AN: ALRIGHT! Here we are, kids, slowly getting closer to "The Shit." Excited? Yeah, me too. Alright, don't expect this one to update until the weekend. I need to get another Chapter of From Flames, I Soar, and I'm going to spend tomorrow writing a pretty swank one shot based on another work. It's...dark. Like...Kriffing Sith Hells, DARK. I'm so excited.
Anyway! Enjoy this! I did! Peace out, lovelies, let me know what you think!
Chapter 9: Bonding
It had been nearly four days since Satine had seen Obi-Wan. After they had escaped Ordo, after the severity of the Padawan's injuries, Qui-Gon had put him away in the room they shared, and he had yet to emerge, had yet to make even a single sound within the room, though Satine had knocked several times, despite Qui-Gon's insistence that she not disturb him. After all, Obi-Wan had been so badly wounded in the line of duty as he so fiercely protected her, and Satine wanted to make certain that the young Jedi knew his efforts were remembered and greatly appreciated.
Qui-Gon was having none of it. The Jedi Master spent a good deal of time with his student as he attempted to heal him, both with the medical supplies and through the Force, and despite her insistence to see him, Satine wasn't permitted to be near her Jedi protector. It was pointless anyway, as Obi-Wan spent a great deal of the time sleeping. She caught sight of him once when she was passing by to her own room, the Jedi's door open as Qui-Gon knelt beside the bunk, his hands on the thin chest, his eyes closed in concentration as he focused his efforts in healing the boy. From what she could see, Obi-Wan's entire body was a patchwork of dark black and purple bruises, the result of the severe beating he had endured at the cruel hands of Edric Ordo.
All Satine could do was imagine the broken bones, the internal bleeding, the extreme pain that must have accompanied such bruising, and she was glad for the boy's unconsciousness. At least he could heal in peace. But what struck her most was even in the dark patchwork marring his beautifully pale skin, she could clearly see the blackened indentations where Veela Ordo had shot him. He was so still, his chest barely rising and falling with breaths that were far too shallow, and Satine felt a stab of guilt as she remembered that this was her fault. She tore her eyes away from the Jedi and rushed to the safety of her room. She didn't have the courage to look at him.
Satine grew quickly restless after that. Being on a ship in deep space when their pilot was out of commission was deeply unsettling, and the Duchess finally decided on a corse of action. She slipped herself into the pilot's seat, her brief lessons in flying with Obi-Wan in her mind, and she set a course for Concord Dawn. It wasn't safe there, but being on Ordo had taught her that nowhere was safe, not even with supposed allies. Concord Dawn was a large planet, one that had a varied terrain of jungles, forests, deserts and plains, the landscape peppered with fortresses and cities and farming communities, all under the banner of one of several clans that made Concord Dawn their home.
It guaranteed that there would be fighting on the planet, but the clans that occupied Concord Dawn had been greatly diminished in the last war, most of them having aligned with the True Mandalorians, and the majority of them had been wiped out by the Death Watch. She was hoping that the presence of the Journeyman Protectors, the planet's stringent, respected law keepers, would help in keeping the peace in at least some places, and there was always a chance that the clans on the planet still harbored a resentment of the Death Watch. The chances weren't great, but it was all Satine could come up with, and so, with the help of Qui-Gon, they piloted the ship to Concord Dawn.
The arrived out of hyperspace to see Concord Dawn hanging within its orbital asteroid field, the rocky debris having come from the planet itself. Past wars had devastated the planet, leaving roughly a third of its mass blasted away, a massive, jagged crater all that was left of so much of the world. Even still, orbiting among the debris of the planet's devastation, Concord Dawn was beautiful, a deep, rich purple due to its swirling cloud cover with the faintest traces of the greens of the forest and the golds of the farmlands visible where the clouds parted. They were silent in their approach, the Duchess holding her breath and praying that they would go unnoticed by any ships in the surrounding area, the prospects of bounty hunters keeping her on high alert. Satine flew carefully closer, Qui-Gon beside her managing the other systems and giving her support as she directed the ship to fly far around the asteroid field, adding a great deal of time to their trip, but keeping them much safer.
As they drew closer to the planet, they began to realize that the close proximity to the asteroid field was making them much more difficult to detect, though they understood this was something of a double edged sword, as bounty hunters no doubt knew the trick and would use it to their advantage. Still, no ships were in sight, no weapon systems locked on to them, and if anyone was watching them, they were keeping well out of the way. As a planet, Concord Dawn was a bit technologically backwards, so it was possible that their defense forces didn't know they were there. It did a great deal to set Satine's mind at ease, but not enough, and when one of the instruments on the control console loudly chimed, she jumped in her seat, her hands wrapping tightly around the yoke and jerking it swiftly, the responsive ship quickly wrenching sideways before she quickly resumed their course, a deep flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
"It was just the navicom," Qui-Gon said, chuckling softly. "Informing us we have reached our destination."
"Y-yes, of course..." Satine muttered, sinking down in her seat. "I knew that. Of course I knew that..."
"You're just nervous, I understand," Qui-Gon said kindly. "We all are. This hasn't been easy." Satine laughed nervously, her hands tightening around the controls.
"If Obi-Wan were flying, we'd be on the ground by now. He'd have gone right through the asteroid field! A-and he's good enough that he could pull it off too." She sighed, her eyes continuously darting to the scanners to check for nearby ships, and she tensed further when the scanner picked one up. She watched it tensely, her shaking hand poised over the pre-prepared hyperdrive lever, but the ship continued on, paying them no mind. A freighter, not a warship. She released a shuddering breath that she didn't realize she was holding, though the tension never left her shoulders.
"I wish Obi-Wan was here..." Satine squeaked, her hands shaking so badly that Qui-Gon had to assume control of the ship. "He'd be able to feel if something was wrong, he'd-"
"Obi-Wan is correct about many things, Duchess, but he isn't infallible," Qui-Gon said softly. "Remember, he is still learning, and accurate as his feeling about the Ordos was, there are many things that can lead his feelings astray."
"I-I know, I just..." Satine sighed heavily, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I-is he going to be alright?" She turned wide, wet blue eyes on him, and Qui-Gon felt his immediate clinical answer die in his throat. She wasn't simply nervous, the Duchess was tormented. "Qui-Gon, I saw him a few days ago, he looked like he was dead." She sniffled and wiped her eyes swiftly, biting her lip to keep unwanted tears from falling. "Is he going to die. Qui-Gon? I remember how awful it was to see him suffering the day we escaped, I remember how pale he looked, I thought...I-I thought..."
"Hush, Satine..." the Master said soothingly, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder, and he could feel her tremble under his touch, her restraint finally collapsing and leaving her to throw herself at the Jedi and sob helplessly into the folds of his robes. Sighing heavily, he gently clutched the girl to his chest, his hand running soothingly through her pale blond hair, the ends still wet from bathing recently. "He's not going to die. I know he looks bad, but his condition is stable. A few more days and he'll be back to arguing with you, and you'll wish he was out for a few days more." Between her sobs, Satine managed a choked laugh, her face burying deeper into the Jedi's soft robes.
"He can't help arguing, he's an idiot..." she sniffled, and Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow.
"I'd like the remind the Duchess that it takes two to argue."
"Y-yes..." she said drawing away slightly and pouting. "But I'm not the idiot because I'm right."
"Ah, yes, of course." Satine rubbed at her eyes, her lip trembling slightly as her fist balled into the Jedi's robes.
"What happened to him is my fault..." she whispered. "I caused this. If I was smarter, if I wasn't so eager to..." She trailed of, biting down on her lip in embarrassment. "It won't happen again, Qui-Gon. At least not like that."
"I believe you," the Jedi said, angling the ship to gently enter Concord Dawn's atmosphere. Watching the Duchess out of the corner of his eye as she untangled herself from him with a shy smile and settled back into the pilot's seat. She didn't assume control of the ship, instead wiping at her eyes and sniffling softly, looking over her shoulder toward the cockpit door, the living quarters resting in the hallway just beyond.
"Satine," Qui-Gon said, soft but gently admonishing, and the Duchess gasped as she jumped, suddenly torn out of her thoughts. "He needs to rest. You must allow him to sleep and recover, or when you need him again, he may not be able to defend you."
"I-I know that!" she said defensively. "I don't know why you're telling me this, I wasn't thinking about him or anything!" Qui-Gon arched a disbelieving eyebrow, and the Duchess' face, red from crying, grew three shades darker. "I wasn't! I was just..daydreaming!" She winced when she realized how that sounded. "My thoughts were wandering, that's all..." Qui-Gon sighed as Satine quickly took back control of the ship, her hands clutched tightly on the yoke and accelerator as she slumped in the seat, her jaw tight and her gaze fixed stubbornly out the viewport.
"Duchess," Qui-Gon said cautiously, almost as if he were uncertain about approaching the subject with the volatile girl, "you have previously expressed something of an...attraction to Obi-Wan. In the past, you admitted to it despite your personality conflict, but if that's changed-"
"It has changed," Satine hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she glanced sidelong at the Jedi. "I can't very well continue to dislike him after what he did, now can I?"
"If your attraction to him has become something deeper-"
"It hasn't!" she snapped, cold and harsh and angry, though Qui-Gon could feel something deep within the girl tremble and shrink back, not angry, but terribly afraid. "Obi-Wan is my protector, maybe even my friend, but he will never be anything more than that!" She laughed bitterly. "How could he be? If being a Jedi wasn't enough, I can't trust myself! You saw what I became with Edric! You saw where attraction led me! I can never give myself over to those feelings, not when they have led me so astray!" The Duchess bit down hard enough on her lip that she tasted blood, the forests and farms of Concord Dawn beginning to swim in her vision, her heart aching in her chest. "My emotions blinded me to what Edric was. I just so badly wanted..." She shook her head, but said nothing else, sucking gently on her bleeding lip as she guided the ship down toward a small clearing in the forest not too far from the edge of the fields of farmland.
"You mustn't blame yourself, Satine," Qui-Gon said kindly. "It's natural to want to be loved."
"What I felt for Edric wasn't love, Qui-Gon," the Duchess said flatly. "He knew that, and he used that to manipulate me, and I stupidly let him because I so badly wanted it." Her hands tightened on the controls as she flew lower, the ship jerking in her uncertainty, and Qui-Gon quickly supported her in her efforts to land. She smiled gratefully at him, though it never reached her eyes, the usually clear, bright blue dark and stormy with uncertainty and fear and deep sadness. "I won't let it happen again. Not while Mandalore suffers."
"That would be for the best," the Jedi softly agreed. "It's just another way for you to be used and manipulated by those who seek power or those who wish to harm you. Perhaps after the war," he softly offered when the girl's face fell slightly, the already saddened girl having the look of someone who's heart was broken, and despite his misgivings about the feelings between Obi-Wan and Satine, Qui-Gon felt the girl's pain and wished he could end it. "Mandalore will have to be rebuilt. It will be easier to do that with someone by your side. Someone you determine you can trust, after this war is over."
"...yes." She frowned, her brows knitting together in concentration while she fiddled with the ship's controls. "Obi-Wan didn't teach me how to land..." With a small smile, Qui-Gon transferred the flight controls to the copilot, and after a moment of trial and error, he figured out how to activate the landing mechanisms and set the ship down in the clearing. As soon as the ship settled, Satine undid her restraints, flashed a small smile at the Jedi, and left the cockpit. Qui-Gon nearly stopped her, nearly reached out to tell her of his own poor experience with love, and how all three of them were in the same boat, albeit for different reasons. Love was a complicated emotion, one that would make their task very difficult, and when survival was all that mattered, sacrifices needed to be made.
But he let her go, unwilling to press his luck. It was possible that her very near rape at the hands of Edric Ordo would be enough for her to push those desires deep down inside her, which wouldn't just be safer for her, but for Obi-Wan as well. And yet...there was something there, a small thread that bound them together, not just because of their obvious attraction, but because of something far, far deeper. A beautiful friendship was growing between the two teenagers, something far different from the physical lust Satine exhibited with Edric. It was a delicate balance, and Qui-Gon didn't want to draw attention to the matter or his nagging fears about it. It...wasn't in his hands. Obi-Wan would follow the Force. He'd do what felt right, and that was all the Master could ask for.
Qui-Gon got out of his seat, went back to check on the deeply sleeping Obi-Wan, the boy not having moved an inch from when the Master last left him. Sighing heavily, he shut the door and walked the few steps across the hall to Satine's room, tentatively knocking upon the door. She opened it quickly, a soft excited smile on her face for a moment before she quickly returned to a more neutral state, the girl trying desperately to control and conceal her emotions. Qui-Gon couldn't help but chuckle softly. Perhaps the Duchess had something to learn from the Jedi as well. Cooler heads would need to prevail if she were to tame her wild Mandalorian brethren. Perhaps this time would be just as formative for Satine as it was for Obi-Wan.
"Do you need me, Qui-Gon?" Satine whispered, her eyes cast at the ground.
"I'm leaving the ship to get a look at the area." The Duchess' eyes snapped up to the Jedi's face, wide and filled with fear, and Qui-Gon put a soothing hand on her shoulder. "I will not be far. I won't be out of sight of the ship. I just want to geta feel for the area." The girl relaxed immediately and slowly nodded.
"I'll seal the ship when you leave." Smiling faintly, Qui-Gon turned to leave, the Duchess walking silently behind him toward the boarding ramp. Satine reached out and touched the sleeve of his robe, and Qui-Gon looked back to find the sullen girl staring at the floor, nervousness and guilt rushing through her. "Please be safe..." she whispered, and Qui-Gon smiled kindly at the girl, fear and uncertainty making her seem so much smaller than she was. He tapped the comlink on his wrist.
"You contact me if you need me, and I will come running, understand? For anything at all." Satine said nothing, but she nodded slightly, and the Jedi patter her shoulder reassuringly before he walked off the ship and into the clearing. Satine watched for a moment as Qui-Gon slowly walked away, and when she could no longer see him, she quickly put her hand on the console on the wall, watching as the boarding ramp retracted, the door sealing closed with a hiss, and with a sigh, Satine returned to her room.
For the next two hours, Satine alternated between trying to rest in her room, leaving quickly when she found herself completely restless, and wandering the ship, examining every detail and doing her best to mimic the maintenance work she had seen Obi-Wan preform the week before. She was too afraid to touch the engines, though she did look at them a fair bit, trying to decide if she should remove the panels and look inside, as she had seen the Padawan do, but quickly decided against it. In the cockpit, she ran the post-landing checks and a quick diagnostic f the ship when the check came back clean, just as Obi-Wan had taught her in their lessons.
When the diagnostic came back, she checked over the reading, couldn't remember what all the values meant, and decided to run the diagnostic scan again. Then again. Then once again, after she had paced back to the engines and back again to the cockpit, slowing as she passed Obi-Wan's room, her eyes fixed on the door as if conflicted before tearing her gaze away and continuing on. After some time, Qui-Gon returned and reported the surrounding area to be completely clear, and with temporary safety secured, the two walked outside, Satine squinting against the bright sun. The Jedi took up watch at the edge of the clearing, the point closest to the neighboring farms and the most likely point of attack, should they be discovered. The Duchess stayed in the clearing, quietly examining her new surroundings.
The forest was not particularly thick, a result of land that was only barely fertile, grass and vegetation only sprouting in earnest around a wide, winding stream, no doubt the source of water from which the nearby farms depended on. The sound of chirping birds and the soft calls of the native fauna drifted through the air, and though Satine's chest was tight with nervousness and apprehension, her entire body tense and tight in her vigilance, it felt...peaceful. She knew it wasn't, but it was the first time in two months when her feet touched the ground and she couldn't hear the distant sound of blaster fire and explosions and screams. She felt the now familiar twang of guilt in her heart, the calm and peace reminding her of her battered, broken protector, and she bit down on her lip. If anyone should see peace, if anyone would appreciate the respite, it was Obi-Wan.
Resolving herself, Satine rushed back on the ship and headed straight for the galley, searching through the cabinets and quickly setting to the task of preparing tea, a luxury item that she had taken the liberty to appropriate from the Ordo kitchens on her supply run with Qui-Gon. She was a Duchess of the noble blood of the Kryze Clan. She may be on the run, but she felt entitled to some things, and she decided that tea was one of those things. Besides, the Ordos owed her far more than some tea for their abuses, so she took the entire stash. It wasn't theft, it was recompense.
Satine quickly carried the cup to Obi-Wan's room, her hands steady despite the swift beating of her heart, and she stood before the door, breathing deeply to calm herself, silently chiding herself for being so foolish. He most likely wasn't even awake, and Qui-Gon had said not to bother him, that the student needed rest to recover. Satine sighed, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she deliberated her course of action, torn between allowing the boy to rest and directly aiding in his recovery. The decision was made for her when she heard a hiss of pain from inside the room, and without thinking, the Duchess slammed her hand on the console, the door sliding open with a hiss, and she swiftly stepped inside without a second thought.
Obi-Wan sat up in his bed, his bruised and wounded chest bare and his soft, cream colored robes laying across his lap, the boy grasping the fabric in one hand as he attempted to push a needle and thread through the cloth. He froze when he saw her, his eyes wide and an expression on his face that made it seem as though he were caught doing something he should have been. Satine couldn't help but smile, which only seemed to further fluster the Jedi. Quickly, he dropped the needle and threw the robe over his shoulders, wincing as he drew it together in an attempt to cover his bare chest, his face a deep red, save for the purple bruise on his cheek.
"Duchess, I..." Obi-Wan muttered quickly, sliding to stand on his feet, and he gasped in pain as soon as he put weight upon his right leg, immediately shifting his weight to the left. The Jedi cleared his throat. "S-sorry, if I knew you were coming, I'd-"
"I don't mind," Satine said softly, taking the few steps necessary to stand before the Jedi. "I didn't know you were up, I just thought to check on you." She tilted her head as she looked at the needle in the boy's hand. "What were you doing?"
"...oh." Obi-Wan held up the needle, his hand gently twirling his braid around his fingers, the long strand loose and fraying, and Kenobi frowned slightly as he felt the unkept feel of it beneath his fingers. He laughed nervously. "I meant to repair my robes and tunic, since...w-well, there are holes in them, and the change of clothes my Master and I had brought blew up in our ship back on Sundari, so..." Again, a slight, nervous laugh. "I haven't had much success, m-my hands won't stop shaking. He held out a hand toward her, indeed trembling as he said, and with a sigh, Satine set the cup down on the side table and took his hand in hers. She gently ran her thumb over his palm, the boy gasping with a sharp inhale as she did so, and she peered closer at the long fingers to find a dozen little bleeding pinpricks all along the soft pads of his fingertips.
"Oh, Obi-Wan..." Satine smiled coyly at him, clutching his hand tightly. "Why didn't you come get me for help? I feel I am a fair bit better than you at sewing."
"W-well, it's my robe, so..." He trailed off when the Duchess shot him a look that conveyed exactly how unimpressed with him she was. "...y-you'd help me?"
"Of course," she said, extending her hand to him expectantly, and with a faint smile, Obi-Wan dropped the needle on to her palm. "Sit," she said, reaching over to grab the cup when the Jedi quickly did as he was told, breathing a sigh of relief to be off his feet once again. He sat for a moment, his eyes averted and fidgeting uncomfortably, and didn't look up until Satine reached out and touched him on the shoulder, smiling faintly and a light pink flush on her face. "Your robe, Obi-Wan," Satine said, holding out her arm for the heavy cloth. "I need it."
"Y-yes," Obi-Wan said swiftly, his voice tight and high with tension, and he cleared his throat. "Yes, of course..." He winced as he slowly shrugged the robe off, his eyes averted as he draped it over the Duchess arm, and she pressed the cup she held into his shaking hands and sat beside him. They were silent for a while, the Duchess running her hands over the robe and locating the singed holes in the fabric, and she swiftly set to work, her lips pursed for a moment before she decided how best to mend it, and pushed the needle and thread through. Obi-Wan watched her with fascination, his eyes fixed on her dexterous fingers as she pushed the needle in and pulled it through, the stitching close and tight, and she smiled softly to herself when she finished the first one and tied off the thread, cutting away the frays of burned fabric and leaving the repaired hole as smooth as she could make it.
"You know..." Satine drawled, laying her hand over Obi-Wan's. "I didn't make you tea so you could warm your hands." Obi-Wan looked down into the cup, watching the surface ripple in his tight, shaking grasp, though with the Duchess' hand over his, it was less disturbed than it had been.
"You made it for me?" the Jedi asked, and Satine absently nodded, holding up the robe and searching for the next spot in need of repair when she determined the first one good enough. "I thought I was just holding it for you." Satine cast the Jedi a stern look, and flushing deeply, Obi-Wan looked away and silently began sipping at the tea, a small smile curling his lips as he breathed in the sweet scent.
"Are you feeling any better?" Satine asked quietly after she had finished mending the second hole, the silence between them calm and peaceful, though it was making the Duchess restless and awkward. Obi-Wan shifted slightly beside her, groaning softly as he did so, and she didn't need to hear his answer to know he was still in pain.
"Much better, yes," Obi-Wan said, smiling warmly when he caught her looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm a bit sore, but I've been healing, and Qui-Gon has been giving me drugs to ease the pain." He took a long sip of the tea, watching the Duchess as she found new things on the robe to mend, the wear it had undergone glaringly obvious under Satine's close examination. "We've landed?" the Jedi asked. "I don't hear the engines."
"A little while ago, yes. I didn't feel safe up there because..." She frowned, her hand lightly stroking the soft fabric under her fingers. "I'm not a pilot, if anyone hunting me found us, there wouldn't be anything we could do. At least we have cover down here, and anyone after us would have to meet Qui-Gon." She gasped and quickly looked at the Jedi, and she reached out and laid her hand on his chest, his heart beating swiftly under her fingertips. "And you, of course..."
"Of course..." Despite his best efforts, Obi-Wan couldn't breathe, and he set the cup aside for fear he may drop it, his skin prickling under Satine's touch as her fingers lightly traced along his chest to the old wound on his shoulder, the first shot he had taken for her, long healed now, though the indentation in his skin remained. She touched lower, to the scar in his side from that first day on Zanbar, over the dark purple bruises on his ribs where they had almost certainly been broken, over the still charred flesh surrounding the most recent blaster fire wounds on his him and below his navel. She drew her hand back when the lean muscle twitched in sudden contraction, the slight whimper in the Jedi's throat filling her with concern that she had hurt him.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you..." Satine whispered, her eyes fixed on her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her own heart racing and he stomach fluttering terribly. But the Jedi simply smiled, small and sweet, his eyes closed and his face peaceful.
"I'm not. It's my duty to defend you. If I get wounded or killed in the process-"
"No!" Her voice was harsh, tight with panic and fear, her eyes wide and wet, and Obi-Wan couldn't look away, the fiercely protective instinct within him rising in response to her distress. "So many people have already been killed for me. No more, I won't have it!"
"Satine-"
"I won't!" she snapped. "Death and betrayal has seen everything taken from me. I won't lose you too. Promise me," she said firmly, her hand grasping his shoulder tightly and Obi-Wan winced from the pain. "You aren't just some shield to me, Obi-Wan, you're..." Satine trailed off, unable to look at the Jedi for a moment and biting her lip, her tight grasp loosening to pet gently at his neck and chest, impervious to the way the boy shivered under her touch and so subtly leaned into it. "You're my friend," she whispered, finally turning her eyes up to meet his. "Please...promise me you'll defend yourself, promise me you'll stay safe."
"...only if you're safety is secured." Biting her lip, Satine nodded, and Obi-Wan laid his hand over hers upon his chest, the pounding of both their heart's felt keenly between them. "Then I promise..."
Obi-Wan's face was impassive as always, but to Satine, it was full of passion and promise, those blue eyes bright and beautiful and absolutely brimming with the fire of soul filled with kindness and gentleness and endless compassion and love. It was nothing like the souls of Mandalore, fires that burned too hot and too bright, too wild to be contained, the fires of fury, of war, of consuming passion bursting from their cores. Obi-Wan's fire was warmth, calm and contained and gentle, a comfort and a respite, never too hot, never too bright. To a girl brimming with Mandalorian wildfire, Satine had seen ash in Obi-Wan, cold and lifeless and incapable of burning, her own fire overtaking and blinding her to the soft, gentle glow of the Jedi's carefully tended flames.
She felt like a fool for never having seen it before. She was blind and cruel, just like her kinsmen. Just like the Ordos. But she would change. She had to change, or Mandalore never would. And to think it took a Jedi to show her such a thing...
Satine only then realized how close she was to him, how strong his heart beat beneath her fingertips, how warm and smooth his skin was, how strong his chest felt, despite his gauntness. She could feel his slow, shivering breaths upon her skin, his noble blue eyes looking right through her, and a tingling down her spine, a warmth collecting deep in her core and spreading outwards compelled her even closer to her brave protector. The Jedi looked away first, his eyes darting to look at the floor and a soft groan in his throat as a deep pink flush stained his high cut cheeks, and it took every ounce of restraint within the Duchess not to run her hand along his jaw and force him to look at her again.
"Do you want to come outside with me?" Satine asked, her heart beating faster when the Jedi's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You've been in bed for days, and it's beautiful out there, a-and I know you need to rest, so if you don't want to-"
"I'd love to," Obi-Wan whispered, and Satine thought her chest would burst. She jumped off the bed and extended her hands to help Obi-Wan up, and he hesitated for a moment, uncertain and insecure and looking at her hands with apprehension. Slowly, he reached out and took her hand, grimacing with the effort as he was pulled to his feet, and he slowly shifted his weight and tensed his muscles, testing the feel of the movement, more sore than pained, though his leg and his abdomen still shot sharp pain through him when he moved in a way the injury disagreed with.
"You needed other things mended?" Satine asked, a small smile on her face as she folded his soft robe and draped it over her arm, and he looked gratefully at her.
"M-my tunic, yes," he said, reaching behind him to the bed and picking up the much thinner cloth.
"What about your pants?" Satine asked, her tone almost clinical, though the notion seemed to cause the Jedi some discomfort. "You were shot in the leg, weren't you?" Obi-Wan nodded.
"I-I can repair those later myself, I'm not-"
"Nonsense, since I'm doing the mending now, you may as well give them to me." She frowned when the Jedi grabbed his braid and began running it through his fingers, and gasped softly in understanding as she looked at him, not noticing how her eyes roamed over him. "Oh, you said you don't have a change." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "What about your armor from Zanbar? Did you bring that with you, or did you leave it on the other ship?"
"O-oh, um..." Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief, his unease replaced by shyness, a thing that Satine used to find infuriating, but now found it terribly endearing, gratefully so unlike the bold, brash confidence of Edric. "Yes, I brought it. I forgot about that. It's, um..." He pointed to the drawers under the bunk, and Satine quickly bent down and pulled them open, the black and blue armor of the Death Watch laying inside. She pulled the armor out and laid the folded protective cloth on the bed.
"I'll leave you alone to change," Satine said, picking up the Jedi's robes and tunic and grasping the small sewing kit in her hand. "Do you want me to wait for you? Do you need help walking?" She held up a hand just as the Jedi started to talk. "No, never mind. I'll wait." Satine left the room quickly, a spring in her step, the door hissing closed behind her, and with a soft groan, Obi-Wan collapsed on the bed, attempting to slow his breathing and trying very hard not to notice the churning heat deep in his gut, whimpering quietly as he began to slide his pants off, which made the process of calming himself very challenging.
"There is no passion, there is serenity..."
He hadn't felt this out of control since he was on the edge of thirteen years old, barely a year into his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon Jinn when he began to transition into manhood, his nights plagued by vivid dreams of want and women. They weren't graphic by any stretch of the imagination. Obi-Wan's focus had been on the metaphysical in his furious devotion to his studies of the Force, his training to become a Jedi Knight superceding everything within him when he was so close to almost losing the opportunity, so there was little time for him to sit and wonder about the opposite sex, as so many of his peers did. He did know about the female form from the biology classes he had taken, but Obi-Wan had approached the subject of sex and reproduction with the same clinical mind that he approached everything.
When he had awoken the first night feeling feverish, his heart pounding in his chest, his rapid breath exhaling with soft, needy whimpers and hard with painful, aching arousal, he simply couldn't understand what was happening to him. The dreams that had so rudely awoken him were vivid, not with images, but with feeling. The images were blurred and hazy, all pale, flawless skin, flushed and covered in the thin sheen of rigorous effort, the soft, breathless moans of female voices still echoing in his mind, but there was little more than that. No details, no glimpse of long, sensuous legs or soft, rounded breasts, no images of the act itself because Obi-Wan knew nothing about that. No, what woke him was burning, the deep, raw pooling of desire and lust, the maddening urge to be within someone clawing at the core of his being like an itch that could not be scratched.
In the dark of his room, the young Obi-Wan had been too ashamed and too timid to touch the offending flesh, to bring himself the satisfaction his body craved so badly it had sunk into his unconscious mind. His resistance hadn't lasted long, each night bringing him more dreams and more shameful torment that only served to amplify his need, his soft, desperate chanting of the Code during his meditations only doing so much to repress the ever-growing desire he felt until he finally gave in. It was like a wash of relief, a need as vital as eating or breathing finally being met after weeks of suffering and countless hours laying agonized and aroused in his bed in the dead of night. When the tension had pulsed out of him, when the primal need was sated in a wave of euphoria, he hated himself, and did every single time he failed to resist the urge. He was a Jedi. He was better than this, and as time went on, as his studies into the Force intensified, he became better at repressing his desires. The times when he would fail in his resilience became less frequent, and while never completely cured of his biological drives, the times he lost himself to pleasure became few and far between.
It was different now, like it was different the night that Veela Ordo had tried to seduce him. Now, the once vague images in his mind took clear and vivid shape, no longer the pure imagination of a boy who knew too little, but the maddening, persistent thoughts of a teenager who knew exactly what he wanted, though he refused to admit it. Satine. Satine, always Satine, despite his fervent attempt to push her from his thoughts, despite his desire to return to the vagueness of before, though something inside of him clung desperately to the image of the young Duchess, the crisp and clear visions lending itself to pooling desire far beyond what he had experienced with his more vague dreams.
It took everything in him not to brush his stirring arousal as he tugged his pants off, the feel of Satine's drifting hand on his jaw, his neck, his chest, his stomach still burning on his bruised skin, sending warmth shooting through him and easing his physical pains as it added to the insufferable ache within him. He couldn't decide which was worse.
It would be so easy to stick his head outside the room and tell sweet Satine that he wasn't feeling well, that the pain was too much, that Qui-Gon's advice for rest was best heeded, and the girl would be on her way, leaving Obi-Wan alone to indulge as he had done after Veela had stirred his desire and broken his restraint. It would be so easy...
With a growl of irritation and disgust at himself for even entertaining the thought, he tore his pants off, wincing as he suddenly jerked his wounded leg, and pulled on the black pair that belonged to his armor, securing it with his belt and clipping his lightsaber to it. He stood, groaning as his sore, aching muscles screamed in protest, and he knelt down, gathering the discarded armor in his arms, struggling with all the loose pieces before he has the idea to use the chest piece as a tray to carry it all. Tucking the bundle under his arm, he quickly took the cup of tea from the side table, finished the remainder of the cooling liquid, snatched his discarded pants from the bed and strode to the door, walking out after it had hissed open. Satine smiled at him briefly when she saw him, and quickly frowned in her confusion.
"...I thought it may be a poor idea to defend you in Death Watch armor," Obi-Wan muttered. "Your Mandalorians seem to shoot first, and I'd hate to have your potential allies attack us."
"I don't think you should get rid of it..." Satine said warily, but Obi-Wan shook his head, handing the Duchess the armor when she reached fr it, and she put the heavy pile on the floor, swiftly snapping the pieces together into a much neater, more compact and much more portable stack.
"I was going to paint it," Obi-Wan muttered, watching the girl in fascination as her deft fingers rolled the armor in his robes and handed it back to him.
"You have paint?" Satine asked, moving closer to the Jedi and wrapping her arm around his waist, careful to avoid the wound on his hip, and she grabbed his arm when it draped over her shoulders, the smaller girl smiling when Obi-Wan leaned his weight on her with a quiet sigh of relief.
"Yes, in the maintenance corridor," Kenobi said as he and the Duchess began the slow trek to the boarding ramp. "There was extra from when I painted the ship, I thought I'd keep extra in case it needed a touch up." Satine looked at him, arching a curious eyebrow.
"We're running for our lives, my Jedi, and you're worried about the cosmetics of the ship?"
"It's a nice ship!" Obi-Wan protested, and Satine laughed softly, shaking her head.
"My little starship pilot...whatever shall I do with you?" A list, a highly undignified list of things came to Obi-Wan's mind, but he said nothing, a soft, nervous chuckle escaping his throat instead, and together, he and the Duchess stepped out of the ship, the bright morning sun filtering in through the trees and blinding him for a moment, his eyes sensitive from his days asleep. He could feel the sun on his bruised skin as he slowly limped beside Satine, the girl leading him across the dry, earthy clearing toward a small river, its banks covered in fine, thin grass and large, flat stones, the air feeling of peace and serenity, a thing Obi-Wan hadn't felt since he had last been home on Coruscant. Satine was right. It was beautiful here.
Satine helped ease Obi-Wan to the grass, quickly pulling off his boots and dipping his feet in the cool, languidly flowing water, the roll of his armor and robes beside him, and she immediately took off running back to the ship, leaving the Jedi to sigh in contentment, his eyes closed as the sun speckled across his skin warmed him. Breathing deep, Obi-Wan sunk into the Force, feeling its ebb and flow in the calm of his meditation. He could feel his Master, so close, so vigilant, his presence sharpening when Obi-Wan brushed against him. He could feel others, not close, small, wary presences, powerful and battle hardened and war weary, not actively hostile, but they could easily become so. Still, he didn't feel the same nagging in the back of his mind that he felt on their approach to Ordo. If there was danger here, it wasn't immanent or inherently malignant. He knew it wouldn't stay this way, but it didn't stop him from being surrounded by the serenity of the moment.
"Obi–Wan." He felt the voice more than he heard it, his consciousness returning as he slipped out of his meditation, becoming keenly aware of the strong hand upon his shoulder, the large shadow that fell over him and shielded him from the sun's warmth, the familiar, comforting presence of his Master, and Kenobi opened his eyes and smiled up at the worried Jedi. "You slipped away for a moment there," Qui-Gon said, his voice filled with concern for his farsighted student.
"Sorry, Master," Kenobi said softly, his eyes closing again when he felt peace wash over him. He was so weary, the calm and the serenity a welcome respite from the months of fear and anxiety, and he was brought back quickly with a sharp stab of pain when Qui-Gon tugged on his braid. Frowning less because of the Master's treatment of him and more because of how disheveled and frayed the lock of hair looked, Kenobi's slightly unsteady hands began unraveling the braided hair.
"Don't let your guard down, Padawan," Qui-Gon gently admonished, his eyes slowly surveying the ship, the clearing, the forest, and everything beyond. "It's times like these we are most vulnerable to attack."
"I don't sense immanent danger, Master."
"Nor do I, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. Do not forget, you are in pain and have been heavily medicated the past few days. Your vision may not be so clear as you think." His lips drawn in a thin line, his eyes intense, Obi-Wan nodded in understanding, his fingers still slowly at work to undo the messy braid. Qui-Gon knelt beside him, a hand on his student's shoulder, and Kenobi looked up, fear and panic plain as day upon his Master's face, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight, a look that he remembered seeing upon his Master only once before in a much, much darker time for the duo. "There were times I thought you were going to die, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered. "Force help me, I thought I was going to lose you. You were on the brink of death for two days before you stabilized." Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers wrapping around the loose strands of hair in his sudden spike of anxiety.
"W-what? No, I was hurt, yes, but we made it off Ordo fine! I was fine!"
"For a time, yes," Qui-Gon softly agreed. "I thought you were alright as well. Then the shock wore off, and within seconds, you were nearly gone." He looked over Obi-Wan's shoulder and saw Satine walk down the boarding ramp, a container clutched tightly in one hand and a bundle tucked under her other arm. Obi-Wan followed his Master's gaze, his chest tight as he looked at the girl he had nearly died defending.
"Does Satine know?" Kenobi whispered, and the Master shook his head.
"It would have served no purpose to put the girl under that stress. She does not need more guilt on her soul."
"...I agree." He looked up at his Master, a grateful smile on his lips. "Thank you, Master. For looking out for her, I-" With a sharp, strained exhale, Satine dropped the small bucket beside Obi-Wan and laid the bundle in his lap, her fingertips lightly brushing his shoulder as she moved past, a gesture that didn't evade Qui-Gon's watchful eyes.
"I don't know if I got you the right things, Obi-Wan," Satine said, sitting herself beside the Padawan and smiling brightly at Qui-Gon. "Look how much better he looks, Qui-Gon!" the Duchess chirped, sliding her feet in the water next to the Padawan, their legs brushing together slightly, and despite his previous misgivings, the Master felt a timid, careful harmony between the two teenagers, peace in a system at war, the fiery Mandalorian's passions balanced by the young Jedi's serenity. It was...something beautiful, a rare and shining thing that sang of life and purity and innocence even in the darkest times, a thing to be protected and defended, fleeting as it may be, and worth it because it, like all things, was destined to fade.
Qui-Gon had thought that war would be what forged his young, shy, insecure student into a man, but from where he stood now, it seemed very likely that the horrors of war would roll off him like water, tempering him, yes, but leaving the forging to be done instead by love.
He didn't approve. He couldn't approve, not after what had happened to him when love led him down the path of darkness, temporarily though it may have been, but if this is what the Force intended, if this was where his student was being called to, if this is how he would find the strength within him to see Satine Kryze safe from harm...he may not approve, but it would be wrong to stand in the way of such a thing. It was not his place to determine the will or the flow of the Force.
It is good to see him up and about, Duchess," Qui-Gon amicably agreed, smiling at her softly as he stood. "Can I count on you to watch after her, Obi-Wan?"
"Always, Master."
"I'm going back to my post to keep watch. We shouldn't stay here long." Both the teens looked disappointed, and Qui-Gon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not safe for us to remain still. It's one thing to be a target of the Mandalorians, as they are all fighting a war, but we are being hunted, and bounty hunters don't rest." The teens nodded in resignation, and Qui-Gon felt a sudden stab of guilt for having to drag these two from the peace of the moment and back into the war that surrounded them, but the feeling passed quickly, strengthening his resolve to end this matter as quickly as possible. "We leave at sundown at the latest. Be ready." The teens sighed as they watched Qui-Gon leave them, returning to his place at the edge of the woods, and when Satine leaned back, her hand brushing against Obi-Wan's, both of them jumped away from each other, looks of uncertainty on their flushed faces, and after a strained moment of heavy anticipation in the silence, they began laughing, the tension leaving them as suddenly as it had come.
"How long have you been growing this out?" Satine asked, reaching over and grabbing the long, loose lock of Obi-Wan's hair that grew from behind his ear, the blond strands catching the light and looking a soft, reddish gold as she ran it through her fingers.
"We start when we're children," Kenobi said, pulling the strand from her grasp and smoothing it out. "Three or four, I suppose."
"And all in anticipation of acquiring the position of training for your knighthood?" Obi-Wan nodded, separating the strand into three parts to begin braiding it when Satine reached up and touched his hand. "May I do it?" Obi-Wan drew back, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she could feel him withdrawing behind those walls of his, his gentle face becoming hard and distant, and as the boy exhaled, it all faded away, his body easing into relaxation as he shed his insecurities and his innate shyness.
"Nobody else has ever done it for me before," Obi-Wan said, edging closer and handing the strand to her, and with a bright smile, Satine's long, dexterous fingers took the golden strand, wetting her hand in the water and slicking the Padawan's hair, the gold darkening to an auburn red.
"Well then, Obi-Wan, I am happy to be your first," she said coyly, though she did not make eye contact with the blushing Jedi as she parted the hair and quickly set to weaving it in a tight, secured braid, not a single strand fraying loose. "I've never braided hair so long," Satine said softly. "Even if it's just a little bit. It isn't common on Mandalore to grow hair long. It isn't so comfortable under a helmet."
"Is everything on Mandalore centered around war and your ability to fight it?"
"It won't be when this stupid conflict is over," Satine growled through clenched teeth, her grip on Obi-Wan's hair tightening and the gentle pulling becoming hard yanks. "Either I will end our cycle of violence, or this war will kill the Mandalorians, they won't stop fighting until they are all dead..." She sighed heavily, her grip becoming gentle again, a hand dipping into the water to wet the strand, her fingers brushing his chest apologetically. "Yes, everything is about war..." she whispered, her eyes downcast, and Obi-Wan felt his heart ache. "It doesn't have to be. There are beautiful things about Mandalorian culture. Honor, family, fierce loyalty, passion..."
"You'll change them, Satine," Obi-Wan said softly, and the girl silently nodded, looking into his eyes and smiling faintly.
"I will. I must." She swiftly tied off the braid, her hand running over the tight rope and she held it up before the Jedi. "How did I do?"
"It's never looked so good," he said, running the strand between his fingers as he so often did. With a small, modest smile, Satine laid Obi-Wan's tunic in her lap, quickly threading the needle and set to work repairing the holes she felt responsible for. She felt her heart stop and suddenly lurch forward when she felt Obi-Wan's hand reach out and stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers, barely touching, but she could feel heat burning across her skin, the Jedi tenderly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She held her breath, too afraid to move, lest the Jedi be frightened away from the tentative, affectionate gesture, and Satine didn't want that to happen, didn't want to see him retreat back inside that shell of his. The shell was infuriating, even more so now when she knew how precious the man that lived within it was.
"May I braid yours?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice trembling and nervous, like he was asking something expressly forbidden, something awful, something he should have known better not to ask, but somehow found the courage in the event that maybe, just maybe, the rules were different today. "You did it when we were going to Ordo, I've never seen anything so..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "I-it looked alright...f-from what I remember."
"You may," Satine said breathlessly, and the Jedi beside her shifted, groaning quietly from the aches in his body as he moved to kneel behind the Duchess, his fingers shaking slightly as they ran through Satine's pale blond hair, pulling the fine strands back and smoothing them out as he parted it and gently began weaving them together. Satine mentally chided herself for being so foolish, not a week after Edric, and she was already rushing to the comfort of another man. She needed to be stronger, she needed...
It wasn't the same. It didn't feel the same. Gone was the overwhelming lust, and in it's place, something warm and familiar, something she didn't know she needed, but now that it was in her grasp, she wasn't certain she could live without it. Grief had held her for so long, she had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone, but Obi-Wan made her remember. With a sigh of intense relief, she leaned back against her Jedi and continued her work on mending the thin, light tunic, a peaceful smile on her lips as she felt Kenobi's fingers raking through her hair, lightly stroking her neck when he reached for new strands to add to the braid. If she could never be with the Jedi, so be it, so long as they could be just like this...
"Satine?" Obi-Wan asked tentatively. "What is it you saw in Edric Ordo?" The Duchess pouted, the threading of her needle through the leg of the Jedi's pants slowing as she considered the question.
"We are raised," she slowly explained, "to value strength and confidence, the things that make someone a good warrior. Qualities that my father possessed, my brother possessed, and Edric was close to my brother. I saw a lot of my brother and his friends, they were always around, always training, always..." She trailed off when she felt her skin flush with heat, the all too familiar lust churning within her at the memory of the strong Mandalorian warriors in training that so often occupied her young teenage mind before the war. "I-it's hard to deny he's attractive," is what she finally settled on when she felt her hair tied behind her, the touch of the Jedi's gentle fingers on her shoulder cooling the unwanted lust within her, though her heart beat no slower. "I do have eyes."
"And you are a woman of Mandalore, yes," Obi-Wan said as he scooted away from behind her and returned to his previous place at her side, his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him, his eyes narrowed as he seemed to appraise her, slight touches to her chin prompting her to turn her head to the sides.
When he nodded, a small, pleased smirk on his face, Satine asked, "Well? How do I look?"
"Beautiful..." was the Jedi's breathless, whispered reply, the blue of his eyes intense and piercing, made only more brilliant by the light pink flush on his face. He cleared his throat and looked away from her, reaching for the paint and the mandalorian helmet, selecting a brush from the bundle that Satine had brought for him. "F-for a Mandalorian, of course..."
"Of course," the Duchess said, trying to repress the smile on her face as she returned to the sewing, looking out of the corner of her eye as Obi-Wan painted over the black with pale, silvery white. "So, what do you like?" Satine asked casually. "I can't imagine not finding the Mandalorians the ideal for beauty. You must have a type."
"S-sorry..." Obi-Wan said, his tone smooth and relaxed, a pleasant smile on his face as he focused on steadying his hand to paint along the fine, contoured lines. "Jedi, you know? We don't have a type."
"No?" the Duchess asked, scooting closer and nudging him teasingly when the brush was off the helmet as not to disturb his work. She folded his pants and tunic and laid them on the flat rock, putting the needle and thread away, and she reached for a brush and the chest piece to help him with the task. "Given your policy of non-attachment, I'd have thought the Jedi ideal to be indiscriminate, loose, easy women..."
"H-hardly!" Obi-Wan said, laughter in his voice. "You've got a strange view of the Jedi, if that's what you think."
"Well, perhaps you should be teaching me more about them," she drawled, leaning in toward him again. "All I know so far is that they're emotionally dead and they treat themselves like living shields..." She gently poked at one of the dark bruises on his strong stomach, and he reflexively winced, the lean muscles flexing and hardening in anticipation of pain, and she couldn't help but admire him. A life of hard, intensive training and the past two months of constant running and eating what little they could get their hands on had made the Jedi almost statuesque, like a work of art. "At least you bruise in such lovely colors, I have always said you are far too pale."
"Oh, your Highness is too kind," Obi-Wan said, rolling his eyes. "I'm so glad that my physical state is pleasing to you, Duchess."
"It is." Obi-Wan chuckled under his breath, a wry smirk on his lips as he leaned in toward the grinning girl and stopped, the sudden tightness in his chest too heavy to be ignored, and he quickly jumped to his feet, his eyes darting across the line of the woods, searching for something, anything that could point him toward the source of his tension. The sudden seriousness of her protector put Satine instantly on edge, and when Obi-Wan extended his hand to her, she quickly took it, the Jedi pulling her to her feet and holding her close, heedless of the painful breaks and wounds in his body, the Duchess laying her hand upon his hip and gripping it tightly, as if a light hold would see her protector disappear.
"Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan shouted, and the Master was at his side in a moment, already rushing to the teens by the time the Padawan had called.
"I felt it too," the Master said, his voice low and deep, his eyes focused on the woods around them. "What do you sense?"
"I-I don't know, Master, it's-"
"Focus." The harshness of the Master's tone snapped the teenager out of his momentary stunned state, and his eyes narrowed in concentration.
"I don't sense malicious intent, Master, I sense...caution. Defensive, protective."
"Which can become dangerous very quickly," Qui-Gon said evenly. "We need to leave. Now." Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, pulling Satine closer as he stepped back, and before he could take another step, a shot rang out across the clearing, loud and harsh, not the familiar high whine of blaster fire, bit a much sharper crack, like wood snapping in a storm. Immediately, Qui-Gon took his hand off the lightsaber at his belt and raised his hands in the air, Obi-Wan following suit with one hand while he pulled Satine flush against him, the shaking Duchess wrapping her arms around her protector, grasping at the strong muscles in his back and hiding her face against the flat plains of his chest, the even pulse of his heart felt against her forehead.
"Don't move," Qui-Gon commanded. "Don't draw your lightsaber, that's a slugthrower rifle, we can't deflect those." From the woods before them came a ruddy skinned girl no more than ten years old, grasping previously mentioned rifle in her hands, the weapon raised and aimed at the trio. Her short black hair was tied back, several strands of the unruly locks falling about her forehead and neck, her expression serious, her eyes drifting to the armor on the ground, and then snapping back to the group. She didn't wear armor herself, and was dressed instead in dark brown pants covered in dirt and dust and a tanned, oversized tunic stained with sweat and tied at the waist with a length of rope.
When Satine found her courage to look at the assailant, she relaxed slightly, though she couldn't keep the whimper of fear out of her throat. She didn't believe this child to be anything other than a farmer from the nearby range, but she had gravely misjudged a situation before, which had led to the brutalizing of her Jedi guard. She didn't know where these farmers stood, which clan they were under the banner of, and that could make all the difference. There was a bounty on them, after all. A large one, and wealth to poor farmers could make most any of them give them up. They were strangers, after all, and possibly enemies.
"Gar olar'or the te aka'an?" the girl asked, her high voice strong and commanding despite her youth, her Mando'a heavily accented, and she felt Obi-Wan lean in slightly, the deep growl in his chest giving sound to his frustration. He likely didn't understand all of her words through the accent and the local dialect. The girl's eyes narrowed when nobody responded. "Elek? Sirbur'ni!"
"Y-yes!" Satine said almost frantically in her own smooth, elegant Mando'a, a far cry from the drawled twang of the girl before them, and the child gripped the weapon tighter. "Yes, we came from the war. We're trying to escape."
"Tion'jor cuyir gar jorhaa'ir gu'uror ibac? Gar shebs ve'vut? Gar jaon'yc alor?" Obi-Wan leaned down toward the Duchess, his jaw clenched tightly.
"Did she just ask you if you shit gold?" The Jedi asked, and Satine nodded.
"She wants to know if I'm a lord because of the way I talk."
"Well, there goes our cover," he said between clenched teeth when several more people emerged from the woods, all of them sporting the same old, outdated weapons, more effective in this case than their modern counterparts. A tall man stood beside the girl, the little thing speaking in a quick, incomprehensible blurt to the man, his own dark eyes darting to the armor she pointed to, and he frowned.
"You Death Watch?" the man asked in Basic, a hard twang to his otherwise slow, easy drawl, his rifle pointing at Obi-Wan. The Jedi swallowed hard and said nothing, uncertain of which answer would get them killed, slowly lowering his raised arm to wrap defensively around Satine. "I reckon you ain't," the man said when the teen didn't answer. "You been painting that armor, so most like, you killed a Death Watch soldier. That so?" He took a step closer, his boots sinking into the stream. "You look like hell. You been in the war?" Slowly, the Padawan nodded, and the man smirked.
"The way I figure it," the man drawled, "you been fighting Death Watch, and with little miss there speaking so fancy my girl can't understand a damn word she says..." He whistled. "Now, I'm not a betting man, but I'd put money on that there being the Kryze girl everyone's been running in circles looking for." His eyes narrowed as he leaned in, examining the trio closer. "It true that you destroyed the Death Watch base on Zanbar?"
"Not the base, no," Obi-Wan finally said. "But several outposts."
"Just the three of you?" Kenobi nodded, and the man raised his weapon. His eyes narrowed, and Obi-Wan turned his body just slightly, enough that should the rifle fire, there was no danger of the bullet passing through him and into the girl he held. "Well damn if I'm not impressed." The man's arms relaxed, the weapon not dropping, but his grip on it now loose, despite the barrel still being pointed at the Jedi Padawan. "They got bounty hunters looking for her. Death Watch is offering a fortune to anyone that brings her in. Got the whole sector up in arms trying to catch her." The man spit on the ground. "Armies and criminals all hunting one little girl? That ain't right anywhere. Don't matter how important she is."
"Are you allies of the Duchess?" Qui-Gon asked, stepping forward when the man lowered his hand, all the others that stood around them lowering their weapons and backing off. The man scoffed.
"No," he said flatly. "We stand with Clan Fett. Our leader took our warriors and headed for Mandalore after you lot escaped Zanbar." He laughed loudly. "Brought the war away from us for now. Nobody cares 'bout Concord Dawn, ain't nothing here." He spit on the ground again. "You're no leader of mine, girl, but an enemy of those Death Watch bastards is a friend to us."
"Can we stay here for a little while?" Satine asked softly, and the man scoffed and looked at her like she was crazy.
"Aw, hell no! The whole of Mandalore is looking for you, ma'am. They gonna find you, and when they do, the war comes back to us." He laid his hand on the little girl's head, the child still not having dropped her weapon. "Our clan leader's after Tor Vizsla with all our fighting force. We're just simple farmers. We got no defense against the likes that are chasing you. I got things to protect." He patted the child's head. "Understand?"
"I do..." Satine said sadly.
"Sorry, ma'am," the farmer said. "You best be leaving soon. Our cities have been destroyed, most of our farmland burned in the first month. Most everyone here's dead, and, well..." He shrugged. "They ain't coming back on their own. But they'll come back for you."
"Do you know where we could go?" Obi-Wan asked quickly, pulling Satine closer to him, his hand held gently to the back of her head, and the man looked at the pair, a knowing smirk on his lips. "We're just trying to protect her, she must have allies somewhere."
"Aw, damn..." the farmer said, running his hands through his short, curly black hair. "You could try Clan Itera. Clan Cadera might be the biggest supporters of the New Mandalorians, but..." He shook his head. "They're right in the thick of the fighting. Ain't no safety there. Itera's smaller. Not so threatening. Might be safe there for a while."
"Thank you," Qui-Gon said, bowing to the farmer. "I apologize about intruding on your land."
"Don't apologize, just get going, the farmer grumbled, though not unkindly. "You here by the time I do my evening rounds, I might reconsider all those credits, even if it means bringing Death Watch here."
"We'll be gone within the hour," Qui-Gon promised, and the farmer just waved his hand dismissively, snapping for the others to return to the field, and the other farmers turned away and headed back into the forest, all save for the girl, who had yet to lower her weapon.
"Take care, little Kryze," the farmer said to Satine. "I don't hope you win, but it'll be nice if you survive." He shrugged. "You won't, but I hope you do."
"I'll remember your clan well if I do," she said, bowing toward the man, and with a hearty laugh, the farmer turned and left, the child in hand and telling her excitedly that her mother was going to die when she heard that not only was royalty in their woods, but the Duchess had bowed to him.
"Gather your things," Qui-Gon said, kneeling down to pick up Obi-Wan's armor, and the teens slowly gathered the rest, following behind Qui-Gon back toward the ship.
"Is that a common dialect?" Obi-Wan asked. "I could barely understand the girl when she spoke."
"There are many different dialects, yes," the Duchess confirmed, gripping the newly mended robes, tunic and pants close to her. Beside her, Obi-Wan smirked and leaned in closer.
"Seems to me like my Mando'a lessons are far from over."
"Oh, my sweet Jedi," Satine said, reaching up to run a gentle hand along his jaw. "You have no idea."
"We can begin once we set our next course, if you like," Obi-Wan drawled, leaning in toward her with a clever smirk on his face. "Teach me Mando'a, Duchess..."
Two steps in front of them, Qui-Gon Jinn rolled his eyes and wondered what he did to deserve this.
Reflection.
I'll make this quick, because I suddenly find myself managing quite a bit, and my time for meditation has become distressingly limited. The long and the short of it is this: teenagers will be the death of me. It is a truth that every Master with a student has come to know and understand, Master Dooku has told me on several occasions, and I foolishly thought I would avoid it. I have the perfect Padawan. Loyal, dedicated Obi-Wan, not a thought in his head for anything but the Force, too insecure to venture outside his comfort zone without his Master, too timid to strike up a conversation with anyone outside his very small circle of friends.
And here he is, in the middle of a war. Flirting.
Their arguments are still frequent, but I see them now for what they are. Banter. A way to get the other riled up because they like seeing the other flushed and flustered. And don't get me started on their Mando'a lessons. You'd laugh, Master Dooku, because my student is far more clever and creative than I ever had been. He only looks perfect. Obi-Wan Kenobi is an insidious little shit. Is this how this is all supposed to work? I get punished for being a difficult Padawan, just as you were punished with me for putting every single one of those wrinkles on Grandmaster Yoda's face for all the trouble you caused. Is that it Will one day, Obi-Wan teach a student even worse than him? If he does, I hope his Padawan is like Quinlan Vos.
All this is only made worse by the fact that I told them to teach each other. These lessons were my idea, a thing that Obi-Wan has been very quick to remind me of, and as his instructor, Satine insists that he is simply awful in the nuances of the language, though from the way they prattle on, you wouldn't think it. Because it isn't true. The Mandalorian is lying. Or at the very least, distorting the truth.
Still, they both seem hesitant to go further than they have. They stand firmly in friendship, both acknowledging their mutual attraction, but neither willing to take the step to make the friendship something more. I'd approve of this, but all it has done is made the two insufferably flirtatious with each other. And they act like I don't see all their little touches, all the whispered words tucked into secluded corners of the ship. They're getting very good at hiding from me, an impressive feat, because this ship isn't that big, and when I do find them, it's usually because something happens to raise their excitement levels. And when he asks her to teach him, kriffing hell... "Teach me Mando'a." When he says it, it sounds like seduction. Do teenagers really think the adults around them don't know what's going on? Just because I can't catch you in the act, Obi-Wan, doesn't mean I don't know what you're up to!
I'd be more upset about all of this if Obi-Wan were less of a model student. His rapidly growing friendship with her has only tightened his focus and resolve. There isn't a moment he isn't aware of her emotional state, not a second where he doesn't know where she is. His connection to her has made him a fierce and attentive protector, more dedicated to the mission than I could have possibly hoped for. I just hope he knows that one day, the mission will be over. One day, Satine Kryze won't be Obi-Wan's mission, and he will have to leave her. It will be painful for both of them, but they must know that their paths diverge. They must, or they will be unable to fulfill their duties. I can already sense that they care too deeply for each other to allow themselves to stand in the way of the other's dreams.
When that day comes, I only pray they make the right choice.
