#Sabine Wren | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illuminatedquill · 3 days ago

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Story Summary: Ursa Wren faces a dilemma: since her daughter, Sabine, is now of age, several high-ranking clans now seek to win the favor of Clan Wren by offering her potential suitors. With the political pressure mounting, Ursa has no choice but to acquiesce to the invocation of an ancient rite that will determine which of the suitors will have Sabine's hand in marriage. It's a risky game: turning any of the clans down has the potential to create new enemies that Clan Wren can scarcely afford as they continue to wage war against the Empire. To win this game, Ursa will need to rig it in Sabine's favor and choose a candidate of her own. But this candidate will need to have more than luck on their side . . . which is why she summons a certain plucky young Jedi named Ezra Bridger to Krownest.

Part 1 of 3

Mandalorians were taught since birth to only use beskar for armor and weaponry. That has always been the way. To use it for anything else, according to custom, was to waste it. But one person did not see it that way. They saw beyond, to what it could be. What did they see, you ask? Beauty. And so, they fashioned rings of beskar. The first of their kind. Who would be crazy enough to do such a thing? To go against established Mandalorian custom and change something considered immutable and derive a different purpose? You guessed it. It was a Jedi. - From the personal diary of Countess Ursa Wren

"To be seen is to be loved." - Unknown

~ the call ~

Fenn Rau rapped three times on the heavy wooden door and waited, taking a few moments to marvel at the craftsmanship in its design. Most Mandalorian clans loved to imbue their castles or fortresses with the latest tech to showcase how impregnable their stronghold was to guests. But not Clan Wren - here they still stood on tradition and the old ways but not in a manner that stifled innovation. It had been some time now since he had arrived on Krownest in service to their matriarch and it felt more like a home than anything else he could remember in his life.

"Enter." The commanding voice of his benefactor, Countess Ursa Wren, recognizable even through the thick wood, still full of authority and steel even at this late hour.

With a grunt of effort, he pushed the door open and entered Ursa Wren's bedroom.

Fenn Rau would never confess out loud, but he did harbor a curiosity regarding Clan Wren's matriarch - especially considering Sabine's strained relationship with her. But after meeting the woman himself, he immediately understood where the younger Wren got her fiery resolve from. Both of them were more alike than either were willing to admit - an observation that Fenn Rau decided was wise to keep to himself after witnessing one of their arguments.

Glancing around the matriarch's bedroom, the veteran warrior noted that it seemed to match the woman's personality: it was spartan, utilitarian, with no room given for personal effects that would reveal anything about Ursa herself. The walls were painted a light, neutral green shade that seemed to be an attempt at instilling calmness or serenity in the room's occupant, but Fenn Rau instead found it somewhat nauseating to look at for too long.

Pressed up against the wall to his right was a simple bed with plain grey bedsheets, accompanied by a single lonely pillow that had been flattened due to years of use. To his surprise, the bed was unmade - the only sign of life in the otherwise sterile feeling room. It seems the Countess really was human after all, he thought, feeling amused.

Other than the bed there was a large arch window that overlooked Castle Wren's grounds; a bookcase filled with thick, leather-bound books with the titles written in ancient Mando'a worn away on the spines; a medium sized wooden closet that presumably held Ursa's armor and other sets of clothing; and the only other piece of furniture in the room - a small, round table that had a tiny, delicate vase containing a red rose sitting upon it. It was an oddly personal touch of beauty that immediately suggested to him that it was not placed there by Ursa's hand. Perhaps Sabine, he wondered.

Next to the table, sitting in a wide-backed chair with one leg crossed over the other was the Countess. Ursa wore casual sleep wear: a simple, form-fitting long sleeve shirt and pants that were the same slightly nauseating green as the bedroom's walls, complete with comfortable house shoes. Her hair still remained tied in a tight, professional bun, but she was casually scrolling through a data-pad, her sharp, intelligent eyes raking over the information being shown.

Fenn Rau waited for her to acknowledge him. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, she sighed and tossed the data-pad gently onto the table next to her. With a weariness rarely seen by him, Ursa hunched over and massaged at her temples, eyes closed in deep thought.

"Countess," he said, concerned. "Are you alright?"

Ursa straightened herself with a wince and fixed him (Fenn Rau charitably ignored the faint popping noises that emitted from her back as she did so) with a grim stare.

(Pictured above: Ursa Wren contemplates her next move.)

Fenn Rau forced himself to stand upright against the weight of that intimidating stare.

A few tense seconds passed before Ursa finally relented, a small smile flickering over her face. "At ease, Rau," she said. "Just feeling the weight of my years."

"You're younger than me, Countess," he replied.

The smile grew. "Flatterer," she said.

"It's the truth."

She sighed. "Perhaps so," she said. "I suppose it's more to do with the mileage, rather than the actual number of years."

He nodded in understanding. Fenn Rau had his fair share of wear and tear from the long, hard years of life but by all accounts, Ursa Wren was far more accomplished and battle-worn in her early adulthood than he had ever been at that age.

And that was before she had become the leader of her clan. The stories he had heard about Ursa Wren over the years . . . well, it was enough to chill the blood of any Mandalorian.

"Is there anything I can do to assist you this evening?" he asked. "You did call for me."

"Yes," she answered. He suddenly caught a gleam of mischief in the woman's eyes that sent a spike of anxiety coursing through him.

"Fix my daughter's love life."

Out of all the requests she had ever given him, this was by far the craziest one yet.

Feeling somewhat unsteady on his feet, Fenn Rau asked, injecting a calm that he did not feel into his voice, "I beg your pardon, Countess?"

She gestured at the data-pad laying on the table. "More offers continue to come for my daughter's hand in marriage."

"Ah," he said. "I take it she's responding to them in her usual manner."

Ursa snorted. "Brief and colorful, as always. I'm somewhat proud."

Rau frowned. "You don't wish to see her married?"

"I wish to see her married, yes. Securing Clan Wren's future, especially in these precarious times, is among my top priorities."

"Then why - "

"Because," the Countess interrupted, "I would see her married to a suitable partner of her own choice."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't your own marriage arranged, Countess?"

Ursa grinned. "Yes. By me. My parents threw a fit, of course, over my choice of Alrich. They had to save face somehow, insisting to the wider Mandalorian hierarchy that it was their doing."

Rau laughed. The Wren matriarch frowned at him. "What's so funny?"

"It's very . . . you, Countess."

"It should be," she responded. "I don't know how to be anyone else."

The data-pad suddenly chimed, indicating a new message. Ursa glanced at it and let out a soft groan.

"Another offer, I take it," observed Rau.

"Worse," muttered Ursa. "An invocation from three of the more insistent clans. They are demanding to invoke a Rite."

"Which clans?"

She checked the data-pad, eyes scanning the message. "Clan Eagan, Clan Cobel, and Clan Reghabi."

Fenn Rau grimaced. He had heard of these three - they were sharks in the water, smelling blood. They were ambitious, competent, and looking to claw their way up to the upper echelon of Mandalorian clan hierarchy. Outside of the larger war against the Empire, these three clans had been on the rampage, absorbing smaller clans under their respective umbrellas through back-door negotiations - or by force.

An invocation was a way for the smaller, less powerful families of Mandalore to force a response from the higher, elite clans. There always had to be at least three of them, Rau remembered.

Politically speaking, Ursa was in a bind. Yes, she could turn down the invocation, but it would weaken Clan Wren's stature in the eyes of Mandalorian society. Even during wartime, it could be a death knell. They were spread thin enough as it was and with the continued absence of Alrich - itself a weakening blow to the clan's political stature - their alliances were shaky at best.

It was only due to Ursa Wren's steely resolve that Clan Wren stayed ahead of their rivals, her efforts bolstered by her daughter's timely arrival with the legendary Darksaber.

However, there was a catch . . .

"You can still choose the Rite, if I remember correctly," he said. In the interests of fairness, the clan challenged could choose the manner of challenge.

"Yes," Ursa said, smugly. "And that is how I will settle this matter, once and for all."

His stomach sank. "You intend to go through with this?"

She shook her head. "I have no choice. Clan Wren can ill afford new enemies during this time. Desperate times, Rau."

Rau pursed his lips, thinking. Ursa eyed him. "Speak your mind," she prompted.

"You're playing games with your daughter's life, Countess," he pointed out - gently. "It's unlike you."

"Am I?" she asked, her voice whisper soft. A smile appeared on the matriarch's face - a surprisingly evil one, in fact.

He studied her, feeling the anxiety spike through him again. "I'm assuming you have plan for these games."

"Obviously," she replied. "I never would play games with my daughter's life."

Rau asked, "How do you intend to win?"

"How do you assure victory in anything?" she asked. "You rig it in your favor."

He considered Ursa's words. "That depends on the rite you choose. Which one will it be, Countess? The rite of woe, frolic, malice - or dread, perhaps?"

The evil smile grew wider. "I was thinking the Rite of Hearts."

He frowned. "I don't quite remember that one."

"I pose a question to the suitors," she answered. "How they answer will prove the winner of Sabine's hand in marriage."

He arched an incredulous eyebrow. "I remember now. It's not that simple. Isn't there a vote by each of the clans to declare the winner?"

The Countess laughed. "I don't intend to make it simple. You'll be helping me in that matter, Fenn Rau."

"I see." He really didn't but assumed that Ursa would explain later.

At least he hoped so. In her own way, the Wren matriarch was as unpredictable as her daughter.

"How do you intend to rig this in your favor?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Each of the clans will choose their suitor," Ursa explained. "I am allowed a choice, as well."

"Seems odd," he replied. "Regardless of the outcome, each of the clans will only vote for their own suitor."

"Unless they can be swayed to vote outside their own choice," Ursa corrected. "It can happen."

"I've never heard of it happening," he said. "Not in my lifetime."

She shrugged. "Depends on the candidate."

"Your candidate, you mean," he said. "Who would be brave enough to go along with this?"

She eyed him, the evil smile returning in full force.

A horrible thought occurred to him then: the image of a young man, piercing blue eyes, a scarred cheek, brandishing an emerald bladed lightsaber in the thick of combat.

"You can't be serious!"

"Deadly serious, Rau," Ursa confirmed. "He's the one."

Rau's mouth gaped open, his mind working furiously through the implications. "Countess - choosing him surely is against the rules?"

"I make the rules," she replied coldly. "It's my game now. We are at war - not just against the Empire but for my daughter's freedom. And that boy is my best bet against these sharks swirling around us."

He stared at her. It was a bold move indeed.

Rau didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe when his wits caught up with him, he could decide on that later.

"Shall I make the call, then?" he asked her.

"Yes, if you please," responded Ursa. Her face turned serious. "Get me a secure channel to the Ghost. I suspect Hera Syndulla will still be awake at this hour."

_ _ _ _ _

~ the suitors ~

Three days later

This was the worst day of Sabine's life. She stood in the hallway outside the Wren throne room, awaiting the summons. It felt like she was going to her execution.

On the wall in front of her, Sabine studied the painting hanging there. A portrait of her mother, commissioned by her father, Alrich, as a gift for their wedding day. She initially started to do so as a way to distract herself from the feeling of impending doom but as the minutes passed Sabine came to appreciate the details her father put into the work.

A labor of love, he had called it. Even then, he would privately admit to his daughter later, it did not do his wife's beauty justice.

(Pictured above: Alrich Wren's portrait of his wife, Ursa, given as a gift on their wedding day.)

"Feeling nervous?"

Sabine turned to find Fenn Rau, dressed in formal Mandalorian attire. A sleek, form fitting outfit that was militaristic in style, dyed in the traditional colors of Clan Wren. Sabine felt awkwardly out of place, wearing her customary beskar armor since she owned no dresses. It was hard to get any shopping done in the middle of an active war zone, she had come to learn.

Despite wearing his usual stoic expression, there was a glimmer of humor in Fenn Rau's eyes.

"I'm planning to vomit in front of everyone gathered in that throne room shortly," Sabine responded seriously.

He eyed her. "You don't trust your mother?" he asked.

"How can I trust her after this?" she asked. "She's bargaining away my freedom and - for what - a few meager alliances with some has-been clans?"

Rau's face became pained. "Sabine. If your mother thought this wasn't necessary, then you wouldn't be doing this. We are at war."

"We're always at war," she shot back. "Why now? These offers have been coming in since I got back a few months ago. She didn't seem to mind me turning them down then."

He sighed deeply. "Things change. Listen, Sabine - you know our resources and strength as well as she does. Tell me honestly that we do not need this."

Sabine bit her lip. She could not lie, not even to herself. Things were looking grim for Clan Wren. Even with the strength of the Darksaber backing up their clan, the Empire was everywhere with resources that far outstripped their own. And the Mandalorians were still scattered to the far reaches of the galaxy, hesitant to answer the call to take back their homeworld.

But still, she had hoped it would not come to this. Her mother had never been shy in expressing marriage as a viable future for Sabine, but Ursa had always been insistent that it would be her choice - and no one else's.

She thought of Ezra suddenly. The image of her best friend, far away on the Ghost or in the middle of some crucial mission for the Rebellion, brought a lump to her throat.

I miss you, goober, she thought miserably.

If it could have been my choice, Ezra . . .

She let that thought trail off, not daring to follow through with it. It was too late for that.

Far too late.

Duty calls.

Sabine came out of her reverie to find Fenn Rau looking at her with a surprisingly gentle expression. "You alright?" he asked.

"No," she said, her voice rough. "None of those people will ever love me the way I want. Nor will I ever love any of them."

Something almost like a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She was immediately suspicious. "What is it?" she demanded.

He shrugged, the almost smile vanishing instantly. "Trust your mother, Sabine," he said again.

She opened her mouth to reply with a snarky answer - and then a horn resounded through the hallway.

It was time.

Sabine took a deep breath, looking up at the portrait of her mother one last time. Once upon a time, Ursa had to go through an arranged marriage set up by her own parents. But that had resulted in her marriage to Alrich, the love of her life.

It worked out for you, she thought bitterly. I doubt it will do so for me.

The doors to the throne room opened. Fenn Rau offered his arm, a formal gesture reserved for Mandalorian royalty. Sabine took it gratefully and let him lead her out.

Sitting on her throne was Ursa, dressed in a sleek silver gown, similar to the one depicted in the portrait Sabine had just been studying. Her mother's eyes watched her carefully, flashing coldly in a warning that only her daughter would pick up on: Behave.

It took every fiber of restraint not to dash out of the room right then and there, but Sabine did it. Her clan was at stake.

This is the right thing to do, isn't it Ezra?

But her best friend was not here to console her. Sabine wondered if she would ever see him again after this.

They reached the center of the room, Ursa behind them on her throne, and faced the candidates from the different clans.

The three suitors were hidden beneath shimmer-silk cloaks, bequeathed to only the most important guests. Behind them were the clan heads, she assumed, also wearing cloaks to hide their faces. The introductions would begin shortly, each candidate and their sponsor lowering their hoods to reveal their faces.

Fun, fun, fun, Sabine thought. I might really puke from all this fun I'm having.

"Welcome," boomed Ursa's voice from behind her. "Welcome, honored guests, to Krownest and Clan Wren."

The three hooded clan heads responded in unison. "We seek an invocation, Countess Wren."

Sabine glanced behind her to see Ursa nodding in acknowledgement. "I accept this invocation."

They spoke again. "What rite would you ask of us?"

"The Rite of Hearts," Ursa said calmly.

There was a pause. The hooded clan members exchanged hidden looks with one another; Sabine caught some murmurs of surprise being whispered.

"I take it they're not happy about that choice," she whispered to Rau.

He shook his head, cutting off any further commentary from her. "Just watch."

But she caught that almost smile from him again. She's planning something, Sabine thought. Fenn Rau knows about it.

A small flicker of hope began to quietly burn inside her. It wasn't much, but she clung to it.

What are you planning, mother?

"We accept, oh gracious Countess," came the unified reply, albeit a tad reluctantly. Sabine got a sense of satisfaction from hearing it.

"Good to hear," Ursa said cheerfully. "You are all gathered here today to contest for my daughter's hand in the hereby declared Rite of Hearts. Are there any other challengers that wish to make themselves known?"

The front doors to the throne room blew open in a frigid gale of bitter wind. A person stood there, dressed in a humble hooded cloak of brown homespun wool. They were just a dark silhouette against the frozen tundra in the backdrop, unrecognizable - but Sabine caught a flash of their eyes beneath the hood.

Familiar, piercing blue eyes.

Sabine felt her pulse spike. It can't be.

The figure stalked forward, only to be met by a pair of Krownest guards, brandishing their pikes threateningly in his direction. He paused before them.

Ursa's command cut through the air. "Wait."

The guards stilled their approach but kept their weapons pointed at the new guest.

"Who are you to interrupt these proceedings?" she asked.

"A challenger," came the reply. "As you called for, I am here to make myself known."

Ursa arched an imperious eyebrow. "You wish to challenge against these others for my daughter's hand?"

"I do."

She stared at him for a few tense seconds - and then Sabine caught a smirk flashing across her mother's face for the briefest of moments.

"Very well," Ursa said. "I accept your challenge. I will be your sponsor, as is my right."

The clan heads snapped their hooded faces towards Ursa in shock and anger but didn't dare to raise a complaint. This was, after all, her house. They would obey her rules - or face the consequences.

The guards removed their weapons and went back to their posts. Fenn Rau hurried forward to close the front doors before returning back to Sabine's side. The guest stepped forward and took their place awkwardly next to the other suitors.

They glared at him. He gave a little polite wave only to be met with more glare.

"Seeing as though you came in such a dramatic fashion," Ursa continued calmly. "Why don't you introduce yourself first?"

There was a pause. "Oh, I'm supposed to do that now?" asked the guest.

Sabine stared at him - and then at Fenn Rau.

He shrugged. "Desperate times," he said quietly, in answer to her look.

"Yes," replied Ursa, sounding annoyed. "Unless you're waiting for something else?"

"Oh, uh. No. I guess I'll do that," he replied nervously.

And the guest carefully lowered the hood of his cloak.

There, in the throne room, presenting himself as a challenger for her hand in marriage was Sabine's best friend, Ezra Bridger.

"Hi, everyone," he said in greeting. Ezra caught Sabine's stare and gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm Ezra Bridger. A Jedi. And, uh, Sabine's friend."

The silence in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Sabine took a shaky step forward. Then another one.

Towards Ezra.

"You," she breathed. "It's you."

"Hey, Sabine," he said. "It's been a while - gah!"

She tackled him to the ground.

"Are you an idiot?!" she yelled, grabbing the front of his cloak and shaking Ezra. "Do you know what you've just agreed to, di'kut? Do you have some sort of death wish - "

"If you would just let me explain - glack!"

"Guards!" barked Ursa.

From behind her, Fenn Rau sighed deeply. "All according to plan, I suppose," Sabine heard him mutter, before the guards came to pull her away.

TO BE CONTINUED

#sabezra #sabezra fanfiction #sabine wren #ezra bridger #ursa wren #fenn rau #star wars rebels #stars wars #oh boy here we go #I promised i would never do another multi-part story #yet here we are #this one will be finished #i swear on my life #if you're wondering why there's a random picture of Dichen Lachman in here #it's because I think she's the perfect live action version of Ursa Wren #I am starting that campaign for her to be in Star Wars right here and now #I hope you all can see the vision

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