#rentor

A Mother’s Sacrifice

Summary: Sad!Thrawn shower thoughts. I wanted to explore what a Chiss mother’s lullaby would be like considering their culture of rematching to new families. Are they conditioned from childhood that one's birth family may not always be there? Is it taboo to speak of one's past if rematched to a new family? Do Chiss keep in contact with their former/birth relatives if they are rematched? Does a birth family only refer to one by their new name, or a variation of one's core name since it's the one that follows the Chiss for the entirety of their lives? I’d love to see more people exploring this.

Precision, precision, precision was Thrawn’s mantra as beads of sweat streamed down his face and onto the floor of his private sparring gym. Of all the private amenities provided to him as Grand Admiral, this had to be the one he was most thankful for. The vibroblade gripped in his right fist thrummed with energy as he wielded it with brutal efficiency, the blade flashing as it made contact with the Imperial sentry droid’s black plating. He swiftly lifted his left forearm to block a rapid punch from the droid, the vibroblade’s hilt dragging along his chest and plunging forward into the droid’s alloy abdomen. Energy crackled along the plating and caused the droid to seize, granting Thrawn mere seconds to catch his breath. Fatigue was beginning to take over, and when he glanced at the crono on the wall, he realized he had been sparring for over 30 minutes. If he continued, his form would become sloppy.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

“Override...Code Ruhk,” Thawn said between ragged breaths. The droid immediately shifted into attention stance and powered down, Thrawn’s reflection becoming clearer in the sudden darkness now occupying its dimming red eyes. He swallowed as he took in his appearance, noting his own red eyes hooded with exhaustion, and his blue skin a shade paler than usual. 

His reflection was the only Chiss he’d laid eyes upon in the years since he’d entered Imperial service. It had never bothered him before, but for the past few months, it had begun to weigh on his mind. A reunion with Admiral Ar’alani was anticipated in the future due to unusual events occurring within the borders of the Empire, but it had yet to come to fruition. Had he even spoken a word of Cheunh in the past standard year? A hollow feeling began to expand in his chest. His exercising garments, now saturated with perspiration, felt too tight as the sensation spread throughout his entire body.

Melancholy. A feeling he was never fond of but currently permeating every fiber of his being. He shook his head and exited the sparring gym. Light followed his movement as motion sensors tracked his path from the gym to his shower. The thought of warm water and soap washing away the sticky sensation he felt all over brought a smile to his face. Surely that would make him feel better. He strode into his refresher, settling on the fact that of all his private amenities, his spacious shower ranked second. He began humming as he removed his garments and entered the stall, stark white lights illuminating the space. Soaps from distant planets housed in a variety of containers lined the wall, each a unique piece of art that made his cleansing space akin to a private gallery of all his intergalactic travel.

He was still humming a tune as he pressed the buttons to activate the shower, releasing a sigh of satisfaction when steaming water hit his skin from various jets clustered along the ceiling and walls. However, as the realization of what he was humming began to process through his mind, the smile that was plastered across his face slowly shrank. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, tipping his head back as water ran through his hair and cascaded down his back. 

Rentor. His home planet. The melody? His mother’s. He could still hear her voice echoing within his mind as he stood under the jets, his humming increasing in volume as he remembered the words of the old Chiss lullaby.

Deep in the Chaos,

Far, far away. 

Cold unforgiving,

Our Ascendancy brave.

Resilient hearts,

Traditions of old. 

Fortune be with you,

Warrior soul.

Thrawn felt the weight of his sadness from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He wondered if it was possible that his own reflection made him recall the characteristics he inherited from a woman he never spoke to again after rematching to the Mitth. The woman who gave him life.

Your name may change,

And your life may lead,

Down paths I can’t follow,

To places I won’t be.

He had never reached out to her. Although it was frowned upon, birth family contact had never been explicitly prohibited by the Mitth. As he lathered dzisnir herb soap on a cleansing cloth and began scrubbing his torso, he felt the reason for his choice rise from the depths of his mind. There was no question about the pain this topic held in his birth home. 

Vurika’s disappearance. Being an inquisitive child, a young Vurawn constantly asked about his older sister after she vanished. There were never clear answers from his parents, although he would catch a pained look sweep across his mother’s face if Vurika was so much as mentioned. After countless attempts, he at some point stopped asking. However, he always ruminated on it, hoping to solve the reason for her disappearance as easily as a tactical dilemma.

Oh, how naïve he was.

As the years passed, Thrawn did his best to excel in his studies and remain obedient to his parent’s wishes, if only to not be the next child that disappeared. In hindsight, he realized his parents could have never revealed such sensitive information as to Vurika’s whereabouts, even if they had wanted to. 

Even if the silence hurt them as much as it hurt him. Even if he had vanished as well.

But you, my dear child,

Remember in your heart,

That if I live in your memory,

We’ll never be apart.

As he rinsed off the last of the soap, Thrawn felt his throat tighten with raw emotion. His mother had not lost just one child, but both her children to the needs of the Ascendency. More so, his passion for art stemmed from her influence. The fondest of his childhood memories were those seated next to her easel, watching her blend colors and bring to life the faces of children she would never see again. Had she had more children? Had she sung them that lullaby? Had she seen his successes and failures on her Questis news feeds, reading about a son who no longer acknowledged her existence? Was she still alive? 

There was no way for him to answer these questions now. Unlike everything else in his life, he had never planned for this. 

He had never planned to think of his birth mother, let alone miss her.

He found he couldn’t bring himself to exit the stall as he shut off the water. The light around him seemed too bright, and his breathing was shallow and quick. He closed his eyes for a moment to settle his senses, and was stunned to see his face- her face, peering at him from the earlier reflection in his training droid’s eyes. 

In that moment, a sudden tremor emanating from the core of his being overcame all his logical faculties like a massive explosion; emotions that had been suppressed for survival finally erupting on the surface. He roughly grasped the handlebar along the wall with one hand, and a pitiful whimper escaped his lips. Then another, followed by another. He could feel the tears roll down his face as shudders racked his entire body. He had given everything to the Ascendency, and so had she. 

So had she.

Although I don’t know,

What harms you will face,

My love for you transcends,

Both time and space.

So go far, my child,

And if you seek me,

Within your reflection,

There I will be.

And as Thrawn finally cried for the mother he once had, he allowed himself to wonder if all their sacrifices would be worth it in the end.

A freezing Rentor landscape at night-icebergs drifting aimlessly in the ocean. I wonder what little Vurawn is up to?

For the @chiss-ascendancy-discord chisstober colour palette no. 6