Ask Returning to the Nest

[Song Wren]

This thread takes place after Kill Your Heart, and months before Circle of Life.​

Kanan had suggested he could stay inside the hull, wrap up in a sleeping bag and wait for the worst to die down, but Song wouldn’t have it. For him to remain under lock and key in a ship he spent days traveling in made no sense. He came to Krownest with her for a reason, and he deserved to see more of it than through the tiny slit of a window or from the comfort of the cockpit. It was why he stood by her side. Why he was dressed to the neck in armor, because you could not walk the grounds of the Wren Stronghold without it.

“Only speak when you are spoken to,” she continued to say to him. “When you walk, look straight, but not too high. They respect strength, but not pride. Oh, and whatever you do, no gawking. Stare. At. No one. Do you understand?”

Song felt like a mother by the way she was lecturing him in Mandalorian etiquette. It was ridiculous. She should not be this worried, but she couldn’t help it. Her father had always been a stickler for tradition, even if he rarely practiced the Way of Mandalore. If he still had a grudge against her, he would be looking for any reason to punish or humiliate her before his men. The same went for Kanan. Since he was an outsider, he was at constant risk.

Maybe it was wrong to have brought him.

No, she thought. She would need his support in the days to come. Or his blasters, depending on how her father would react to their meeting. Escaping the Steel Court was not something that could be done alone.

But as she and Kanan neared the stronghold, she suddenly felt escaping it would be impossible. It was heavily defended, far more than she last remembered. Turrets were positioned around its perimeter and there was at least a dozen Mandalorians waiting by the front entrance, weapons unholstered. Her heart careened from beat to beat. Would her father even allow her to enter?

The answer came when the soldiers parted. Song let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The first step was over. Now, she just had to survive the next hundred.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Krownest was exactly the way Song had described it. It felt untouched. From the mountains to the evergreen forests, the whole planet was covered in a blanket of snow so pure and white that Kanan was almost surprised he couldn't see his own reflection in it.

Wren Stronghold loomed ahead of the pair, strategically placed among the mountains and trees. A structure of steel and glass, it was beautiful in its own right, just like its surroundings. As impressive as its architecture was, you couldn't overlook the fact that it was a stronghold. The turrets lining it and the Mandalorians guarding it made that impossible.

Kanan didn't think Song had taken a single breath since leaving the ship. She was treating him as if the Sector Ranger was a child instead of a full grown man who hunted down criminals and threw them behind cell bars for a living.

"Yes, mother," he replied.

He was tempted to add, "Is my chin clean too?" but thought better of it and bit back the retort. Song was under a lot of stress. This was the first time she had returned to Krownest since stealing her brother's Mandalorian armor, taking his identity as her own, and flying off with her father's old ship in search of her brother's killer. Every step she took through the snow brought her closer to a reunion with her family, and there was no telling how that would go.

She was worried, and maybe about more than just herself by the way she kept fretting over him. It was touching, actually. It was nice to have someone who cared enough about you to worry. He would have done the same were he in her shoes, but he hoped it did not become a distraction for her. He didn't want to get in her way. All he wanted was to be beside her.

Whatever lie ahead, Kanan had willingly signed up for. No one dragged him here, no one coerced him to come. He was ankle deep in snow because he wanted to be. This was difficult on Song, emotionally and possibly physically, if this reunion took a turn for the worst. He was there for her, however it turned out, and he would die before he'd let anything happen to her.

Kanan would have made a joke along the lines of "Can I at least stare at you?" to lighten the mood but wasn't sure what Song would think about a comment like that. Instead he whispered in an assuring tone, "I'm right behind you."

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song rolled her eyes at him. “Good,” she said back to him. “It’s nice to know you don’t need me to hold your hand, too.” Her boots thudded on the pristine floors of the stronghold. She’d never thought she would find herself in here, in the halls of the ancestral home of Clan Wren.

News of her father’s rise as Count had come as a surprise. Her uncle had been ruling Krownest comfortably for the last decade, trying to follow in the steps of their ancestors in rebuilding the clan since the Great Purge. But after his unexpected death during a hunt in the mountains, her father had taken his place—including his spot at the Steel Court.

Right about now, he would be resting in the throne room, waiting, but as Song neared its doors, she paused. She cast one last look over to Kanan. “Whatever happens… don’t wait for me.” Then the double doors parted open, and Song drifted through.

The throne room was vast. Bleak. Natural light poured through the grand windows and glass chandeliers hung low from vaulted ceilings, but nothing shimmered or glowed. There was no warmth in this hall. It was nothing like the quiet home she’d lived in with her mother and father growing up, back in the evergreen forests.

A mural of her father, standing tall before what looked like a glorious battlefield, was fixed to the wall. And below it was a throne, carved of marble and alabaster stone, set above a series of steps so whoever sat in it would be looking down upon anyone who dared to stand before them. It only took one glance for Song to see the man resting on that throne. Her own flesh and blood. Her father, Ghent Wren.

She drew in a breath and, swallowing her worries with it, bowed low onto one knee. “Father,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Maybe need isn't the right word, he mused to himself before his thoughts were lost, drowned out by the echo of Song's boots against the marble floor.

They stopped short of the double doors at the far end of the entrance hall. "Don't be ridiculous," is what the Sector Ranger would have replied if given the chance, but the double doors swung up. Silently, without so much as a single creak. The throne room lie beyond, cold and unforgiving just like Krownest.

It was just as well. Kanan wouldn't have agreed to leave her behind under any circumstances, but it was foolish to bicker about it now, here with her father watching. Song could be so stubborn. Kanan cast one final glance at her, wondering what she must have been thinking. Then he fixed his gaze straight ahead, just as she had instructed him.

This large, ornate stronghold could be her new home, if she and her father reconciled and so desired. Very soon, she might be passing through these doors on a daily basis, walking toward the throne where her father would sit awaiting her. Father and daughter, reunited. It wouldn't be so bad. She would be home, with her family. At least here she would be safe, untouched by the majority of the galaxy. Hopefully she would be happy, and maybe she'd even stay out trouble, although Kanan knew that wasn't likely.

As they neared the throne, Kanan hung back. Song had coached him on nothing but Mandalorian etiquette since landing on this icy world, but he wasn't sure what the protocol for this was. He remained a few feet behind her, out of the way, as she knelt before her father seated comfortably on his throne. Above Ghent Wren hung a large painting of himself standing victorious in battle.

So much for not respecting pride... the Sector Ranger thought to himself, standing still and silent and awaiting a signal from Song should he, too, need to kneel before her father. He wasn't crazy about the idea, but he would do it if it was expected of him. Ghent Wreng was the Count, after all, and that demanded respect.

@Feng Mian

 

[The Storyteller]

Count Ghent Wren sat upon his throne in full armor, which was visually similar to the shell Song had worn while disguising herself as a man. The helmet bore the same shape as River Wren's own, and were it not for the gold accents that filled the hollows of the helmet's cheeks or formed a stripe above its visor, the two would be identical. Much of the rest of Ghent's armor was the same, denoting his regality, his lordship over Krownest and all of the Wren.

Ghent wore the armor to audiences for two reasons: it immediately established his position atop the pecking order, and the emotionless mask kept all in its gaze guessing as to the face beneath. Was the Count angry? Was he contemplating his next move? No one could say, and that fear was useful to a ruler. Particularly one who had succeeded his much more popular brother.

"Daughter." The word, spoken tonelessly beneath the Count's mask, hung in the air like a guillotine before the drop. Ghent held it a beat, then two. Just long enough to let Song wonder what the next words would be—if there even would be a next word. After all, he held a spear of pure beskar in his left hand like a king's scepter. Song had to know the weapon was not just ceremonial.

But before she could get any ideas about how he might try to use it, he let the tension in the room fizzle out by rising to his feet and speaking words he didn't think she'd expect him to say. "This is an auspicious day. You've been away from home far too long. Your safe return calls for much celebration."

Ghent's gaze slid past his kneeling daughter to her companion, a tall and muscular man with well-groomed brown hair. His lack of armor and decorum clearly ruled him out as a fellow Mandalorian, which meant that his daughter had been busy making friends during her travels. And, if his plans were to come to fruition, it would pay to know exactly who those friends were.

"And I see you've come with company," Ghent said, careful to keep his tone neutral, so neither Song nor the man knew exactly what he thought about him. "Rise, and tell me what brings you and your companion into my halls after so many years apart." @llamallove @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“Celebration?”

The very word was a shot to her heart. She flicked her eyes up to him, unable to hide her surprise. Song had never expected to be welcomed back with open arms, no less with a call for festivities. It was an impossible thought. It had to be some kind of elaborate lie, or a trick, but his face was unreadable and the neutral sound of his voice told her what he was saying was nothing but the truth.

Who else was there to say it wasn’t?

As Ghent descended the dais, still, her heart hammered. The long look he offered Kanan made her uneasy, but it was better than a rebuke—better than anything she could have hoped for, honestly—so why was she so nervous? Song climbed to her feet. Her father had always been taller, a looming figure during her childhood. Even now she felt like a child again, a shrunken girl in the shadow of a real, tried and true Mandalorian.

“I dishonored you, Father. I stole your ship. I stole River’s armor for my own. I’d hoped to find revenge for him, and I have. Now I’ve come back to return what’s his and yours, and I hope to earn your forgiveness in service to our clan.” She bowed her head again. It was a half-truth. She’d never avenged her brother, only come to terms with his death. But if it meant pleasing her father, Song could afford a fib or two.

She nodded to Kanan. “My companion is a Sector Ranger. I’ve brought him hoping he may be able to help us. He’s saved me more times than I can count, and I owe him my life.” Song looked over her shoulder, the glint in her eye trying to say, This is the part where you introduce yourself. She prayed he didn’t end up making an embarrassment of himself.

@llamallove @Mockingjay

 

[Kanan Marek]

The prodigal daughter was to be welcomed home with open arms after all. Her betrayal forgiven and forgotten, the Count would receive her into the halls of his stronghold as a daughter dearly missed instead of a wayward Mandalorian seeking to make restitution for her past.

It was unaccountable behavior when Kanan considered the description Song had given of her father. On Felucia, she had described him as not only a rigid Mandalorian but a rigid father with an implacable amount of resentment, who had always preferred his son to his daughter. A father that blamed Song for her brother's untimely death and wished that it had been her lifeless body that stained the snow of Krownest crimson instead of his son's.

Had Song's father changed in her absence or was there an ulterior motive that lurked beneath the surface of his words? Kanan's experience with human nature suggested that people rarely changed, but he would keep an open mind and allow the cards to fall where they might.

Count Wren's invitation and welcoming manner apparently surprised Song as well. She echoed his call for a "celebration," as if she couldn't believe the words he spoke. Hidden beneath regal Mandalorian armor accented with gold, the Count was impossible to read. His tone was steady and detached. That made him unpredictable, likely the effect he desired to have upon all those who approached his throne.

The Count's gaze passed over Kanan, the visor of his Mandalorian helmet as cold and unforgiving as the throne room that surrounded him. His opinion of Kanan would remain to be seen, but the Sector Ranger was not holding out hope. It was unlikely that the Count's assessment would be favorable with only the recommendation of his daughter in Kanan's favor. The Count was no doubt a man who made up his own mind, and Kanan was an outsider. Kanan was indifferent to this probability, but he would give the Count no reason to dislike him wherever it could be avoided, if premediated contempt was the Count's intention.

The Mandalore Sector was within the boundaries of the Free World's Alliance, but that meant nothing here. Ghent Wren was the lord of Krownest, and it would be in Kanan's best interests to remember that. It had been his intention to not speak until spoken to, as Song had directed him, but she threw him a look over her shoulder that suggested otherwise.

Kanan took a single step forward and bowed his head respectfully toward Count Wren. "Kanan Marek, at your service."

@Feng Mian @Mockingjay

 

[The Storyteller]

Ghent's gaze lingered on Kanan a moment, considering. The Sector Rangers had never been part of his designs, but he wouldn't be a Mandalorian alor if he expected everything to always go according to plan. Sometimes plans came with sudden turns, or even a wrench in the gears. Kanan Marek was neither of these—not yet. And if he played his cards right, he never would be.

"The reputation of the Sector Rangers precedes you, Kanan Marek," Ghent said. "And, if my daughter is not being boastful, I have you to thank for her presence here today. For that, you are welcome in my halls."

Ghent turned slightly, affixing his gaze back upon his daughter. It had been so long since he last saw her, and he still remembered the cold rage he had felt when he learned she had stollen his ship and his dead son's armor. That rage had followed him for months, and many of his fellow clansman had borne the brunt of it until it had passed. Now, as the alor to Clan Wren, and the Lord of Krownest, it would be easy to punish Song for her transgressions. But his lordship had come with a considerable dose of wisdom.

Song returned to him a capable warrior—more capable than she'd been when she left him, more capable than even his son River had been before he died. She was a true Mandalorian now. One who had tasted loss, perhaps many times in her absence. That loss would make her stronger, and her strength could in turn increase the power of Clan Wren. She would pay for her crimes; but not in a cell, and not a whipping post. Instead, for the time being, Ghent would punish her with kindness, and then he would work her to the bone for the sake of her clan. It was, after all, what she had asked him for.

"Lift your head, daughter," Ghent said. "A warrior of Krownest should not be so quick to humble herself, even before a man on a throne." As he said the word, he slumped into the seat behind him. "That you have honored River's name and avenged him pleases me. Whatever offense you paid me in the name of this action, I forgive, by blood and by bone."

Here, he changed his tone, a deliberate choice, though his helmet would conceal that choice from his daughter. Now, he sounded more somber, more withered, as if the years since she'd seen him had eroded the man she had known instead of emboldened him.

"I am truly glad that you have returned to me, Song," he said, using her name for the first time. "Much has happened in your absence. This is not how I would have had you learn of this, but as your father and leader, I must be frank with you." He paused long enough for anticipation to set in. Then, he hit her with it. "Your mother is dead, child."

And now the gears were in motion. @llamallove @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song raised her head, unable to hide her surprise. Forgiven. The very word had lifted a weight from her neck. For so long she’d been waiting for this moment, hoping and praying day and night her father might have some mercy in his heart—but to actually hear him say the words? It was short of a miracle. She’d rehearsed this meeting a hundred times, but in the end, it didn’t matter. She was the daughter of Ghent Wren once more.

But whatever joy or relief she may have felt in that moment instantly evaporated by what he said next.

A shaky laugh escaped her throat. “That can’t be right,” Song said with the shake of her head. “No, that couldn’t—no.” Denial clung to her like a leech. “You’re lying.”

And yet, when she looked at her father and the cold, emotionless glare of his armor, she knew he wasn’t. This was not a trick or a poorly made joke. This was reality. Haliya was dead. Her mother was dead. Song had spent so long out catching bounties and pursuing River’s murderer that she’d missed her mother’s passing, her burial. She had neglected what was left of her family, and now they were gone.

“No,” she whispered, ashamed by how small her voice had become. Her mouth opened and closed as if to say something more, but no words came out. Her eyes wandered back and forth, toward the ceiling and sky, lost and afraid. Tears began to form, but she fought to hold them back. She didn’t want to look weak before her father, let alone in his throne room. She needed to be strong. Song had to be more than in pain.

Still, even standing was a struggle.

She turned to Kanan. Desperately she wanted to take his hand, to scream at him, to punch him in the chest or to fall into his arms, but she stayed there, silent as the grave. Gods, she was a fool. A lousy daughter. A washout Mandalorian who failed to protect her own family.

Song sucked in a breath. Now, thoughts of how swarmed her mind and she couldn’t help but imagine the worst. A pack of hungry white wolves. A band of marauders and unwelcome outsiders. A paralyzing disease. Each thought circled back to one, terrible question: had she died alone?

That flame of revenge she’d smothered back on Chandrila stirred, sparking back to life, and her pain quickly transformed into anger. Song stared up at her father, the emotion in her eyes clear.

“How?”

@llamallove @Mockingjay

 

[Kanan Marek]

The Count's words were spoken steadily. Outside of a passing interest for his daughter's choice in companions, he had no particular interest in Kanan, but the words "you are welcome in my halls" were more than Kanan could have hoped for. They certainly were not the words Kanan expected to hear from Count Wren, especially so soon after meeting him.

All Kanan had to recommend him to the Mandalorian lord was the word of his daughter, but it appeared that, for the present, that was enough to satisfy the Count. The Sector Ranger wasn't to be thrown out into the snow or driven from the grounds of the stronghold to find his own way off of the icy planet.

Not yet, anyway. There was no telling what the future held.

Ghent Wren was a stranger to Kanan, unpredictable and unknowable behind his suit of Mandalorian armor. The words he spoke were inconsistent with the account Song had given of him, but people and places changed. Nothing ever stayed the same, not even the people closest to you. Song had been away a long time, and a lot had changed since her departure from the snow covered world. Her mother had died.

Ghent Wren was slumped against the back of his chair. He almost looked tired, weary even. The confession he made was spoken with hesitation. Kanan's dark eyes moved from the count ahead of him to Song.

She was in shock, in denial of the words her father had spoken. She did not want to believe that her mother was dead, and who could blame her? After all these years spent traveling the galaxy in search of her brother's killer, alone and estranged from her family, she had returned home to Krownest in the hopes of being reunited once again with her mother and father.

It was hard enough to return without a beloved brother, burdened with the knowledge of his checkered past and passing. Now she was to endure a future without her mother. A future with the only family she had left, the Mandalorian warrior slumped in front of her. Her father, Ghent Wren.

Briefly, she turned to Kanan, her eyes swimming with emotions. Denial. Regret. Grief. Anger, perhaps most of all. He wanted to reach out to her and comfort her in some small way, but no words spoken and no touch given could ease the pain she was experiencing, no matter how well intentioned. He knew that.

Such an action would probably go against Mandalorian conduct, but despite this Kanan placed a hand on her shoulder. Squeezing gently once, he allowed his hand to fall back into place at his side as he silently awaited an answer to Song's question "How?"

@Feng Mian @Mockingjay

 

[The Storyteller]

Kanan's touch to Song's shoulder did not go unnoticed by Ghent. It was a gesture of solidarity, or perhaps something more. Whatever it meant, Ghent was now determined to discover the extents of their relationship with one another. Else, Kanan could become a thorn in his side in the very near future. Regardless, that investigation could wait for a moment. For now, his daughter still needed tending.

"Lung infection," he replied. "As she worsened, she elected to retire to the countryside, to the home where she raised you and River. She passed there peacefully. I do not believe she was in any pain when it happened."

He offered the last bit of information as a small comfort. If Song believed her mother had died in terrible agony, her grief might be transformed into rage. Even now, Ghent could see that spit of fire that had sparked after River's death reappearing in his daughter. The last thing he needed was her flame fixed to him. So he tossed her a bone and gave her a moment to chew on it; but this talk wasn't over just yet.

"Your mother relentless. More importantly, she did her duty. Because of her work," Ghent said, "I have been able to manage the business of our family and increase our foothold in the Mandalore sector. Now that she is gone, there is a great hole in our Clan. We are vulnerable—or we were, until you returned, daughter."

He let the words, their implications, hang in the air a moment. Let their meaning sink in. Song was astute. She always had been. She would catch his meaning immediately, of this, he had no doubt. She had returned to Krownest to obtain her penance and work for the family. She had already received one, and now she would fulfill the other.

"I need to know that I can count on you to carry out my will for the sake of our family. I need to know that you will fill the shoes left empty by your mother's absence." He paused, turning slightly to bring Kanan into view. "And, perhaps, your Sector Ranger friend could put himself to good use in aiding you in this endeavor."

He would expect an answer from both. @llamallove @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

A lung infection, he’d said. The very word was another knife in her gut. She could already imagine her mother confined to a sterile bed, skin pale and clammy, her life trickling out one bleeding cough after the next. She only hoped her father was telling the truth when he said her mother had passed peacefully. News of her death had nearly destroyed Song, but to learn of her suffering, her lonely pain? It would be too much.

At least she could take comfort in Ghent’s words. In his welcoming embrace. Her mother may be gone, and there may be no filling the void in Song’s heart, but she was not alone. Her father had not only forgiven her for everything—he was reaching out. An invisible hand had been extended from across the dais, something he'd never done before, and it only made sense that she took it. For Haliya. For River. For Clan Wren.

She raised her head just a little higher. Reminded by Amita’s own words, she said, “Whoever it is, whatever you need, my hand is yours.” Song bowed, both out of deep appreciation and in an effort to disguise her own grief. Mourning would have to come later. Right now, she needed to appear strong. Willing.

In the silence that followed, she expected Kanan would give his own answer. The decision was his alone to make. Serving Clan Wren came with its risks, and although the two of them were already quite familiar with brushing death’s door, the days ahead would be the most dangerous yet. Soon enough they’d be wishing they were back on Felucia.

She wouldn’t hold it against him if he refused.

Whatever his answer, Song lifted her chin again, trying her best to look ready and unafraid. “What is it that I can do for you, Father? How can I help?”

@llamallove @Mockingjay

 

[Kanan Marek]

At least Song's mother had not been in pain when she had passed. She had not met her fate at the end of a knife as River had, nor had she been discovered lifeless in the blood soaked snow of Krownest. She had died in the comfort of her own home and in her own bed, hopefully surrounded by her husband and those closest to her. That must have been some measure of comfort to Song, however small.

Song cared deeply for her mother, that much was evident, but she did not allow herself time to process the news of her passing. No longer concealed beneath the Mandalorian mask of her dead brother, it was much more challenging to hide her true emotions. Still, she managed surprisingly well. She never let you forget that, first and foremost, she was a Mandalorian warrior.

Sooner or later, she would succumb to grief, and she would have to mourn properly. Whether that would be hours, weeks, or even years from now was anyone's guess. Kanan only hoped that whenever she did give in under the weight of grief, that he would be around to try and help her through it.

Ghent Wren did not mince words. He got directly to the point. Kanan appreciated the straightforward approach, but under the circumstances he wished that the Count had given Song more time to process the news, given her a chance to breathe and settle in to her new home. Then he could call in favors, then he could command her next move.

The Count did not care to catch up with his daughter, despite the fact that they had not seen one another in years. Instead, he was eager to put her to work, and as soon as possible. Kanan's skin bristled, but he did not say a word. It was not his place.

Eager to fill her mother's shoes, Song did not share Kanan's feelings on the matter and would undoubtedly not appreciate his interference. She wanted to prove her worth to Clan Wren and regain her father's trust and respect. The desire to make amends for her past surpassed all other desires. Perhaps a distraction was what she needed right now. Something to keep her mind off of her mother and to occupy her hands. Her father could provide her with just such a distraction.

Kanan was committed to being there for Song, no matter what, now more than ever. When Ghent Wren's helmet tilted ever so slightly in his direction, awaiting an answer, the Sector Ranger did not hesitate to give one. The decision to remain constant in Song's life, come what may, had been resolute in Kanan's mind long before they had come to Krownest.

"I will aide Song in any way I can. You have my word."

@Feng Mian @Mockingjay

 

[The Storyteller]

"It is a great pity you were not born Mandalorian, Ranger," Ghent said. "Your loyalty to my daughter is admirable."

And useful.

Ghent wasn't a fool. He was a shrewd man with a keen eye. Loyalty was not all that tethered Kanan to Song. Love might not be the proper word for it either, but there was certainly budding romantic affection in the way he looked to her as she grieved her mother. Years ago, Ghent might have protested this relationship, vehemently even. His daughter should marry Mandalorian stock, not some scrub scraped off the duracrete streets of the Core Worlds to play space cop. But now he could stomach it. Encourage it even.

Let them fall in love. It would be every bit as useful to them as it had been to him. And besides, love made one do incredibly stupid things. And a Sector Ranger willing to overlook his duty for the woman he cared for was just the kind of stupid Ghent was hoping for. All in good time.

For now, patience. Song needed to grieve. She needed to feel her mother's loss, to let it consume her as River's death had, so that her loyalty to Ghent and their clan's purpose was absolute. Then—and only then—would he deploy her. Even Kanan had a part in this phase of his plan.

"Our clan faces opposition from marauders and rebels alike," Ghent explained. "Fighting them is a priority, but not the only way to beat them. Clan Wren once had a sword that stood as a symbol of our right to rule Krownest. It has long been missing, but my informants might have discovered where it was taken after the Purge. That will be your first mission."

He paused, knowing how the information might overwhelm her. So much had happened in so short a reunion. And now that his demands were known, he could let her sit with them, while appearing every bit the benevolent father he sought to project.

"But we will discuss this further another day. Our meeting has come with hard news, and you will need time to sit with it and rest. I will provide you and your," He stressed the next word purposefully, ""friend quarters in this fortress, along with whatever food or refreshment you desire. The servants can also provide you with a change of clothes. And, when you're ready, I have a new set of armor prepared just for you." @llamallove @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Forgiveness. A place to stay. A new set of armor. It was everything she’d ever hoped for—and yet, this was not the family reunion she’d dreamed of. Her father had changed, once the proud warrior and now the distant Count of Clan Wren. Her brother was still absent, the gap in her chest left unfilled. And her mother? By now, she was long buried in the permafrost. Song’s family was practically gone.

But worse things were yet to come. Clan Wren was beset by enemies, between rebels and marauders, and it was officially her job to take care of them, including finding a legendary ancestral sword. None would be an easy task. Death could be waiting around the corner for any one of them, but she would face it gladly. Anything for family.

Song bowed, her face the very picture of gratitude. “Thank you, Father. I will be sure put the armor to good use.” And she would. That was no lie. Still, there was no denying her grief.

Sorrow clung to her, dark and heavy, a wet coat dragging her down, pulling at her limbs. If only she could cast it off. If only she could turn around and disappear. Instead, like the good daughter she was meant to be, she stayed rooted in that spot. She listened. She nodded and bobbed her head whenever it was expected. Only when Ghent waved a dismissive hand was she finally free to leave the throne room.

In the dead quiet of the hall, Song said nothing. Not even as Kanan followed after her. Not even as the guards congratulated her, welcoming her back into the clan.

She should be delighted, but she just wanted to go outside because at least there, where the frost was heaviest, she could keep from breaking down. The loss of her mother was finally sinking in and she wasn’t sure how long before the tears came. Gods, why did she have to be so weak?

At the glass doors, she didn’t bother looking back to Kanan as she said, “You can get your things from the ship. I’ll meet you back inside, just… I need some time alone.” Song didn’t wait for an answer, either. She only pushed outside and made for the dense forest nearby, where nothing and nobody could bother her.

There, in the snow, she could mourn.

@llamallove

 

[Kanan Marek]

Kanan accepted the Count's compliment at face value and without protest, although he disagreed. He would not have made a fine Mandalorian, nor did he want to be one. Although he did not always understand it, he did respect Mandalorian culture. They were warriors, and they never gave up. Their culture, their customs, and their clans were everything to them. He could respect that, but for what it was worth, he enjoyed being a Sector Ranger.

Once the Count had dismissed the pair into the entrance hall, and the guards had dispersed after congratulating Song, silence fell between the two of them.

"I understand," Kanan replied, offering Song a small smile when she broke the silence. There was nothing he could say or do that would help her, and perhaps in the old, familiar refuge of her home planet she would find some solace.

It had begun to snow heavily, and the two parted ways, each disappearing from the other's view through the snowfall. The snow covered planet was cold, and yet somehow not as cold as the empty, lifeless halls of Wren Stronghold.

As he began the trek back toward the ship, the Sector Ranger found himself almost wishing he could pitch a tent in the hills instead of returning to be the Count's guest. He could build a fire to ward off the bitter cold, warming his hands by the orange embers as he watched the snowflakes settle.

Odds are he would be a popsicle by morning, but perhaps it would be worth it. He shook his head and chuckled to himself at the idea, climbing the boarding ramp to gather his things.

@Feng Mian @Mockingjay

 

[Song Wren]

Song waited until Kanan was well out of sight before she let her lips quiver. She was being unfair to him, she knew. Her father could have had him apprehended; he could have had them both apprehended, or worse, and Kanan knew that and stood by her side regardless. But she could not have him by her side now. She needed to be where people weren’t. Somehow, her body responded to her desire.

She wasn’t really aware of leaving the grounds of her father’s stronghold, trudging off towards the woods where she had sought refuge so many times as a girl. The act must have been instinctual on some level, the body’s defense against the assault of grief on her heart. River had been gone so long, yet recent events had made his death feel fresh again, and now her mother was gone too; and while her father’s forgiveness was rejuvenating in its way, she could not feel warmth for him the way she had for them. Not after all he’d done.

Song kept walking past snow-drenched trees until she was so deep in the woods that she was as lost as she felt. There, she found a grove of firs tall and dense, crowded tightly around her so that the sounds of her grieving could not be heard beyond them. This was good. Here, she could finally be as she felt.

The first punch against the nearest trunk splintered wood. The second scraped her brother’s armor. The third, somewhere beneath the gauntlet, broke skin. Song felt her blood, warm and sticky, there. She didn’t remove it. She struck the tree again and again, and again, and she did not stop, not until her arm was too numb to lift and the tree was on the verge of falling onto its side, and she succumbed to the sobs wracking her body as she collapsed into the snow.

end of thread.​