Ask Chandrila Kill Your Heart

[Song Wren]

Kyr’amur gar kar’ta. Kill your heart.

It was an ancient Mandalorian proverb. A belief that a warrior should never let their heart stand in the way of what needed to be done—to kill it if they must. Sentiment was weakness, and weakness had no place in battle. No place in the task at hand.

Because Song meant to kill a Sector Ranger.

Finding Amita Ghafa had come surprisingly easy. She was something of a hero among the locals, a retired veteran of the war against the Sith, and a few questions here and there had led Song directly to where she now lived: a modest estate outside Chandrila’s capital. A cottage by the sea.

Oak trees straddled the gravel path leading to the beautiful chalet, the leaves red and golden brown in the early winter breeze. Apples still grew from the boughs. Poppies still flowered in the meadows beyond. Even with the graying clouds in the sky and the threat of snowfall, this little corner of the countryside was thriving.

This wouldn’t be such a bad place to die in.

Song wasn’t sure if she would survive her encounter with the Ranger. She was alone, armed only with her brother’s knife and blaster. But why did she care? At least the nightmares of her brother would end. At least this long road to revenge would reach its conclusion. At least she could finally rest.

But what about Kanan?

The question swirled above her head, a fly she couldn’t quite swat away. She hadn’t wanted to leave him back on Serenno, she didn’t want to do this alone, but what other choice did she have? Let him risk his life? No. This was responsibility, and hers alone.

But even if she’d taken special care not to leave behind a paper trail or so much as a breadcrumb to follow, she wasn’t sure if Kanan would somehow figure out where she was. She only hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to try.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Since waking up in a forest on Serenno, sore and bruised and angry, one objective and one objective alone had occupied Kanan Marek’s thoughts, and that was reaching the planet of Chandrilla to find Amita Ghafa.

Even now, as the calming seas and rolling hills of the planet’s surface came into focus, the Sector Ranger felt his chest tighten, as if he could still feel the sting of two blaster bolts. The sting of betrayal. Glancing down, his hand absentmindedly clutched his chest.

River had betrayed him back on Serenno, and that wound was still fresh in his mind. Kanan had trusted River, and because of that he had let his guard down. He had been left alone and unconscious in the woods, slumped against a tree with only the grass beneath him. But not again. Not this time.

Like it or not, there was a political divide between River and Kanan, a divide that had existed before them and that was sure to exist years after they were dead and gone. The first was a Mandalorian and a Bounty Hunter, and the second was a Sector Ranger.

Kanan had been foolish to think that the two of them could move past these differences and work together. The galaxy didn’t work that way, and Kanan should have known that. He had been too trusting. But things would be different this time around. Kanan would make sure of that.

Stretching his fingers, he returned his hand to his side and descended the ramp of the transport as he attempted to clear his thoughts and focus only on the task before him. Now was not the time to be looking back. He had a Sector Ranger to find.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song neared the entrance of Amita’s quiet home. Save for the open windows, moss and honeysuckle vines climbed the sides of the cottage, and there was a cloying aroma wafting in the air, like freshly brewed tea. Her nostrils flared. Whatever it was, it meant someone was home. It meant she was home.

Song grabbed the doorknob, finding that it was, surprisingly, unlocked. Without thinking, she swept open the door and stepped inside.

The cottage was cute. Cozy. It was the kind of place she’d probably retire in too, if given the chance. There were fur pelts on sofa chairs, a hearth in the corner, potted flowers on every table. Shelves and shelves of books and souvenirs. Her brows furrowed, bleeding hope in her heart. Maybe Amita was no killer, after all.

Then she saw it.

Knives. There was a wide collection of them, set on stands or in display cases, with fancy sheaths and curved handles. Song remembered River’s body and the cuts between his armor. They’d been deep, but not enough to have been from a sword or a lightsaber. They’d been knife wounds.

Song stepped closer and the wood floor under her boots groaned.

“Rietveld? Is that you?” said a gentle voice from another room, soft as silk. Song barely heard the woman’s footsteps, only realizing she was there once she stepped into the full light of the living room. “Honey, had I known you’d be home early today, I…”

The woman’s voice trailed away as she stared at Song, at her Mandalorian armor, at the armor of the man she must have killed years ago. The joy on her face vanished and the smile on her lips dropped. One look into her eyes, and Song knew Amita Ghafa recognized the armor she was wearing.

The knives, the familiarity on her face—she knew.

It was a face full of guilt.

They stood there, watching each other in shocked silence. Amita wore a long braid over her right shoulder and a purple scarf. Her dark skin practically glowed in the light that spilled through the open door. She looked absolutely horrified.

Song didn’t know what possessed her in that moment. All she felt was rage and revenge, and the next thing she knew, she tackled the woman who'd murdered her brother.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Hanna City was a beautiful city full of life. Soft balm grass and Garren trees blew in the breeze, and the smell of flowers and fresh food filled the air. The streets were packed with people, all busy going about their own lives. Humans, Jawas, Mon Calamaria. The city was a melting pot of people.

Venders lined the streets, and as Kanan passed by a Jawa approached the ranger looking to make a sale.

“Utto nye usabia attoonyoba?” the Jawa asked eagerly of the ranger looming above him, but Kanan did not answer. He merely waved his hand dismissively, continuing to press onward toward the city’s edge. He had no time for distractions. He was on a mission.

But Kanan wasn’t the only one. The Mandalorian was sure to be close, hot on the trail of Amita Ghafa with an unquenchable vengeance driving his every move, but with any luck Kanan would beat River to the ranger.

River had the advantage of a head start, having left Serenno hours ahead of the ranger, but one advantage Kanan had was connections. He was, like Amita Ghafa, after all, a Sector Ranger. He had pulled Ghafa’s digital file from the Sector Ranger database, and he had reached out to a few mutual colleagues for further information.

Amita Ghafa had served with the Sector Rangers for years but had since retired, and she now resided outside of Hanna City, Chandrila’s capital, in a cottage by the sea. A storybook ending to an impeccable career it would seem.

Evidence was mounting against River’s brother. He had worked for Vasily Demidov, a prominent leader of organized crime with strong ties to the syndicates. He was not a good man by any account, and it stood to reason that the Mandalorian who worked for such a man, hired to save his flailing spice empire, had been no different.

Amita Ghafa, on the other hand, was a Sector Ranger and a war hero, loved by the locals and her fellow rangers. Her record spoke for itself. Yet there was one question that remained at the forefront of Kanan’s mind, a piece to the puzzle that didn’t add up. How had Amita Ghafa retired so early on a Sector Ranger’s salary?

Kanan intended to find out the answer to that and many other questions. As he topped the hill, the peaceful shores of the sea came into view and so did the cottage he was looking for. The soft wind blew through his brown hair, and the smell of the sea filled his nostrils. He was one step closer to answers.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

It was ferocious, a fight to the death.

Song hurled Amita into the next room, a pristine-looking kitchen, where a steaming kettle sat on a stove. They both collapsed onto floor, throwing punches at one another like wild animals. She slammed her elbow into the woman’s gut, knocking the air out of her lungs, while Amita jabbed her in the thigh, just between the plates of her armor. She let out a cry and staggered back.

There was no talking. No words to exchange. Only war.

Amita grasped at the boiling kettle and tossed it directly at Song’s face. Metal rang against her helmet and hot water spilled over her shoulders. Thankfully, her armor absorbed the worst of the heat, but some fell between the cracks, stinging flesh. It was superficial, nothing serious. If anything, it served to anger Song further.

She spun on her heel and landed a sinister kick on Amita’s side. She practically flew, smashing into her kitchen table, shattering wood and what glassware that had been left atop it—a porcelain vase full of dandelions, three cups of tea.

Amita was back on her feet in an instant. She whirled and kicked Song too, forcing her against a countertop. Even in her armor, the impact shuddered through her bones. She’s strong.

Song looked up and found Amita had dug into a stash of her kitchen knives, yanking them out from a bamboo rack. With astonishing precision, the former Ranger threw them her way, nearly cutting between her armor. Song did her best to dodge them, or by using the plates on her forearms to block each blow. Despite how quick they came, none landed.

Was Amita going easy on her?

Once the barrage of knives ended, Song craned her neck high. She grit her teeth, dug her nails into her palm, and charged at the young woman a second time. Amita, whether by choice or surprise, let her come.

She smashed the Sector Ranger through a flimsy wall inside the cottage, and suddenly Song was back in the living room, crashing into one of the sofa chairs. They were back to struggling on the floor, each driven by fear and fury. Song was almost blind with rage. She threw punches like a madwoman. It was unlike a Mandalorian, unlike the Song she’d once been.

She had become a monster.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Descending the hill, Kanan followed a small dirt path that had been forged by the locals. It weaved through the tall blades of balm grass, down toward the pale cream sands of the beach. It must have been a favorite spot of the locals as the path was well worn, but the beach was empty that day.

Just as well, the ranger thought to himself.

As Kanan reached the end of the dirt pathway and came into contact with sand, the wind began to pick up. The water, so calm and peaceful when he had arrived, had now turned choppy.

Seagulls were flying inland, seeking shelter, and in the distance wispy clouds could be seen moving across a dark sky. There was a storm coming, and if the immediate weather was any indication it wouldn’t be long until it arrived.

Thankfully, the cottage was close by. Kanan would not be caught in the rain, if he was lucky, but he wasn’t holding his breath. His luck seemed to have been running short of late.

He wasn’t holding his breath that he’d beat River to Amita Ghafa either. River had a good head start on him, and this mission was personal to the Mandalorian. Very personal.

Either way, Kanan intended to get answers. He wanted to know how River’s brother had been killed and why. Had it been murder? Or had it been a justified killing? Had Amita Ghafa even been involved? Was she secretly a cold-blooded murderer or was she the person she appeared to be, an innocent woman who River was about to descend on like a bad nightmare?

Drawing close to the cottage, the sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the air. It was the sounds coming from within the cottage that caught Kanan’s attention, however.

The sounds of a struggle, and a bad one. The front door was unlocked, so Kanan threw it open without hesitation.

He had not beaten River to Amita Ghafa.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Amita took on the brunt of Song’s blows with surprising resilience. It was a testament to her strength, because had she been any ordinary man or woman on the street, Song might have already killed her by now. Instead the Sector Ranger resisted, using her forearms to shield her face as she was pinned to the floor. Still, there’d be no easy escape this time.

This time, she’d finish the job.

Song reached for the knife on her belt, but heard wood creaking by the front door. For a split second she feared it was this “Rietveld” that Amita had called out to, but the face she saw by the door was worse. Her breath caught. “Kanan?”

Then she felt the dagger in her side.

Pain lanced through her gut. Distracted, Song had left an opening for Amita to strike with a hidden knife, right into her exposed hip. The stab was shallow, nowhere near enough to be fatal, but it didn’t change the tremendous amount of pain she was in, so she quickly staggered off Amita, clutching her side. Blood trickled between her gloved fingers.

Amita looked between her and Kanan before rising from the floor and grabbing one of the other knives on display. She fell into a defensive stance. And yet, she made no other move. No second strike. Why? Song had been wide open for the kill.

It doesn’t matter, she thought bitterly, and pulled out her own knife in direct challenge to Amita. Even if Kanan was here, she wouldn’t stop from getting her revenge.

The former Ranger held up her weapon, but in the long silence that followed, she wavered. “Who are you?”

“A Mandalorian,” Song said. “You killed my brother, and I’m here to see that you pay for his murder.”

Amita’s eyes hardened. She made no denial, no protest. She only nodded once, understanding, acknowledging the truth. It pained Song more than anything, but it was validation. A quiet confession. Would Kanan still interfere, knowing it was true?

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan’s eyes swept the room.

The cottage looked just as bad on the inside as the struggle had sounded from the outside. Perhaps worse. It was a disaster.

China and glass shards littered the floor. Furniture was turned over and torn. There was blood on the carpet, and there was a massive hole in one of the living room walls.

Through the hole in the wall, he could see into the kitchen. It didn’t look any better than the living room.

His eyes traveled to the woman and Mandalorian standing before him. They stood opposite of each other, both ready to pounce on the other at any given moment. Their blades were drawn, and blood dripped from the blade within Amita Ghafa’s hands.

She had known exactly where to stab. Blood dripped from River’s hip, angering Kanan. If he had gotten here earlier, perhaps all of this could have been avoided.

“Let’s just... let’s just all take a step back,” Kanan stated slowly, his hands in front of him in a calming manner. “I’m sure we can talk this out.”

He knew it wasn’t true. He was certain they could not talk this out, but he said it anyway. It was his job, and he wasn’t going to let the two of them kill each other without intervening. He wanted facts. Cold, hard facts.

Turning to River, his eyes stared into the cold, lifeless visor of the Mandalorian armor. “River, please...” he said quietly, almost imploringly. “Don’t... don’t you want answers first? Don’t you want to know what happened?”

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“Stay out of this, Kanan,” she said sharply, raising her knife toward Amita. “This is between me and her.”

Song had one palm pressed to her wound, trying to stem the bleeding. It wasn’t deep. Wasn’t enough to cause serious blood loss. Had Amita gone easy on her, giving her a warning blow instead of a killing one? It didn’t make sense.

She let Kanan’s next words roll through her mind.

Don’t you want to know what happened?

She did. Deep down, a part of her wanted to know everything. What happened between her brother and Amita? What were River's last words? Why did she choose to return his body to Krownest? Why did she retire so early into her career?

Suddenly, the answer to her last question came from outside, in the backyard where the poppies bloomed, in the sound of a little girl’s voice. “Mama?” the girl called, sweet as honey. “Mama, what was that sound? Are you okay?”

It was like another knife had been plunged into Song’s gut.

Amita had a child.

Song looked at the former Ranger and found her eyes had softened, the fear in them suddenly clear. Amita shook her head slightly, almost pleading. The look on her face was apparent. Not in front of my daughter.

The steps came closer to the house. It wasn’t until Song could spot the girl’s shadow in the kitchen that she hid her knife, sliding it into her waist belt. Amita did the same, tucking hers under a sleeve, and crossed the threshold to meet her daughter. “Nina,” she whispered, guiding her around the broken table. “Careful now, there’s broken glass. You might get hurt.”

The little girl, Nina, froze at the sight of the other two strangers. She looked around the wrecked cottage, the shattered porcelain on the floor, the bruises on her mother’s face and the blood trickling down Song’s leg. She stayed quiet for a long minute before asking, “Who’s this?”

Amita paused. “Don’t worry, darling,” she said. “These are old friends of mine. River and…” The former Ranger turned warily at Kanan, expecting him to answer.

Song only stood there, stunned into silence.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

A child? Kanan had not expected Amita to have a daughter, although he wasn’t sure why. She was only retired, after all. She wasn’t dead.

If there was one blessing to be found in the present situation, it was that both the retired ranger and the Mandalorian had put their blades away, concealing them for the sake of the child. With only one look, Amita had been able to convince River to put their fight on hold for the time being.

He was relieved and surprised, in all honesty, that River had been convinced so easily. Perhaps he had not been so totally consumed by revenge that he could not see reason in such matters.

Kanan wondered if Amita would be able to have such an affect on her own daughter. It wouldn’t be easy to convince the girl, young as she was, that everything was alright. The cottage was in shambles. There was a hole in the wall. River was holding his side in pain, blood dripping from the crack in his armor.

Still, all appearances against her, the retired ranger was trying her hardest, and Kanan had to hand it to her for that. It was plain to see that she cared deeply about her daughter.

As Amita guided her young daughter around the broken table in the kitchen, Kanan took the opportunity to move closer to River. The fighting would, presumably, resume at some point or another, and he wanted to be ready.

“You know,” he muttered under his breath so only River could hear, his eyes never leaving the mother and daughter in front of them. “You can be a real shabuir sometimes.”

It was one of the few words he knew in Mando’a. “Stunning me and leaving me in the forest on Serenno? Real classy.”

Amita’s eyes landed on Kanan, awaiting an answer, so he played along. “Kanan.” He offered the young girl a small smile.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Shabuir. It’d been years since Song heard the insult. Last time, it had been her brother to say it, back when they were ruddy children fueled by spite and with nothing to lose. For some reason, she didn’t feel her heart ache at its sound. Not from Kanan’s mouth. Instead, she almost felt a smile touch her lips, nostalgic. She was glad he was mocking and cracking jokes, despite everything she’d done to him.

Still, she was also furious. Angry that he’d raced to Chandrila in search of her with the intent to intervene in her fight.

“You didn’t give me a choice,” Song muttered over his shoulder. “But it doesn’t matter. You managed to drag your way out of that forest and back to me anyway.”

She wanted to punch him, to backhand his stupid, perfect face. At the same time, she wanted to wrap her arms around him into a bear hug. Song couldn’t deny the tiny part of her that was glad to see him. He’d cared.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

Amita was still kneeling before her daughter, pushing a loose strand of hair out of the girl’s face. The former Ranger smiled softly. “Nina,” she said. “I need you to go back outside. Why don't you find me and your father some more flowers? Just don’t come back inside until I call for you, okay?”

“But why, Mama?”

“That’s because my friends and I have some grown-up things to hash out. Better if you stay outside and play. Understand?”

The little girl nodded, but Song could see the fear and hesitation in her eyes. She shot the Mandalorian one last look, clearly skeptical of what her mother was saying, before turning and wobbling outside. Amita closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just the three of them. Alone.

Song was tempted to pull out her knife again, to resume the fight she’d started, but Amita only stood there, calm as the ocean.

“Tea?”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan’s blood boiled. “I gave you a choice,” he shot back under his breath, his eyes flickering toward the Mandalorian in a moment of lost control.

“I offered to help you. You’re the one that left me with no choice when you abandoned me in that forest.” His voice was accusing, his eyes hard and angry.

He looked down at River’s hand, still clutching the wound at his hip. Almost immediately Kanan redirected his gaze toward the mother and child in the kitchen, hoping his eyes hadn’t betrayed his concern as he crossed his arms, resisting the urge to examine the wound or apply bacta spray to it.

“Does it hurt?” he finally asked, his voice small and begrudging but unable to keep himself from asking.

Amita was still speaking to her daughter, Nina, telling her to go back outdoors and find flowers for her parents. If nothing else would, Kanan hoped that the sight of a mother knelt down, assuring her beloved daughter that everything was alright when she knew perfectly well that it wasn’t, would touch River.

That the sight would pierce through the thick beskar plating of his Mandalorian armor and soften his heart, even for just a moment. Just long enough for them to get some answers.

Perhaps Amita Ghafa was not innocent, though all signs seemed to suggest she was. Perhaps she had murdered River’s brother in cold blood, without provocation or reason. Or perhaps River’s brother was not the man that he believed him to be.

If Amita had murdered River’s brother, it would destroy her husband’s and her daughter’s lives, altering them forever. If River had been a thug for hire, a criminal, and Amita had acted out in self-defense, it would destroy River. He loved his brother more than anyone.

At that moment, Kanan hoped more than anything that some third party was responsible for the murder, that the retired ranger in front of them was nothing more than the dead Mandalorian’s last known contact, and that neither Amita or River would have to face a hard truth that day.

But somehow, Kanan knew better. The galaxy was rarely so kind.

He looked to River. He was the one who would decide what happened next.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“It’s fine,” she answered, and it was the truth. Although blood continued to seep between her gloved fingers, there wasn’t any cause for concern. At worst, it would leave a scar, another memento of revenge.

Amita’s offer of tea, an obvious attempt at a ceasefire, did little to calm the Mandalorian. The Ranger may have left her career behind, she may have settled down with a husband and daughter, but that wouldn’t be enough to change Song’s mind. She had family too, once. Now he was a feast for maggots.

Still, this was her chance to find answers. Closure. And knowing Kanan, he’d want her to hear Amita out. After what Song did to him back on Serenno, that was the least she could do.

So, slowly, she nodded.

Amita looked almost grateful before returning to the kitchen. She grabbed three porcelain cups from her cabinet and, with the kettle already on her stove, filled them to the brim with honeyed tea. Since the table had been absolutely wrecked, she served it to them in the living room, where they came to rest on individual sofa chairs laid with fur pelts.

Song didn’t bother drinking the tea. She wasn’t worried Amita had poisoned it, since the woman had been preparing it before she even arrived. Neither was Song worried about removing her helmet, since she’d had a drinking apparatus installed.

No, she simply didn’t want to give Amita the appearance of friendship. They were well past that point.

After the former Ranger had taken a sip of her own cup, Song was the first to break the heavy silence, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “You recognize this armor,” she said. “You didn’t deny anything when I accused you of killing the man who last wore it, but I want to hear the words from your mouth. I want to hear you say it.” She drew in a breath.

“Did you kill him? Did you kill my brother?”

Amita set down her tea. She looked pained, remorseful. Guilty.

“I did.”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Tea.

Kanan hated hot tea, but if it meant the two of them wouldn’t be tearing into each other’s throats or stabbing one another or throwing each other through walls and into furniture, he would agree. It was a start toward answers, which was a common desire he believed they all shared.

Perhaps, at that moment, it was all that they shared.

It didn’t take Amita long to fix three cups of steaming hot tea, and then the three of them settled on three chairs in the living room. What was left of the living room anyway.

The smell of honey wafted from the cup set before Kanan, and he couldn’t deny that it smelled good. He couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. One sip was all he took before returning the cup to its saucer.

He still hated hot tea.

River hadn’t touched his. Unsurprising. Kanan had never seen the Mandalorian drink anything, even when he was relaxed and at ease, which wasn’t that often. He certainly wasn’t going to relax and have a cup of tea now, not with his brother’s likely killer only feet away from him.

A hot cup of tea and a plush arm chair weren’t going to soften him, nor did it change the atmosphere of the cottage.

The room was silent, uncomfortably so. The sound of sea waves washing up onto the beach and the occasional sound of a sea gull circling above the only sounds that occupied the room for some time.

Until River spoke, and the silence was over, and finally, the Mandalorian had the answer to the question he had been searching for for years. Amita Ghafa had killed his brother, and the long, hard, painful search was over.

His brother’s killer had been found. She sat in front of him in an arm chair, feet away and within the Mandalorian’s grasp.

Now began the next part of River’s search: justice.

Silence filled the room again following the retired ranger’s confession, and as nothing more was said, Kanan dared to ask, “What happened? Why did you kill him?”

Kanan’s eyes darted toward River, unsure if he had crossed some line by asking the question himself. But he still had a job to do.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song clenched her fist. She wasn’t remotely surprised by Amita’s answer. It was confirmation, loud and clear. There would be no denying what had happened. No going back. The line was crossed, and once this conversation was finished, Song knew what needed to be done. For River, she thought. For Mandalore.

Still, she wasn’t prepared for Amita’s next words.

“I killed him because I had no other choice,” the young woman said, hands clasped nervously together, eyes on the hardwood floor. “I was conducting an undercover operation against a minor crime lord in the Five Syndicates. Busted spice dealers, rooted out depots and sweatshops. There were slaves, did you know that? Women, children. Nobody deserves to live that way, and I had to do something about it.”

Song shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She wanted to believe this was an elaborate lie made to garner sympathy, something to throw doubt into Kanan’s mind, but she knew how the Syndicates worked. Everyone did. Such was the job of a Sector Ranger—to make sure things like that never happened.

“Of course, my efforts didn’t go unnoticed. This crime lord, Vasily Demidov, contracted a bounty hunter to hunt me down. Your brother.” Amita cast a wary glance at Song. “I was at home with my family back in the city, because my husband works for the local government. I thought we were safe. I was wrong.”

“He came in wearing that armor,” said Amita, gesturing to Song’s helmet, or at least what used to be River’s. “My husband tried to stop him, but he was too fast. Shattered his leg. He almost got me, too.” Amita pulled away her purple scarf to reveal a thin burn scar across the side of her neck. “My daughter was crying so hard. It must have caught him by surprise, because he turned his gun on her and… I don’t know.”

“I had to do something about it,” she repeated. “So I did.”

Song smashed her hand against her untouched cup of tea. Shards of porcelain cut into her gloves, but she didn't care. She didn't want to believe this. She couldn't. "Liar," she said, and yet, why didn't she sound like one?

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Sweatshops and slaves. Those two words were synonymous with each other, especially in a Sector Ranger’s line of work. It was easy for Kanan to picture the scene Amita was laying out before them.

Spice was good business for crime syndicates, and good business meant large demand. The crime syndicates had to get workers fast, and women and children were among the easiest. Why pay someone to work when you could force them to work and keep all of the profits for yourself?

Just the thought of it made Kanan’s blood boil.

And the thought that River’s brother had been a part of that, had worked for Demidov and on his orders attempted to kill Amita and her family. Even her little girl...

Kanan knew he would have done exactly the same thing had he been inshoes.

Still, as despicable as River’s brother was being painted out to be, Kanan’s thoughts were for River. Despite everything that had happened between the two of them on Serenno, despite whatever was about to happen, Kanan believed in his heart that River was a good man. And a good friend, even if he could be a jerk sometimes.

Kanan couldn’t imagine what River must have been going through in that moment, what must have been going through his mind. His brother meant the world to him.

The sound of a porcelain cup of tea shattering into a dozen pieces tore Kanan from his thoughts. He stared at the Mandalorian for a moment, watching as blood begin to stain his gloved hand.

Kanan wanted to choose his words carefully, to say something comforting to his friend, but there really wasn’t time. The situation needed to be defused before it could escalate again, and he doubted anything he could say would be of much help anyway.

“River,” he began, still unsure of what to say but settling with, “For what it’s worth, I believe her.”

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song’s hand curled in on itself, tightening into a fist. It couldn’t be true. She’d traveled the galaxy searching for River’s murderer. When she came to Chandrila, she'd expected them to be cruel and without remorse, another monster for her to put down. Instead, she was facing a wife, a mother, a woman with guilt in her heart and a weight on her shoulders.

Of course it wouldn’t be so simple. Revenge never was.

“You don’t have to believe me,” said Amita, looking over at her with those soft brown eyes, as if she could see straight through her armor. “I don’t think he ever meant to hurt my daughter, but at the time, I had no idea what to think. I only acted in order to save my family and myself.”

Was it still murder if it was self-defense? Was it wrong for Song to call her revenge justice? No, she thought. Everything Amita's saying is a lie. But still, why did it not sound like one?

Why did Kanan believe her?

“You can’t mean that,” Song said to him. Although he might not see the look on her face, he could probably hear the betrayal in her voice. “You didn’t know him like I did.”

She pointed an accusatory finger at Amita. “My brother was a Mandalorian. He was a man of honor.”

Amita cast her a pitying look. “I’m sure he was, but the man that stepped into my home that day didn’t seem like one.” Her face darkened. “There was no honor in crippling my husband, or in attacking me during the night in my own bed, or in threatening my infant daughter. He may have been Mandalorian, but he was a bounty hunter working under a Syndicate crime lord.”

“You would understand, right?” Amita looked at Kanan remorsefully. “I know a Sector Ranger when I see one. I don’t know what your relationship is with this man, but you must know what the Five Syndicates are like. You know how it changes people. Corrupts them. Even good men can become merciless criminals.”

“That’s what money and power can do to people, and in turn, we suffer for it. Our loved ones suffer for it.” Amita turned to the window, perhaps seeking out her daughter in the field of poppies outside. “It’s why I retired after that. Why I left the Sector Rangers. I couldn’t risk my family getting hurt because of me.”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

River’s Mandalorian helmet could hide a lot, but it couldn’t hide the sound of betrayal in his voice. Nor did Kanan believe River was trying to hide it.

River was, briefly, exposed. Vulnerable, even. Most of all, he was hurting. Confused. Kanan did not envy the position he was in.

To search for something for so long, to dedicate your life to it, your every waking moment focused solely on that one goal only to have it knocked out from under you when you had finally attained it. To discover that it was all a lie. That everything you’d believed, everything you’d fought and bled for was a lie.

A hollow, miserable lie.

It would be... crushing. Guilt knotted in the pit of the ranger’s stomach at the sound of River’s voice. Staring into the lifeless visor that held so much more behind it, he wished more than anything that River’s brother was everything River believed him to be.

But Amita was right. People weren’t always what they appeared to be. People, like everything else in this forsaken galaxy, were complicated. People changed. Life changed, wether you liked it or not. Wether you were ready for it or not.

Perhaps the three of them knew that better than most.

“I’m sorry, River,” Kanan said, his voice soft as he reached a hand out to place on his friend’s shoulder.

He wasn’t sure how The Mandalorian would react, if he would lash out or remain silent. Both reactions would be understandable given the circumstances.

“But I do.”

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song brushed him off, her shoulder snapping away from Kanan’s gentle hand. “Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice ugly, hateful.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the Ranger would side with Amita. Song had expected it, and it was why she’d stunned him back on Serenno, afraid that he would stand in her way. Still, to hear the words from his mouth—it hurt.

She didn’t want to believe that her brother had become the very monsters she hunted, but deep down, she couldn’t deny the possibility. After River had earned his armor, he’d left Krownest to make a living on his own, to prove his worth to father. He had been gone for years. There was no telling what had happened to him during that time.

Amita wasn’t wrong, either. The Five Syndicates changed people. The galaxy did. Song was already a cold-blooded bounty hunter in the Guild, but what might have happened if she joined the Five Syndicates instead? What if she hadn’t met Kanan? What if River didn’t have someone like the Ranger, guiding him toward doing good?

She looked at Amita, hating the pity in her eyes.

“Just tell me one thing,” Song said, knowing it was pointless to argue. “Why did you return my brother’s body? Why travel across the galaxy and risk exposing yourself to the family of the man you murdered?”

Amita frowned. “Because he asked me too.”

Song flinched, taken aback. “What?”

“He was dying. Nothing could change that. I thought he would just fade away in silence, but there was still life left in him. K’atini, he kept repeating, over and over again. I thought he’d gone mad, but when I moved closer to him, he took my arm. I was afraid he’d attack again, but he just asked me to remove his helmet.”

“So, I did.”

Song closed her eyes. K’atini. Suck it up. It was the phrase she and River always said to each other during training, or forest hunts and mountain expeditions. Amita couldn’t have possibly known what it meant to her.

“He looked sad, regretful. Not the bounty hunter who broke into my home, but a man who’d simply made the wrong choices.” She sighed. “He begged me to return his body to Krownest. I didn’t want to, not after what he did, but to my people, a dying request is sacred. Enemies or not, he was still human. Nobody deserves to die alone.”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan’s heart sank, as if the guilt in his stomach wasn’t enough already. Resigned, a small sigh passed the ranger’s lips, and his hand fell back to his side where it belonged.

Just like on Serenno. Except River hadn’t thrown him into a tree. Yet.

Even River, determined as he was to believe Amita Ghafa was a liar and a cold-blood murderer, would have to admit her words rung true.

It was Kanan’s job to tell when people were lying, to catch them in a deception. He was in the company of liars and cheats on a daily basis. He knew he was fallible, as were his methods, but he did believe Amita Ghafa, nonetheless.

He could see no deception in her words, and he felt that she meant everything she said. After nearly nine years on the job, he had learned to trust his gut. Sometimes, as a Sector Ranger, it was all you had.

Amita’s account matched up with Demidov’s. The matter seemed... settled. Done. Case closed.

And yet, it didn’t feel settled at all. It felt as far away from settled as it could feel.

Kanan couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty. He couldn’t allow his friendship with River to make him turn a blind eye or ignore what he believed to be right.

Had he believed Amita Ghafa to be a killer, guilty of murdering River’s brother and stealing from him the person he cared about most, Kanan would have gladly stepped aside. He would have let River taste revenge— justice.

But he didn’t. He believed Amita was telling the truth, and he would fulfill his duty as a Sector Ranger, no matter how hard it might be.

But hopefully, he wouldn’t have to. Hopefully, River would make that decision on his own. The decision to walk away. It would, perhaps, be the hardest decision he’d ever made.

“What you did was... honorable,” Kanan finally spoke. His gaze shifted from the Mandalorian to Amita. “Most would not have done the same in your position.”

@Feng Mian