Hi everyone, Specter 7 here. We are nearing the climactic battle for Sundari in only a few short chapters! So be sure to buckle up ma dudes 'cause it's gonna get epic. Thanks for all your support! Every Follow/Fav & Review is greatly appreciated ;)

May the manda be with you.

The New Mand'alor: Chapter 16: Family Ties

"There's two kinds of family… There's the kind like me and Kaeden, where you get born in the right place to the right people and you're stuck with one another. If you're lucky, it turns out okay. The other kind of family is the kind you find."

-Miara Larte

Sabine gripped the edges of the holotable, her eyes darting across the holographic display.

"We can house the Death Watch here," she said, pointing to part of the map, "and here. Considering your barracks are full."

Bo-Katan shrugged next to her. "It will be cramped," the redhead admitted, "But it could work if your cousin is cooperative."

Kor cupped his chin in his hand as he stared at the layout with them. "It isn't like Arc has much of a choice," he said finally. "You were kind enough to take them in. She can't complain."

"Knowing Arc," Luc muttered, "I'm sure she'll find a way to."

"When will she get here?" Bo-Katan asked Sabine.

Sabine glanced over. "Any minute now. So we need to get these sleeping arrangements figured out."

Ezra walked up to their conversation, a mug of caf in his hand. "What's in here?" he asked, pointing to a lower level of the map, a pocket in the holographic tunnels.

"Ammunition storage," Bo-Katan said curtly. "No room for Arc's warriors. I would assume that you, a warrior from a prestigious house like the Ordos, could tell the difference between a barrack and a weapons vault."

Sabine saw Ezra look at Bo-Katan blankly, the early morning making his mind sluggish. Your Mando cover, she thought to Ezra, subtly kicking him. You di'kut, stop looking at her like that! You'll blow your cover!

And as Kor spoke, Sabine suddenly realized that they had forgotten to tell him about the whole lie. "Wait…" the blonde man said slowly. "You told her you were a Mandalorian?"

Bo-Katan looked shocked. "He's not?"

"I am?" Ezra asked confusedly.

"He is!" Sabine intervened.

They all looked at each other and Sabine finally sighed. Karabast. "…He's not," Sabine said eventually, glancing sheepishly at Bo-Katan. "Ezra lied back in the interrogation room."

She glanced over at the Padawan to see his face light up with recognition. "Oh! Oh, right. I totally forgot about that."

Sabine wanted to strangle him. "Di'kut," she muttered under her breath. Trust Ezra to forget about his own cover.

Bo-Katan glanced between the two of them and opened her mouth to speak when the automatic door to the main tunnel slid open.

"Knock knock?" an achingly familiar voice called.

Everyone turned to see a dark green armored Mandalorian, who stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of blue and white colored Nite Owls.

"Arc!" they all said in unison.

Sabine's cousin took off her black-striped helmet, revealing a slender face and dark brown hair that was knotted back into a messy bun. "Long time no see, cuz," Arc said, slinging her free arm over Sabine's shoulders.

Sabine cocked an eyebrow, secretly happy to see the Death Watch leader. "It's only been a few weeks," she said ruefully. "We went eight years without seeing each other before."

"Never again!" Arc exclaimed, gesturing wildly as they walked up to the holotable, Arc still leaning against Sabine heavily. Her cousin looked at the projection curiously. "What's this?" she asked.

"A layout of the tunnels," Bo-Katan answered, her red hair gleaming from the light of the hologram.

Sabine felt Arc stiffen and let her arm drop off Sabine's shoulders. "Lady Bo-Katan Kryze," Arc said and bowed slightly. "Good to see you in person again."

"The feeling is mutual," Bo-Katan said. "I trust you haven't made a mess of my Death Watch?"

Sabine saw the muscles around Arc's scar twitch at Bo-Katan mentioning "her" Death Watch, but she had the better sense to not address it. "The Death Watch camp, perhaps," Arc said, smirking. "But as far as the warriors go… they are all loyal to the new Mand'alor."

Sabine watched as Bo-Katan nodded approvingly.

"My warriors need a place to rest," Arc continued. "We've been fighting Imperials for days at the old camp, most without sleep."

Bo-Katan inclined her head. "If you'll come with me, I can lead all of you to—"

"—Kor will get the warriors," Arc interrupted and Sabine could swear that her voice sounded strained. Arc looked to her second-in-command. "They're in the entrance tunnel waiting for the all clear."

Sabine saw Kor knit his blonde brows at Arc's pained expression but nodded curtly. Him and Bo-Katan went to meet the Death Watch members.

After they left and Ezra and Luc went to go talk to Jaxon, Arc leaned heavily against Sabine again.

"You okay?" Sabine asked.

Arc shrugged, but immediately winced. "Just tired."

Sabine suddenly noticed her cousin held her right side discreetly and seemed to have trouble swallowing.

"You're hurt," Sabine realized, trying to peek at Arc's wound. "Stormtroopers?"

Arc tried to move away from her. "I'm just tired," she insisted and Sabine knew it was taking every ounce of strength Arc had to not double over.

"Arc," Sabine said. "Let me help you."

Her cousin's hackles seemed to raise at the idea. "I can dress my own wounds."

"Arc," Sabine repeated, looking at her softly. "We're cousins. You haven't been in my life for most of it. Please let me help you."

Arc clenched her jaw and her features contrasted sharply in the dim light. "Fine," she bit out.

Twenty minutes later, Sabine had her cousin in her own roomy quarters, sitting on her bed.

"Nice place you got here," Arc said with a look around the room.

Sabine didn't answer and got out a medpac from the top of her closet. "It's a blaster wound, right?"

Arc rubbed her nose with her thumb. "Just a graze."

Sabine shot her a look.

"…Fine," Arc relented, glancing at the floor. "It's a bad graze, okay? I didn't have time to bandage it good before we left."

Sabine opened the medpac on her bed and pulled the hem of Arc's top up slightly, revealing an olive-skinned, tightly muscled stomach that was wrapped with gauze, a crimson-brown stain bleeding through. Sabine glanced up at her cousin and quickly got the young woman a sparring staff she had in the corner of her room to grip while Sabine worked.

"Just don't knock me out, okay?" Sabine said, only partly joking. "Because this is going to hurt."

Sabine knelt next to her cousin's side and as gently as she could, peeled the gauze off. Arc made a guttural sound of pain and cursed, gripping the sparring staff hard. So hard, Sabine swore she heard the metal creak.

Peeling the last bit off and still being conscious, Sabine sighed and set the nasty gauze to the side.

"Well," Sabine muttered, "you bandaged it enough to stop the bleeding. You're just gonna have to take it easy for a few days so the scab doesn't break."

Arc said nothing, and Sabine figured her cousin wouldn't heed her advice anyway, so she set to work. Sabine began to wash away the old blood gingerly, trying to avoid the patches of burns from the shot. She had seen worst wounds, but it was still ugly. From the looks of it, the graze wasn't bad enough that Arc would need stitches or to be immersed in a bacta tank, but bad enough to sting like fire. She would be fine.

Sabine could see Arc wrinkling her nose in her peripheral vision. Her cousin opened her mouth to speak, but soon closed it again.

"It's okay," Sabine said finally, trying hard to not smile as she shook an irrigation bulb and squirted the cleansing fluid on Arc's wound. "No need to for thank-you's."

Arc glanced at her, but Sabine kept working. "I know," Arc said finally. "…Thanks anyway."

Sabine smiled as she smoothed ointment over the second-degree burns seared into Arc's side. After lathering the swelled and blistering skin with the cream from the medpac, Sabine peeled off the slick guard on a bacta patch, the sickly sweet smell of the medicine filling her nostrils.

Sabine stuck her tongue out unconsciously as she carefully stamped the bacta patch onto Arc's wound. "There," Sabine said finally, relaxing as she pulled Arc's shirt back down. "All done."

Sabine stood and went to wash her hands in the room's refresher, watching her cousin in the mirror. Arc was still sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her wound absently.

Bet she feels awkward, Sabine thought to herself. Arc hasn't had to deal with anyone caring for her in at least eight years.

"Hey," Sabine called, trying to start up a conversation. "You'll, uh, you'll never guess who I saw the other day."

Arc shifted her weight and grimaced. "Who?

Sabine rinsed her hands under the faucet. "Tristan."

Arc laughed. "That little kid. How's your brother doing these days?"

"Fine, I guess. He's way taller than me now. But he was one of Saxon's dogs."

"No."

"Yep. White armor and everything." Sabine dried her hands on a towel and walked back into the room. "I gave him a good bruise on his jaw though."

Arc's lips quirked. "Wish I coulda seen that."

Sabine hesitantly came to sit on the edge of the bed and chewed on her bottom lip.

Arc narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"I was just thinking…"

"Yeah?"

"The braid." Sabine gestured to the blonde Padawan braid weaved into Arc's natural dark hair. "Where did you get it?" Dread sank like a stone at the pit of Sabine's stomach, because she knew she already knew the answer. But after being with her cousin these last few months, Sabine told herself it couldn't be true. Arc was aggressive, but she wasn't murderous. She wouldn't kill someone like Ezra—a Jedi like Ezra. She wouldn't.

Arc's dark green eyes stayed on her unwaveringly. "You've studied the Jedi's tactics and traditions." It scared Sabine how void of emotion Arc's voice was. "You know what it is."

Sabine's dread solidified. "You killed one… didn't you?"

Arc looked away, her dark bangs hanging in her eyes. "Yes," she admitted. "Ending the life of a Jedi in our culture is considered a show of great skill… but I feel no pride."

Sabine frowned. "Then why keep the trophy?"

Her cousin seemed to grow distraught and attempted to stand, but she winced and settled back on the edge of Sabine's bed. "It's not a trophy," she growled and let out a slight moan of pain. "Otherwise, I would have kept his lightsaber on my belt. The braid is a… is a reminder to me." Her voice grew strained. It was hardly above a whisper. "A reminder of how much I miss him."

Sabine narrowed her eyes, beginning to put the pieces together. "Arc," she said slowly, picking her words right. She was stepping into dangerous territory here. "Did you—were you in love with a—"

Suddenly, the room's speakers crackled. "Mand'alor!" a panicked voice said. "Mand'alor the Free, do you copy?"

Sabine could have cursed. "What is it?" she snapped.

"There are visitors here to see you, Mand'alor! We require your immediate presence."

Sabine glanced at Arc, not wanting to leave her cousin's side. Especially just when they were getting somewhere! "Is it completely necessary?" Sabine asked, annoyed. "Can't you just patch… whoever in?"

"No, ma'am. We require your immediate presence."

"I got that part," Sabine muttered. "Fine. I'll be there. Escort the visitors to the courtroom and have my commanders waiting for me."

"Yes, Mand'alor."

The speakers crackled as the communication was cut. Sabine took a long look at Arc.

"I can come with you," Arc offered, beginning to rise.

Sabine laid a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down. "You need to rest," Sabine said and absently reflected that she sounded like Hera. "Maybe take a shower too."

Arc wrinkled her nose. "You saying I stink?"

Sabine decided to ignore the question. Arc just looked like she hadn't cleaned herself in a while. Her hairline had an obvious film over it, from sweat drying repeatedly. Dirt and dust was caked onto Arc's face and her lip was busted, the dry blood crusting over it.

"You just look like you need a shower," Sabine said finally, pulling her eyes away from Arc's war-weary body. "I imagine running from the Empire for four days straight can take its toll on anyone."

"Crinking right," Arc muttered finally, twisting her body experimentally. "Go have fun with your politics, little Mand'alor. I'll be sleeping my worries away."

Sabine twisted her lips. "…Then you'll take a shower?" she tried hopefully.

Arc tossed a pillow at her and Sabine ducked away with a yelp, dashing out the room.

Sabine walked down the main tunnel, her heels clicking on the metal floor. She tugged her helmet over her head. Sabine reached the courtroom's backdoor and rotated her shoulders, getting ready to meet the "visitors" face-to-face. Or, rather, face-to-helmet.

The automatic door slid open with a whine, and Sabine's viewplate lit up with tactical displays, accessing the new area and already calculating the quickest escape route. And with a first glance at the people gathered before her, she figured she might need it.

"So," the Countess Ursa Wren said coldly, looking at her with brown eyes as cutting as sharpened beskar, "the rumors are true, then. My daughter has proclaimed herself Mand'alor."

Sabine's eyes darted underneath her helmet from Mother to Tristan, the latter still wearing that stupid white Imperial Supercommando armor. He went and told Mom, Sabine thought flatly, trying hard to ignore the fact that her heart throbbed with unseen pain. Wonderful.

Mom had seemed to age ten years since the last time Sabine had seen her, although it had been half the time. Faint wrinkles cut themselves at the corners her mother's eyes and her dark brown hair that was tightly held back in spiraling braids was now streaked with gray. Stress seemed to be taking an even greater toll on the woman, Sabine realized, when she saw Mother's gaunt cheeks, stiff stance, and cold expression.

"Mother—," Sabine began, her voice strained, when the said person cut her off.

"—Of all the things I had imagined a child like you would do," her mother said, scorn dripping in her voice, "this surely beats all of them."

Sabine clenched her jaw underneath her helmet. Keep your cool, Sabine chided mentally. You're the Mand'alor now. You have an image to represent. Sabine didn't answer her mother and slowly, cooly, took a few short steps to where the judge would sit in the courtroom, the seat being the closest thing Sabine had to a throne.

She took her magenta-colored helmet off with a flourish, before crossing her legs and setting the helmet to the side of her. Sabine glanced quickly with a flick of her amber eyes to the right and the left. Bo-Katan, Kor, and Fenn Rau were on one side, while Luc, Ezra, and Jaxon were on the other. Good, she thought privately. My commanders are here to back me up in case things go south.

Sabine still didn't speak but observed her mother silently as the woman continued on. "By the manda," Mom spat with contempt. "This is nonsense! You should be held for trial for your actions, child! Not sit on a throne like a pompous fool!"

Sabine resisted the urge to quip back; 'Like you?' and continued to listen to the woman monologue.

"Do you hear me, Sabine?" Mother growled, risking a step up the stairs. "Enough of this façade! You are no ruler, no… Mand'alor, by any means. I am taking you home now."

Ursa Wren walked up a few more steps and Sabine's guards immediately pointed their blasters at her, causing Mom's guards to train their blasters on them as well.

Sabine wanted to laugh coldly at the scene before her in bitter amusement. Mother acted as if Sabine were a kid out past curfew and not the leader of the entire Mandalorian race. Sabine's heart was racing at being confronted by her own mother, but she kept a mask of indifference on her face.

Sabine leisurely lifted a hand, signaling her guards to stand down.

"Enough of this nonsense," Mom insisted, her empty brown eyes darting from Sabine to her guards. "You are leaving now."

It was Ezra who spoke up. "Not happening," he growled and Sabine could practically see the anger drifting off him in waves. Everything about Ezra's taut, tense stance said DANGER! WARNING! ABOUT TO EXPLODE!

"This is a family matter, boy," Mother sniffed. "My daughter being the Mand'alor is downright—"

"—Ridiculous?" Sabine spoke up coldly, keeping her face emotionless. "Unreal? Unfit?"

Mother's face turned stony. "Sabine—"

"Enough," Sabine ordered. There was a long pause and she finally spoke again, sliding off her throne and standing up. "I am in command here. And if your single purpose for traveling to Sundari was to fetch me back like a child in need of scolding, then you are going to be sorely disappointed."

Mom reared back as if she'd been slapped, and Sabine saw Tristan's eyebrows shoot up from the corner of her eye.

Sabine's heartbeat was loud in her ears and her breath rattled in her chest. She could hardly believe what she was doing. If it wasn't for the cloak around her body or the Darksaber on her belt, Sabine didn't know if she would have the strength to speak against her mother.

"Sabine," Mom sputtered. "You are being ridiculous! Come with us now, child, and leave these silly politics behind—"

"You're not to call me that," Sabine said, pulling rank over her mother. Her mouth felt unnaturally dry. "You will address me as Mand'alor the Free, just like everyone else."

That shut her up. Mom stayed staring at Sabine, as if Sabine had been speaking in a language she didn't understand. Finally, her mother asked quietly, "May we speak… alone?"

Sabine stiffened. The last thing I want is to be holed up in a room with her, she thought. She… She's so power-hungry she'll probably want to take my leadership from me.

Sabine hesitated. Well, she never did want to lead Mandalore in the first place. She kinda… got pushed into this whole ordeal. But, Sabine was here now, wearing this cape, and Ursa Wren was not.

Mustering every ounce of dignity she had left, Sabine grabbed her helmet in a controlled manner and walked forward, the small crowd of Mandalorians parting before her. She led her mother out of the courtroom and into one of the pockets from the main tunnel, the automatic door sliding shut behind them.

Sabine didn't turn to face her mother, instead laid a hand on the doorframe. "What do you want?"

"Sabine," Mom stressed. "It's me, your mother. Talk to me. I haven't seen you in years."

"Now there's the greeting I was waiting for. Why couldn't you have started with that?"

"Now listen to me, young lady. I now things might be strained between us but I am still your mother—"

"Believe me," Sabine hissed and whipped around. "You've made that abundantly clear. Tell me, what are you doing here? You didn't come just because you missed me, right?"

Mother's guard slipped back up. "The Empire is after your head, my child. I've come to return you home and grant you a trial with the elders. Gar Saxon—"

"That's another thing! Gar Saxon; how could you side with him? After everything the Empire did—after everything they made me do?"

She looked away and her eyes got a haunted look in them. "Don't you think I tried to stop it? Mandalore was on its knees before the Emperor, and he gave us a choice. Side with him... or Clan Wren would be destroyed."

Sabine frowned. "You made a choice, Mother, but you still have a chance to make the right one. You can fight back. You don't have to stay under Saxon's thumb—"

"'Fight back?'" Mother exclaimed in a cold laugh. "It's all I can do to keep the other clans from destroying us because of what you did. This isn't a game of guns and fists, child. This is politics; diplomacy."

"Trust me," Sabine said dryly, thinking back to the dozens of speeches she had written on her free time the past couple months. "I'm aware. But look, I could use.." Sabine trailed off and forced the words out of her mouth. "Erm. I could use your... help. The other leading houses would listen to you if you vouched for me as the new Mand'alor."

Mother arched a brow. "Other?"

Sabine pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered under her breath. "I need to make a pamphlet or something I can hand out so I can stop repeating myself. Okay, Mother, I've recruited House Ordo, House Kryze, House Caladon, the Protectors, and most of House Vizsla, not including a few scattered clans. Our current plan is to invade Sundari after our troops gather and take it back over, usurping Saxon and liberating our people from the mines. We could use Clan Wren's warriors."

Mother narrowed her eyes. "I'm sure you could. But I did not come for you to recruit me; I came to retrieve you. You're leaving this silly Mand'alor business behind right now and you will return to Krownest with your brother and I."

Sabine stared at her. Did she not hear a word I said? "But Mother—"

"Enough." She grabbed her wrist. "You have nothing to rally the warriors with; nothing to your name other than a traitor's brand—"

Sabine jerked her wrist back and slid the Darksaber off her belt. She ignited the blade with a snap-hiss and Mother gaped at it.

"Is that..."

"The Darksaber," Sabine answered, waving the weapon around. "This is my claim to the Mandalorian throne. I won it in a duel with my cousin, your niece."

She narrowed her eyes. "Arc? She is hardly a worthy adversary—"

"She's the leader of the Death Watch and the head of House Caladon. Guess you haven't been keeping up with the times. Anyway, I'm not leaving with you. So you can tell Tristan to lay off and tell Dad I missed him not coming to see me. Although, I mean, I could see why he didn't; considering the mission..." Her mother's face fell and Sabine's voice faded. "What?"

She turned away from her. "After you left, I never had the chance to tell you."

Panic seized Sabine's heart and she stepped forward. "What? Tell me what?"

"Your... father. He's dead."

The realization hit Sabine like a blaster shot. And yes, she had been shot before so she knew what it felt like. Sabine grabbed her gut and fought the urge to crumple to the ground. "Was it because of me?"

Mother finally met her eyes. "Yes."

Sabine's heartbeat roared in her ears. Her knuckles were white on the Darksaber hilt. "Liar."

Her mother knit her brows and tried to put a hand on Sabine's shoulder. "Sabine—"

The girl swatted her hand a way and backed into the wall. "Liar!" Her voice broke and she slid to the ground. Dad... "He didn't deserve any of this—I created the weapon, why did he suffer for it?"

Mother looked down at her with icy eyes. "Someone had to pay for your mistake, my child. In this case it was your father. But if you continue on with this silly campaign? Saxon will make sure everyone you love will be the sacrifice for your blunders. This is the easiest option, dear." She offered Sabine her hand. "You can walk away from all of it, right now. We can become a family again. Don't you want that?"

Sabine was tempted to take it. She was tempted to go with her mother and hope against hope that she could earn her love back. She was tempted to leave this cursed blade here, along with all the misfortune it brought with it.

But then she thought about everyone on the Ghost. She thought about Arc when Sabine had bandaged her wound. She thought about Ezra when he had hugged her in the tunnels and refused to leave her side. She thought about Kor, and Luc, and Rau, and even Bo-Katan and Torian.

"I already have a family," Sabine said, mustering enough strength to stumble to her feet. She pointed the Darksaber at her mother. "I...I don't need anything from you."

Mother's eyes darkened and her lips twisted wryly. "And your father called me stubborn. Now I see it in you."

The tip of the Darksaber lowered slightly. "What do you see?" Sabine's brows were knit over glassy amber eyes. What does she see in me?

"A warrior," Mother answered stiffly. "Not the one I hoped… but still."

Sabine let the blade linger near her mother for a moment longer before retracting its blade. "Well," Sabine said as she walked past her. "I am your daughter." She bent her head close to Mother's ear, spitting the last words.

"How could I be anything less?"

Tristan Wren exited the courtroom, flanked by the Wren guards. He saw his sister and his mother exit one of the side rooms. Mother's gaze was hard and icy, the way it got when she was disappointed in Tristan or Sabine.

Sabine didn't even look at him. She stalked past him and the Wren guards and went back to the courtroom. The door slid shut behind her and he heard a muffled crash and guttural yell.

Mother came to stand next to him. "Come," she said quietly. "We're leaving."

He struggled to keep pace with her as they pulled out of earshot of the Wren guards. "What happened?"

"She's childish," Mother said briskly. "As always. She refused to be persuaded to come back with us."

Tristan heard another distant crash. "She sounds upset," he commented. "What'd you tell her?"

"That her father was dead."

Tristan stopped cold in his tracks. "What?"

"Close your mouth, son. You look like a codfish."

His jaw snapped shut and he hurried to catch up to her. "Why'd you say that? You know Dad's being held in a jail cell somewhere." He paused. "I mean… he is, right?"

"Yes. I had a video conference with him a rotation ago."

"So why? Why would you tell her that? She deserves to know he's alive."

"She deserves nothing." Mother's voice faltered. "I… I thought perhaps it would sway her decision to come with us. If she knew he was somewhere in Sundari, she would never leave."

"So she can't know."

Mother said nothing. Tristan's wheels turned in his head and he absently rubbed his jaw. It was still swollen. "Mother," he began hesitantly, "what do we do now? We're not going to leave her, are we?"

"Of course not. Whether we approve of her actions or not, she's still family." Mother paused and Tristan shrank back. He had a feeling he wouldn't like whatever she said next. "I… might have a plan."