Time For A Challenge:

Dawcyk Vizsla came from a long line of proud and fierce warriors. They'd followed the Resol'nare put in place by their ancestor. Had been the rightful rulers of Mandalore with the Darksabre in hand for centuries until the pacifist movement was introduced by the Kryze clan. And then fought with everything they had to keep the old ways going, even going so far as to ally themselves to a Sith in their quest to overthrow the false ruler, Satine Kryze.

But then the Sith known as Maul had won the Darksabre from Pre Vizsla in a fair fight and everything had changed. The Vizslas had lost the right to rule Mandalore, and that had cut deep. Their clan had divided into factions. Some had broken off to start a new colony of Mandalorians elsewhere in the galaxy, sick of all that Mandalore had become. Some had followed Bo-Katan Kryze when she refused to recognize Maul as the new Mand'alor. Most had stayed with Maul in their loyalty to the meaning of the Darksabre and had nearly all died when a Jedi and the Republic had attacked with the backing of Bo-Katan.

As far as the Vizslas knew, when the Togrutan Jedi girl had defeated Maul, she had also won the right to hold the Darksabre. But neither Maul, the Jedi girl, nor the Darksabre were seen again for years, leaving Mandalore at the mercy of the Republic troops that went from friendly to hostile only hours after the Jedi took Maul away for trial. The Republic turned into the Empire and the clone troopers left in Sundari overpowered and imprisoned Bo-Katan Kryze, and then held the planet in trust until the new Emperor arrived in person to elect a governor to rule over them. He picked Gar Saxon, formerly loyal to Maul, which should have been all right in theory, but Saxon was more loyal to the Emperor than he was to his heritage and the people suffered for it.

Thus, when Sabine Wren showed up with the Darksabre a few months ago and defeated Saxon with it, and then proceeded to harass the Imperial facilities around the planet with her clan, what was left of the Vizslas were more than ready to follow her as their new Mand'alor despite her past status as dar'manda. Then Wren surprised everyone by up and giving it to Bo-Katan yesterday, which was technically against the rules of the Darksabre, but everyone was willing to let that slide in light of the facts that they were distantly related by blood, Bo-Katan had also been fighting for Mandalore's freedom for nearly two decades already, and most importantly, the sword had been used to murder her sister, so there was poetic justice in Bo-Katan wielding it.

So now a Kryze was once again the ruler of Mandalore – at least this time the person in question actually followed the rules of their creed - but Dawcyk only had eyes for the new Countess of Clan Wren. And not only because she was breathtakingly beautiful. The young heir to his own clan had been watching the girl for the last few months, out of curiosity at first, but soon it turned into fascinated adoration as he witnessed her bravery and fighting skills either first hand – but from afar – or watched recordings of her actions against the Empire – over and over again, much to his friends' amusement.

Many had already started calling Sabine Wren their saviour and new Mand'alor despite the fact that the girl hadn't actually claimed the title. Some refused to see beyond her well-known past as a killer of her own people but they were all older warriors who had never been taught in the Imperial Academy like the younger generation had. They didn't know what it was like in there. Didn't know how easy it was to lose all sense of self under the relentless drills and tests. Didn't know how the instructors did their level best to brainwash the young people into believing that the Imperial Way was the only Way they needed to know. Scholastic achievements made with furthering the Empire's cause in mind were praised highly. Any inclination towards their Mandalorian roots or ways were punished severely. Dawcyk could easily see how Sabine Wren could have been tricked into building weapons against her own people.

And besides, she'd made it right again by destroying the last of the Saxons along with her weapon. He didn't think he'd ever find a more suitable warrior female that would compliment him better.

Dawcyk wanted her for himself.

There was just one problem. A short, annoying, lightsabre carrying Jedi called Bridger sized problem who had a very infuriating habit of touching Sabine practically all the time and hardly ever left her side. They were almost always holding hands and looking at each other with sappy puppy eyes. It was sickening. And it put him in a foul mood every time he saw the young Jedi poaching on his prize. How could she let a Jedi scum touch her? It was bad enough that she worked with two of them - even if it was understandable since the Jedi were formidable warriors and got things done - but did she have to go and fall for one of them as well?

And to make it even worse, she'd picked the smaller one who was clearly younger than her and probably hadn't even finished growing and filling out yet. (Dawcyk was also younger, but only by a couple months, and he had the physique of a man, not a boy.) He was seething that everyone seemed to be perfectly fine with Sabine choosing a Jedi. (Or had at least resigned themselves to it.) How could they not see how wrong this was? So what if she had thrown in her lot with the Jedi's crew and had found herself not only loyal to him but attached as well. That didn't mean she couldn't choose someone else as a husband.

Dawcyk was determined to do his best to scare the Jedi off. A true Mandalorian warrior like her deserved so much better than a Jedi scumbag BOY.

All this meant that he felt perfectly justified in challenging Bridger to a duel, even if, for the sake of his pride, he had to pretend that it didn't matter if Sabine would accept him as a suitor afterwards. He'd back off if she really didn't return his attraction, but he was hoping he could eventually make her see that he had so much more to offer than the Jedi did; such as status, the same beliefs, and protection. All he had to do was make her see it.

Which… might take a while, what with the way her fiery amber eyes were glaring at him with annoyance and fury right now. But if the Jedi brat could be forced to leave her alone, at least he'd then have time to work on winning her over.

Her anger only increased her beauty and appeal in his opinion. Between the flashing eyes, rosy cheeks, flower coloured hair, ruby red lips, and the 'I'm going to gut you at the first opportunity' attitude, Countess Sabine Wren was simply stunning to behold.

I'm going to enjoy kicking Bridger right out of her life.

Ezra had had enough of this not knowing what was going on poodoo as others spoke Mando'a around him and shot him various looks ranging from apologetic (Sabine) to hate-filled (Vizsla) with a wide variety of in between from the rest of the people assembled in the Command Tent.

With a growl even Zeb would be proud of, Ezra moved so that he was standing right beside Sabine and glared up at Kryze too. "Whatever the kriff you have to say to my cyar'ika you can say to me as well, so kriffing well speak in Basic!"

Kryze smiled and it wasn't pretty. Malice rolled off him in waves and made Ezra wish he wasn't quite so empathic. "As you wish. I was just telling the lovely Countess here that I'm going to challenge you for the right to court her."

Ezra gawked in shock for a second, joined by a wave of surprise from Kanan down their bond. But he schooled his expression back to neutral almost immediately. He only glanced at Sabine, not willing to take his eyes off the threat for long to ask, "Can he do that?"

Sabine winced. "Unfortunately, yes."

Karabast.

"Why?" he growled at the bigger boy.

"Why?" he scoffed back. "Why not? You're not good enough for her. You're just a boy and a Jedi – our enemy for CENTURIES! That should be reason enough! And… Do you even know what cyar'ika means?! I bet not!"

As much as Vizsla might have a point, Ezra wasn't backing down for anything. Standing as tall as he could, he leaned forward into the other boy's space with narrowed eyes. He was pissed off enough that he wished he could float with the Force just so that he could be eye-level with this idiot who didn't know what he was messing with. "Some of what you say might be true, from a certain point of view, but I don't see how she could do any better with someone like you. I can read you like an open holopage, and all you care about is power, prestige, and appearances. Sabine would never be more than a trophy to you. And I may be just a boy, but so are you, no matter how tall you are. A baby bantha might be the biggest animal in a room full of tookas, but it's still just a baby."

In the background of his mind, he heard Kanan stifle a chuckle and the assembled Mandos either gasp or snigger as well. Vizsla got bigger as he inhaled sharply. "Did you just call me a bantha?"

Ezra smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know. Did I?"

Vizsla shoved his helmet at the person standing next to him and cracked his knuckles. "That's it. You're dead, Jedi."

"Bring it, Mando. I accept your challenge."

Sabine made a slight movement beside him, so Ezra took a second to glance at her. She somehow looked both very proud of him and terrified. Ezra sent her a wave of reassurance down their bond. He'd sparred with Zeb, this posing buffoon couldn't possibly be any worse to fight than that, and she knew that. She blinked and her expression cleared as she got the message that he wasn't worried. She touched his arm, gaze full of trust. "I probably should have warned you this might happen, but I thought we'd have more time before anyone got around to doing so. I intended to have us married before it came to this."

Ezra's eyes widened almost comically and he turned fully towards her, ignoring the scowling Vizsla for the moment. "You did?! Karabast! Oh, wow." He smiled widely as that sunk in, then cupped her cheek lovingly, eyes locked to hers. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Sabine Wren." His smile widened when she gasped in surprise at what he hoped was a half decent pronunciation of the Mandalorian version of a vow of undying love. "Yes, I learnt that for you."

Ezra then turned to smirk at Tall, Blond, and Fuming and the boy scowled even deeper in disgust. "And for the record, I know very well what cyar'ika means. I'm just as capable of looking up Mando'a on the holonet as the next guy. Sabine is my Force-bound beloved soulmate and nothing will ever change that."

This brought another round of inhales and Ezra could feel the mood of the room further sway in his favour. Good.

Vizsla's scowl turned positively ugly and he more or less growled out, "Fine. So you're not completely stupid and you might have a 'Force' thing going on, but that doesn't mean you're worthy to be anywhere near her. So I'm saying this officially, in case it wasn't already clear. I challenge you to a duel, Bridger, and if you lose, you have to give up all romantic inclinations towards her."

"I guess I better not lose, then," Ezra said, determination settling in. (As if it hadn't been there already.)

"It appears we're going to have a duel before we continue our planning session," Bo-Katan said as she moved to stand by Ezra and Vizsla. "Let's take this outside where there's more room, shall we?"

Despite the phrasing, it wasn't a question.

Vizsla glared down at Ezra for one more (very long) second before he looked at his ruler and nodded respectfully. "Yes, My Lady."

"Of course," Ezra seconded.

Fighting to keep the girl I've already won… How incredibly Mandalorian.

Sabine followed the boys outside, who were following Bo. They didn't go far; just to the first open space between the tents, the perimeter wall, and the communal dining area. Bo nodded to the boys with a pointed look and then backed up, stopping beside Sabine. Fenn took the spot beside Bo. Kanan parked himself on her other side with her father beside him. Chopper slotted himself between her and Kanan, shoving until the Jedi moved over a fraction. A small version of Hera's hologram was still being projected so she was going to get to see the action too. The rest of the clan leaders scattered around the combatants, making a rough circle.

And, as with the nature of anything exciting, a crowd of everyone else in the camp rushed over and filled in the empty spaces. Murmurs filled the air as everyone was filled in on what was happening. Ketsu and her brothers ended up behind Sabine, the taller girl putting her hands on Sabine's shoulders and asking, "Is this what I think it is?"

Sabine looked up and over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "It's Ezra, the magnet for trouble, what else could it possibly be?"

Ketsu laughed and squeezed her shoulders in a silent show of support.

Meanwhile the boys had been circling each other slowly while they waited for everyone to settle. Then Ezra, wearing a mischievous smirk, asked his opponent, "Sooooo, how are we doing this? Swords? Blasters at twenty paces? A race around the planet on a speeder bike? A dogfight in space with Kom'rke? What?"

Sabine couldn't help but snort in poorly suppressed laughter at some of the options Ezra came up with that clearly didn't fit in with their current location and situation. Dawcyk Vizsla didn't think it was funny, but practically everyone else did, since she wasn't the only one chuckling by far. Only Ezra could turn such a serious situation into something fun.

Force, why did it take me so long to realize that I loved him?

Dawcyk only rolled his eyes. "None of the above, di'kut. We fight hand to hand until someone gives up. No weapons. No Force tricks. Anything else goes. I'll even make this easier on you by taking off my armour, since you don't have any." Then he proceeded to do just that, walking to the edge of the circle and stripping off everything but his black bodysuit leggings to be left in the safekeeping of other members of his clan.

During all of that, Ezra backed up to Sabine and caught her hand in a squeeze for a little more of his brand of reassurance for a moment before unbuckling his utility belt and handing the whole thing, including his lightsabre and blaster, to her. He startled though, when Dawcyk took off his bodysuit top too. He wasn't the only one blinking at the very bare muscular chest and arms that had a fair number of scars traversing the pale skin already. "All righty then," Ezra huffed. "I guess we're doing this shirtless."

Now it was Dawcyk's turn to wait as Ezra unzipped his orange and beige jacket, adding it to the pile accumulating on Sabine's arms. Then he pulled his black t-shirt off over his head, leaving him just as half naked as the other guy, and placed it on top of his other things.

Sabine couldn't help but compare Ezra's physique against the older boy's. The Mando's was impressive, yes, but it was to be expected, considering his lifelong training. Ezra's was... getting there. He was still leaner than he could be, but what he did have was ripped tight muscles that looked more than capable, including a very nice six pack. He just needed a few more years to finish growing so he could fill out properly. And his muscles were covered in lovely copper skin that shone in the sunlight, looking far more attractive than Vizsla's pasty skin. Add the odd mouth-watering scar here and there and Ezra won the contest in her mind easily. Now if only that was all it took for him to win the duel.

Ezra boldly kissed her cheek and then flashed her a grin. "Thanks, cyar'ika." Then he started to walk towards Dawcyk but paused after only one step with an, "Oh yeah!" He bent down and pulled a big folding knife out of his boot and added that to her pile as well. He smirked as Vizsla scowled once again. "Present from Sabine for my sixteenth birthday. I don't go anywhere without it," he explained cheekily.

Dawcyk sneered, crossing thick arms over and equally thick chest. "And when was that? Yesterday?"

Ezra laughed as he came to a stop facing the Vizsla heir so he ended up standing more or less sideways to Sabine. "Try two years and three days ago, di'kut. Yes, I know that one too. Sabine used to call me that all the time." He then winked at her over his shoulder, letting her know he didn't mind. She grinned back.

Dawcyk's scowl looked permanently attached to his face. "Wow. If that's the case, then I might actually feel a little sorry for you. You certainly don't look eighteen. Tristan Wren was a year younger than you and was almost twice as big. Whatever swamp you come from, they must not grow them very tall."

Ezra smiled, letting the insults roll off him like it was Chopper or Zeb ribbing him like they did on a daily basis. He was also doing the whole Jedi calm thing that he'd picked up from Kanan, which seemed to be infuriating Dawcyk even more. "I'm just a late bloomer, if you must know. I'm still growing, and my dad was about as tall as you, so I'm not worried." He then walked right up to the other boy, the top of his head only reaching Vizsla's sternum, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Just out of curiosity, are we going to have a duel of insults, then? Cause I'm up for that. Or do you want to do something a little more productive? We all have things to do and places to go. Annnnddd, MY girl apparently wants to marry me and not a Neanderthal, sooooo..."

Dawcyk lost his temper. He snarled and rushed at Ezra, looking like he wanted to knock him down to the ground and beat the smirk right off his face. While Sabine may have been able to sympathize with the sentiment, she really didn't want to see it.

Fortunately, she didn't have to, because Ezra calmly sidestepped the human impersonating a battering ram and turned and watched as Vizsla scrambled to keep his feet when he didn't hit a target. The crowd of onlookers immediately started hooting and cheering.

"I'm surprised, Lord Vizsla," her snarky boy taunted. "I would have thought you had better training than that. Or maybe it's because you've been around the Imps for too long. They're notoriously bad at fighting and shooting. That kind of thing must be catching." Ezra hadn't even uncrossed his arms yet.

Sabine tried to keep her grin down to just a small smile, but she failed miserably. Ezra's going to wipe the floor with this mir'osik. She happened to know for a fact that Ezra was VERY well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Aside from learning dirty tricks on the streets as a kid, he'd spent a month undercover in the Imperial Academy, she'd taught him everything she knew, Rex had taught him everything he knew (and that was A LOT), Kanan had thrown in a few more moves that he'd been taught at the Temple specifically designed for Force users as well as more dirty street moves, Ezra'd gone up against Zeb and not died, and he'd even sparred with Fenn a few times. Ezra was one of the most well rounded combatants she'd ever seen. He just didn't use the skills very often since he preferred showing off with his lightsabre and mind tricks whenever he could.

Vizsla was going down.

Dawcyk looked at all the Mandos watching him expectantly and visibly forced himself to calm down. Ezra had to be frustrating him to no end because he was correct; Dawcyk HAD made a very stupid opening move. If he was any sort of Mando, he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Dawcyk then faced Ezra and walked back up to him in a purposeful manner and once again stopped when they were face to face. He nodded slightly in the barest possible show of respect and then assumed a proper opening fighting stance, hands up with fingers loosely curled and feet spread and balanced, turning half sideways to his opponent.

Better.

Ezra raised a brow and copied the stance. "This is more what I was expecting. Your Mando ancestors can stop rolling in their graves now."

She could tell that Dawcyk was only just barely keeping his temper in check, no Force powers needed to interpret the pulsing vein in his temple and red flush. "If you shut up, I'll promise not to hurt you TOO much. You might even be able to walk when we're done."

Ezra's smirk returned. "We'll see who's walking and who's not, won't we?" And with that, Ezra threw the first punch, almost faster than the eye could follow, clocking Dawcyk in the jaw, whipping his head to the side.

Dawcyk went with the momentum, spinning all the way around on his foot and delivering a kick that Ezra blocked.

The crowd cheered and the fight was ON.

Twenty minutes later, Sabine was close to gnawing through her lower lip she'd chewed on it so much. Ezra and Vizsla were still going at it, their sweaty bodies covered in the red dirt of Mandalore, and their jaws set in a determined way that said neither was anywhere near finished. Ezra was sporting a black eye and he was limping more than a little from where Vizsla had kicked him in the back of his left knee. Vizsla's lip was bleeding and he was definitely favouring his right arm. He was rarely using it, now relying almost entirely on kicks and left handed punches.

"Vizsla's in pain," Kanan said quietly. "I can feel it."

"Yah, but Ezra's limping," Sabine whispered back.

Kanan leaned over and whispered practically right in her ear so that no one else could hear, not even Ketsu, who was all but bouncing up and down behind her as she held onto Sabine. "He's faking. There's no real pain in his signature."

Sabine's eyes widened fractionally before she schooled her expression. "Street rat," she whispered with amusement.

Kanan nodded, his mouth twitching at the corner as he held back a grin.

"Okay, Ez. Wrap this up," Sabine mumbled to herself, not wanting to distract Ezra as Vizsla performed some impressive kicking spins that Ezra had to work to dodge in his current 'incapacitated' state.

Almost like he'd heard her anyway, Ezra suddenly turned the tide on Vizsla by crouching down on his 'bad' knee and sweeping Vizsla's feet out from under him. He pounced on the man while he was down, pinning his left arm to the ground under his foot and grabbing the right arm and yanking it back and up, causing Vizsla to yelp in pain. Ezra dug his knee into the small of Dawcyk's back and yanked the arm higher, twisting the shoulder joint. "Do you yield?"

Vizsla shook his head quickly, trying to buck Ezra off. Ezra twisted the arm just a little more. "Yield, or I pop this out of joint and maybe break your wrist too, just because." He bent said wrist in a way it was never designed to go as a demonstration, making Vizsla whine.

Dawcyk panted into the dirt for a minute, deciding if the girl was really worth wrecking his arm over. He knew from experience that he could fight without it, but Dawcyk thought back over everything he knew about the Jedi and Sabine and came to the conclusion he just wasn't going to win this one. The Jedi was too good at fighting and the girl was too infatuated with him to ever look at him the way she looked at Bridger. Even if he did manage to remove the Jedi from the picture at some point in the future, he had a feeling she'd never look at him the same way she looked at the smaller boy. And Dawcyk didn't want some other guy's figurative sloppy seconds. I'll just have to find some other badass Mando girl.

"I yield," he said begrudgingly. "Sabine is yours."

Bridger immediately let him go and rose to his feet, then held out a hand for Dawcyk to take and helped him up. Dawcyk accepted the help with something resembling good grace. Then the boy had the audacity to grin up at him. "That was a good fight. I enjoyed myself. Thanks." He held out a hand again. "No hard feelings?"

Dawcyk stared at the proffered hand in surprise before accepting it, grasping the wrist in the warrior way and feeling an incredibly strong grip for the boy's size hold him in return. "No hard feelings. You have earned my respect, Jedi. I thought you'd be useless without your lightsabre. I was wrong. Maybe I SHOULD have picked swords."

Bridger laughed. "I've had some incredibly good teachers. Sabine being one of them."

Dawcyk groaned. "I should have known." He shook his head at himself. "I really am the di'kut here."

Bridger laughed again. "You said it." He swiped at some of the dirt sticking to his skin half-heartedly. "Why did we do this shirtless again?"

Dawcyk shook his head, choking on his own laugh. The boy was actually starting to grow on him. No wonder everyone else seems to like him; he's just so HAPPY! "I was trying to impress the girl," he admitted.

This inspired a loud snort from the Jedi. "Sabine has never been impressed by muscles. Appreciative, yes. Impressed, no." He paused in his dirt swiping. "Speaking of..." The Jedi looked out at the crowd, turning around in a circle. "Is there anyone else who wants to challenge me before I go wash all of this off?" he called loud enough for everyone to hear, impressing Dawcyk even further with his bravado. "I'm good for another round or two if someone else really wants to try and win the most beautiful girl in the galaxy. I honestly wouldn't blame you for trying."

The crowd laughed and most shook their heads before starting to disperse. As a whole, the Mando warriors' opinion of the Jedi had risen considerably after watching him fight like one of them and win against a worthy opponent. They would spread the word and the new Countess Wren would most likely never get any flack for her choice of husband. Somehow, Bridger felt like one of them now.

Kanan smiled proudly to himself as he sensed the general mood of those around him. Ezra had won more than a fight and Sabine's hand this day. He may just have won over an entire nation.