Chapter 5
"Satine?" Obi-Wan whispered.
"Hm?"
"I'm going to wipe the guards' memories."
Opening her eyes, Satine sat up. Obi-Wan was already dressed.
"And then I'll have to go."
Satine drew her knees up to her chest, "I'm going to miss you, Ben."
Obi-Wan leaned in and kissed Satine.
"We'll see each other again, Love." he whispered when they separated, their noses inches apart.
Satine nodded and Obi-Wan left, quickly the Duchess dressed and made her way through the servant's passageways to her quarters.
"You need to get better at sneaking around." Fesma observed from behind her.
Opening a painting, Satine gestured for Fesma to go first. The lady smiled and passed her, breakfast tray in hand.
"Obi-Wan will be leaving soon," Satine said, going straight to her closet, "I want to see him off."
"Where is your lover now?" Fesma teased.
Satine crossed her arms, "Erasing the memories of people who might've seen us."
Fesma snorted.
"Well," Khaami said, entering through the front door, "that must be very convenient."
"It is." Satine grinned.
Once she was dressed, Satine shoved a piece of toast in her mouth and ran down to the landing pad. Obi-Wan was waiting by the ship.
"Your Grace," the Jedi bent down and kissed Satine's hand, "thank you for kindly showing me your home."
"The pleasure was all mine, Obi-Wan."
"I'll see you again, my love." he whispered.
"I do hope so, Ben." the Duchess smiled.
The Jedi had a gleam in his eye when he strode back to his ship and took off. Satine on the other hand, felt a terrible weight settle on her chest.
"Come," Fesma wrapped a hand around Satine's arm, "you must eat more before you attend your council meeting."
Over breakfast, Satine recounted the tale of her first kiss with Obi-Wan.
"He had just saved my life," the Duchess reminisced, "and we were still separated from Master Qui-Gon. It began to rain, but before we ran to the cave, I kissed him."
"You," Fesma questioned, "the perfect Duchess of Mandalore who's never done wrong in her life-"
"Kissed a Jedi?" Khaami raised her eyebrows.
Satine sighed.
"When we were eight you cried when Bo-Katan killed your pet frog." Fesma grinned.
"I know," Satine bit her lip, "but hey, if I was going to do something bad, why not do something really bad?"
Khaami laughed, Fesma shook her head.
"Are the servants saying anything?" Satine asked, suddenly serious.
The ladies looked at each other.
"Tell me." Satine surged.
"People are still suspicious of you and the Jedi." Fesma confessed.
Satine found out exactly how suspicious the palace was at her afternoon briefing.
"Perhaps, Your Grace," a male minister smiled politely, "it is time you think about taking a husband."
Satine's mouth fell open.
"If I may, Your Grace," a female minister interrupted, "my colleague only suggests such as it would strengthen the duchy and give the people something to celebrate."
"Are we not doing well," Satine asked, "are the programs we instituted to help rebuild the economy and the planet not working?"
"We are doing well, Your Grace," said Prime Minister Djarin, sliding Satine a graph, "but a husband could be of assistance."
"Could," Satine emphasized, "I can't have a power-hungry man on my hands who doesn't have the peoples' interests at heart."
"No," the Prime Minister agreed, "you can't."
The Duchess crossed her arms, her point made.
"A husband would put the rumors to rest about you and your Jedi companion." the male minister from before spoke up.
Satine tilted her head, "I thought you held a better opinion of me, Minister."
"Your Grace, I meant no offense-"
"Then perhaps you should think before you speak," Satine stood, frowning, "I shall take a husband when I choose."
The Duchess left her advisors speechless, Her Grace had never walked out of a meeting before, she was quite agreeable and wanted what was best for her planet. Though, this was a matter of personal nature.
"I won't marry." Satine vowed to herself in the mirror.
"You may fall in love again." Khaami suggested from her left.
Satine glowered at her lady and the woman shoved a fork of dinner into her mouth. They were sitting in her personal parlor eating.
"Perhaps," Fesma began, "if we threw more social engagements, people might think you're open to the idea."
"Or I could give speeches." Satine suggested.
"Both would be best," Fesma continued, "this past week you were a little withdrawn."
"I was busy."
Khaami huffed, "No kidding."
The next day at her council meeting, Satine announced that she was going to hold a ball for her twentieth birthday.
"May I ask what caused this change of mind, Your Grace?" asked an advisor.
"I will attempt to find an ally among the noble youth," Satine crossed her arms, "and if I discern any of them worthy I shall consider marriage."
The Prime Minister smiled, "Yet you don't think you shall find anyone."
"No."
The advisors looked at one another.
"I also would like to attend more social engagements." Satine announced.
Half of her advisors were at a loss for words.
"Perhaps, Your Grace," a female advisor piped up, "an afternoon with the betterment society helping plant trees or other humanitarian work would please you."
"I would certainly make for good press." added the Prime Minister.
"Then let's fill my schedule," Satine decided, "planting trees, helping with animals, cleaning public parks."
The Duchess kept herself busy for the next month until her twentieth birthday, she took philanthropic photos, gave speeches at volunteer societies, and made a couple donations. It was a great way to keep her mind off Obi-Wan, and it made it easier to bear missing him.
"I wonder what he's doing now?" Satine mused one day at dinner.
They were eating in the dining hall now, just Satine and her ladies.
"It's not good to indulge those thoughts." Fesma advised.
"Probably meditating," Khaami answered, "or whatever else the Jedi do."
Satine smiled at the difference in her ladies' answers.
"We do have a big day tomorrow, though," Fesma interjected, raising an eyebrow, "someone has a birthday."
"Ah, yes," Satine sighed, "small talk and socializing."
"Do you really think you'll find a new beau?" Khaami questioned.
"No," Satine shook her head, "but it gives the impression that I'm thinking about it."
The Duchess felt slightly guilty as she was readying for her birthday ball. Was she prideful, because she enjoyed being pampered. In the early morning after breakfast Satine and her ladies got their nails done with some of the other noble ladies. At first, there was an awkward silence when Satine came in.
"Don't let me interrupt you," the Duchess smiled, "I too enjoy good conversation."
The women looked at each other.
"What color, Your Grace?" asked one of the attendants.
"Violet." Satine answered.
The girls immediately started whispering to one another.
"Is that the color of your gown, Your Grace?" piped up a young noble daughter.
Satine winked, "You'll see."
The conversation turned to the beau's of noble sisters and what lord was the most handsome.
"What about you, Your Grace," prodded a mother, "any noble son you have your eye on?"
It was subtle, but Satin knew what the woman was asking.
So with a sigh, she answered, "It's such a difficult position to be in, though I suppose I would like a husband who speaks eloquently."
"What an interesting choice, Your Grace."
A beat of silence.
"Satine," Fesma began, "if your preference hasn't changed since we were twelve I daresay you'll fancy half of Mandalore."
Khaami giggled.
Satine blushed, "Oh, Fesma, it's true I like blue eyes, but what do I know?"
"Blue eyes?" questioned a young noble daughter.
"I find them dreamy." Satine confessed with a smile.
That immediately got the ladies whispering, and satisfied, Satine leaned back. After her nails were dry, Satine and her ladies went to inspect the jewel room.
"What colors are you wearing, Your Grace?" asked the attendant.
"Gold and violet." Satine straightened her shoulders.
"Lovely," the attendant paused for effect, "and your ladies?"
Khaami gasped, Fesma's eyes looked like they were going to fall out of her head.
"Blue and silver."
The attendant bowed, "Let us browse, Your Grace."
"We're going to wear jewels!" Khaami squeaked.
"You're my ladies," Satinie smiled, "you have to look the part."
Khaami ran into Satine's arms and kissed her cheek.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
The Duchess laughed.
"You're so kind, Satine." Fesma's eyes watered.
"We're friends," Satine held out her hand, "I realized I haven't yet thanked you for your service to me."
Fesma took the Duchess' hand and squeezed, "Thank you, Satine."
Once the proper jewels were chosen, Satine bathed, and while a maid began working with her hair, Satine dismissed Fesma and Khaami to get ready themselves.
"You have glorious hair, Your Grace." commented the maid.
"Thank you," Satine smiled, "I'm glad I inherited my father's color."
"If I may say, Your Grace, I believe the Duke was as well."
Thinking of her father made Satine remember the day he was killed. She hadn't seen it, as she was rushed outside, but she'd heard the shot, and that was enough.
"Your Grace?"
"Oh," Satine sighed, "I was just thinking of the difficult task ahead of me."
"The system will adore whoever you choose to wed, Your Grace."
Satine looked at the maid in the mirror, "Thank you for saying as much."
Khaami and Fesma returned just as the maid, whose name was Parna, opened up the box that held the jewels Satine was going to wear.
"You look lovely, ladies." the Duchess smiled.
"I feel like the belle of the ball already," Khaami grinned, "and it hasn't even started yet!"
"I'm glad you feel that way," Satine smiled, placing a crown on her head, "you're going to help me manage my dance card."
"Oh my," Fesma clicked her tongue, "what a task."
The announcer was more than thrilled to announce his Duchess and her ladies, but the ballroom was more receptive. As Satine walked by whispers reached her ears, she was gorgeous, she was young, she was looking for a husband.
Satine stood gracefully in front of her throne.
"I would like to thank you all for coming on this special day for me," Satine began, "I am extremely grateful to the extensive work you all have done to help me rebuild are planet, and tonight, I would like to celebrate that work."
The Duchess paused and the crowd clapped politely.
"On this occasion, my twentieth birthday, I am reminded of how fortunate I am," Satine swallowed, grabbing a glass, "and so tonight is as much of a celebration of yourselves as it is of me. I would like to make a toast: To the good of Mandalore!"
"To the good of Mandalore!" the crowd agreed.
Satine led the way into dinner, her ladies behind her, and, beyond her ladies, found herself seated next to Count Tarrei Vizsla and Countess Ursa Wren.
"Happy birthday, Your Grace." the Countess smiled politely.
"Thank you, Countess Wren," Satine smiled, "I do hope you enjoy the evening."
"What a wonderful speech, Your Grace," the Count commented after a beat, "it's wonderful to see humility reflected in a government."
"Why thank you-"
"I wonder is it a trait you learned from the Jedi?"
Satine raised an eyebrow, "I think not, my father, the late Duke, was a firm believer in a moral compass and loyalty to one's country folk, I think such traits are honorable, don't you, Count Vizsla?"
"I do, Your Grace," the edge of the Count's lips twisted, "the late Duke was a man of honor."
Satine wondered if the Count was implying that she wasn't honorable. Instead, she smiled and daintily spooned some soup into her mouth.
After dinner, Satine looped her arms between her ladies and let the guests lead the way into the ballroom. Characteristically, the first man to approach her waas Count Vizsla.
"Your Grace," the man bowed, "may I present my son, Pre Vizsla, Earl of Larrayne."
Pre Vizsla was neither handsome nor ugly, but when Satine looked into his eyes she saw ambition, and right then she knew that the count Vizsla could never be her father in law.
"Your Grace, would you like to dance?"
Politely, Satine smiled, and held out her hand, "Of course."
The Duchess and the Earl kept up a polite conversation, but there were stagnant pauses that made both of them despise the other. After the dance, Pre Vizsla bowed and the Duchess was surrounded by a sea of men.
Next, Satine danced with the Viscount Saxon, the Count Awaud, and the Lord Eldar. Although, on the latter, Satine noticed how their conversation kept turning to Khaami. After the dance, Satine took the Lord's arm and led him to where her ladies were socializing.
"Khaami," Satine smiled, "May I present Lord Eldar."
Their eyes met, and Khaami blushed.
"Would you like to dance, Lady Khaami."
Khaami looked to Satine, who nodded.
"I would love to."
Satine took Khaami's glass and joined the conversation, looping her arm through Fesma's.
"Have you any favorites yet, Your Grace?" winked a noble daughter her age.
Satine swirled her drink, "Unfortunately, I found I have lost some faith in the male sex this night."
Fesma snorted.
"Don't worry, Duchess," a lady said earnestly, "the night is still young."
"Your right," Satine took a sip of her drink, "perhaps we'll all get less intoxicated as the night goes on."
Fesma giggled.
"I suppose then, Your Grace," another lady ventured, "that you've already made up your mind?"
"Well," Satine hesitated, "I suppose I wouldn't mind being swept off my feet."
"By a blue-eyed gentleman." Fesma added.
"A romantic gentlemen." Satine corrected.
"Oh," agreed a young noble daughter, "wouldn't we all."
The ladies giggled.
The dancing went on late into the night, though Satine only danced a couple more times, she and Fesma were fed up with pleasantries. Khaami however, had a wonderful evening in the arms of Lord Eldar.
"He's my boyfriend now." Khaami told Satine and Fesma that evening.
"Really?" Fesma grinned.
"Yes, Warx asked me and everything."
"Warx?" Satine raised an eyebrow.
"Lord Eldar."
Satine smiled, "Ah."
Fesma returned all the jewels while Khaami helped Satine into her nightgown.
"I'm sorry you had to put on this ruse." said the lady.
"It's what's expected," Satine replied, knowing exactly what she was talking about, "falling in love with a man I can't have, that was unexpected."
"Still, I'm sorry, Satine." Khaami included.
The full weight of missing Obi-Wan fell on Satine, it had been a week since he'd left, and the Duchess was beginning to wonder what it would be like if he never came back.
"Satine, maybe you should ask about Tyra," Khaami suggested, "I'm sure Master Qui-Gon would be kind to you."
"He would've," Satine agreed, "but Master Qui-Gon's dead."
The Duchess dismissed Khaami to the room she shared with Fesma and climbed under the covers. Guilt gnawed at her, Satine couldn't give her children the lives they should've had, yet she wanted to keep them close. Satine cried on and off for the next few hours, but eventually fell into a restless sleep. Awaking before Fesma and Khaami would come with breakfast, Satine stared at the ceiling and thought about what Tyra's life must be like at the temple. Then she thought about Korkie. He was beyond the point of waking up in the night to cry, but he still needed loving care and attention. Something she wasn't really able to give him with her busy schedule.
"Satine?"
Swallowing, the Duchess sat up and turned to Fesma.
"Are you," the lady paused, "alright?"
Satine nodded, but said nothing. Fesma stepped forward and set down Satine's tray, Khaami soon followed with purified water. Satine grunted a thank you.
"I'll go," Fesma looked around, "pick out your outfit."
Khaami sat down on the edge of the bed, "Satine, what's wrong?"
The Duchess sighed, "I miss Obi-Wan, that's all."
"We could arrange time for Korkie in your schedule if you like, Satine." Fesma added, coming out of the closet.
"I'd like that." the Duchess admitted.
After she ate, Satine let her ladies help her dress, and escort her to the council meeting.
"You don't need to worry," the Duchess told her ladies, "I'll just say I'm hungover."
Khaami and Fesma shared a look.
"Okay, okay," Satine sighed, "I'll try to smile."
Fortunately enough for the Duchess, today's topic was very interesting to her.
"Naboo and Cerea are unhappy with the new tariffs," the Prime Minister announced, "and both have requested audiences with the Duchess to negotiate new terms."
"Parliament will dislike that." observed one advisor.
"Perhaps," Satine spoke up, "I could visit Parliament and see what they feel strongly about, then I would be better prepared for the meeting."
"Your Grace is willing?" questioned an advisor.
"Yes." Satine nodded.
The meeting scribe jotted something down. After Satine had dismissed her advisors, the Prime Minister pulled her aside.
"Parliament is a lion's den," said Jaru Djarin with care, "you must be prepared to growl when you go in there."
"I will," Satine nodded, "is there anything you recommend?"
"Become the crown, a statue, be everything Parliament was made to serve," at seeing Satine's look, the Prime Minister added, "I shall be there as well for assistance."
On the day she was going to Parliament, Satine dressed as if she were going to war. Enrobed in a white and gold dress with the Kryze colors on a royal sash across her chest, Satine looked much like she had when she was crowned.
"What crown shall I send for, Your Grace?" Parna asked, appearing in the doorway.
"The golden warrior's eye," Satine decided, "the one that looks like the sun."
Parna curtsied, "Yes, Your Grace."
When she'd left, Fesma turned to Satine, "Going to make an impression, are we?"
"My father wore that crown to his most important state affairs," Satine stated, "I want to show Parliament that I am like my father."
Fesma nodded, "It does bolster male egos to see a man in charge."
"True," Khaami agreed, "shall we do your hair in a braided bun?"
"Yes, I think so."
When Parna returned, she gently held out a golden box to Satine.
"The Jewel Master wanted me to tell you he thinks you've chosen wisely."
Satine took the box, "Thank you, Parna, do tell him later that I appreciate his sentiment."
Parna smiled, "I will, Your Grace."
Satine's ladies helped her to the carriage, but from then on she was on her own. When they arrived at the Parliament building, Satine noticed some photographers outside.
"It's not everyday the Crown visits Parliament, Your Grace." observed the driver when he caught Satine's eye.
The door opened and a hand was offered to help the Duchess out of the car. When she stepped out, chatter stopped, the cameras flashed.
"Duchess Satine," the Prime Minister appeared on the stairs above her, "may I escort you in?"
"I would be delighted." Satine smiled, gracefully ascending the steps and holding out her hand.
The inside of the Parliament building was decorated with chiseled busts of important leaders, symbolic paintings, and marble pillars that, combined with the marble floor, caused Satine's shoes to echo with every step.
"The Honorable Prime Minister Djarin and Her Grace, Duchess Kryze of Mandalore."
Satine felt every pair of eyes in the room on her, she hadn't graced Parliament with her presence since she'd opened it when she was a new Duchess.
At the end of the room there were two chairs which Prime Minister Jaru led them towards, one a wooden throne, elegantly carved, sat on the left of the center throne, which was marble. Ascending the dias, Satine turned and sat gracefully on the center throne, once she was fully seated, everyone, including the Prime Minister, followed.
"Our monarch is here today," began Jaru Djarin, "to hear your reasoning behind the strict tariffs on Cerea and Naboo, she would like to open the floor to discussion and hear what you feel strongly about."
Satine studied the room, Mandalore had four political parties that each held an amount of seats in Parliament, the long hall had four seating areas against the walls, and each group sat under a flag of singular color. Red, orange, yellow, and white.
"Your Grace," a minister from the red group stood, "we have just been through a terrible ordeal, and Naboo and Cerea, our closest trading partners, certainly wouldn't mind helping us."
Chatter rose up around the room.
"Unfortunately," the Duchess began, speaking as loud as she could while remaining dignified, "they do mind, and feel they are being treated unfairly. If we wish them to help us, we must give them something in return."
That certainly sparked whispers.
As more and more ministers stood, Satine saw where the argument split, the red and yellow parties were on one side, while orange and white were on the other. The red and yellow parties felt that they should be aggressive with the tariff negotiations, the orange and white parties disagreed, and thought the opposite.
"Perhaps," Satine began, trying to calm the uproar that had suddenly erupted, "we should stand firm on our implementation of the tariffs, yet be lenient and willing to negotiate on some of the principles."
The room went silent.
"What principles do you suggest, Your Grace?" asked the Prime Minister.
Satine straightened, "We lower the percent of tax down from twenty five percent to fifteen, yet we ask for a loan to be repaid without interest."
The ministers whispered among each other, the Prime Minister smiled. It took an hour to hammer out the rest of the details, yet all of Parliament agreed that the Duchess had divulged a good tactic.
The next morning, Satine woke to a squeal from Khaami.
"Satine!"
"Sh, Khaami-"
"Satine, you won't believe it!"
Sighing, the Duchess sat up.
"They're calling you the She-Wolf of Mandalore!" Khaami giggled.
"Your performance yesterday was spectacular, Satine." Fesma agreed.
Grinning and giggling like a little girl, Satine asked to see the holonews.
"She-Wolf of Mandalore," Satine smiled, "I like that."