So our time-sprawling chapters have been split into two - I was having too much fun writing each scene. I've written dates in "After Treaty of Coruscant" (because they can't have used BBY before the Battle of Yavin), but have left BBY in for reference as I imagine we're all much more familiar with that dating system. For reference, Korkie was born in 32BBY and the Clone Wars begin in 22BBY.
I hope you enjoy :)
3624 ATC (29 BBY)
Was there anywhere worse to spend one's twenty-fourth life-day than Coruscant's Annual Trade Gala, with its guest list of over five hundred pompous politicians, insensibly bubbly drinks and Tal Merrik following like a stray strill-pup at one's side? Satine thought not. It was particularly frustrating to think of Obi Wan and Korkie, comfortably settled into her new apartment only a few minutes away, presumably having a much more enjoyable evening than she was.
But, to be fair, the Trade Summit had been more successful for Mandalore than Satine had even dared to hope. Tonight, Satine could clinch the deals and the goodwill and then retreat into independent obscurity for another year at the least. And she had promised Tal that she would take care of him at the Gala; he'd been doing well in Kalevalan politics and had done well for her at the Trade Summit, and it would be a little cruel to throw him to the dogs in this first major interplanetary social gathering he had attended.
If only he did not insist on telling everyone in their company the stories of their idyllic shared childhoods on Kalevala. This seemed to be all Tal talked about when he was with Satine; she was faintly worried that he was hoping she might be softened by the nostalgia and fall in love with him. Almec had told her at least a hundred times what a good suitor he was.
Satine excused herself to the bathroom, dodged what might have been an attempted kiss from Tal, and once out of sight made a sharp turn to escape into the fresh night air.
The grand banquet hall had not impressed Satine but she was pleased, at least, with the garden that she found herself in, a small oasis of green in the heart of Coruscant. She headed for a low wall beneath a canopy of trees, where she intended to remove her shoes and relax her aching feet, when she was startled by a voice.
"Duchess Kryze."
A white face emerged from the shadows between the leaves.
"Queen Amidala," Satine acknowledged, with a shallow curtesy. "You should call me Satine."
"And you should call me Padme. Come sit."
The young queen was leaning her head, laden with coils of hair and heavy gold ornaments, against the tree behind them. She let her eyes flutter closed, a faint smile on her face.
"Next year I'll be a Senator and I will be free," she murmured.
Satine's sense of properness was dissolved by the intimacy of this statement.
"Congratulations," she commended her, with a smile of her own. "Although I'm afraid you'll still be attending galas."
The queen's mouth twitched with humour.
"Yes, but without half my weight in costume. And I'll be someone with a voice, not just a figurehead. It will be divine."
Satine willed herself not to feel jealous. To be a senator, to advocate for one's people without the crushing responsibility of an autocrat… It was no good to think of it. Unlike on Naboo, there was no expiry date on her reign. Satine would be the Duchess of Mandalore for as long as she lived.
"Speaking of senators, yours seems to like you," Padme observed, opening her eyes to deliver a flashing grin.
Satine rubbed at her feet.
"I've been fearing the same," she affirmed grimly. "But no matter. I can hold my ground."
Padme grimaced.
"I've never had to deal with any of that. But when I'm eighteen, and no longer the Queen, and not hiding behind all this…"
She gestured to her makeup.
"I suppose I'll have to learn to do the same."
And by the stars the Queen Amidala, almost eighteen-standard though she may have been, looked young then. She didn't deserve the inevitable misogyny of politics, the constant need to be on one's guard. Padme was a fine queen and a strong young woman and yet Satine could not help but pat her hand with all the tenderness she would give Korkie.
"I'll make sure to attend a gala for you here and there. Come yell at any men who need to be put in their place."
Padme smiled at her.
"That's a kind offer."
"The media is already calling me an ice queen," Satine reasoned. "I might as well fortify my fearsome reputation and leave yours favourable."
"The media are malicious bastards," Padme muttered, fiddling with the thick fabric of her dress.
"Agreed," Satine mused. "Speaking of which… What's the earliest you think I could leave without the media inventing some story about my getting into a fight and storming out early?"
Padme made a pensive face.
"Give it an hour, perhaps."
And then, with a cheeky smile.
"Is it your bedtime, mighty Duchess?"
Satine thought of her bed and wondered whether Obi Wan was already in it.
"Young queen, you cannot imagine how much I am looking forward to going to bed."
Satine smelled the sweet uj syrup the moment she opened the door.
"Obi Wan, did you-"
Obi Wan, who had been reclining in his loose sleeping pants reading from his holo-pad on the couch, looked up with a sheepish grin.
"Well, my dear, I'm afraid I have very little money with which to buy you jewels and finery, and I was thinking of how unfortunate it was that you should have to spend your life-day on this deplorable, cultureless planet…"
Satine chuckled as she closed the door; he was quoting her.
"So I thought I'd make you an uj cake for your life-day. We can pretend we're on Mandalore."
Satine strode over to deliver him a kiss and threw her coat over the back of the couch.
"It smells good."
"You sound surprised," Obi Wan smirked, rising to his feet and following Satine towards the apartment's small kitchen.
"Did Master Jinn not insist on cooking our meals during my exile because he was a better cook than you?"
"A better cook," Obi Wan conceded, "but a far inferior baker. It was not in Master Jinn's nature to measure ingredients and follow instructions."
Satine snickered her agreement.
"Whereas you, my love, are fastidious."
She eyed the cake on the kitchen bench. It did look good. Obi Wan handed her the knife.
"Happy life-day, dearest."
Satine cut into the cake. By the stars, the Jetii had got the infamously troublesome texture right.
"You astound me."
"Thank you, my love. Cut a bigger slice than that."
He wielded a bottle of tihaar and two glasses.
"A drink?"
"Yes please. They serve the most noxious, bubbly bantha-piss at Republican gatherings."
They squashed themselves happily on the couch, uj cake and tihaar in hand. Perhaps this was not such a terrible life-day after all.
"Where did you find such good quality uj syrup, anyway?" Satine asked, through a mouthful of cake.
Obi Wan smirked.
"From the back of your pantry, dearest, the last time I was on Mandalore. Along with the tihaar."
Satine tried to look disapproving.
"Are you only with me for my money and fine Mandalorian produce?"
Obi Wan took a sip of his tihaar and leaned in towards her.
"The money, the fine Mandalorian produce, and your astonishing beauty, my love."
Satine rolled her eyes.
"Stars, you're charming."
"More so than Tal Merrik, I hope."
Satine made a noise of indignation and kissed him.
"Now what would make you say something like that?"
"The live blog reporting on the Gala," Obi Wan explained with a smirk, gesturing illustratively at the abandoned holo-pad beside them. "You left early. The media supposes you might have had a fight with your handsome date."
Satine groaned.
"They're scum."
Obi Wan kissed her again, deeper this time.
"Eat your cake, dearest, and enjoy your life-day."
3625 ATC (28 BBY)
"We have an extra special life-day gift for you, Vod."
Anakin dropped to his knees before the excitedly waiting child.
"You have to promise you'll be really good with it, alright? And listen to everything your dad says."
Korkie nodded eagerly. Satine shot Obi Wan a knowing glance. Anakin unwrapped the cloth carefully.
"It's a training 'saber. I'm sorry it's a hand-me-down. But I promise I took really good care of it. The best I've ever taken care of anything."
Jaw dropping, Korkie chanced a glance at his mother. A wry smile on her face, she nodded him encouragingly forward. Korkie lunged forward and took the 'saber in his hands.
"It is so cool."
Obi Wan came to join Anakin kneeling beside his son.
"I'll show you how to turn it on, we'll make sure we have the space…"
A pale blue light was thrown across the room.
"I promise that it cannot harm anyone or anything," Obi Wan murmured, casting his eyes towards his watching riduur, "but we will learn to be extremely careful with it, alright, Korkie'ad?"
"Has Ani got a big one now?" Korkie asked, as he swung the 'saber experimentally from side to side.
"Yes. As will you, when you've trained long enough with this one."
Satine looked as though she might protest, but eventually gave a sigh.
"We have nearly a decade, yes, to debate this?"
"More or less, dearest."
And Satine could not help but smile as she watched her son move the 'saber with such reverence.
"Fine."
"You should come see this," Satine murmured, from the doorway.
Obi Wan extricated himself reluctantly from the warmth of their bed on a cold Sundari night. Satine had attempted three times now to put their newly-turned four-year-old to bed. One would have thought that after several hours learning and practising katas first with Obi Wan and then with Anakin, Korkie would have crashed into an easy sleep, but it seemed this was not the case.
The hallway was dark and quiet. From the doorway of their son's bedroom, cracked ajar as it always was, blue light creeped out. There was the steady swooshing of a 'saber blade. Obi Wan carefully angled himself to see into the room. His precious son was performing katas in his pyjamas in the dark.
"He has your patience," Satine murmured.
"And Anakin's stance," Obi Wan bemoaned.
His disappointment was feigned; he had perhaps never been happier in his life. He took Satine by the arms and he kissed her hard.
"Shouldn't we go back to the bedr-"
He kissed her deeper still. His heart was so full, in that moment. So full of love, enough to light every last star in the galaxy.
3626 ATC/27 BBY
The rain was fine and fell almost soundlessly onto the ocean. Obi Wan felt the run-off from his imperfectly slung tarpaulin cold on his back and hunched forward over his comm-device.
"Poor Anakin's been unwell. He was vomiting all day today with seasickness. I'm not sure how he can stomach flying but not this. But thankfully he's managed to get to sleep now, which is something."
He cast an eye at his Padawan – or, as he was known on this mission to Alaris, Obi Wan's nephew – still sleeping soundly. The sight of this was enough to console Obi Wan of his inadequate shelter. At least his Padawan was dry.
"Our boat is really more like a raft with a sail on it. Like something Korkie would build in the pond. But it will take us into the path of the pirates, and that's all we need."
"I'm sorry you've had to spend your life-day in the cold and wet."
"Not at all, dearest."
The sight of her in her bed, hazy in the rain though it was, was enough to keep Obi Wan warm to his core.
"I'm so glad the signal reached. A life-day gift from the galaxy, perhaps."
Satine made a noise of soft assent.
"I just wish I could be with you," she murmured.
"You don't want to be here," Obi Wan snickered. "I wish I could be with you."
Satine tucked herself more snugly under the covers.
"I'd warm you right up."
"You already have, dearest."
Satine closed her eyes briefly as she smiled. Obi Wan wondered whether the same tears were pricking at her eyes. The distance felt so far, tonight.
"I shouldn't keep you awake any longer. I've woken you in the middle of the night, have I not?"
"You know I don't mind," Satine assured him.
"And I know that you have a busy day tomorrow and you need to sleep," Obi Wan countered gently. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful one. Thank you for bringing me such a precious gift on my life-day."
"I haven't given you any gift," Satine protested, through laughter.
"Yes, you have. Goodnight, my love."
"Goodnight, Obi Wan."
The image of her flickered and died. There was only the steel grey ocean and the enormously heavy clouds above, through which the starlight could barely permeate. And the gentle shuffling of their captain, a ferryman, as he moved his cold feet inside his boots.
"Your wife?" he asked, in Alari.
"Yes."
"She must miss you when you travel."
"Yes."
"And you miss her."
"Of course."
Perhaps he lied because it was simplest to do so, because it suited their cover. Perhaps he lied because he had to, because the warmth of it was the consolation he so desperately needed on his quiet night. Obi Wan tried to make himself small under his tarpaulin and looked out across the ocean, and imagined the galaxy in which Satine was his wife.
3627 ATC/26 BBY
"I don't understand what you're so overwrought about, Master!"
Anakin, fifteen years old and a menace, was hurtling the Delta-7 through an asteroid belt as though trying to set the galactic record for space travel between Malastare, where they had recently concluded a mission, and Kalevala.
"It's your own riduur's twenty-seventh life-day and you're telling me you'd rather be late-"
"I would like to arrive alive, Anakin!" Obi Wan gritted out.
"Who says we won't?"
Obi Wan took a steadying breath and tried to relax his grip on the arms of his chair.
"This is not how my ship is meant to be flown, Anakin. She's not designed for this speed, not to mention this blasted handling."
Anakin frowned faintly.
"Didn't I tell you I put in a new steering system? And tweaked the engine a little? She's well capable now-"
"You modified my ship into a death trap without telling me?" Obi Wan yelped, composure well and truly abandoned.
"Are you sure I didn't tell you?" Anakin asked innocently.
Obi Wan glowered.
"We both know that you did not tell me."
Anakin shrugged casually, sending the ship into a sickening tilt.
"You should have realised, if I'm honest, while you were flying her. You should be able to tell that she handles differently now."
"I'm not a blasted pod-race pilot."
Anakin smirked.
"That much is obvious, Master."
Obi Wan groaned and tried to find a distant object upon which to fix his gaze. He would not vomit.
"Happy life-day, Satine!"
Anakin sprang forth from the fighter and trotted towards the waiting pair, scooping a running Korkie up into his arms.
"Hello, young warrior! I've missed you."
"I missed you too," Korkie echoed, embracing Anakin before frowning and straining to look over Anakin's shoulder. "Where's Buir?"
"He's coming."
Korkie looked at Anakin with suspicion, clearly sensing his father's discomfort in the Force.
"Is he okay?"
"He's fine."
Satine raised a brow, amused.
"I promise, he's-"
"I'm fine," Obi Wan murmured, finally heaving himself out of the cabin and down onto the ground.
He stumbled towards Satine as though sea-legged and hooked an arm around her shoulder, delivering a clumsy kiss to her temple.
"Anakin was trying to make me vomit on your life-day, but he has not succeeded. I'm very happy to see you, dearest."
Korkie sprang from Anakin's arms and hurried to wrap a hug around his father's legs.
"I'm very happy to see you too, Korkie-ad. I feared I might not make it alive."
Heads leaning into each other, Obi Wan still with an arm over Satine's shoulders and Satine's arm at his waist, the Jedi and Duchess followed their running son towards the lakeside cabin.
"Have you noticed, Master," Anakin ventured, bringing up the rear, "that we have made it perfectly in time for dinner?"
Look at our beautiful little family growing up. They're too precious. I hope you liked the mix of scenes and emotions.
One more chapter like this, and then we'll be into the action-y half of this story. How exciting!
Thanks for your amazing reviews, as always. Let me know if you have any requests - one of the four scenes for my next chapter remains unwritten.
Much love,
- S.