.
Ezra glared at him. "No kidding." He turned away and broke out into a sprint towards Sabine's direction.
Sabine and Arc were already apart, the tender moment passed.
"We have a problem," Ezra said breathlessly.
The courier reached them just as Ezra did, and repeated what he had told Ezra in between gasps.
Once he had finished, Arc set her jaw, all traces of vulnerability long gone.
"The only thing I don't understand," Ezra said quickly "is how the Imperials were able to find the entrance to the tunnels. They're cloaked from Saxon's scanners. The only way he could have known about them is if…" Ezra thought hard, mind whirling. "Is if someone who knew about the tunnels' location told him."
Ezra looked to Sabine, watching the gears in her mind turn as she searched for a plausible explanation. When he looked to Arc, he saw the confusion drain from her face and watched as it was replaced with horrible, cold certainty.
"Arc…?" Ezra asked. He didn't like how she was looking at the moment. She looked like she could murder someone.
"Has anyone had contact with Ursa Wren?"
Arc's question made Ezra stop cold, and Sabine visibly froze. "Manda," Sabine swore. "This is exactly the thing she would do."
"I'll take my warriors to the tunnels," Arc announced, and Ezra could sense the hate radiating off of her in waves.
"I'll come with you," Sabine said.
"No. You need to go back to the palace." Sabine looked like she was about to protest but Arc shook her head. "Sabine, if you lose the palace, then it won't matter how much ground we take up here. Go." Arc's gaze fell to Ezra. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, soon replaced with what he could only guess was determination. "Ezra will come with me."
Ezra straightened and nodded.
Sabine looked between the both of them, worry crossing her features. "Are you sure…?"
Ezra read between the lines and glanced to Arc. There was a lot of unresolved… mess between the three of them. Deep-rooted feelings of hurt and even betrayal would have to be fleshed out eventually if they were ever to get on even footing again.
Arc got the inference too. "I'll be fine," she told her. "This isn't the time or the place to talk about it."
It. Being Ezra's secret. It being Arc's longtime hatred. It being something that they would have to force aside for now.
"And trust me," Arc added, glancing at the both of them. "This is a conversation we will be having after all of this is over."
Ezra rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I'm dreading it."
"Good," Arc said dryly. She looked to see Sabine's still-worried expression and sighed. "Just trust me, Sabine. We'll be okay."
Sabine didn't look very convinced.
Arc huffed and looked at Ezra. "Ez," she drawled sarcastically. "I'm sorry I almost killed you. When I'm angry, I kinda can't…" she motioned in the air vaguely.
"You can't English good?" Ezra finished helpfully.
She gave him a withering glare. "Sure."
Sabine's face was still fixed in a frown, but she finally sighed. "Fine. Be safe. Both of you." She pulled each of them down until they were eye-level and planted a kiss on both of their heads.
"I'm never safe," Arc deadpanned.
"And I've been told I'm overly self-sacrificing," Ezra offered with a lopsided grin.
"Manda, why do I try?" Sabine asked herself. She waved them off and grabbed her speeder bike's handles. And just like that, she was gone.
Arc looked over at Ezra. She still seemed a bit sore, a little sour. But there was a newfound respect in her eyes that hadn't been there before. And Ezra held a new respect for Arc as well. There was bravery in breaking down; in being vulnerable. Sometimes exposing yourself emotionally was more frightening then being on the battlefield. Superficial wounds healed. Emotional wounds did, but much more slowly.
"Master Jedi," Arc said a little sardonically as she bowed, gesturing in the direction of the tunnels. "After you."
"You first. I insist, Al'verde."
If she was impressed with his mando'a, a slight smirk was the only thing that showed it. And together, Mandalorian and Jedi made their way across the burning landscape. Perhaps their ancestors wouldn't be proud of them for making the choices they did; the choice to work together. The choice to risk it all in a consequences-be-damned kind of manner. But Ezra hadn't been taking orders for years and he didn't intend to stop now.
And he had a feeling that Arc was the same way.
Ursa Wren slid a new magazine into her pistol with a satisfying CLICK.
The barrel of her blaster was warm from the rounds she'd just fired off and the familiar smell of carbon scoring was in the air. Ursa had been having an objectively horrible week so to have the pleasure of participating in an adrenaline-rushing firefight was just what she needed. Her thoughts of her wayward daughter's impudence were the farthest thing from her mind.
Gar Saxon came up behind Ursa, shouldering his blaster rifle. "Status?"
Ursa smiled in spite of herself. "The Ordo's are trapped, Viceroy. We have them."
"And Torian Ordo?"
"Missing. For now. We'll find him soon enough—my warriors are tearing apart every room as we speak. There's only so many places one can stash an old man."
"Good. I need to speak with whoever is second in the chain of command; make an example of him with the others."
"We have their officers all in their briefing room."
Saxon motioned for her to lead the way so she did, guiding him through the winding tunnel until it opened up to a large cavity.
Ursa almost felt sad for the insurgents; if this was their base of commands, they were sorely underprepared. There was little more in the briefing room other than the holoprojector in the center and the rows of seats surrounding it. Saxon's men had the decency to allow the trapped Ordo officers to sit, which, in Ursa's opinion, was far more than they deserved.
"So," Saxon growled as he strode in front of the officers, each step careful and measured. "You are all that is left of the once-mighty "Clan Ordo." In all my years, I never considered the great Torian Ordo a coward but he is certainly proving me wrong. Hiding? I must say, I'm surprised."
One of the officers, the youngest, that Ursa could see, jutted out his chin in a small display of defiance. "Torian Ordo is a warrior far beyond your caliber, Saxon," he bit out. "And everyone in this room knows it."
Saxon cocked his head. Ursa watched something murderous flash in his eyes, cold and sharp with mild amusement. "Of course," he relented with a hint of sarcasm. "I meant… no disrespect."
"You come in here and you challenge my master's honor; that is the form of utmost disrespect."
"What's your name, boy?"
The young officer gave him a glare strong enough to sear through beskar. "Jaxon Ordo."
Ursa reared back ever so slightly. When she looked over at Saxon, she noticed he recognized the name as well.
"Jaxon Ordo," Saxon repeated, a little mockingly, "heir apparent to the one and only Torian Ordo. No wonder you took offense. I've heard of your feats."
Jaxon stayed silent, the tendon in his strong jaw bulging.
"Abandoned your master," Saxon began, listing the things off on his finger, "left the Clan you were born in to risk your life with the Death Watch- a notorious group hated by True Mandalorians like the rest of us. You caused quite the drama with the Ordos. We heard of it even in my Clan." Saxon clipped his blaster to his belt and walked forward. "So. With you as acting chief, I would like to offer you a proposition-"
"Not interested."
For once, Saxon was almost thrown off his rhythm. But he recovered quickly. "The fate of everyone in this tunnel system rests on your shoulders, young Ordo. If you fail to cooperate you would force my hand-"
"I'm not forcing you to do anything; if you care about the lives of your people than you wouldn't be pointing a gun at the head of every honorable Clan member here. We're of noble blood. To slaughter us like this today will mean a massacre of Clan Saxon tomorrow. So instead, I'd like to offer you a proposition. Make the Ordos prisoners of war and when Sabine Wren, Mand'alor the Free, sieges the rest of Sundari, we can be part of the terms when the treaty is signed between your men and her's."
Ursa almost laughed at the gall of the boy. He was most definitely Torian's successor.
A vein on Saxon's forehead was pulsing which was the only hint that he was as furious as Ursa knew he was. "There will be no peace," Saxon hissed. "We will crush her. Without mercy. I wanted to offer you a chance to swear fealty to the Empire and spare your men. But perhaps even that is too merciful for you."
"We won't beg," Jaxon said in a monotone. "You can ask anyone here."
Saxon gave a theatrical sigh. "No, I suppose you won't."
The shot that went off was loud and thunderous, and it blew Jaxon back. The officers around him shifted their weight, some clenched their fists, but no one screamed. No one cried. No one showed a shred of fear.
Ursa had to admit, despite their foolish decisions, this was a fine group of Mandalorians.
"Saxon," she hissed, her voice low so that the officers didn't overhear her. "We can exchange insults with pubescent Ordos until the Caladonian Dragon comes back but we are no closer to finding my daughter. There are more important things then your ego, Viceroy."
"Countess," Saxon growled, glaring at her in a way that made a shiver run down her spine. "I allowed you to assist me so your Clan could be on the right side of history. Do not mistake our working together as a relationship in which you can share your feelings." He strode past her, out of the briefing room. "But, about your daughter. Don't worry. Detaining her is still number one in importance."
"Well, what do we do now?" Ursa hurried to keep up with him. "She's not here."
"Of course not," Saxon scoffed. He stopped and showed her a datapad. "Because she's here."
Ursa took the datapad but what she saw almost made her drop it. "By the manda."
"She's taking the Royal Palace," Saxon said grimly. "The walkers I deployed are serving as a suitable distraction. But it won't be long until we're found out."
The tablet was trembling in her hands. A blurry Sabine was frozen on its screen, crimson cloak waving behind her, a trickle of blood running down her cheek. This isn't my Sabine, Ursa thought, horrified. This isn't my daughter.
Saxon was still talking. "...can hold the Ordos hostage as a bargaining chip while my other forces sweep around the back-"
"No."
Saxon paused. He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"
"You were never planning to let her go, were you?"
Saxon straightened and pursed his lips. He stayed silent.
Dread pricked Ursa's heart. No. "My daughter is too influential, isn't she? You were never going to let her come back with me."
"Your daughter," Saxon said slowly, "is no longer a person, Countess. She is an enigma. She has become an idea. And you cannot kill ideas. Sabine Wren is a symbol to Mandalore that they can be free, and I cannot allow that symbol to catch fire. Do you understand, Countess?"
Ursa began to back away, only to stop when the cold barrel of a blaster against her back stopped her. Supercommandos began to surround her and Ursa swallowed hard.
"You've helped me this far," Saxon cooed, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards. "Let's keep up the act just a little bit longer… You can do that, can't you, Countess?"
Ursa still held the datapad firmly in her hand, and she glanced at her daughter's face out of the corner of her eye. I'm sorry, Sabine, she thought miserably. I'm so sorry.