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Chapter Text

Sabine Wren, future Mandalorian Countess, heir to House Wren, was most certainly not spending her afternoon brooding in her room. 

She had not started the afternoon this way. In fact, it had begun very pleasantly, as she had gotten an idea for a new piece of art and had sketched several thumbnails of it in her journal. She had been about to take out one of the few canvases she had left—she’d have to get some more the next time they stopped for supplies—when her commlink beeped.

That wasn’t what had upturned her afternoon. She got plenty of messages, and some of them she even liked. It was the content of this message, in particular, that made her put away her art supplies and sit hunched on her bed like a rock.

Dear Sabine, read the message, which was a holo image of a fancy-looking piece of paper, whorls and swirls decorating the border. You have been cordially invited to the Wren Family Reunion, scheduled to be held in five standard rotations. The Reunion will be held at the Wren Estate on Krownest. I hope you are able to make it.

Then, in smaller, less beautiful writing, Sabine Wren if you do not come this year I swear on the Manda’lor I will find you wherever you are and beat you black and blue. Love, your Mother.

Of course. Wren family reunions were well-attended affairs, and though Sabine had received plenty of invitations in the past few years, she hadn’t gone to one of the events since she left the Imperial Academy. She clicked off the commlink and sat heavily on her bed, a frown coming over her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her family, though that was part of the problem. Her mother was always nagging her about her future as Countess, and her father had been gone for a few years now. Even her brother, though younger, seemed to be intent on annoying her, with his constant talk of how he would become Count if she did not return. 

But that wasn’t the cause of her brooding—or rather, her not-brooding. No, she was sitting in her room with the door closed because every time she did grace a Wren family reunion with her presence, the only question she ever received was, “Have you found a boyfriend yet?”

She knew it was a silly reason to avoid her family, but it was very annoying to have all her aunts and uncles and great-aunts and great-uncles and third cousins twice removed all ask her the same thing.

Getting out of the reunion this year would be more difficult than usual, but Sabine would manage. She was just about to send a message to her mother, telling her that something had come up, when her commlink dinged again. Sabine reached for her bedside table, picked up the device, and saw a message from her mother displayed across the tiny screen.

I know you’re about the reject the invitation, the message said, but I’ve spoken with that Jetti you’re in league with and he told me you have nothing planned so I expect to see you in a few rotations. 

Sabine groaned. Curse Kanan and his “everyone should try to repair relations with their families and whatnot” nonsense. How was she supposed to get out of this now ?

She was prepared to spend the rest of the day brainstorming ideas to get out of this reunion, though she doubted any would actually work, but just as she face-planted into her pillow with a groan, Ezra was opening her door, saying, “Hera wants to know if you want leftover Nubian noodles for dinner or if you want—”

He frowned, the expression visible from the tiny clear space in Sabine’s pillow-mask. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Sabine answered his question with a sigh.

She heard Ezra shuffle forward tentatively, then felt his weight shift the mattress as he sat down. There was silence for a few moments, which Sabine assumed was Ezra trying to figure out what to say. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Normally Sabine would have been annoyed. She wasn’t one to talk about her problems. She preferred to beat them up until they couldn’t bother her anymore, Mandalorian style. Ezra was . . . not like that to say the least. She had found it aggravating at first, how he would smile kindly and ask people if they wanted to share what was bothering them. But after nearly two years of friendship, she found she didn’t mind his inquiries as to her well-being. In fact, she enjoyed them.

So she sat up and said, “Sure.”

Ezra seemed surprised by this if his wide eyes were any indication; Sabine hadn’t ever responded positively to these kinds of questions. He schooled his expression quickly, though. Maybe he thought that Sabine would dismiss him if he looked too shocked. She stifled a laugh.

“So . . . why are you brooding in your room?” asked Ezra. 

“Okay—I am not brooding ,” said Sabine defensively. 

“Fine,” said Ezra with a grin. “Why are you moping ?”

Sabine gave up on trying to defend her dignity. Maybe she was brooding, or moping. “I’ve been invited to a family reunion,” she said.

“That’s—that’s . . . that’s great?”

Sabine snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Ezra looked bemused. “I know you don’t have the best relationship with your family, but you have said on several occasions that it’s really not as bad as you make it out to be. Why is it so bad that you’ve been invited to a reunion?”

Sabine prepared herself to explain, shifting so she was facing Ezra. “Well, every year, the only thing anyone will ask me is if I have a boyfriend, or if I’m getting married, or if I’ve even found anyone that piques my interest romantically.” She took a breath. “And it is annoying . And this year my mom made it very clear that I have to attend, so I’ve been trying to think of ways to get out of the inevitable interrogations I will be faced with.”

This, at least, seemed to make Ezra understand Sabine’s situation. He nodded carefully, looking incredibly contemplative. Then he said, “Couldn’t you just ask someone to pretend to be your boyfriend for the duration of the trip?”

That idea had occurred to Sabine, but she had dismissed the idea, thinking that it was far too ridiculous to even be considered. And though she knew Ezra was the king of bad ideas, the fact that he, too, had thought of it made her reconsider. Maybe that would work. Unfortunately, she didn’t know anyone who would be willing . . . 

A wicked grin came over her face. “That,” she said, “is brilliant.”

Ezra beamed. “Really? I thought it was a bit stupid.”

“No, no.” Sabine drummed her fingers on her knees. “Problem is, I only know one guy.”

Ezra frowned. “Who is it? Do you think he would be willing to do that? It’s a pretty crazy plan . . .” He trailed off, finally noticing the expression on Sabine’s face. “No,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “No, no, no, no.” He gave her a look. “Sabine, that is the stupidest—Sabine, I’m not going to pretend to be your boyfriend .”

“It was your idea!” protested Sabine. “Besides, it’ll only be for a few rotations.” He still didn’t look convinced. “ Come on . They’ll believe it! We’ve been living together long enough that they’re bound to think we’ve developed feelings for each other. And just think of the look on Great Aunt Sarti’s face when she finds out I’m dating a Jetti . . .” The last bit was more for herself, but Ezra did look amused.

“Maybe . . .” he said. He appeared a little hesitant still, but Sabine knew he was warming up the idea. She knew Ezra would eventually agree with her. He was like that; he didn’t like to disappoint people. And there was a part of him that would enjoy this whole debacle, Sabine knew it.

She just knew it.

So when Ezra finally nodded, after several more minutes of consideration, she pumped her fists in celebration but wasn’t surprised. “Alright,” she said, bouncing on her bead excitedly. “We’ve got to come up with a story.”

“Right.” Ezra thought for a moment. “I mean, obviously we met on the Ghost . We’ve had a lot of adventures together . . . and then . . . and then . . .” His eyes lit up. “Remember that time Kanan and Hera had to make out to distract those stormtroopers?”

Sabine immediately dissolved into a fit of giggles. That had really been something. She and Ezra had laughed about it for hours afterward, and now, even a while later, Sabine still couldn’t think of the incident without losing it. Kanan and Hera had been so embarrassed, especially after they had to give their mission report. Of course, everyone wanted to know how they managed to sneak away from an entire platoon of stormtroopers. The base had talked about it for weeks.

Sabine gathered herself, wiping happy tears from her eyes. “You want that to be how we realized our feelings for each other?”

“Well, it did make Kanan and Hera more lovey-dovey,” said Ezra with a nonchalant shrug. 

“My family would eat it up,” said Sabine thoughtfully, still trying not to laugh. “So, we kissed as a distraction, and it was awkward afterward.”

“But then we talked about it,” added Ezra, “and we realized that it had been awkward because we liked each other, not because we were ‘just friends’.” He put air quotes around the last bit, and Sabine giggled a little. 

“And the rest is history,” said Sabine with a flourishing of her hands.

“Very simple,” said Ezra. 

“It’s the Mandalorian way,” said Sabine, smiling.

Ezra bobbed his head. “First date?”

“A picnic on Lothal,” said Sabine without hesitation. She and Ezra had picnicked there once, but that had been because the two of them had been causing too much ruckus while Hera tried to repair the ship. They had been banished from the ship and spent the rest of their day causing chaos in Lothal’s grasses.

“Only more romantic than our last picnic,” said Ezra. It had ended with a messy confrontation with some stormtroopers.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sabine. “Mandalorians find fighting very romantic.”

“See, we didn’t really fight in that instance,” said Ezra. “We kind of just threw our food at them and ran off.”

“Ezra,” said Sabine with mock seriousness, “allow me to introduce you to the concept of a food fight .”

He laughed.

They spend a little while longer working on their story, hashing out all the details of their firsts, all of which Sabine assured Ezra would be the subject of questions from her family. The story ended up being a very detailed one, so much so that Ezra and Sabine vowed to memorize all of it during the next few rotations. 

They had been at memorizing for a few minutes—Sabine was quizzing Ezra on all her favorite things—when Ezra said, “Shouldn’t we have some kind of . . . contract?”

“A contract?” Sabine set down the holo she had recorded their “relationship”’s information on. “What kind of contract?”

“You know,” said Ezra, “one that says what sort of things we can do in public or not. Like . . . we could initiate one kiss a day or something.”

“That's . . . actually a good idea.” Things like that had slipped Sabine’s mind. Her family would expect physical affection, if only a little, and Sabine knew that she would shy away if Ezra initiated anything uninvited. This way, though, there would be parameters. She would know what to expect.

Opening up a new document on her holo, Sabine said, “What should the terms of our contract be, then?”

“What will your family expect?” asked Ezra in return.

Sabine thought for a moment. “They’ll definitely want a kiss or two, so maybe a daily allotment, like you said. I think one is good.” She wrote that down. “Hand-holding, also, will be expected. We aren’t a really touchy kind of family, but we don’t shy away from affection either. So, hand-holding when the family is around, but not too much otherwise they’ll get suspicious.” She added that to the list.

“What about arm-putting-around?” asked Ezra.

“Arm-putting-around?”

“Like this.” Ezra wove his arm behind her back, resting his hand on her shoulder awkwardly.  “Or, the more intimate—” He lowered his hand to her waist. 

Sabine felt a strange tingle move up her spine. She ignored it and shrugged Ezra’s arm away. “I guess that would be fine,” she said. “Especially if we’re sitting around and talking . . .” She added that the contract. Arm-putting-around. She took a breath. The tingles were probably from nerves. She really wanted this plan to work, for her sanity’s sake. 

Ezra was giving her a strange look, so she hurried on to the next example of physical affection she knew. “Resting heads on shoulders,” she said, clapping her hands together nervously. “You should let me rest my head on your shoulder—occasionally.”

“I’ll allow it,” said Ezra loftily.

Sabine laughed, the odd tingles retreating. 

They both signed the contract, Ezra’s name in messy print and Sabine’s ending with an artistic swirl. They stared at the contract for a second, with its four terms. Then, Sabine came to the sudden realization that there were a lot of instances of kissing in their fake relationship story. So many that Sabine figured her family would expect them to know how to kiss each other.

Sabine had never kissed anyone and she doubted Ezra had either. Oh, they would look horribly inexperienced when they kissed in front of her family.  

It seemed that Ezra had come to the same conclusion, for he was looking at their story in horror. “Sabine,” he said, “we’ve kissed a lot according to this.”

“I just realized that.” Sabine swallowed.

“They’re going to expect us to be experienced kissers,” said Ezra, his voice taking on a higher pitch than normal.

“Which we are not,” concluded Sabine. She twisted her fingers nervously. There was an obvious next step in this circumstance, but Sabine didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. She looked to Ezra, mentally imploring him to take the first step, even though she knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her. 

He thought of it himself. “We should probably practice,” he said.

This is awkward because we’re friends , Sabine told herself. “Probably,” she said out loud.

Ezra pursed his lips. “We could probably practice now .”

“That might be smart.”

They both leaned forward at the same time. Ezra blinked a few times. “I—uh—don’t know how to kiss.”

“Neither do I,” admitted Sabine breathily.

“Maybe if I just—” Ezra titled his head in one direction and Sabine titled hers the opposite way. They leaned forward even more, mouths drawing closer and closer together, then froze just before their lips touched.

“You go first,” whispered Sabine.

“No, you go,” said Ezra.

In the end, they both went together. The kiss was a messy one, and Sabine realized with utter annoyance that they would probably have to practice more. Then Ezra straightened a little and his lips hit hers at a perfect angle. Sparks seemed to erupt inside of Sabine. The feeling was a foreign one to her, but she found that she didn’t want to back away.

At least, that was until the door to her room slid open and Hera stepped inside. “Dinner’s—” 

Ezra and Sabine broke apart in a flurry of explanations as Hera stood there with wide eyes.

“It’s not what you think!” cried Sabine, waving her hands desperately. “I have a family reunion—”

“She needed a date—”

“It’s pretend—”

Hera took a deep breath and shook her head. “I don’t even want to know.”

The door slid shut.

Chapter Text

“I still think this isn’t going to end well.” 

Kanan was standing beside Hera, who was watching Ezra and Sabine pack their bags into the Phantom . The two kids had explained their plan to Kanan and Hera, and while it had some merit, Kanan didn’t think it was a smart one. He knew Ezra still had lingering feelings for Sabine—very faint ones—and he worried Ezra would get hurt in this process. Sabine could be . . . oblivious, to say the least. 

“I think they’ll be fine,” said Hera softly, so the kids wouldn’t hear them talking. “The contract idea was smart.”

“Yeah . . .” Even still, one kiss a day ? Between two people who didn’t even really have feelings for each other? It sounded like the kind of thing Kanan would have come up with in his Padawan days, which was not a good thing. He had been a little . . . foolhardy . . . as a Padawan. 

“Trust them,” said Hera gently. “They’re adults—sort of.”

“Do you really see them as adults?” Kanan pointed in the general direction of Sabine and Ezra with his thumb. The two were in the middle of having a very passionate discussion about loth-cats and whether or not Ezra should form a loth-cat empire with his Force abilities. Sabine was in favor of the idea. “Do you hear them?”

“I think it’s cute.” Hera leaned on Kanan. “And who knows? Maybe they will fall in love.”

“Oh, don’t be dense.”

Hera gaped. “Kanan Jarrus!” she said, swatting his arm playfully.

Their fun was interrupted by Ezra saying, “We’re all set to go. Are you gonna come say goodbye, or are you gonna keep flirting?”

Hera rolled her eyes. “Oh, we’re coming to say goodbye,” she said, taking Kanan’s arm and dragging him into the cockpit. He bumped unceremoniously against the seats as she guided him. That was probably going to leave a bruise.

The farewells were quick, as Sabine and Ezra had to leave soon in order to make it to the reunion in time. As the Phantom slid out of its position and took off into space, Hera whispered to Kanan, “Ten credits say they fall in love.”

“Twenty says they don’t.”

The Phantom touched down on the cold snow of Krownest, settling with a gentle thud on the ground. After making sure everything on the ship was in order, Ezra stood from the seat and surveyed the luggage. Among Sabine’s multiple bags, Ezra’s singular duffel looked rather sad. “Do you want any help carrying anything?” he said.

Sabine made her way next to Ezra. “I don’t—” She stopped, eyes fixed on the sheer amount of baggage littering the Phantom ’s floor. “Actually, yeah. You can carry a few things.”

Ezra smiled and lifted four of the bags, including his own. Sabine shouldered the others.

“Why did you pack so much?” he asked as they stepped off the Phantom . “It’s only a week.”

“Exactly.” Sabine hopped off the ramp, feet sounding strangely quiet as they landed in the snow. With a bit of effort, she adjusted the sleeve of her coat. “You may not know this, Ezra, but girls require a lot of things for ‘only a week’ away. Besides, I had to anticipate all the possible kinds of celebrations my mother might conjure up. The last time I went to one of these—man, that was nearly five years ago—we had a ball .”

“A ball?” asked Ezra skeptically.

“Oh yeah.” Sabine began to trudge through the snow toward the Wren Stronghold in the distance. “It was my grandmother’s idea, actually, but my mom wholeheartedly agreed with the whole thing. The entire debacle was outrageous. I spent most of the night eating cookies under one of the tables with my cousins.” She rolled her eyes back at Ezra. “That was before everyone cared about my relationship status.”

Ezra chuckled. He had very vague, distant memories of dinner parties his parents had thrown. He, too, hadn’t engaged much in the rest of the party, preferring to sneak as many sweets as he could manage. He was surprised at how easily he could recall the memory, despite the fact that he must have been three or four at the time. Perhaps it was the Force. 

They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked to the house. The snow made it all the more welcome as it muffled all other sounds around the two. It was beautifully calm, something Ezra would not think to associate with Mandalorians. And the last time he had been here had been filled with lightsaber and blaster combat alike. He hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate the stillness of the snow.

But it didn’t remain still for long. As soon as Sabine and Ezra stepped in view of the house’s large windows, excited shrieks filled the chilly air. Sabine gave Ezra a long look before plastering a smile on her face to greet the rush of people that came from the house.

Sabine was hugged by both young and old members of her family. Ezra found himself laughing at Sabine’s begrudging face, her arms squished close to her sides as an old woman gave the girl a tight hug. Once she had been released and several male cousins took Sabine’s bags, she turned to Ezra and stuck her arm through his, pulling him close to her. “I would like you all to meet my boyfriend, Ezra Bridger.”

Gasps erupted and the family members began hurling questions at the two. Now Ezra understood why Sabine had been so adamant about having a boyfriend—even a fake one—with her. Most of the questions currently being hurled their way were, in fact, copies of questions previously asked. Foremost among the questions were: “Are you really dating a Jetti?”

Beside Ezra, Sabine was staring a little blankly at her family. Sensing her discomfort—the two had a Force bond that had been forged slowly over their Rebellion-induced friendship—Ezra reached over slowly and took her hand in his own and squeezed. After only a moment’s hesitation, she squeezed back. 

“I’m with you,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

Once again, the smile went back on her face. “We can answer your questions later,” she said, her voice filled with false cheerfulness. “I really don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

The voices of her family quieted down and everyone started to walk back to the house. Sabine dropped Ezra’s hand. “Thanks,” she said. Her face was bright pink from the cold, her eyes bright. Despite being ill at ease around her family, the cool air seemed to have invigorated her. 

“Anytime,” he smiled. 

They followed the family inside, staying far enough behind that miscellaneous cousins would have a difficult time throwing questions their way. Ezra wasn’t sure where they were going—discussions about the layout of the Wren Stronghold had not come up during their various planning sessions. Sabine, however, seemed to have a very good idea, for the redness of her cheeks faded and she gripped Ezra’s hand all the more tightly. Ezra realized why as they stepped into a large room with tall windows—this was some sort of throne room, and a woman Ezra assumed to be Sabine’s mother sat on a rigid throne.

Sabine dropped Ezra’s hand. “Mother,” she said monotonously. 

“So,” said Ursa Wren, ignoring her daughter’s greeting and looking at Ezra rather imperiously. “You are the boy my daughter has decided to court.”

Ezra thought this all was a bit formal, but he nodded, hoping he didn’t appear too nervous. It would be such a shame if his and Sabine’s charade only lasted a few minutes. “We’ve been together for nearly a year now,” he said, remembering the story. He and Sabine had gone over it time and time again on the journey over, though they had not practiced kissing a second time. Ezra thought that part was a shame---not that he wanted to kiss Sabine, of course. Even if he had enjoyed the kiss, even if he hadn’t necessarily wanted to stop—

No. It was just a kiss. It had certainly meant nothing to Sabine, who had dismissed Ezra rather quickly and flippantly after Hera had walked in on them. So it would mean nothing to Ezra. Even if he did find the angry tint she currently had on her cheeks rather pretty . . . 

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Focus on the conversation , he told himself. Sabine doesn’t like you, so you don’t like her. Get your head on straight.

Ursa was still staring at Ezra, and he began to wonder if he should say something else—or do something, maybe. Did she want a longer explanation of their relationship? Ezra tried to think of one of the details he and Sabine had come up with, but there were too many of them. Maybe they shouldn’t have planned so much—Ezra always did do better winging it.

Before he could say anything, however, Ursa turned to Sabine. “I am . . . a little disappointed in you, Sabine. A Jetti ? I was hoping you would find a nice Mandalorian to become duke alongside you. Not a scrappy little Jedi.”

Ezra resisted the urge to say that he wasn’t scrappy, instead letting Sabine talk. This was her mother, after all. 

“I’m not going to stand for you insulting my boyfriend,” said Sabine, jutting her jaw and looking determinedly up at her mother. “He’s a good man.” Her voice was confident, but Ezra could see an almost indiscernible quaver to her posture, like she was trying very hard not to react painfully to her mother’s words. So Ezra reached over slowly, taking her hand in his. She held onto it like a lifeline, her viselike grip threatening to cut off Ezra’s blood circulation.

But he didn’t let go.

Ursa seemed to notice this, her eyes flitting briefly to their hands, then to Ezra’s face. She considered him for a moment, then said, “I suppose it could be worse. Jedi do have a certain . . . prowess . . . in battle. He will make a fine match.”

The last bit was spoken almost dejectedly as if Ursa didn’t want to think that. But Sabine’s grip relaxed and her posture loosened. A careful smile appeared on her face.

Despite her bravado, Ezra realized, Sabine really did care for her family. She really did care about what they thought of her. She wanted them to be proud of her. However well she might hide it, Ezra could see. Maybe it was their Force bond, maybe it was because of the years they’d spent fighting at each other’s side. But whatever the reason, he understood her. 

“Will you be sleeping in separate rooms?” asked Ursa casually, stepping from her throne and greeting Sabine with a brief embrace. Sabine immediately turned bright red and Ezra felt his face doing the same. She blustered for several moments, eyes finding Ezra’s for assistance.

“That—that would be fine,” said Ezra finally, his voice at a higher pitch than usual. Force, it would have been awful if Ursa had simply assumed they would be sharing a room. 

She frowned. “If you wish to share a room, I have no issue with it. In fact, it might be better. We’ve only so many bedrooms, and most are already filled. The two of you could stay in Sabine’s old room. It’s large enough for two.”

Neither Ezra nor Sabine knew how to respond without seeming suspicious, so they simply exchanged horrified glances as Ursa told one of the guards to take the two teenagers’ bags to their room.

Their room . Singular. 

Ursa bade the two farewell, saying she had some business to attend to. The guard left as well, somehow managing to carry all of the bags. Ezra almost wanted to send a push his way so he would drop them, but he figured that would be a petty use of the Force. Kanan wouldn’t really approve.

“I am so sorry!” exclaimed Sabine, her hands going to her face. “I didn’t know what to say! If I had refused, that would have been so suspicious!”

“It's alright,” said Ezra, shrugging in an effort to make himself appear even more indifferent even as he was inwardly panicking over the thought of sharing a room with Sabine. “I can just sleep on the floor.”

“That would be suspicious too!” Sabine was bordering on hysterical now. “This was a horrible plan! They’ll probably force us to say the Riduurok! Force, if they do that I swear I will strangle my mother.”

“The Riduurok?” asked Ezra.

“Marriage vows,” said Sabine with a sigh.

Ezra grew horrified. “Would they really do that?”

“Who knows?!” Sabine threw up her hands. She started walking up the stairs. “Let’s get situated in my room. Then we can mingle with the family, spread our story around. Let’s review: What is my favorite color?”

“Purple. And mine?”

“Orange, obviously.” Sabine hopped over the top step. “What color dress was I wearing when we went to the Rebellion’s formal?”

“Black.”

“And?”

“And orange. When was our first kiss?”

“Well, technically when we distracted those stormtroopers,” said Sabine. “But our first real kiss was when I was cutting your hair.” She opened a door covered in chipped paint. “Here’s my room,” she said, stepping inside.

Ezra followed closely after. The room looked exactly like one would imagine Sabine’s room to look. The walls were covered in graffiti, ranging from silly doodles of her family members to intricate pieces likely laced with symbolism. Her bed was very large, with a canopy made of an assortment of warm colors hanging over the sides. Sketchbooks littered the desk pushed underneath the corner window, and there were art supplies in every nook and cranny. Sabine had clearly turned this room into a sanctuary, one that had not been touched during her time away from home.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said, kicking aside a pile of clothes. “I didn’t bother to clean up before I left for the Imperial Academy.”

“I wouldn’t either,” said Ezra. He found his bag stacked on top of Sabine’s. “Where should I put my things?”

“There’s a full refresher to the left of my closet,” said Sabine. “In theory, I have a cupboard in there. It might be filled with stuff. If not, you can put your bag in there and your toiletries in one of the drawers under the sink.”

“Got it.” Ezra took his things and stepped into the refresher. It was just as colorful as the rest of the bedroom, with tiles in gold and purple covering the sides of the shower and bathtub. Ezra opened the cupboard Sabine had mentioned and lodged his bag in between a bin of paintbrushes and a stack of old sketchbooks. He put his toiletries in a drawer. When he left the bathroom, Sabine was rifling through her bags, putting things in dresser drawers.

“I had forgotten how many things I took with me,” she said as she folded a cream-colored dress with a red sash. “I’ve never worn a lot of these things. I should probably just leave them here.”

She folded up another dress and stuck it deep inside one of the drawers.

Ezra made his way to the bed and pushed aside one of the curtains. Sitting down on the purple comforter, he said, “Do you want me to get some blankets from a linen closet and make a nest on the floor?”

Sabine looked up. “Too suspicious. We can share the bed. It’s big enough that we won’t even notice each other.”

“Cool,” said Ezra, nodding nonchalantly. This was worse than just sharing a room. Sharing a bed ?! How quickly their plan had turned against them. It was a big bed though, and it would be far more comfortable than the floor. “So,” he said, watching Sabine stand up, “should we go mingle?”

“I suppose we should,” sighed Sabine.

The rest of the family was spread out downstairs, some in the sitting room, some in the dining room, and others in various rooms nearby. Sabine led Ezra to the sitting room, where her brother and mother were sitting alongside several cousins. She brushed Ezra’s hand and he took it gently. Yet again, Sabine found that the touch of his skin on hers made her insides fill with butterflies. 

I’m with you. That’s what he had said to her earlier as she had begun to be overwhelmed by the presence of her family. She had turned pink then, she knew. She would be able to attribute it to the cold, though that was far from the reason her cheeks had reddened. And of course, Ezra had meant it platonically . They were just friends, the two of them, no matter how many butterflies his touch conjured in her stomach. 

She shook the feeling away. It wasn’t as if she had feelings for Ezra. She was just . . . touch-starved. That was a thing, wasn’t it? 

She sure hoped it was.

“I didn’t know you would be coming,” said Tristan from his spot on the sofa. Though he was sitting, Sabine could tell he’d be at least a few inches taller than her when he stood—he hadn’t been when Sabine left. How much of her younger brother’s life had she missed, running amok with the Rebellion? It wasn’t as if she regretted her decisions—joining the Rebellion was the best choice she ever made. But she did wish she hadn’t had to give up on her family for that, even if she had forged a new one in the Ghost crew. If only she could have both.

“Well,” said Sabine, “Mom threatened to pull me apart limb-by-limb if I didn’t come, so I really didn’t have much of a choice.”

“And you brought a . . . boyfriend?” asked Tristan, gesturing to Ezra with his glass. Sabine really hoped that wasn’t alcohol--- she was just barely old enough to drink by Mandalorian standards, and she had two years on her brother. 

“Yup,” said Sabine, tightening her grip on Ezra’s hand. “Ezra, this is my brother, Tristan. Tristan, this is Ezra. And yes, he’s a Jedi.”

“I gathered from the lightsaber,” said Tristan dryly. He sipped his drink—Sabine could tell it was punch, now. 

“So you’re Sabine’s brother,” said Ezra. “She never really mentioned you—I mean, I imagine that’s not necessarily because she didn’t want to, but I mean, she never did talk about you.”

“ Ezra ,” hissed Sabine, ramming her elbow gently into his side. He rolled his eyes.

“How did you two get together?” asked a female cousin. She wasn’t wearing any armor—just a purple jumpsuit. She had short dark brown hair and fair skin. “I didn’t think Sabine was the kind of girl to go for a guy like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Ezra incredulously.

“It means,” said Sabine, shooting her cousin a glare, “that you’re a Jedi.”

“As if Jedi and Mandalorians don’t have a history of getting together,” muttered Ezra.

Sabine frowned at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Ezra. “Just something Kanan told me. Apparently, when he was a Padawan, there were rumors going around about a Jedi and the Mandalorian duchess being a couple.”

“ Wait ,” said another cousin, a girl with black and blonde hair. “Are you talking about Master Kenobi?” She sat up from her curled-up position and looked at Ezra with wide eyes. “I had a friend on Kalevala who worked as a guard for the Duchess, and she claimed that she had seen . . . trysts . . . between her and Master Kenobi. And, of course, there was the Duchess’s nephew .”

 Ezra looked as if he wanted to hear more, but Ursa waved her hands. “Let us not discuss idle gossip . I am interested in the story between my daughter and her Jedi lover. How in the galaxy did the two of you get together?”

Beside her, Sabine saw Ezra’s face turn bright red. She couldn’t imagine why---their story wasn’t racy or anything. Ezra did tend to turn red when nervous. Perhaps that was it. It might sell their story better, anyway.

“Well,” said Sabine, taking a seat on the sofa next to Ezra, “we were on a mission, intercepting some Imperial weapons shipment. Ezra and I had gone off to steal the weapons, and as we were sneaking in through a back alley, some stormtroopers showed up.”

“We needed a distraction,” said Ezra, “so Sabine suggested that we, uh, start making out.” He turned pinker.

“One thing led to another,” said Sabine, “and we realized we had feelings for each other.” She plastered a bright smile on her face and gave Ezra what she hoped was a loving look. He returned it, looking much more genuine than Sabine felt. They curled their hands tighter around each other.

The cousin with blonde-and-black hair sighed. “That’s so romantic,” she said, resting her chin in her hands. “I wish I could have a relationship like that.”

Ezra laughed. 

The conversation drifted away from Sabine and Ezra’s supposed relationship—but only after the two answered another set of rapid-fire questions about all of their firsts: kisses, dates, fights . . . Sabine was beginning to tire of it all, even as she lay comfortably with her head resting on Ezra’s shoulder. He was so very warm. She thought she would be able to stay like this forever, feeling Ezra’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. Arm-putting-around. Now that had been a wonderful addition to the contract. 

“You wanna get away?” whispered Ezra in Sabine’s ear, his warm breath tickling her skin. She nodded slowly and he took her hands in his, pulling her out of the room. She giggled for extra measure, smiling lovingly up at Ezra until they were well away from the rest of the family. Sabine found a convenient closet and she and Ezra squeezed inside. They sat on the ground, knees touching each other, crowded among the mops and brooms.

With a relieved sigh, Sabine said, “That seemed to work.”

“They certainly appeared convinced.” Ezra pushed aside a cleaning droid that was digging into his backside. “I even poked around their Force signatures to see—no suspicion at all.”

“Thank the manda ,” said Sabine. She rested her head against the wall. “Ugh, I’m sorry about my family—they had so many questions. And I’m sorry Kamea kept gossiping about, well, everything. Though, I had no idea that the former Duchess and a Jedi had a lovechild . I mean, what are the odds?”

“And Master Kenobi was supposed to be this, ‘perfect’ Jedi!” exclaimed Ezra. “I guess he was a Padawan, and Padawans are notoriously dumb, but isn't that crazy to think about? It would be like if Kanan had gone on a mission to help Hera and they’d, y’know, and had a kid. But, like, crazier because it’s a Mandalorian and a Jedi.” 

“Ancient enemies,” said Sabine, wiggling her fingers. “Brought together by the power of love .”

“Just like us,” said Ezra raising a brow and wiggling his fingers in the same manner as Sabine. Sabine giggled. 

A comfortable silence fell over the closet. For a while, the two sat there, pleased to be in one another’s company, however tight the space may be. Just as Sabine was about to suggest that they go find her family again, Tristan’s voice started calling from a distance, “Sabine! Dinner’s ready!” 

His footsteps drew closer to the closet. Sabine looked frantically at the door, which was just barely cracked open. “Quick, start kissing me,” she said, turning to Ezra.

He looked at her in utter confusion. “What?”

“The contract—one kiss!” she cried, then took his face in her hands and began to kiss him.

Technically—and Sabine was clinging to that technicality—they only really kissed once. Their lips were touching at all points during the kiss, even if they did change the angle at which their mouths pressed together, even if they drew closer and closer until Sabine was almost on top of Ezra. And, oh manda , she was enjoying it. The feel of Ezra’s lips on hers . . . she shouldn’t have liked it as much as she did yet she found that she could not pull away. Her only comfort was that Ezra, too, did not draw back, instead leaning closer, curling his fingers around Sabine’s neck and hair.

She didn’t hear the door open, so absorbed in kissing Ezra, and was not warned of her brother’s appearance until he coughed rather loudly. She and Ezra broke apart instantly, and as Tristan stood above them, looking both disgusted and fascinated at the same time, Sabine quickly wiped her mouth and fanned her cheeks, trying to quell the bright red she knew was present. She refused to look at Ezra, not wanting him to see that she had been so affected by a kiss that was in their kriffing contract. It occurred to her only momentarily that he could likely sense her feelings in the Force. 

Finally, blessedly, Tristan spoke. “If you want to eat something other than each other’s faces, dinner is ready.” Then he turned on his heel and stalked away, muttering something about kriffing couples under his breath. 

Sabine stood abruptly, saying, “Let’s go then!” Even she could tell that there was something wrong with her voice—it was higher than it should be, strained, even. She turned to look at Ezra and found that he was staring at her in confusion, brows drawn close together. His face was pink, but he apparently had not succumbed to the feelings Sabine was currently trying to push deep down inside of herself. She was having little luck.

“Yes, let’s,” said Ezra softly, still looking confused, as he stood and followed a fast-walking Sabine to the dining room.

In all of Ezra’s seventeen years of life, he had never felt like he had while kissing Sabine.

Throughout the entirety of dinner, during which he absentmindedly held Sabine’s hand and ate his food in slow, robotic motions, he could not get the feeling of her soft lips on his to leave his mind. That kiss had been . . . well, magical, he supposed, however dumb the word might sound. He really had enjoyed it, infinitely more than their awkward practice kiss on the Ghost . This one had been . . . different. In truth, they did not begin kissing so soon, and in keeping up the kiss, they might have accidentally broken the contract. Or, Ezra might have. He knew Sabine had not wanted to keep the kiss up for so long—she had likely only continued to keep up appearances. And from the faint impression Ezra had gotten of her emotions, he knew that she had felt overwhelmed afterward. He’d have to apologize later.

Perhaps if Ezra had gotten experience kissing someone other than Sabine, he wouldn’t be so inclined to kiss for longer than necessary. Maybe then he wouldn’t think the feeling so new and exciting. For that was it. It wasn’t Sabine he enjoyed kissing. It was the kiss itself. That had to be it. Otherwise, that would mean that he still liked Sabine and that was definitely not the case.

So after supper, after he and Sabine played games with Tristan and several of the cousins, after they had both taken their showers and were ready for bed, he said, “I’d like to apologize for not pulling back in the closet.”

For a moment, Sabine looked very confused. Then her eyes went wide in realization. She turned a faint shade of red. “Oh,” she said with a laugh, “I was going to say the same, actually. I, uh, was worried about appearances, of course.” She nodded solemnly. “I’m sure it was a very, uh, convincing kiss.”

“I’m sure it was,” said Ezra. He was a little relieved. So Sabine wasn’t angry with him. That was good. He had anticipated a few angry words at the very least. This was far more pleasant. “Do you still not mind sharing the bed? I really don’t mind sleeping on the floor if that’s what you would prefer.”

“Nah,” said Sabine casually. She was already sitting on the right side of the bed, the colorful comforter drawn over her legs. Her too-large shirt featured an impressionistic firebird, painted in bright purple. Ezra had made her the shirt for Lifeday a few years ago, back when he had been new to the Ghost crew. She had worn it almost every night since. He took that as a good sign. “The bed is more than big enough for the both of us.” 

She patted the space beside her and Ezra sat down warily. He settled under the covers, avoiding Sabine’s eyes. 

The room was silent for some time as Ezra tried to fall asleep. He could tell Sabine was still awake—not just because of her Force signature, but also because of the way she breathed, unevenly. He decided to risk taking a look at her—and immediately wished he had not.

Her face was illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp on the bedside table next to her, a sketchbook and graphite stick in her hand. Her lips were parted slightly, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she concentrated on her drawing. Force, was she beautiful. 

She glanced to the side, eyes registering that Ezra was watching her. “Plotting ways on making that loth-cat empire?” she asked, a smirk playing with her lips.

All thoughts of Sabine’s prettiness immediately left Ezra’s head. “Oh, I have many ideas,” he said, laughing.

She punched him softly in the arm and returned to her drawing. 

Chapter Text

Sabine woke up cold.

Still half asleep, she groped around half-heartedly for the blankets. Her fingers only brushed the sheets beneath her. Sighing, she rolled over to look at Ezra, who was unsurprisingly tangled in the three blankets that were on the bed. 

“Blanket hog,” she grumbled softly, trying to pry one of the blankets from his grip, which only tightened. With a muttered expletive, Sabine slid closer to Ezra, snuggling up beside him. As she did so, he rolled over a bit, shifting the blankets and putting his arm over her shoulders. Sabine immediately froze, the sensation of his warm arm over her waist sending sparks up her back. She looked slowly at Ezra, who was drooling softly into his pillow, eyes shut tight. Realizing he wouldn’t be waking up any time soon, she relaxed and let herself curl up beside him. It was the only way to stay warm, she told herself. Ezra wasn’t going to let go of those blankets unless she woke him up, and Sabine didn’t really want to do that. Besides, she liked being close to him, and his face was adorable when he was sleeping.

Sabine fell into an easy sleepy state, closing her eyes and resting her face in the crook between Ezra’s neck and chest. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that—it was definitely no more than an hour—but it ended all too soon as Ezra slowly woke up. 

He looked down at Sabine with confused eyes, groggy brain likely trying to come up with some sort of explanation as to why Sabine was currently curled up directly beside him. Realizing just how compromising their situation was, Sabine feigned shock. She jerked back to her side of the bed. “I’m so sorry!” she yelped. “I must have rolled over in my sleep!” 

“It’s fine,” muttered Ezra. He rubbed his eyes. “What have we got planned for today?”

Sabine was a little taken aback at his lack of surprise toward the situation. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t fully awake yet, or maybe he just really didn’t care, which was something Sabine really wished didn’t send a pang through her chest. Either way, she was glad she didn’t have to offer any further explanations as to her snuggling up to Ezra or the current state of her cheeks, which were bright, bright red. 

“Family games,” she said, sliding out of bed and making her way to her dresser. After taking out a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pants, she headed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. “I think you’ll enjoy it, actually. It’ll be us, Tristan, and a few of the cousins our age.”

As Sabine threw on her clothes, brushed her teeth, and swept back a few pieces of stray purple-and-orange hair, Ezra asked through the door, “What do these games entail?”

Sabine opened the door and grinned mischievously into his face. “You’ll see.”

The awkwardness of the few minutes before gone, Ezra nudged her out of the way with a rolling of his eyes. 

They had breakfast with a few members of the family, holding hands under the table as they ate waffles with meiloorun-syrup on top. As her skin touched Ezra’s, Sabine felt something akin to sparks flying up her arms. Why was she so Force-darned touch-deprived? This was Ezra she was holding hands with. It wasn’t that big of a deal. They didn’t have feelings for each other. That would be preposterous. Ezra was—was—was like a brother. A younger brother. 

A younger brother who she turned bright red around. A younger brother who made her stomach fill with happy butterflies whenever he smiled at her. A younger brother who, defying all concepts of standards , had her wanting to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hug him tight and curl around him as if they belonged with each other—

Sabine gave a tiny shake of her head to dislodge those thoughts from her mind. She really needed to find a boyfriend if she was that lonely. Because Ezra ? Oh, that wouldn’t end well. And he wasn’t anywhere near her type.

(Even if she liked his short hair and those bright blue eyes and she thought that he was actually kind of cute sometimes, and orange actually looked really good on him even though it was such a stupid color.)

Breakfast didn’t last much longer, which was good, because Sabine was beginning to think that she would just die if she held Ezra’s hand any longer. She led him outside along with Tristan and three of her cousins, all of whom were staring at her and Ezra as if they were some undiscovered alien species, which was odd, because they were no longer holding hands. Maybe it was because he was a Jedi. That would certainly be a point of fascination for most of her family. Jedi-Mandalorian relationships weren’t a very common thing.

“So,” said Ezra as they gathered outside in the snow, “how does this game work?”

Tristan responded by handing Ezra a jetpack. “You’re gonna need this.”

“Wh—what?”

Sabine gave him a look. “Don’t worry. The game isn’t very hard.” She strapped on her own jetpack, one painted bright green. 

“I might believe that if someone actually told me what the game is ,” grumbled Ezra.

One of the cousins—a girl named Ala—took pity on him. “The rules are simple. Scattered around are little wickets. You have to use these mallets—” She hefted a metal mallet streaked with peeling pink paint— “and hit your ball through them. Some of them are up high, with what are basically miniature tractor beams around them. That’s why we need the jetpacks. First person to get their ball through all of the wickets wins.”

Ezra narrowed his eyes. “See, you make it sound all fun and innocent. How much backstabbing can I expect?”

Sabine smirked. “Oh, honey, now why would I tell you that?” She lifted a colorful mallet from the bin, tossing it in one hand and testing the weight. She always used this mallet—she considered it a good luck charm. Every game she won, she had played with this mallet.

Ezra selected—unsurprisingly—a mallet painted orange. “Who do I need to look out for?” he asked.

“Ala’s really nice. She won’t do any backstabbing—hitting your ball and whatnot. Tristan’s sneaky, but his aim isn’t that great. Watch out for Deka—he’s like a sniper in this game, but he always leaves his ball unguarded. Juno doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she’ll probably get lucky.”

“What about you?” he asked, grinning. 

However Sabine felt about Ezra, she would never give up her strategy. “I guess you’ll just have to find out,” she said, tossing a grin in his direction as they joined the cousins. She shivered briefly, grateful for her thick winter coat lined with bantha wool. She’d warm up soon, anyway. Somehow, she always worked up a sweat playing this game.

Since he’s the guest, they let Ezra go first. Sabine could tell he wasn’t using the Force because his ball came nowhere near the first wicket. After laughing at him, which he took well, she expertly hit her ball through the first wicket, giving him a triumphant look afterward. He just rolled his eyes as the others went, sidling up next to her. Butterflies rising in her stomach, Sabine hooked her arm through Ezra’s elbow. They weren’t even touching skin-to-skin, and still, she got that feeling, like she could spend the rest of her life pressed up to Ezra like this.

The game continued for a long time—there were nearly thirty wickets, all spread at appalling distances. That had been Tristan’s doing, as he boasted to the group about halfway through the game. At that point, there had already been an incredible amount of backstabbing, mostly from Sabine and Tristan, who couldn’t seem to resist knocking each other’s balls off course—even if it meant compromising their own chances at getting their balls through the wickets. This left the way open for Ezra and the three cousins, who had an unspoken truce. Sabine and Tristan eventually realized this and quickly took to targeting Ezra, of all people. 

At the sixteenth wicket, they encountered the mini tractor beams. 

“So I just hit it up?” asked Ezra, eyeing the wicket suspended upside down on a tree branch. He cocked his head, eyes squinted against the harsh sunlight, which was reflected by the blindingly white snow. “And it’ll stay there?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sabine. She leaned close to him. “Don’t you dare use the Force, jetti .”

He rolled his eyes. “For your information, I haven’t used the Force at all during this game.” he poised his mallet to strike, eyeing the wicket one more time. As he swung, Sabine pretended to trip over her feet, knocking into Ezra. His ball went flying wide of the wicket and was suspended high in the air. 

He gave her an adorable glare. Sabine felt her cheeks going pink and blamed it on the cold. “That was mean,” said Ezra. He didn’t sound angry.

Sabine stuck out her tongue. “You snooze, you lose.”

She hit her ball. Her aim was perfect, and the ball sailed right toward the wicket—

—only for it to inexplicably veer off course, turning at a sharp ninety-degree angle and landing near Ezra’s ball, suspended by the tractor beam.

Her mouth fell open. “ Ezra Bridger you absolute besom !” She whacked him playfully with the end of her mallet. He doubled over dramatically, glowering at her. “I said you couldn’t use the Force!” 

“And maybe I wouldn’t have,” he sniffed, “if you hadn’t rudely shoved me when I was about to make a perfect hit.”

Sabine huffed. “Ala, tell him that’s against the rules.”

Ala shrugged. “We’ve never had a jetti play before. It’s not in the rule book.”

“There’s not even a rule book,” muttered Tristan before taking his shot. His ball sailed neatly through the wicket, suspended a few feet beyond. 

Ala, Juno, and Deka took their turns, all successfully getting their balls through the wicket, which meant Sabine and Ezra were behind. Sabine lifted off the ground with her jetpack effortlessly, flying up to the branch and waiting for Ezra to join her so he could take his turn. She peered down. He was still lingering by the base of the tree, fiddling with his mallet. She frowned down at him. “What are you waiting for?” she called.

He looked up. “I’ve never used a jetpack before!” 

“It’s not that hard!” she replied. “Just use the Force!” 

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to use the Force,” he said haughtily.

Sabine rolled her eyes. “That was for the game di’kut . Get up here!”

He obliged, lifting off slowly and shakily. After twisting and turning in several unnecessary directions, he ended up beside Sabine, mallet at the ready. He prepared to swing, his orange mallet pointed at just the right angle to send his ball through the wicket. Sabine refrained from any tomfoolery, letting him line up his shot. He looked so adorable when he was concentrating, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth and his eyes fixed so intently on his target. He wasn’t looking at Sabine, so she allowed herself to trace the lines of his face, eyes drawing over his jawline, his nose, and the gentle set to his mouth. His lips were soft—she knew from the pretend kisses he’d given her—and they looked the part. She desperately wanted to feel them again.

Perhaps her thoughts had been too loud, or perhaps Ezra had somehow sensed that she was watching him. For he looked up at her, then shifted, which set off the delicate controls of the jetpack, sending him careening into her. They landed in a heap in the snow, Ezra on his back and Sabine on top of him. She lifted herself up only to have her arms sink back into the snow, sending her forehead into his chin.

It was a messy sort of tangle, but then Sabine managed to orient her body and found herself staring into Ezra’s beautiful blue eyes. They were fixed on her with an alarming intensity, one that Sabine was pretty damn sure was mirrored in her own eyes. They stared at each other for several long beats. Then Ezra let out an awkward laugh, sliding away from Sabine, who chuckled in response. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, turning to hide the sudden flush to her cheeks. Beside her, Ezra was looking very pointedly up at the wicket, where both of their balls still hung suspended in the air. 

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff. Pull yourself together, Sabine. You do not want to kiss him. 

“You know,” shouted Tristan, “you two have free reign to make out if you want to!” 

“Oh, shut up Tristan,” Sabine shot back, standing. She wiped snow off of her pants and tried to look more put-together than she felt. “And if you keep bringing stuff like that up, I’m going to lock you and Cirice up in a closet until you confess your undying love for each other.”

It was a mean-spirited thing to say, especially since Tristan had asked Sabine to keep his feelings for Cirice a secret. But it worked, making Tristan turn bright red with both embarrassment and anger. He set his jaw and stalked toward the cousins, who were watching the exchange with wide eyes.

Let them talk. Sabine took a breath and stalked back to the house. She saw Ezra glance briefly at Tristan and her cousins out of the corner of her eye. Then he began to follow her.

“You can keep playing,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

Ezra frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Sabine’s breath caught in her throat. That was not what she had been expecting him to say. She’d anticipated a silly joke or maybe a quip, possibly even a faux sultry look. But, if she was being honest with herself (which of course she was, why wouldn’t she be?), she liked this response better. 

Taking a moment to think, Sabine counted the footprints in the snow, all traveling in different directions. Then she said, “Nothing.”

It was a sad response to such a nice question, but it was all she could manage through the lump in her throat. It was so, so lovely to have someone ask her something like that, but that was Ezra. He was like that, always ready with a shoulder to cry on or a comforting word. It was a side to him that not many people saw, but with Sabine, that facet of him was nearly always present. He switched from the charming jokester to the equally charming comforter without a moment’s hesitation. And while he could often be dense, and sometimes he would offer unwanted advice, generally, he was incredibly supportive.

Maybe that was the source of the tangled mess that was Sabine’s feelings toward him.

That little crinkle between his brows appeared. “Are you sure you’re really okay? You don’t seem okay.”

Sabine wanted to cry. She didn’t deserve this. Even if their relationship was fake, she didn’t deserve to have such a brilliant, kind, sympathetic man in her life. What had she done to garner such genuine care from Ezra? She would do anything to continue to earn those kind words, to have him always near her, to keep him by her side through all of life’s twists and turns. 

Forever. She wanted him forever. 

And then it hit her like a ship exiting hyperspace.

She loved him.

Dinner was a surprisingly quiet affair. Despite only having been on Krownest for two days, Ezra was used to the controlled chaos that seemed to encompass the Wren family at every moment. But dinner tonight was calm and quiet. Only a few conversations flitted across the table, and they were all focused on what Ezra assumed were typical family-dinner conversation topics. 

And he had a feeling the sudden quiet had something to do with Sabine’s mood.

It had started as they were walking back to the house after quitting the game halfway through. Sabine had gone unnaturally silent after Ezra inquired about her well-being. She had given him a curt “nothing” and continued the walk as if normal, but something around her Force presence had shifted . It was subtle, the shift, but Ezra knew Sabine well enough to notice even the tiniest of changes. What he didn’t know was what had caused the change. Had it been him? He really hoped not. He loved Sabine too much to hurt—

Oh, Force.

Nope. He needed to redact that last thought from his brain. He did not love Sabine. Why in the galaxy would he love Sabine? Sure, she was kind, and funny, and smart and strong and brave and beautiful and the absolute most amazing person he’d ever come across and—

Kriffsticks. 

Well, maybe he liked her, just a little. But he’d always liked her, even if he had shoved those emotions down once it became clear to him that Sabine wanted nothing more than his friendship. Which was fine. He could be friends with her. Even if every time he touched his arm he got butterflies. Even if every time she referred to him as her friend—or worse, an annoying younger brother—his heart panged. Even if finding her in his arms that morning only made him want to hold her tighter. Even if he wanted to smother her in every form of affection known to man. Even if the thought of seeing her with someone else caused him such tangible grief. Even if the thought of marriage—marriage!—didn’t disturb him as much as it should.

It was that last bit that truly made him reconsider the notion that he didn’t love her. If he truly, truly didn’t love her, the thought of marrying her would spark something aversive in him. But when he imagined Sabine in a long white dress embroidered with Lothal’s marriage colors, pictured her holding a bouquet of flowers as Kanan—because of course it was Kanan—led her down the aisle, all he got was something akin to joy. 

Force, he would love to marry her.

He speared a piece of meat. But he couldn’t admit to himself that he loved her, because that would ruin their easy friendship. And she most definitely did not feel the same toward him. Because who would? 

Ursa looked over at the two of them. “How was your day?” she asked kindly. Ezra wondered if she was trying to make up for her coldness the day before.

“It was alright,” said Sabine shortly.

Ezra frowned at her briefly, then offered a more elaborate response. “We had a good time with the family. It’s been nice getting to know Sabine’s family better.” He hesitated, then wrapped an arm around Sabine’s shoulder. She froze briefly before stiffly resting her body against his. Ezra hid his disappointment. He had liked it when Sabine leaned on him. It had been nice. He’d have to ask her what he’d done to make her so uncomfortable later.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Ursa. A sly look appeared on her face. “Is there any way you could see our family becoming your family?”

Ezra tried to look over at Sabine for help, but she was avoiding his gaze. He swallowed. “I, uh, well—”

“You’ve been together for over a year now, haven’t you?” asked Ursa, interrupting Ezra—a bit rudely, if he was being honest. “Plenty of time to consider the thought of marriage.”

“It’s . . . come up,” said Ezra carefully. Sabine was still avoiding his eyes. 

Ursa smiled. “You know, as Countess, I can legalize a marriage.”

“That’s—that’s nice.” Ezra sipped on his water so he didn’t have to say anything else.

“I could marry the two of you tomorrow, if you’d like.” 

Ezra choked on his water. Sabine finally broke her silence to pound him on the back as he coughed, water sputtering from his mouth and back into his cup. He regained his composure and blinked a few times. “I don’t know about that, Countess. We’re not really ready—”

“Nonesense.” Ursa stood briskly. “A year is plenty of time to become serious about one another. And us Mandalorians don’t like to wait long. What do you say, Ezra Bridger? Daughter?” She gave Ezra a superior look.

Oh.

Oh. She knew they were faking it.

Ezra glanced over at Sabine, who finally met his eyes. She looked like she was panicking, which meant she was probably the embodiment of chaos inside. Ezra didn’t feel so far off from that. Across their Force bond, he asked, What should we do?

The bond remained silent for several heavy beats.

I think we should do it, said Sabine. Her voice was heavy, even in Ezra’s mind.

Really?

It’s what they’ll expect. And it’s not real, anyway.

Was it just Ezra’s imagination, or did she sound . . . bitter?

He dismissed the notion. 

Alright then , he replied. Let’s do this.

He squeezed her hand underneath the table and met Ursa’s eyes. “We’ll do it,” he said.

If she was surprised, Ursa hid it well. She smiled brightly. “Wonderful. You two will be married at sunset. Oh, and, it is a tradition for an engaged couple to sleep in separate rooms before their wedding night. I’ll have someone prepare a room for you, Ezra.”

He gave what he hoped was a grateful smile—and failed miserably.

The rest of the family took too long to dissipate, so Sabine dragged Ezra away from the dining room and into a secluded corner. She hoped that, to anyone who noticed, it would look like they were off for a tryst. But, instead of kissing sweetly in the shadows, she whirled on Ezra and said in a panicked voice, “What the kriff are we going to do?”

He responded with the same level of panic, which was comforting. “I don’t know!” He wrung his hands. “This wasn’t part of the plan, Sabine. This was never supposed to be part of the plan.”

“I think we're well past the plan now,” she said—and in more ways than one. Falling in love with Ezra wasn’t part of the plan, but look where she was now, her breath almost stolen by the way the meager light danced across Ezra’s eyes. “We can—we can make this work. We’ll put on a show, get married, say the vows—it’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Ezra’s voice was a squeak. “Because I don’t think this is gonna by fine. Here and Kanan, for one, will be livid.

Oh. Sabine hadn’t thought of that. She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want my mother to think I’m incapable of securing a boyfriend—and I don’t want her to think I’ve been lying to her either.”

Ezra looked sidelong. Sabine frowned. “What is it?” she asked.

“ . . . probably nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ezra, what is it ?”

“It’s just—I got the sense she already knew. That we were faking it, that is.” His eyes were big, which only made them more attractive. 

Sabine took a sharp breath. That—well, that changed things. But not enough o dissuade her from this course of action. Even if her mother didn’t believe her, the rest of the family did. And they would think Sabine was even more helpless if she revealed she had been faking a relationship. Not to mention the countless suitors that would be thrust upon her the moment word got out that she was single.

Marrying Ezra would keep unwanted suitors from vying for her attention.

And there was the added benefit of being able to call Ezra Bridger her husband.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’ve still got to fool the rest of my family. I—I’m sorry, Ezra. I didn’t want it to end like this. You could always divorce me. We can make a scandal out of it.”

His eyes went soft. “I would never divorce you, Sabine.”

Sabine’s breath hitched. Why why why did he have to keep doing things that made her love him more? It was hard enough with him standing there, being handsome and funny. But then he had to say kind things that made her heart beat too fast and her stomach fill with giddy butterflies. 

She ignored all of the feelings rushing through her. “Well, we’ll figure something out, fiance .” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but it fell flat even to her ears.

But Ezra still smiled. “Of course, fiance. ”

Oh, how she loved hearing that word from his lips—even if it was fake.

He walked her back to her bedroom, always the gentleman. The halls were dark and quiet, the calm juxtaposing the chaos swirling through Sabine’s mind. The quiet helped calm her down, just a little. And so did the faint pressure Ezra kept on her shoulder, keeping her steady. Because that was Ezra, a steady rock even in the most violent of storms. 

They reached her room all to soon and Ezra’s arm fell away.

“Goodnight,” said Sabine.

“Goodnight,” said Ezra. He began to walk away, then paused. “You know, I’ve still got a kiss,” he said softly.

Sabine froze, hand resting on her doorframe. She felt her cheeks warm. “A kiss?” she whispered.

“Yes,” said Ezra. She could hear a nervous edge to his voice. “I get one kiss a day—per the contract.”

Per the contract . “Of course,” breathed Sabine. She turned slowly, trying desperately—and probably failing—to appear casual. Ezra was smiling tentatively, hands clasped behind his back. He had a sweet tinkle to his eyes, and Sabine found that she quite liked how he looked in a traditional Mandalorian dress shirt. Her brother had found one in orange, Ezra’s best color. It had the Wren crest embroidered on one shoulder. Sabine reached out to touch the soft fabric of the shirt. Ezra drew closer, leaning down as Sabine looked up.

Their lips met gently, pressing against each other with a sweet softness. Ezra drew away barely a moment later, taking a breath. “Goodnight Sabine,” he said, and walked away, a little smile on his face.

Sabine reached up to touch her mouth. She could still feel Ezra’s lips on hers, the touch as light as a ghost. Somehow, knowing that she loved him made the kiss all the more bittersweet. Sweet, because the man she loved had kissed her.

Bitter, because she knew he would never love her back. 

Chapter Text

Mandalorian weddings were supposed to be simple affairs.

This was not the case for Ezra and Sabine’s wedding.

Maybe it was because Sabine had avoided marriage for so long, or maybe it was because Ursa was just that lavish, but the Countess chose to follow every ancient Mandalorian wedding tradition---no matter if that tradition hadn’t been practiced in centuries. 

They were woken up at the crack of dawn, hurried from their separate bedrooms into separate preparation rooms with barely enough time to wave to each other in between. Breakfast was brought to them, and as Sabine endured the many complaints about how her short hair didn’t have much potential to be styled, she snacked on melons chopped into little cubes and slivers of various pastries.

Once she finished her breakfast, her cousins led her to a durasteel basin in the bathing room, steam curling above the water and colorful flower petals moving softly on the surface. They left her alone then, and Sabine lowered herself into the silky smooth water. It smelled delightful, floral oils spread throughout the water, sinking into her skin. She submerged herself briefly into the water, then slid back up just enough to poke her face above the surface.

She stayed in the bath until her skin was as wrinkly as a dried meiloorun, dried off with a fluffy white towel, and then changed into the purple silk robe her cousins had laid out. She had just tied the sash and situated the robe around her body when her cousins came back in. They took her out of the bathing room and back into the main room, settling her on a chair with a basin behind.

“We’re going to wash your hair,” said Juno. “Would you rather have rose-scented soap or lily-scented soap?”

Sabine’s mind flashed briefly to a conversation she’d had with Ezra ages ago, when he mentioned that he liked the rose perfume she had been wearing. “Rose,” she told Juno absentmindedly.

Juno set to washing Sabine's hair. 

 It would have been pleasant, lounging in a purple silk robe as her female cousins and aunts attended to her, but all Sabine could think about was the fact that at the end of the day, she was going to be married to Ezra. Ezra, whom she had only just realized she was in love with.

Ezra, who didn’t love her.

Yes, perhaps he still harbored that childhood crush of his. And yes, perhaps he occasionally still looked at her as if she was the brightest star in the night sky---but that was infatuation, not love.

Not what Sabine felt.

She tried to squelch down the disappointment churning in her stomach. It wasn’t fair to Ezra that she was so let down by the state of their relationship. He was her closest friend, and she should be perfectly fine with that. And she had been, for years. Their friendship had never been an issue---until now.

Water cascaded down Sabine’s head, dripping down her face in what resembled tears. She squeezed her eyes shut and ignored all of her thoughts, letting the feeling of Juno’s fingers rubbing her scalp take over her entire being. 

Ezra had just endured several hours of ____ by Sabine’s uncles and male cousins---and Tristan, who had been the most amicable of the lot. They had left him alone after that for what was supposed to be a time of prayer, but Ezra was using it for meditation.

He let himself sink into the open arms of the Force, losing himself in its tumultuous currents. To him, the Force was like a roaring ocean that contained pockets of calm. Kanan described the Force as more of a desert, but Ezra liked the ocean better. So long as he kept his head aloft and found one of those areas of calm, he would be perfectly fine.

He settled into one of those pockets now, the ocean waves crashing against the invisible barrier between him and the ocean. Ezra closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Meditation was his least favorite part of being a Jedi, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t acknowledge its benefits. It had its purpose, which was to ground him.

And today, Ezra needed grounding.

He’d made the decision to marry Sabine somewhat prematurely, giving it barely more than a second of thought. Because marrying her was something he’d always hoped would be in their future, and even when the whole thing was fake, he still got a little rush thinking about how, in just a few hours, he would be able to call her his wife. 

Screw your head on straight, Ezra, he told himself. She won’t really be your wife. 

But still, the thought made him happier than it should. 

He sank deeper into the Force. Perhaps it would provide some clarity. That was what Kanan always listed as one of the benefits of meditation. So Ezra reached out to the waves around him and asked into the void: What should I do?

It didn’t give him a concrete answer, which was to be expected. But the Light brushed against Ezra’s mind in a whisper of reassurance. The current pushed him forward, guiding him into the vast depths of the Force. Ezra swam deep until he found another pocket of safety and nestled inside. The Force enveloped him immediately and murmured unintelligible words into Ezra’s ears. He couldn’t make anything out---and he didn’t think that was the Force’s intention---but he did get the general sense that the Force was telling him to be brave.

“Be brave,” whispered Ezra to himself. The words echoed all around him. 

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

It could mean anything, being brave. But Ezra had the feeling that the words were meant specifically for this situation with Sabine. Perhaps . . . perhaps the Force was telling him to be honest, to confess. That would certainly be the brave thing to do, though Ezra didn’t like it.

Be brave . The words were louder, more insistent, as if the Force itself was actually coming out and saying them, rather than the echo of Ezra’s own voice.

Well, then. Ezra supposed he had some thinking to do.

Sabine approached the greenhouse with trepidation. She had spent the past few hours pacing her chambers in her wedding gown, wondering if this was perhaps not the smartest of decisions. She hadn’t been able to eat much lunch, and she hadn’t touched the snack Juno brought in during the late afternoon. Then sunset came all too soon---the sun fell early on Krownest---which meant Sabine had to meet Ezra so they could say the Riduurok to each other.

This part of the wedding, the part where they promised themselves to each other, was a private ceremony. The bride and groom were supposed to discuss any last-minute hesitation, then say their vows and emerge as husband and wife. Then they would feast until late into the night with the entire wedding party, which typically consisted of both the immediate and extended families of the bride and groom. 

Sabine was grateful for the private nature of this portion of the wedding, but she was also nervous, for a plethora of reasons, most of which boiled down to: I love Ezra but he doesn’t love me.

That was her only hesitation in this whole thing. She wanted to marry Ezra, but she didn’t think he wanted to marry her, and she didn’t want to force him into anything. 

“Nervous?” asked Ursa from behind Sabine.

Sabine nodded.

Ursa stepped forward and placed a hand on Sabine’s shoulder. “Don’t be. If you two truly love each other---and I believe you do---then there is nothing to fear.”

If only that were true.

Sabine accepted the words anyway, smiling tightly at her mother before entering the greenhouse. It was a beautiful building, with thick panes of one-sided glass set between intricately wrought durasteel frames. The metalwork reached up several stories, all of which were lush with greenery that thrived in the controlled atmosphere of the greenhouse.

But Sabine wasn’t here to admire the several varieties of tomatoes growing in their pots. She crossed the first portion of the greenhouse and entered the second, a large pond that contained stone pathways raised only a little ways up from the water. Brightly-colored koi fish swam throughout the water, passing under lily pads and through little stone tunnels submerged in the pond. 

Ezra was waiting for her, sitting on a stone-wrought bench. He had a pebble in hand and was using the Force to spin it lazily in front of him. When he saw Sabine, he dropped the pebble back into his palm. 

Sabine clasped her hands together and sat down beside him, making sure not to crumple the off-white skirt of her gown. She hadn’t had much of a say in the design, but she liked it anyway; it was simple, with a corset top that dipped into a v-neck that exposed nothing, and a sleek, silk skirt. 

Ezra was wearing his signature orange, but he managed to look distinguished instead of silly. His dress shirt was embroidered with silver, and there was a blue sash around his waist. He looked almost Mandalorian---the only thing that took away from the disguise was the lightsaber at his hip.

“I hope your day went well,” said Sabine.

“It did, thank you,” said Ezra.

Sabine dipped her head. They fell into an uncomfortable silence. All Sabine could hear was the sound of the fish slicing through the water, and the faint conversation from the field where the wedding feast was to take place. She fiddled with the jewels dangling from the intricate silver bracelet on her wrist. Beside her, with his face pointed to a lilypad floating in the water, Ezra rolled the smooth pebble over in his hands. Taking a deep breath, Sabine turned to face Ezra, and, as if he somehow sensed her movement, he did the same.

“We should talk,” said Sabine.

Ezra gave her a solemn nod, inviting her to go first.

She swallowed. “I don’t want to force you into anything, Ezra. We didn’t anticipate marriage when we made this plan. It’s not fair to make you marry me just so that I can prove something to my mother. If you want, we can call it off---the whole thing.”

Ezra looked at her for several long seconds, deep blue eyes going soft and kind. “Are you sure?” he asked.

No, no, she wasn’t. She did want to marry him. But the idea of forcing Ezra into anything made her feel sick, so she nodded anyway. 

Ezra cocked his head. “You know,” he said, “one of the nice things about the Force is that I can tell when people are lying.”

Oh, kriff. Sabine opened her mouth to explain, but Ezra cut her off gently. “You don’t need to talk,” he said. “Just---listen. Please.”

Sabine nodded.

Ezra twisted his fingers. “I think you know that, back when we first met, I had a stupid little crush on you. It was dumb, childish, and kept us from becoming good friends. So I pushed it away and ignored it.” His face began to turn red. “But the thing about feelings is that they never really go away. You can ignore them all you want, but they just continue to grow, and to fester, until at some point, you have to acknowledge them.” He took a deep breath. “That’s what happened, I guess. Those feelings, the ones I tried to stuff down, came roaring back stronger than before. You’re brilliant, and you’re kind, and you’re so funny and so, so beautiful---Sabine, you’re my favorite person. It was only a matter of time, I guess, though I wouldn’t describe the feelings as a crush anymore. There’s a word I would use but I think you would get angry with me, so I’m not going to say it, but---”

“Love,” whispered Sabine.

Ezra’s head jerked up. His face was a brilliant shade of red. 

“You love me,” said Sabine, shock coursing through her.

Ezra gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then ducked his head in a nod. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” He tossed the pebble he had been holding into the koi pond, sending it into the water with a soft splash. He kept his gaze resolutely away from Sabine.

A smile spread across Sabine’s face. “You love me,” she repeated. A little giggle escaped her mouth, and Ezra looked up, confusion evident on his features. “You actually---you actually love me.”

“I think we’ve established that,” murmured Ezra.

Sabine turned to him, her smile widening. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Do you really? You promise?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true.” 

“All this time,” said Sabine, “all this time I’ve spent worrying about whether or not you thought of me as more than a friend, and now---” She couldn’t help the giddy smile from taking over every inch of her features. “Ezra . . .”

He smiled sadly, still looking at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

The response took Sabine by surprise. She frowned, then seeing that Ezra thought she was somehow making fun of him, she grabbed his hands and forced him to look at her. She dropped his hands, then cupped her palms against his cheeks. “Ezra Bridger,” she said firmly, unable to keep herself from grinning once more, “don’t be sorry. That was the best thing anyone could have told me.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Ezra . . . oh, manda, I don't know how you did this.” She blinked several times to gather herself. “Ezra Bridger, I love you.”

He went very, very still. “I’m sorry, what?”

She leaned in closer. “Ezra, you are the single most amazing person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You’re generous, and you’re compassionate. You’re smart and brave and charming, and somehow you stopped being ugly and started being, well, handsome, I suppose.” She moved so her forehead hovered right beside his, the ghost of a Keldabe kiss. “I love you, Ezra. I didn’t realize it until this week, but I love you so, so much, and I don’t want to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” he breathed, and he pressed his forehead against hers. Sabine closed her eyes, drinking in his presence. They had shared several kisses over the past few days, but none felt as intimate as this, this kiss her people had created to signify the bond of love between two people. 

They stayed like that for a long time, eyes closed, silent, listening to the sound of each other’s heart beating in tandem. Sabine was the first to pull back, offering Ezra a shy smile. He returned to the expression, curling his fingers around hers.

“I suppose this means the wedding is back on,” he said.

“Maybe,” said Sabine, “if you ask me properly.”

Ezra laughed, then lowered himself to one knee, keeping his hold on Sabine’s hand. “Sabine Wren, future Countess of Clan Wren, will you do me the incredible honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

Sabine bent at the waist and bumped her nose against Ezra’s. “Of course I accept,” she said, then pressed her lips to his.

They spoke the Riduurok not long after, Sabine saying the words as surely as if they were her own name, Ezra stumbling over the pronunciation but speaking them proudly nonetheless. After sharing one last kiss in the privacy of the greenhouse, Sabine hooked her arm around Ezra’s and followed him into the dusklight, where her family was waiting.

Flower petals were thrown at the couple, covering Sabine in a shower of soft purple. Ezra plucked several petals out of her hair, beaming at her every time their eyes met. The feast was fantastic, loud voices congratulating the couple at every turn, countless dishes set before them as they ate side-by-side, hands held underneath the table---for real this time.

When the night came to a close, stars twinkling merrily in the sky, Ursa approached Sabine and Ezra, who were sitting by themselves on a bench and laughing together about how Sabine’s Great-Aunt Sarti asked when they were going to have their first child. Great-Aunt Sarti was oddly invested in Sabine’s love life---probably because she’d never had one of her own. 

“You two seem happy,” said Ursa, taking a seat beside Sabine.

Sabine’s expression turned from joyous to apprehensive. “Well, we did just get married,” she said.

“Right,” said Ursa with a knowing smile. “And I couldn’t be happier myself.”

Sabine’s eyes widened with shock. “Really?”

Ursa nodded. “I know I haven’t always been the most supportive of you, my dear, but it does warm my heart to see you in love. I’ll send my prayers for a lifetime of happiness for the two of you.”

“So it doesn’t bother you that Ezra is a Jedi?” asked Sabine.

“Jedi or not,” said Ursa, “Ezra is a good man. Besides---” She leaned closer to Sabine and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I heard sometime in my youth that jetti are passionate lovers.”

Sabine’s face grew hot. “ Mother ,” she hissed.

Ursa laughed. “Don’t worry. I do not expect you to produce any heirs too soon. Enjoy your marriage before you have any children---that’s my advice.”

“You’re just saying that because you conceived me on your wedding night,” said Sabine. She turned to Ezra. “I was born almost exactly nine months after the day of their wedding. She’s always been bitter about that, said I was too eager to come into the world.”

“Well, I’m glad,” said Ezra.

Sabine smiled.

Ursa left them alone after that, and they set to talking again, recounting the day’s events. When music began to play from somewhere in the distance, loud enough to hear but faint enough not to bother, the two stood, and began to dance a slow Mandalorian waltz. It was one of the few slow dances in Mandalorian culture; faster ones were preferred and performed most often. But Ezra and Sabine were more than happy to sway together slowly to the gentle strains of the music, Sabine leaning against Ezra as his arms held her close.

And when they spoke later, lying side-by-side in bed with the blankets wrapped tight around their frames, the only things they said were in whispers, soft and sweet. 

Because Mandalorians might have believed in brash declarations of love and conquests done in romance’s name, but Ezra and Sabine were content with something subtler, something gentle and kind. Which was why the only thing said louder than a sweet whisper was:

“How are we going to tell Kanan and Hera?”

Some art I drew to go along with this chapter.