I.

"The Force is all around us, my young padawan...it controls the past, the present, the future."

"Does that mean we have no say in our future? No choice?"

"Didn't you make a choice on Mandalore?" Qui-Gon lays a large hand on his padawan's shoulder, looking into the many pools in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. "Our choices...are right for the time...and time is a funny thing."

"Indeed."

"Well...shall we head to Naboo?"

"I'm not flying."

"Why would I except you too?"


II.

Being deemed the nephew of Duchess Kryze is not a political façade - not really.

It is a polite lie, one to spare Korkie the embarrassment of being born a bastard.

Of the Duchess of Mandalore.

High society accepted it - they always accept lies like that, feigning smiles and whispering behind their hands the absolute disgrace of it.

Mandalorians thought intercourse outside of marriage immoral.

To admit their dear Duchess had done such a thing...well...she isn't exactly a typical Mandalorian.

She's a New Mandalorian, to be exact.

The customs of her people aren't exactly present in her mind - especially when that bearded young man is around.

There are whispers that he is the father.

Satine doesn't mind the whispers - they amused her, more than anything.

But now is not the time for amusement, she thinks, shifting against the doorframe and not announcing her presence.

Her little son is quiet, sitting cross-legged on the living-room carpet, trying to float the kyber-crystal in front of him. Obi-Wan is beside him, quietly coaxing him, looking a little stressed.

Purple. Amethyst. Whatever the color the stone was - it makes her uneasy.

The color represents darkness...or someone who walks the line between light and dark.

It is hard to imagine Korkie - a serious, sweet blond boy - having darkness inside him.

"Korkie - look."

Korkie cracks open his eyes carefully, mouth gaping while he sees his kyber-crystal shiver in the air.

Obi-Wan smiles, glancing to the doorway. His eyes soften, and he opens his mouth to speak.

Satine shakes her head, wishing to remain anonymous. This isn't her moment - this is between father and son.

"Dad, can I try again?"

She turns around, quietly leaving the chamber.

"You never need to ask, Korkie."


III.

"Whore?" Satine cocks her head like she doesn't know the meaning of the word, earrings swinging and headdress glinting, blinking at the Senator.

Lott Dod swallows hard, like he just now remembering they are in the Chancellor's office, surrounded by Jedi and Senators and the Chancellor. "My lady-"

"Satine, Senator," Bail Organa starts cautiously, his voice easy and warm..

"Care to explain yourself?" Satine demands sweetly, a sharp smile working it way onto her face.

"I only meant-"

"You meant to shame me for being human? For having relationships that involve sex? For not being the Virgin Ice-Queen the Holo-net believes me to be?"

"You're not married - physical relations outside of marriage-"

"Funny how that rule only applies to women, Senator. Would it amuse you to know that any relation I have is entirely consenting? Or does that not matter to you?"

"Duchess Satine please-" Chancellor Palpatine begins, raising his wrinkled hands.

"Did I address you, Your Excellency?" Satine asks, glaring at the Chancellor and watching him scowl.

Senator Dod begins to rise from his couch, green fists clenched in fury, ignoring his flustered fellow senator. "You accuse me of-"

"Someone has to - who are you to care - who is anybody - that I share my bed with the Jedi General beside Master Yoda? Or did you want that pleasure for yourself." Satine gives the man a once over, disgust in her eyes. "Though I doubt you have ever been able to make a woman orgasm."

Obi-Wan has one of four options: sink low in his seat and avoid the stares of his fellow Jedi, stare blankly ahead and ignore the fact his face is red with embarrassment, punch the Senator in the face, or kiss the Duchess right there, in front of everyone.

He chooses the fifth option: rearrange his cloak over his front and ignore the calculated look of Mace Windu.

"Perhaps we should end today's session?" Chancellor Palpatine asks when no one speaks. "Resume tomorrow morning?"

"Gladly," Satine snarls, skirts flying about her while she turns on her heel and strode toward the doors. Her guards followed her meekly, the eyes of the party on their retreating backs.

The door opens and hisses shut.

"You should control that woman of yours, General Kenobi," Senator Dod mutters, turning his glare on the young Jedi Master.

Yoda folds his arms over his cane, exchanging a look with Mace Windu while everyone stands.

Obi-Wan smooths his robes, raising an eyebrow at the Neimoidian Senator. "Me? Control the Duchess? Oh my dear Lott Dod...how is that any fun?"


IV.

She stops in her Coruscanti kitchenette, intent on downing a pot of caf before the Senate meeting - and promptly stops at the threshold, studying the scene before her.

Obi-Wan stands at the kitchen counter, waiting for their respective drinks to steep and the toast to be ready. His arms are braced against the marble and he's studying a dimmed datapad, sleep-pants slung low on his hips. The rising sun of Coruscant is filtering through the window, revealing his muscled, mutilated back to her. The sight of his puckered scars and haphazard skin has always made her angry - but that anger, however, is drowned by the sight of the thin, red scratches down his back.

Whoops.

"I know I'm handsome, Tina dear, but your staring is making me feel immodest."

She shakes her head, walking into the kitchenette and to the fridge. "I was admiring my handiwork."

"For a woman who abhors violence you sure love to leave wounds, my dear."

Satine smiles, placing the oranges she had pulled from the crisper and sidling over to him. She wraps around him, nosing his short-whiskered jaw before pressing a kiss to his pulse. "I'm just marking my territory," she whispers.

"Territory?" Obi-Wan murmurs, voice hoarse while she weathers his skin with her teeth.

"Mmm." She eases her way between him and the counter, nails lightly marking a path from his shoulders, over his chest, down his torso, before settling on the waistband of his pants.

Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows, ignoring the toast when the pieces spring from the toaster. He moves closer, hands on her bare thighs when she shimmies onto the counter. "Didn't get enough fun last night?"

"Hardly," she mumbles once she has kissed him, combing her fingers through his short hair. There are tears on her cheeks.

He smiles a bit sadly, pressing their lips together again, trying to pour every bit of apology and love into the kiss. Even though she had known about the Rako Hardeen plot, even though he had promised to leave the Order when the war was over...it didn't make up for the fact that she watched his body be lowered into the ground, had to sob and pretend to grieve while he ran around trying keep the Chancellor from being assassinated.

"Satine," he murmurs when she leans her head against his shoulder. "Tina?"

She pulls away, quizzically studying his sudden nervous face. It is so much easier to read his expressions without the beard. "Hmm?"

"You...before this incident...I spoke of leaving the Order?"

A sinking feeling fills her. It is happening. He is pushing her away, telling her that the Code was more important than her, than their son. That they should stop-

Obi-Wan presses something into her hands, bringing her back to the present.

Her eyes widen in shock.

"Open it," he murmurs, looking particularly pleased with himself.

"Obi-Wan…" Hands shaking, she opens the small velvet box, trying not to cry when two winking silver rings were revealed to her, nestled neatly in cloth. "How?..."

"An artisan on Nal Hutta," he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're not that expensive - this woman made wedding rings in exchange for stories - a custom on her planet - but if you don't like-"

Satine is ahead of him. Setting the box to the side, she takes his face in her hands and kisses him hard. "Shut up, you wonderful idiot. Shut up."

"That's a yes, I take it? You'll marry me?"

"The moment the peace treaty is signed," she whispers, leaning their brows together, staring into his eyes.

"Maybe not the moment…" Obi-Wan grins when she gives him a playful shove on the shoulder, and presses his lips to the crown of her head. "I love you."


V.

"Master Kenobi…" Yoda spins around in his chair, holding out a hand to keep the Obi-Wan from following the Viceroy further into the ship. "Wait a moment."

Obi-Wan hesitates, and finally sighs, taking a seat once again. His joints aches from the recent duel with Anakin...he only prays that his brother's end was quick.

Yoda, his old eyes sad, tries to give a small smile. "In your solitude, on Tatooine, training, I have for you."

"Training?" Obi-Wan murmurs, hand pressing against his aching knee.

"An old friend has learned the path to immortality." Yoda folds his hands together. "One who has returned from the Netherworld of the Force...your old master."

"Qui-Gon."

"How to commune with him, I will teach you."

"Now? Do...we have time, Master Yoda?"

Yoda gives a small smile. "Rest, you should, for a moment young Kenobi...but first…" He digs around in his tunics, muttering to himself before producing a small bag. "Yours, I believe. Burrowed them some time ago, I did, by your master' wish. Waiting for the right time, I was."

Obi-Wan frowns, taking the small canvas bag. He presses his lips together, shaking the rings into his palm. He can feel traces of the Force on it, remnants of a chaotic, passionate love. It has been months since he had held these, months since he proposed and they decided to keep the rings in his Temple apartment, where they would be safe.

Months since she died, leaving him effectively widowed and alone in this terrifying new Galaxy.

At least she was spared the pain of these new trials.

"Married, you planned to be, young Kenobi?"

Well...there is no point in denying it now. "When the war was finished...I would have left for Mandalore...married the Duchess Kryze…"

"Be the father you wished to be for young Korkie's siblings?"

He blinks back tears, remembering the late-night conversations they had begun to have, the half-promises made under the covers, between hurried movements and desperate kisses. "We...wanted another baby... Qui-Gon, if it was a boy...Jinn, if it was a girl…"


VI.

"Beru...we can't afford it. I need his help in the fields."

Beru is not the type of woman to be angry - but right now, at this moment, she is starting to be. "In the off-season, Owen. Let him. We can scrape together the money."

"You don't think I want to give Luke a formal education?"

"With the way you've been avoiding the subject I fear you don't even want that!"

Owen lets out a gusty sigh, pacing away from her in their small, dark Tatooine bedroom, trying to keep his frustration under control. His 12-year-old nephew could sense stuff like that, after all. Always worring about other people. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he mutters, "We can teach him all he needs to learn here, sweetheart. He has a gift with engineering and mechanics - it's like nothing I've ever seen before."

"What good will a gift be out in the Galaxy? He loves reading and arithmetic...I will be the first to admit I can't answer all of his questions."

"You want Luke to leave Tatooine?"

Beru reaches forward, gently taking his wrinkled hand and tugging him back to the bed where she sits. "We both know Luke shares his father's wanderlust. We can spare a few credits if it means he'll be more prepared out in the Galaxy."

Owen wraps his hands over hers, knowing he's fighting a losing battle. He glances at her, just now realizing how much they have aged in the last decade or so. "I'll pay for one day of tutoring a week - though it's coming out of his allowance - and I pick the tutor - I'm not having that Kenobi teach him anything."


Author's note: I seem to have a thing for the sads. Making cinnamon rolls suffer make me very amused. :

Also - I have a massive soft spot for Owen and Beru. I have no idea why.

Annd - Lott Dod is a Senator. He really is.

Okay. That's all. :)

ii Digestive Reader ii