AN - I'm having so much fin writing this story! Have to say a massive thanks to my friends Callum and Obitine-Trash for helping me out and beta reading!
Chapter 2: Security is not a Body Guard
"A body guard?"
Satine huffed. "Head of security."
"Isn't that what I just said?" Obi-Wan asked, one of his eyebrows rising.
"The head of security is not a body guard."
He scoffed. "It's the same job with a different name."
The Duchess sighed, her hands dropping to her hips. "You're just trying to be difficult."
"No, I'm trying to explain that I don't need a title. Especially one that someone else already has."
"And yet you are perfectly happy to perform the same duties they do."
Obi-Wan shrugged. "People can be awfully protective when it comes to titles. It gives them an illusion of power. Taking someone else's title makes enemies just as much as taking their power."
Satine paused, tilting her head in thought. "I would hope that my people were not so shallow."
"Greed is a currency that most sentient beings bend to. I'd rather not risk it."
With a worn sigh, the Duchess nodded. "As much as I am loathe to admit it, you have a point."
Obi-Wan grinned in victory, only making her scowl in return. With nary a word, she inclined her head and turned towards the room's grand double doors.
"Come. I have something I wish to show you."
Frowning, the Bounty Hunter followed beside his new employer as she slowly made her way out of the room. To his immense relief, they were soon joined by three guards, who walked in position and to attention.
He kept his hand away from the blaster at his waist (one of the back-ups he'd kept on his ship) as they walked down the corridors to show his respect to the guards, though his hand flexed occasionally at sudden noises.
Since the exciting debacle at the landing sight, Obi-Wan had accompanied Duchess Satine back to the planet's capital, Sundari, on a ridiculously open land-speeder (yet another thing that he had complained about as soon as he'd spotted it). The journey was, thankfully, uneventful, as was their arrival at a large, though somewhat unremarkable, building some distance away from what he assumed had once been the palace.
The palace, he was told, had once stood tall and proud; a crystal and steel cathedral within the confines of a once green garden. Now, it was clear that a previous attack had caused the roof to collapse, along with the majority of one of the wings. The gardens were scorched, and only the skeletons of trees remained.
Their destination was in much better shape, though not nearly as lavish. The building – the home of one of the Duchess's court, generously offered for her use – was made of a similar material, but was much more box-like in shape, and with fewer windows. However, though this was a little relief, Obi-Wan was still on high alert, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings.
If he'd been hired to kill Satine (and if he'd been the kind of man to take the job), how would he do it? What vantage points did the building offer? What about opposing buildings? What was the ventilation like? Were there secret passageways? Was it even possible to have secret passageways in crystal buildings? What room sat above and below the temporary throne room? The council room? The private chambers? What was the guard rotation? How many guards were there per floor?
Hundreds of questions spilled through his mind in moments, but there had been no time to answer all of them yet. Instead, the Duchess of Mandalore had brought him to a private room, and offered him the temporary role of secondary Head of Security and advisor. He had been completely baffled at first, knowing that he had far from shown her the appropriate skillset for such a job, but he was beginning to understand how completely inexperienced the Duchess was.
He doubted she was much older than him, and unless you were on Naboo, seventeen was an extremely young age to begin such a political career. It was just horrible luck that the uprising had started so soon.
"I hope you don't mind," Satine said as they approached a somewhat small and unobtrusive door, "but if you are going to be my… body guard," she sent him an annoyed look that made him grin, "then you are going to have to at least look the part."
Stepping through the door, Obi-Wan found himself standing in what was undoubtedly a barracks.
Rifles were stacked against the wall next to a locked cabinet that certainly held their charges and explosive rounds, there were several shelves where helmets sat, awaiting their owners, and dark, metallic grey plated armour, identical to that of the guards stood beside them. There were also several shields stacked to one side, along with what looked like batons. These seemed to be a lot more worn than the blasters; a bit of a frightening prospect.
Obi-Wan was hesitant to comply.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
Satine gave him a look, and it was one that made him look.
He didn't really see anything wrong with what he was wearing per-se; it was all practical, useful, and easy to move in… but it was scruffy, some pieces should have been replaced at least a few months before, andit was definitely not Mandalorian armour.
"… Stupid question."
She hummed in agreement.
He examined the armour again, noting the difference between the curves of the guard's helmet and its exposed mouth, and the sharp edges of the warrior's anonymous face. It was a subtle, yet powerful, message; that she cared about the individual behind the mask.
The armour itself was more streamlined, more fitting, that what he was used to.
His armour was a miss-match collage of pieces he'd managed to buy over the years. His bounties (or wages, as he preferred to think of them) were usually spent on things such as food, transportation, and medical supplies. His blasters were always kept in top condition, of course, but his armour had seen damage that he could not repair, and finding good replacements was difficult.
And he would not disrespect the dead by stealing from them.
This armour was almost new, no more than a year old at most, and he doubted that anyone else had worn it before. It looked durable, comfortable, and flexible, covered all the most vulnerable places on the chest, and had a decent number of hiding places.
It would certainly be a step up from the clunky pieces he was currently using.
"Would you prefer I dress now, or later?" he asked, glancing at the Duchess out of the corner of his eye, catching yet another blush before she turned away.
"Later would be fine," she replied, her voice rising ever so slightly in embarrassment, "I will send someone with the appropriate equipment when you are settled."
Obi-Wan grinned, pleased he could garner such a reaction from his employer. "Of course."
Without looking at him, the Duchess nodded and strode out of the room, leaving him to follow behind.
He could feel the stares of the guards on his neck, and made a note to be more careful when it came to his interactions with Satine while in company. He didn't want anyone getting any unwanted ideas. Nor did he want a target painted on his back. It would be much more difficult to do his job if he were looking over his shoulder all the time.
At some point, the Duchess had slowed down enough so that Obi-Wan could walk beside her again, though he made sure he was at least a step behind her this time. They made their way through the halls in silence for a while, nothing disturbing it but the heavy footsteps of the guards (something else he would have to address at some point), but then Satine coughed.
"I realise that there is probably a lot to do," she said, bowing her head slightly, "I'm afraid most of the guard, along with the previous head of security, left to join the uprising a few weeks before you arrived."
Obi-Wan bit his tongue to keep himself from swearing.
It was a relief to know that someone had been smart enough to move to a place less well known than the palace itself, but still, having so many trained guardsmen – warriors – who knew do much about the Duchess and the inner workings of her court could only breed trouble.
"I see."
She sent him a worried look, noting his clipped tone. "I understand that this poses a great threat, but we have been running on low resources and man power. I hope you understand."
Obi-Wan nodded, and hummed in affirmation. It certainly explained a few things, though it didn't excuse some. Now was not the time to criticise though, and he didn't want to anger the guards behind him any more than he, no doubt, already had just by being there.
It wasn't long before they approached yet another door, the third in a line of almost a dozen along one wall, all equally spaced and innocuous. Once it had slid open, Satine motioned for the guards to remain in the hallway, and she led Obi-Wan inside.
It was a set of living quarters; not small, but also not overly large, with a double bed and chest of drawers set against the wall opposite a small kitchenette. There was a door to the right of the entrance which led to a personal fresher, and another to the left, a closet. There was a desk, with a simple holonet screen, and a few comfortable chairs surrounding a coffee table set in front of a large, glass door, which led to a balcony. The air surrounding the balcony shimmered slightly, revealing the shielding that was in place.
"I hope this will do," Satine said as she looked around, "This was all a little short notice, so it's the best I could manage."
Obi-Wan blinked. "I'm sorry?"
The Duchess frowned at him, perplexed at his confusion. "The room."
"What about it?" he asked, his own expression mirroring the woman's.
"Is it to your liking?"
"Well, yes, I suppose it…" he began, but froze as an odd thought crossed his mind. "This… This is for me?"
"Of course."
It was probably the way she said it – as though it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy – but Obi-Wan suddenly felt ridiculously overwhelmed.
His own room. She was giving him his own room. A place to stay. A place to settle; to call his own.
"I…" He looked around again, examining each object in a new light.
A bed. A beautiful, fresh mattress with clean sheets and plump pillows. A fresher. An actual shower, not sonics, and walls free of nameless stains and graffiti. A closet. Drawers. Places to store clothing, clothing he had never had the luxury to own. A balcony. A place to relax, to think, to finally be himself.
"Obi-Wan?"
Drawing a hand over his mouth, the young man realised he had been crying, he cheeks wet with tears. "I'm… excuse me." He turned away, not wanting to show any weakness in front of his employer.
"Are you alright, Obi-Wan?"
He had to grit his teeth to keep more tears from falling at the concern in her voice. It had been too long since someone had cared enough to ask him that, and it had been some time since he thought anyone would show him such care, but he had to push it aside. He had a job to do now. These kinds of emotions would only hinder him if he kept reacting in such a way.
Wiping his face, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and turned back, pasting a smirk on his face. "Of course. It's a wonderful room, thank you."
Satine regarded him with suspicion for a moment before nodding slowly. "You're welcome. There is a com system by the door, so if you need anything, feel free to ask. The code to the room will be in the top drawer, there," she pointed towards the drawers, "and I will see to it that you get your clothes before dinner, for which I insist you join me, at least for today."
"And what about my ship?"
She smiled softly. "It will be transported to the hanger at the palace. I'm afraid there isn't anywhere closer for it to go, so you will have to retrieve any personal belongings tomorrow."
He nodded. "That's perfectly fine."
She returned the nod and walked past him to the open door, where the guards stood waiting. "I shall leave you to your own devices for now then. Until dinner, Obi-Wan."
"Until dinner."
And with the quiet sigh of the door, she was gone.
Obi-Wan stared at the door for a few moments before turning back to the room. It took him a few minutes, but he soon settled himself on the edge of the bed, and allowed the strangeness of the past day to engulf him.
