Ursa Wren quietly entered the archival wing of her clan's ancestral estate, the clack of her boots echoing in the chamber.
It was late into the night, a cold chill settling deep into the abandoned wing, unbothersome to those who'd grown up alongside the weather. By now, most her kin would have retired for some rest. The Countess almost wished she could be sleeping right now, she was exhausted from the day's celebration; Mandalore had struck its first great victory against the Empire. With the clans united after what seemed like an eternity of civil strife, they banded together to drive the imperial forces off the mother-world. Naturally, every world in the system was partaking in its own form of celebration. It was only brief, however, as the Empire would soon return in greater numbers to place her people back under heel.
Ursa knew she should be asleep, but this had become a habit of hers, wandering the libraries of her home, deep in concentration, pondering over each new worry that seemed to arise. Tonight, however, her thoughts dwelled not on concerns that seemed too far away to matter at the moment, but rather on the good fortune visited upon these last few months. After so many years, the cracks in her family were finally starting to heal.
Her daughter, Sabine, returned to her a confident leader; her son, Tristan, freed from the noose the late Gar Saxon kept tied around his neck; and her beloved, Alrich, at last within reach of her once again. All thanks to her previously estranged daughter helping to unite Mandalore.
Though not alone, she mused, considering the two outsiders she brought with her, who would play an important role in granting the clans their first major victory.
Lanterns illuminated the ancient, cracked spines of the old texts that lined the archive shelves. The dim glow danced along the walls, casting long and haunting shadows. From the time of Sabine's self-imposed exile and Alrich's imprisonment, the Countess had taken to wandering this part of her home. It had become a nightly ritual, visiting this place. It had been her beloved's sanctuary, a place to study the turbulent history of their people. She must have wandered aimlessly through these halls countless times over the years, familiarizing herself with every detail.
Which was likely how she quickly realizeed she was not alone.
At the end of an especially long bookshelf (Alrich loved his books), the faint glow of candle shone from around the corner, a shadow resting at a table.
Ursa narrowed her eyes and slowly crept along the bookcase, careful to mute any noise that would give away her position. There weren't many of her clan that would be perusing the libraries at this hour, save for Alrich himself, but he was tucked away in bed, enjoying the first comfortable sleep in a long time. The only other person she could think of that would searching through the archives was the Protector, Fenn Rau. He seemed to have an appreciation for Mandalore's history. But he was on the mother-world at the moment, aiding Lady Kryze in the rebuilding of their home.
Perhaps she was being paranoid, but one doesn't become leader of one the finest clans on Mandalore by being careless.
She had reached the edge of the bookcase, poised for attack, hand on her blaster; she only hoped the injury she sustained at the hands of the Duchess wouldn't factor too greatly in a potential fight. With a final, relaxing breath, she glanced around the corner to see who this intruder was.
Her eyes widened slightly before settling into a confused frown. Holstering her weapon, she rounded the corner, "What are you doing here?"
Ezra Bridger gave a slight start, head snapping up, and jumping from his seat.
Ursa regarded him coolly, this would-be Jedi seated at the sturdy wooden table partially cast in shadow. Clad in his usual clothing, the boy had a large book spread open before him. His arms had been casually folded on the edge of the table, now they were frozen in air in what she could only describe as half-baked defense stance. He'd been clutching a light in his in one hand to read by. The illumination made the boy's eyes all but glow like embers in a blue flame.
"M-Mrs., uh, Countess Wren," he corrected when her eyes narrowed, "what are you doing here?"
Ursa rolled her eyes, "I don't feel inclined to explain why I should be walking about my home to you, Bridger. Besides, I asked you first."
The boy flushed, rubbing the back of his head, "Right. . . I was just. . ."
His expression reminded her of the time Tristan had been caught with the head of Clan Ordo's young heir. Needless to say, that was scandal that still echoed within the clans to this day.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" she decided to change the subject, for the moment.
Ezra offered a sheepish shrug, arms resting on the table once again, drumming his fingers along the aged pages before him.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied. "Too much excitement from the party today. I knew Mandalorians were insa—uh, excitable, but I didn't expect this."
Ursa sighed, turning away and moving to one of the shelves, running a hand over the spines of the books. She reverted to her native tongue as she muttered under her breath.
"*By the Gods, this child . . .*"
Her back turned to Bridger, the Countess missed the flash of recognition the swept along the young Jedi's face, nor the ensuing glint of mischief that danced in his blue eyes.
"*I'm eighteen, Countess, not a man, but hardly a toddler.*"
Ursa Wren prided herself on maintaining her composure in the most dire of situations. It was to be expected of a leader, and it was a trait that served her well following Clan Wren's fall from grace. Even when her comrades fell in battle, Ursa did not allow herself to be visibly shaken. But when she, shockingly, received that reply, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
The Countess of Clan Wren whipped her head around, eyes wide. Had this boy, this would-be Jedi just. . .?
To her incredulity, he had. The sentence had been slow, a bit broken, but young Bridger had just spoken Mandalorian.
"You speak Mandoa?" Ursa managed to say, it was all she could say really. Her mind had briefly gone black with the good deal of shock she just felt.
Ezra shrugged and regarded her with a shy smile.
"Not much," he admitted, "But I'm working on it."
Ursa took a moment to compose herself, watching the boy warily, moving to take a seat across from him.
"So I take it Sabine has been teaching you our language?"
To her surprise, Bridger shook his head.
"Nah, Rau's been helping me the past few weeks. I thought about asking Sabine, but I want to surprise her."
Ursa Wren stared at Bridger, surprise, still clear in her chestnut eyes. She offered the slightest tilt of her head in acknowledgement, silent as wheels turned in her head.
She would grudgingly admit that she saw Bridger in a better light than when he first appeared before. This boy, who had so brazenly questioned her and her clan's validity as "true" Mandalorians, all while weaponless and surrounded by people who would be more than happy to shoot him. Who'd barely been more than a meter from her daughter's side the entirety of their time here. The first to jump to Sabine's defense at the encampment on Mandalore following the Duchess' devastating attack. Who saved her beloved without a single thought to his own well-being. It was simply impossible for Ursa not to develop a certain level of respect for the boy.
But he was still a Jedi—albeit one in training—the ancient enemy of her people. It had been the Jedi who'd driven the likes of Maul off of Mandalore, that much was true, but it had also been the Jedi who'd allowed the Empire to form beneath their gaze. They'd allowed themselves to become pawns in the hands of the old Republic, and for their lack of foresight, her people had been forced into servitude. Bridger and his master, Kanan Jarrus, had been a great help on Mandalore, that much was true, but her people had difficult time letting go of the past, herself included.
Yet here before her sat a boy—a young man—unconcerned with old grudges, who'd befriended her daughter to a point that she readily trusted him over her own clan—not without good reason of course. Here he was attempting to understand Mandalorian not out of any other duty than that of comradery.
An odd thought struck Ursa in that moment as she recalled a conversation she had with Sabine regarding the Ghost Crew, young Bridger in particular.
"Forgive me, Bridger, but I was under the impression that you couldn't read."
Ezra winced as thought she'd just struck him. She supposed the statement had been rather blunt, but between her still fading surprise and newfound curiosity, she decided to forgo finesse. Sabine had briefly touched upon young Bridger's harsh upbringing on the streets of his homeworld. The fact that he had survived such an ordeal at such a young age had actually left her somewhat impressed.
Ezra's shoulders slacked for a moment, heavy with what were no doubt unpleasant memories of his days before joining the Ghost Crew. An awkward silence hung between them for time, and the Countess considered offering an apology for digging at old wounds before he answered.
"Yeah, I was kind of hopeless for a while," he began. "But the others really helped me; Sabine, Hera, Kanan, even Zeb."
The young man smiled as he recalled his shock at how knowledgeable Zeb was on certain subjects.
"What, you think they let just anybody lead the Honor-Guard, kid? Get real!"
Ursa only nodded, considering Bridger for a moment, still trying to fully grasp that an outsider with such a limited education was able to speak their language.
"*How much do you know?*"
Ezra frowned slightly in concentration for a moment. When he replied, his speech was again slow and slightly broken.
"*I'm starting to understand it better than I can speak it. But I'm getting better, Rau's told me.*"
Ursa actually felt of flare of approval when Bridger answered, not in Basic, but in Mandoa, despite how broken it sounded. For so young an outsider to understand the language as well as he did was more than a little impressive. Even more so when one had to consider that any lessons given would be brief as they had spent these last few weeks in battle after battle. More to the point, he only made one or two errors when he spoke. Perhaps the young would-be Jedi had a head for Mandoa.
"*And you want to surprise Sabine.*"
Bridger grinned and nodded eagerly.
"Yeah! I can't wait to see her face!*"
This time, Ezra didn't stumble over his words, perhaps due to his excitement. It was a trick Alrich had conceived whenever he set about learning something new. Given enough excitement, one tended not to overthink things or second-guess themselves. A look of faint amusement crossed Ursa's face.
It would give Sabine quite the shock, that much was certain. Her daughter had inherited Ursa's stern countenance and there were few things in the galaxy that would leave her stunned. If Ursa's own reaction was any reasonable indication, then Bridger would succeed in his goal.
Suddenly, it dawned on Ursa that for once, there was no awkward tension between herself and Bridger. While she had come to respect the boy, it didn't necessarily lend itself to her liking him. For all his feats, he was still woefully awkward, ignorant of most forms of social protocol, and tended to project an air of overconfidence. The latter trait only served to highlight his clumsiness. From the reactions of both Sabine and Jedi Knight Jarrus, this was something that still needed to be remedied.
But for the moment, there was no apprehension from Bridger, and no rush to finish the conversation and move on from Ursa herself. Instead, the conversation was almost . . . comfortable. Nice, even.
The Countess' gaze turned to the book that lay before the young man, looking over the contents for a moment. Once more, her eyes widened slightly.
"You're learning our culture?" she asked quietly. "Our traditions?"
She had previously recalled in a conversation with Lady Bo-Katan about the latter's overhearing Bridger's vehement claim that didn't want to join their culture. She had considered it no great loss.
The boy's bright blue eyes blinked owlishly at her for a moment; eventually, he managed to find his words. "Yeah, I mean some of this stuff is pretty cool. And . . . interesting. I've been asking Rau what books to read and I was pretty surprised to find them here."
Ursa simply nodded, feeling slight fondness for this boy ploom in her chest, but a thought struck her.
"Bridger, I think Sabine will be quite offended to learn that you endeavored to learn our culture without consulting her."
Belatedly, Ursa realized she had again eschewed etiquette for bluntness with her simple comment. Bridger looked up at her, face frowning in slight worry.
"You think she'll be mad? I wasn't trying to be a jerk, I-I just thought it would be a fun surprise!"
The boy started rambling, as seemed to be his habit when nervous, and Ursa waited a moment, collecting her thoughts. Indeed, once her initial shock faded, Sabine would take Bridger's sneaking around as an affront to her pride. However, she would quickly get over it, but not before using her friend's guilt to her advantage.
Sabine was, after all, her mother's daughter.
"Bridger," Ursa said, lifting a hand to bring his ramblings to an end. "I can understand that your intentions were in no way malicious, but you really should consider the feelings of others when deciding such things. That being said, it will be quite amusing to see my daughter's reaction. I would, however, suggest having a gift at the ready, so that she doesn't paint you pink in your sleep."
Ezra relaxed slightly, relief coming over his face.
"Right. I'll keep that in mind."
Ursa took a moment to study the book he was reading again, "It occurs to me that this text is more about learning our culture than speaking our language. Why is that?"
"Oh," Ezra flushed, "well, there's a reason for that. . ."
"I imagine."
The boy gulped again, "Right, well . . . it's just that. .."
Ursa raised an eyebrow, twisting her hand in a "go-on" gesture.
"It' just that I asked Kanan about the history between the Jedi and Mandalore. But he admitted that most of what he knew came from the Jedi Archives. And, well, those archives are written by Jedi, right?"
"I would assume."
"Right, so that means they'd be kind of biased about certain things. So maybe what they were saying wasn't entirely true, from a certain point of view."
The Countess nodded.
"So, I thought that maybe I could learn more if I read from some of the books here and maybe get a better idea of what the war was like for both sides. I mean, not that Mandalore is unbiased, uh, no offense."
Ursa simply shrugged.
"So I started reading, only I didn't know where to begin, so I just picked out the first book that looked important. I haven't really gotten to anything about the Jedi just yet, but all this stuff about celebrations and ceremonies, it's all really interesting."
"What made you interested in that particular history?"
Again, Bridger rubbed the back of his head, cheeks flushed red, "It's . . . kinda stupid, really?"
"Perhaps," Ursa said, "but I would prefer to decide that for myself."
Ezra gave a nervous laugh, "Right, well, I just thought that. . . maybe if I learned more about the history on both sides, that. . ."
He trailed off for moment, eyes falling to the text before him, thought not actually reading. Ursa was about to urge him on when he looked up at her, blue eyes earnest.
"I thought that if I learned about Mandalore and its culture, that maybe things could be different. That maybe the Jedi and Mandalorians wouldn't have to be enemies."
For yet another time that night, Ursa Wren was taken aback by this young man. He actually thought that things between Mandalore and what remained the Jedi could be better? That they could discard thousands of years' worth of conflict? Such a thing seemed impossible, as unlikely as—
As her own daughter not only coming to befriend two Jedi, but to have forged a strong enough bond that she considered them family.
Ursa didn't really know what to think of this revelation; Bridger had seen first hand how anyone claiming to be a Jedi was treated on Mandalore. She herself had nearly handed him and his master over to Gar Saxon without a second thought. There had been a palpable tension when Bridger and Jarrus returned with Sabine and Tristan, proclaiming their intent to help liberate their mother-world from the clutches of the Empire. But that tension had faded—in some cases, completely vanished—as the weeks went by, as the two of them fought side-by-side with the clans. In fact, Ezra Bridger and Kanan Jarrus had saved a fair amount of lives during their time here.
Maybe it was not such an unattainable goal.
"Like I said," Bridger chuckled humorlessly, "It's stupid."
"It is. . ." Ursa considered her words, "certainly a noble goal. However, Mandalorians are not th type to unlearn old grudges easily. It's possible that in the coming years, something might change, but I don't think we'll see any sort of long-lasting alliance between Mandalore and the Jedi, when or if they ever truly return."
The two of them sat in a companionable silence before Ursa stood from her seat, moving to one of the shelves nearby. She scanned the texts there before reaching a conclusion and selecting one. She returned to the table, setting the heavy tome next to the one Bridger had open. She took a moment to lift the book he was reading and examine the cover.
"A good place to start," she nodded approvingly before tapping the leather-bound cover with her finger, "But if you truly wish to learn more about Mandalore and her culture, then this text would be better suited to the task. While the book Rau suggested offers a brief overview of our people and our ways, this text will explain the reasons why we do what we do."
Bridger looked surprised, then excited, reminding her of her youth spent with Alrich, who would nearly burst out in excitement whenever he picked out a new text to read.
The young man studied the book for a moment, eyes widened, "Written by Alrich Wren?"
"My husband comes from a long line of historians and scholars. He's published more than few texts in regard to our history. If you ask him, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to help you learn."
"Uh, thanks."
Ursa waved a hand, "Think nothing of it. For now, it is best that you retire for the evening."
This time, Bridger pouted, "But—"
Ursa offered her best glare, "No arguments."
Ezra wilted and quickly agreed, replacing the texts she picked out, no doubt planning to return later and read some more. Ursa simply shook her head, watching after the boy with a odd sort of fondness, the same she'd seen on Sabine's face once or twice. Soon enough, she retired to her chambers, settling next to Alrich's sleeping form. Bridger and Jarrus were due to return to the Rebel Alliance soon, so the boy wouldn't have much time left to read.
Perhaps a data pad would be helpful.