Chapter 3

"We weren't expecting two." Satine stated plainly.

They had made it up to the Duchess' quarters, Khaami had held the babies while Fesma supported Satine up the stairs, it had been grueling, but necessary.

Tyra wailed.

"At this hour," Khaami observed, "only the guards are awake."

"Still," Fesma countered, "what if they heard?"

"What are we going to do?" Satine corrected.

"We could," Khaami paused, "claim your bastard brother had twins."

"We could-"

"Satine?"

The Duchess looked up from where she was seated on her bed. Fesma, who was holding Tyra, had her eyes on the girls' outstretched hand. She was flexing it, and the bed curtains were moving with her motions.

"Could," Khaami gasped, "could she have inherited-"

"No." the Duchess said sternly.

"Satine-"

Her chest rose with emotion, "She will remind me of him everyday."

"Satine," Fesma began firmly, "perhaps it's best if Tyra is given to the Jedi Temple."

Maybe it was the hormones, but the Duchess began to sob uncontrollably, the twins shifted, uncomfortable with their mothers' tears.

"Satine," Khaami sat next to her lady, holding Korkie in her arms, "your children will always be a part of you, but they are their own people."

The Duchess sniffled, "It's too early to let her go."

"There's no way we can keep her," Fesma sighed, "a Mandalorian Jedi, she's a juxtaposition, an enigma."

Satine wiped her eyes.

"It makes sense," she agreed, "but this is my daughter we're talking about, my child."

"She will be well cared for at the temple," Khaami reasoned, "I've never heard tales of the Jedi being unkind."

"That is true," agreed Fesma, "and she will never have to hide who she is."

Satine steeled herself, she was the Duchess of Mandalore, and despite all the odds she had decided to bear her children, Obi-Wan's children, and she was going to make sure they lived good lives.

"Whatever is best for her." the Duchess decided.

Fesma handed Satine baby Tyra, "I'm going to contact our less than savory friends about fake birth certificates and DNA tests."

"Thank you," Satine nodded before turning to Khaami, "and I suggest you go get some rest, I can watch the twins."

Korkie gurgled.

"Are you sure, Satine?" Khaami asked.

"Yes," the Duchess answered, "and once you're done, Fesma, I suggest you rest as well."

Fesma cracked a smile, "It has been a long night."

After her ladies left, Satine draped a sheet in front of the balcony exit and over the entrance to her parlor room. Then climbed into the bed and held the babies to her chest.

"You're both so special to me," she whispered, "do you know that?"

The twins breathed in response, Satine was in awe of how the simple action fascinated her.

"I love you, Korkyrach, and you, Tyra Satine," the Duchess smiled, "you are both so dear to me."

Satine didn't get much sleep that night, as the twins woke up every few hours, but in the morning, when Khaami and Fesma returned to her bedroom, the Duchess had a plan.

"I think we should pay someone to sneak her into the Jedi Temple."

Khaami blinked.

"That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard." Fesma stated.

"I agree."

"But-"

"Satine," Fesma frowned, "do you know how heavily guarded the Jedi temple is?"

"Yes, but-"

"Satine," Khaami's eyes widened, "whoever sneaked in the temple would likely be killed."

"Maybe," Fesma began after a short silence, "you could talk to Tyra's father-"

"Out of the question," Satine snapped, "I love him for who he is, not what he was, if I told him about the twins he would become someone new and hate himself!"

Khaami jumped backward.

Satine lowered her eyes, "I can't have that."

"Perhaps, then," Fesma shifted, "Master, what was his name, Qui-"

"Qui-Gon," Satine tried to clap, but then she remembered the twins, "he will most definitely help me!"

"Are you sure?" Khaami asked, taking Tyra in her arms.

"It is risky." Fesma added, taking Korkie.

"I know we can trust him," the Duchess said firmly, "he was like a second father to me."

Khaami nodded.

"In other news," Fesma jumped in, "I contacted the forgers last night, but they're asking a high price, especially for the DNA test."

"It's no wonder," Satine sighed, "we need it to fool everyone."

"How will we pay them?" Khaami worried aloud.

"Did they specify what they wanted?" the Duchess questioned.

Fesma shook her head, "Unfortunately, no, although I don't think we have enough jewels to pay them this time."

"Is there anything in the palace we can use without drawing attention?" Khaami asked.

"Maybe old relics," Satine suggested, "candelabras and curtains that historians would die for."

"That's a start," Fesma stated, "perhaps some straight cash might help ease the bargain."

"I'll take it out of my salary." the Duchess decided.

Korkie began to cry, then, so did Tyra.

"They must be hungry." Fesma observed.

Satine held out her arms, "I'll try feeding them."

Khaami and Fesma shared a look.

"Are you sure, Satine?"

"I'll start," the Duchess assured, "and Fesma can bring up extra milk for my tea."

Wordlessly, Fesma handed Satine her son and left. It was a struggle, Satine had no idea how to feed a baby. Khaami was trying to be helpful, but really, Satine was losing her patience.

"We have a problem." Fesma announced, setting down a tray of milk and tea bags, "many guards heard a baby crying last night."

Satine took a spoon and quietly began feeding Korkie, her mind whirling.

"We'll have to speed things up, then." she said finally.

"I agree."

"Fesma, look for nice vases, candelabras, and maybe even old Mandalorian stays," Satine instructed, "take notes of where and how prominently featured they are."

"Of course."

While Khaami burped Korkie and began laying out clothes for her lady, Satine picked up an old comm device and called Master Qui-Gon Jinn, while caring for Tyra.

"Satine?"

"I'm sorry to disturb your meditation, Qui-Gon-"

Over the comm Satine heard the Jedi Master stand, "Is there an emergency?"

"Not an imminent one."

"Do explain." Qui-Gon goaded.

"I've given birth to twins."

Besides a sharp intake of breath, there was nothing but silence.

"Tyra Satine, my second born, is force sensitive."

Master Qui-Gon sighed.

"Can you bring her to the temple?"

"Satine," the Jedi Master began, "why not just-"

"My consort can't have anything to do with the Jedi," Satine interrupted, "and I can't raise them as my own, Mandalore is too unstable."

"Your political enemies would also be overjoyed." Qui-Gon stated.

"Yes," Satinie's voice quivered as Tyra burped, "and I need my children to be safe."

"I ask the council for a few hours of quiet retreat," the Jedi Master told her, "I'll be there at two o'clock today."

Satine sighed, "Thank you, Master Qui-Gon."

"Should I tell Obi-Wan?"

The Duchess' breath caught, on her shoulder, Tyra sighed.

"No," Satine said cooly, "I fell in love with Obi-Wan for what he is, a Jedi, telling him would cause a recalculation of his morals and values."

Qui-Gon was silent for some time before speaking, "Alright, Satine."

Satine dressed herself that morning while Khaami watched the babies. Fesma returned soon after Satine had finished brushing her hair.

"The council is expecting you," she announced, lowering her voice, "and I have the list."

"Thank you," Satine smiled, "at Master Qui-Gon is coming today at two."

Fesma nodded, "Good, I'll start preparing our bounty."

The Duchess turned to Khaami, "Watch the twins, will you?"

The lady lit up, "Of course, Satine."

In the council chamber, the meeting went on as scheduled. The Duchess did her best to pay attention, but at the end of two hours, she was done.

"That will be all, Your Grace."

Satine straightened, "Thank you, Prime Minister."

Pushing her chair back, Satine wandered down to the kitchens remembering she hadn't eaten breakfast yet today. Unfortunately, the Duchess rounded a corner and walked straight into a gaggle of maids.

"Oh," one gasped, "forgive us, Your Grace."

"It's no worries," Satine said, rubbing her head, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Oh no, Your Grace," a second maid assured, "it was us who wasn't paying attention."

The third maid frowned, "Are you well, Your Grace?"

"Why, yes," Satine nodded, "though a little tired I suppose."

The first maid gave the third one a harsh look.

"Please excuse us, Your Grace." the second maid curtsied.

That first encounter didn't leave her suspicious, but after Satine caught two waiters gossiping about what the guards had heard, and the cooks discussing the Duchess' eating habits and weight, Satine realized she was the victim of rumors.

Upstairs in her bedroom, the Duchess was shocked to find Fesma and Khaami pulling down her curtains.

"Where-"

"They're on the bed." Fesma answered.

Satine ran to the twins, they were wearing cloth diapers and rolling around on the mattress. She could tell which one was which because Tyra, who had been born with some hair, had a blonde cowlick sticking up towards the ceiling.

"Hello, darlings," Satine kissed her children's heads, "now, will you tell me what mother's ladies are doing?"

"These curtains are made from horse hair." Fesma replied.

The Duchess gaped.

"I know," Khaami agreed, seeing Satine's look, "the species that went extinct three hundred years ago."

Peaking through the side door, Satine noticed that on her parlor floor sat a whole pile of treasures. Marbled silk scarves, gold-plated vases, candelabras from the dark era, and soon, curtains made from horse hair.

"Yes!" Khaami cried.

Returning her attention to the maids, Satine grinned as the curtains fell on top of her ladies.

"Khaami, I told you to catch it."

"Well how can I catch it if I can't see anything!"

The babies giggled. Satine helped Fesma out of the wreckage.

"How are we going to get all this stuff to the forgers?" Khaami asked, throwing the curtains to the side.

"I've contacted them about that," Fesma answered, "they will send agents in as maids to help collect the stuff."

"Even the vases?" questioned Satine.

"Even those."

Khaami crossed her arms, "When are they coming?"

"They will all be here by breakfast tomorrow morning," Fesma sighed, "they gave us a code phrase and everything."

"Staggered entry," the Duchess mused, "these forgers are quite clever."

Khaami frowned, "They're criminals, Satine."

"Still, they're helping me save my children." the Duchess countered.

There came a knock on the door, and everyone froze.

"The crow flies at midnight."

Satine raised her eyebrows at Fesma.

"Come in."

The little "maid" who came in was short with raven hair, her eyes lingered on the Duchess, then fell to the twins on the bed.

"Through here," Satine motioned, "please follow me."

The imposter maid's eyes widened at the loot. Then she took out two pieces of paper.

"The DNA tests you requested, Your Grace."

Satine looked at the tests, then smiled, "Thank you."

"I'll start with the scarves," the imposter maid smiled, showing teeth, "they have to be cleaned after all."

An hour later, while Satine was preparing Tyra for her journey, another knock pounded on the door.

"The crow flies at midnight." two male voices harmonized.

"Come in."

The men who came in were dressed as painters.

"You asked us to restore your vases, Your Grace." one of them bowed.

"Yes," Satine pointed, "through there."

While the criminal painter who spoke to her went to the other room, his accomplice pulled out two pieces of paper.

"The birth certificates you requested, Your Grace."

Looking at the certificates, Satine tried not to marvel at their authenticity, "Thank you."

Once the men left, carrying two heavy vases, Khaami returned from changing the twins' diapers.

"They're gone?" she asked.

"Yes," Fesma smiled, arranging the papers, "and now I suggest you bring us some lunch."

Khaami smiled at the babies, "I'll be back."

Satine took the twins from her and climbed onto the bed.

"My beautiful little prince and princess." she cooed.

Tyra, as if knowing her fate, began to sniffle.

"Oh," Satine frowned, "it's alright my love, you're going to be safe with your Uncle Qui-Gon."

Tyra moaned.

"I would like to give her something," the Duchess said, looking up, "do you think it would be too dangerous?"

"It might be," Fesma frowned, "but maybe a necklace, though it can't be too obviously from the Kryze Clan."

Satine ran through a mental list of the family jewelry.

"My mother was fond of a warrior's eye pendant," the Duchess smiled at the memory, "perhaps I'll give my daughter that."

"It would be poetic." agreed Fesma.

When Khaami returned, Satine sent Fesma to go get her mother's necklace. She could've easily done it herself, but the Duchess wanted to spend as much time with her daughter as she could.

"The crow flies at midnight."

Satine stood, handing Tyra to Khaami.

"Come in."

Two older women dressed as seamstresses entered the room. Satine handed them each a curtain.

"Here are the hospital records, Your Grace." said the first one.

"Thank you."

The second maid held out her hand, "These are the connected bills, they're completed."

"Thank you." Satine repeated.

The imposter seamstresses left.

"You're amazing." Khaami whispered.

"Really?"

"Giving birth to twins in secret," Khaami stated, "giving them good lives, making sure they're safe."

Satine smiled sadly, "It's what any good mother would do."

"And you're a great one." Khaami agreed.

The Duchess felt unsure at that remark and took Tyra in her arms, preparing to burp her.

"We'll have to get a nursery set up for Korkie." observed Khaami.

"True," Satine smiled wearily, "at least he gets to be near me, even if I can't acknowledge him as my son."

"But," Fesma interjected, closing the door behind her, "when Queen Mara only had an illegitimate son, the court named him her heir."

"That was a different time," Satine frowned, "everyone was desperate for a male heir, and Mara refused to marry."

"But that's good," Khaami smiled, "it could mean that your children could be considered legitimate."

"It is a precedent." Fesma agreed.

Satine sighed, staring at Tyra in her arms, "Unfortunately Mandalore is still too unstable."

Once the babies were burped, Satine and her ladies ate lunch. Finally, a fourth imposter, a server, holding brass polish, came and took the candelabras.

He handed Satine a credit receipt, "The transaction is complete."

"Thank you."

When he left, Satine realized she had to hide this somewhere secret. Her ladies seemed to reach the same conclusion, as they both averted their eyes. For now, Satine left it in her sock drawer.

"Let's get the papers ready," Satine turned to Fesma, who was holding Tyra, "and make sure she's warm, Master Qui-Gon will be here soon."

On the night the twins were born, Fesma went out and bought a bag of diapers and two onesies, one purple and one blue. Tyra was dressed in the purple one with her grandmother's necklace around her throat. Korkie was put in blue.

"Here are the papers," Fesma said, holding out a paper clipped pile, "the Jedi will need these."

Satine nodded, Khaami's comm beeped.

"My lady, a Jedi named Qui-Gon Jinn claimed the Duchess is expecting him, is that true?"

"Yes," Khaami answered, "Her Grace is most looking forward to his arrival."

For the last time, Satine held both her daughter and son in her arms, kissing both of them sweetly.

"Say goodbye to your sister, Korkie."

Korkie cooed.

"Tell your brother you love him, Tyra."

Tyra giggled.

Satine handed Korkie to Fesma, "Stay here with my son, Khaami will accompany me to the landing pad."

"Of course, Your Grace." the lady responded, sensing the solemnity of the moment.

Walking down to the landing pad was the hardest thing Satine ever had to do. She clutched Tyra's forged papers to her chest and made sure Khaami's cloak covered the baby, then, she stepped out the door.

Master Qui-Gon disembarked just as Satine stepped out onto the landing pad, and in a burst of emotion, she ran to him in tears.

"Hush now, Satine," the Jedi Master stroked the Duchess' head, "it's all going to be okay."

"My son, Korkie, is upstairs," Satine pulled away, wiping her eyes, "but Tyra is here for you."

Khaami walked forward.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat, speaking loudly, "I'm afraid I only have a short while, Duchess, perhaps a walk around the gardens?"

"Of course," Satine gestured for Khaami to follow, "let us go."

It took a few sharp turns to lose the guards, but when they did, Satine handed her friend the forged papers.

"Everything you should need is here," she whispered, "I've given Tyra a necklace, make sure she keeps it."

"Of course." the Jedi Master said earnestly.

Khaami came forward and held out her arms.

"This is the Princess Tyra Satine." she stated.

Qui-Gon smiled warmly and with a gentle touch, took the baby in his arms.

"Hello, Tyra Satine."

The Duchess steeled herself not to cry as Master Qui-Gon's ship took off, but when she made it back to her room, Satine burst into tears.

"Oh, Fesma, Khaami, what have I done!"

"What is right," Fesma said, leaning in front of her with Korkie in her arms, "this is what is best for your daughter."

"She knows you love her," Khaami assured, "she will always know."

Satine swallowed, she would get through this.

"What are we going to do about Korkie? Fesma asked.

The baby gurgled.

Satine straightened, "Try to act surprised when I announce my nephew this evening."

Clinking her glass, Satine stood, foreboding herself from shaking.

"There is an important family matter that must be shared with this court."

The room went silent.

Satine tried to act emotional, which wasn't hard, "I had a brother, he died in the war."

Whispers sprung up around the table, spreading like wildfire on dry grass.

"My brother had a son, his name is Korkyrach," Satine tightened her fingers around her glass, "and I have decided to raise him."

More whispers.

"Your Grace-"

"Thank you for your input, Prime Minister," Satine sat down, "but I have made up my mind."

Within the week, the entire Mandalore system knew about Korkie, and Satine was free to love her son in peace. A nursery was set up down the hall from her room and a nanny was hired. What Satine wasn't expecting, however, was the return of her sister Bo-Katan.

Naturally, her sister had to be dramatic, and had the announcer shout her arrival from the steps before the door opened. Her council gasped, but Satine wasn't surprised to see her sister in Mandalorian armor, it was practically all she wore.

"Bo-"

"I have come to meet my nephew." Bo-Katan said grandly.

Satine looked to her council, "We will resume in an hour, dismissed."

Bo-Katan was silent on the way up to the nursery, but Satine couldn't stop talking. She hadn't seen her sister since the day their parents were killed and she was whisked away by the former prime minister into Jedi care.

"I'm good, Satine." Bo-Katan said finally.

The Duchess nodded and led her sister into the nursery.

Bo-Katan smiled when she saw him, "Korkyrach, huh?"

"Yep."

"I didn't know Dad, I mean-"

"Yeah."

Her father had been an honorable man, and she hated disgracing his legacy this way. Despite their disagreements on the future of Mandalore, she had loved him, and she'd wept when he died.

"He's got red hair," Bo-Katan observed, "like me."

"Mm hm."

"Satine," Bo-Katan turned to her sister suddenly, "where did he really come from?"

The Duchess gaped and looked around the room, the nanny was politely waiting outside.

"Bo," Satine managed to get out, "I don't know what you mean."

Her sister's eyes narrowed and her voice lowered.

"Satine, I know you published the hospital records-"

"And his birth certificate and DNA test." interjected the Duchess.

Bo-Katan leveled Satine a glare, "But the hospital staff has no recollection or record of the woman who was Korkie's mother."

"That's strange," Satine agreed, "although many records were burned during the war."

"God kriffing dammit, Satine," Bo-Katan blurted, "our father would never do that!"

"Bo-"

"Is he yours?" Bo-Katan asked pointedly.

"What-"

"Is he yours?"

Satine blinked, she steeled her nerves.

"Bo, I'm not married."

Bo-Katan crossed her arms, "That didn't answer my question."

"Look, who I get with is my own business," Satine swallowed, thinking of Obi-Wan, "but I could never be so careless to, to-"

"Alright," Bo-Katan held up her hands, "I guess I just don't want to believe it."