I just... cannot believe we've made it all this way. Our final chapter. Enjoy.
The streets of Sundari had not been like this in Raf's lifetime, and he was glad to be on the street and amongst the revellers to feel the joy at its most potent. The Duchess of Mandalore stood tall beneath a heavy crown, the crown of Kalevala, her homeland. And she held up an imperious hand to quieten the enormous crowd.
"Mando'ade," she greeted them. "I wish to share a revelation with you."
Silence fell decisively.
"When I last saw my cherished sister she told me that she could not yet live as a New Mandalorian," she announced, with some sadness. "She told me that she was leaving to travel the system and to create her own Clan. And I would have laughed at her, before this war. I would have told her that Clans are born and not made. But I would have been wrong."
The crowd watched their monarch with curiosity.
"I have learned in these times of war," the Duchess continued, "that a Clan is defined, above all other traits and actions, by the sacrifices that people make for one another. Bo-Katan is of my Clan not by birthright, but by the decision she made to save my life in Keldabe. And although she is my only living relative by blood, my own Clan is much larger. I have found my Clan in Mando'ade all over the planetary system, from our desert home in Sundari to the veshok forests in the south and Keldabe's stone walls, and the great lakes on Kalevala. I consider my Clan to be among all of those who have lost their lives for this cause, and those who have been wounded by it. Among those survivors who have lost their families, and those who have lost their homes and their livelihoods."
There could be no one around him, Raf reflected, who had not made some sacrifice for this cause. Every member of the crowd clung to her words.
"These years have been a time of such great sacrifice," the Duchess went on. "It is no less than I would expect of my people. But the sacrifices have been great and I consider all the Mando'ade before me to be my own Clan, as close as blood. And thus, I pledge to live my whole life in service of this enormous, courageous and compassionate Clan."
There was a great roar from the crowd.
"The doors of the city palace will remain open long after the hospitals are rebuilt," the Duchess vowed. "There will always be room in my home for those who are without a home, or who are not safe in their homes. For my Clan is the strongest in the galaxy and we shall remain so by protecting the vulnerable. There is strength, above all, in unity."
Raf watched her and was silent amongst the cheering spectators. He could not believe that he had known her, once, in dirty peacekeeper blue, when she had been so lost. Today she seemed to know herself better than anyone.
He recalled, with quiet laughter, her suggestion made so long ago that he could make his fortune in a novelisation of the fleeting romance of their youth. Minister Almec would have a fit if such a piece went to publication. But Raf could enjoy the quiet knowledge that it had all the makings of a bestseller.
Media signal in the long-abandoned Concordian bunker was poor. But there'd been no damned chance of Bo-Katan Kryze missing the broadcast. She must have been a curious sight, sitting with her knees to her chest on the concrete roof, ungloved hands shoved deeply under her arms, eyes squinting against the wind as she followed the grainy footage.
She did not lament the lack of pixels. She knew enough. She knew the fine pattern of the lace on her mother's treasured wedding dress; they'd opened the chest with chubby, reverent fingers enough times. She knew the every curve and angle of her sister's face, and each constellation of freckles upon her nose. Bo-Katan eventually closed her watering eyes and let her memory supply the images as she listened to her sister's voice.
There is strength, above all, in unity.
Her sister would welcome her home, but Bo-Katan could not go home. There was strength in unity but Bo-Katan had to learn of her own strength, first. There must have been something there inside of her. Something that she could call her own, her very own. She was a daughter of the Clan Kryze but she had to learn to be Bo-Katan first. To grow to be something more than the second-born daughter.
One day, she told herself, when all that was said and done...
It might be nice, one day, to sit down at the table with her again. As leaders of Mandalorians Old and New. As equals.
"Just give me time, Satine."
And her words were whipped away in the dancing wind.
After the completion of the ceremony, Satine descended the uncarpeted stairway of the palace and emerged into the streets to greet her people. She did not know for how long she walked or how many hands she grasped. People reached out to touch her face, to press small gifts into her hands. The day was surreal and seemingly endless.
It was late afternoon by the sun when the crowds began to dispel. So this too, would have to come to an end. She found the Jedi in the thinning crowd, and walked towards them.
"Flight conditions will worsen from this evening," she told them, remembering what Almec had told her seemingly so long ago, although in truth it had only been last night. "Are you well enough to travel tonight?"
Obi Wan looked for confirmation from his Master, and nodded.
Satine held her chin high.
"Thank you for your service," she told them.
There were not words enough.
"My life is indebted to you. And the lives of countless Mandalorians."
"It is a great joy to see balance restored to Mandalore," Master Jinn intoned. "You have done well for your people, Duchess Kryze. May your system flourish in this time of peace."
Satine nodded.
"Thank you, Master Jinn."
"I will ready the ship, Obi Wan," the rangy Jedi announced, and left them with a bow and a faint smile.
The bubbling noise of the dispersing crowd seemed to fade away.
"All the other Jedi Masters say that he's far too lenient," Obi Wan mumbled, wry smile dimpling his cheek.
"He is compassionate," Satine agreed.
What to say to him? She had said everything that she could. They stood still and watched each other as the crowds moved around them.
"I don't imagine that anyone's told you this today," he began, with a wry smile, "because you're the Duchess of Mandalore and it would be inappropriate, but… Well, I'm a disgrace already so I'll tell you that you look very beautiful today."
Satine smiled and felt the burning of tears.
"Thank you."
She appraised him, standing before her.
"A new addition to your braid," she noted, taking it between her fingers.
"Crimson," he told her. "For a trial of the heart."
So this was how she would stay with him, until he entered his Knighthood. A single tear escaped against her will.
"You didn't see that," she admonished him hurriedly.
He grinned.
"I've cried already, if that helps."
Satine raised her brows in genuine surprise.
"Have you?"
"Howled," Obi Wan agreed curtly, with a self-conscious smile.
Satine mustered a proper grin.
"Need I assure you that you'll do spectacularly well in your Trials?"
"When have I ever lacked self-confidence?" he asked.
And it was poignant because he had lacked confidence at times, and he had allowed her to see it. But today he was radiant with life and with light. Radiant with gifts too precious to belong to her alone.
"Fly safely, Obi Wan," she bid him.
To talk any more would be to risk disgracing herself in public.
"I wish you great success in your Knighthood and in all your peacekeeping."
Obi Wan nodded his thanks at the sentiment but did not hurry their conversation to its close.
"I wanted to say, Satine, that in the years to come…"
He grimaced and made another attempt.
"I wish nothing but peace and prosperity for Mandalore, of course. But should a difficult day ever arrive, Satine… call me. Please. I'll come."
His appeal was earnest and almost broke her resolve in that very moment. Every day will be difficult without you, my love. But Satine swallowed back her tears and gifted him a weak smile.
"My own personal Jedi Knight," she remarked, with strained humour. "How dar'Manda."
His smile, too, was thin as he shared in the joke. He could not mask his underlying sincerity as he spoke again.
"Promise me, Satine, truly, that should you ever need-"
"I'll call," Satine agreed, reaching out to take his hand in hers and arresting his speech. "I'll call you."
He squeezed her hand and relaxed.
"Thank you, Satine."
He regathered his composure then, with a deep bow. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
"I wish you every success in your consolidation of peace on Mandalore, Duchess Kryze," he intoned formally.
A second stray tear escaped over her lower lid, and as he rose to his full height once more he wiped it away swiftly with a callused thumb. The last touch. The last time. They shared a smile and a clumsy laugh. She could not say anything more. She returned his bow with a curtesy of her own, and turned to face the palace so as not to watch him walk away.
Our tragic and inevitable parting.
( Firewind: a small part of me, also, would rather write a wedding. But the galaxy is unkind. As for your other questions - you should make an account and we can PM!)
Thank you, thank you, thank you so much to everyone who has come on this journey with me. I know that it's not so enormous in the end but it feels it - I don't think I'll ever write anything of this magnitude again, as I move forward into a professional adult life. It has been such a joy to bring this story to you and to hear your thoughts.
If you're after an epilogue of sorts - I can point you in the direction of This Bond We Share and The Announcement to make you laugh after all this tragedy, or Miracle Love if you're still feeling the angst. You might see some more one-shots and mini-stories in the future.
Much love, as always,
xx - S.