Oops - another mega-chapter. This one was hard to write. I struggled finding my version of Yoda - I wanted him to be wiser and more tolerant than he is in the prequels (the way he ignores Anakin's nightmares is just too stupid) without subverting his character too much.

angelacorus I couldn't quite fit in Korkie meeting the Jedi Council yet, but we'll definitely get this happening down the track as he grows up. I hope you like the interaction between Obi Wan and Yoda instead. I really appreciate your requests :)

In happier news, this chapter we get our special guest who is coming back into the story!

Enjoy xx

3628 ATC (25 BBY)

What Obi Wan had previously approached as punitive and interrogative teaching sessions with Grand Master Yoda had over the years developed into an almost enjoyable weekly routine. Obi Wan had long suspected that Yoda knew something of his secret life outside the Order – the Grand Master certainly seemed to know something of everything else going on in the galaxy – but he never once asked him about it. They meditated and practiced their swordsmanship and sometimes they spoke of Anakin, but in truth there was little to say. Padawan Skywalker, while hardly the perfect image of Jedi abnegation – he still turned in assignments late because he would rather be fixing engines and was openly in contact with his mother – was an image at least of Jedi serenity. The young man was happy and through his contentedness seemed to flourish in everything that he did.

Early in the morning on his twenty-eighth life-day, Obi Wan walked through the muted sunlight in the Temple hallways on his way to see Master Yoda, trying to shake the acid-yellow eyes of the Sith that seemed burned into his mind. Why, blast it, should he dream of such a thing? Satine and Korkie were well; Mandalore was well. He was finally happy in the Temple in a way that perhaps he never had been, all through his insecure youth. He had made peace with Satine and Korkie and he was surely the luckiest man in the galaxy, to be able to come home to Mandalore and love them like he did. But why, then, had these dreams not abated?

"Not a happy life-day, hmm?"

Obi Wan sighed at the Grand Master's bluntness. He had for years shielded the visions from Master Yoda. The tacit tolerance that Yoda allowed him would surely be ruined by these frightening visions of loss. It was everything he'd ever been warned about attachment.

Yoda was watching him with wrinkled gaze and drooping ears.

Stars. If the vision was even faintly possible, the Grand Master of the Jedi Order probably ought to know.

"I've been having troubling visions," Obi Wan confessed. "Of the Sith that killed Qui Gon."

Yoda nodded gravely.

"See his return, do you?"

"Yes, Master."

Yoda gestured for Obi Wan to sit. Obi Wan sat in a small pool of early sunlight and watched the Grand Master expectantly.

"Many truths, such a vision could represent."

It was a nebulous answer that would have driven Obi Wan mad in his youth, the sort that Qui Gon had infuriated him with hundreds of times. But with each life-day, while he became wiser in tangible matters, the truth of the enormous unknown in the Living Force became greater still.

"I don't think it possible that he could truly return…"

Obi Wan trailed off in shame before finding his courage again under the Grand Master's patient gaze.

"When I slayed him, I… I bisected him, Master, in half through the abdomen."

Obi Wan dropped his head and rubbed at his aching forehead.

"It was more than I should have done. I was fighting in anger."

Yoda nodded, solemn but unsurprised.

"Only a Padawan, you were. And cared for Master Jinn deeply, you did."

Obi Wan nodded his own mute agreement.

"Told me, your Padawan has, that never once in you has he felt anger."

There was something almost like a smile in the Force.

"I knew after I fought that Sith apprentice that I never wanted to fight in anger again," Obi Wan agreed. "Those I care about, Anakin and…"

Yoda listened in silent patience and Obi Wan knew that he knew.

"They are good people, Master. To their very core they are good. And for them… because of them… all I ever want to be is good. Never again angry. Never dark."

Yoda made a noise of agreement.

"Much like your late Master, you have become."

Obi Wan finally managed a smile.

"I told him that I never would."

"The truth, the Force shows us in time," Yoda agreed. "Of your visions, also, this is true."

"I agree, Master."

A childish part of Obi Wan just wanted the Grand Master to tell him that it was impossible, that the Zabrak Sith could never return.

"Investigate your vision and remain vigilant, I will," Yoda vowed. "But fear this future, Kenobi, you must not. Dangerous, such fear is."

Obi Wan sighed.

"I understand, Master."

Yoda gave a sceptical harrumph.

"But how to avoid fear, hmm, when such love you also feel?"

Obi Wan laid his palms open and empty in his lap. He had come to ask the Grand Master for wisdom but on his twenty-eighth life-day he was perhaps wise enough to find the answer himself.

"I will trust in the Force, Master. And I will live in the present moment."

Yoda tapped his gimer stick warningly on the floor.

"With time, Kenobi… lost, all love is. Escape this truth, we cannot."

"I understand, Master," Obi Wan reasserted, rising to his feet. "And to that end I am realising that I really ought to spend my life-day elsewhere, if you'll permit. Given that love is fleeting and we have only the present moment."

Yoda smacked at his shin with his gimer stick; Obi Wan jumped deftly out of the way.

"Truly, Master, it is a gift of the Force and I'd be a compassionless Jedi without it. I-"

"Enough poetry for today, that is," Yoda growled, but the Force around him was bright and almost laughing. "Continue our meditation on your return, we will."

Obi Wan bowed briskly.

"Thank you, Master."

"Fly safely," Yoda added, in final warning. "Of an approaching asteroid storm between Coruscant and Mandalore, I have heard."

"You couldn't wait for me to come to Coruscant next week?" Satine asked, amused.

Obi Wan had travelled promptly to Mandalore and arrived while Korkie was at school and Satine was at work opening a new museum. She had spotted the Jedi in the crowd, despite his plain clothes, and greeted him with a handshake as she worked her way through the people queuing for her attention.

"My people live in the present moment."

They were holding the handshake too long.

"While the Duchess of Mandalore must look always to the future," Satine mused. "Speaking of which, do you have any plans for dinner?"

"None at all. You?"

Satine struck a pensive face.

"There is a banquet I'd be delighted to miss out on. Korkie will have to develop gastroenteritis, perhaps."

Obi Wan smirked.

"He's a sickly child, that foundling of yours."

"His parents must be to blame. I'll see you later. Happy life-day."

She finally released his hand, flashing him a final smile before she turned to greet the next waiting spectator. Obi Wan watched her work through the crowd and he was twenty-eight-standard and yet he still felt giddily in love like a child. It was worth the flight to Mandalore for that smile and that handshake alone.

3629 ATC (24 BBY)

Dear Ba'vodu Bo-Katan,

Happy 24th life-day! I hope you are having a great party on Concordia and it is not too cold.

I know that it's your life-day today because my Mum has been sad and quiet and looking at the Family Book of photographs with a glass of tihaar. I asked her if it was your life-day to double-check and she said yes because she is always honest with me. We looked in the Family Book at the photograph of you as a little baby coming to Sundari for the first time and the photograph of you saving Mum's life with your blood. I asked about the time in between and she found a few pictures from fancy parties when you were teenagers. You never smiled in any of those photographs and I commend that. Mum said you hated dressing up in ballgowns and I don't blame you. It's lucky that I am a boy because the stupidest thing I ever have to wear is one of those formal jackets with the high collars. It's really scratchy at the neck but it is not nearly as undignified as a dress and heeled sandals.

Mum would love it if you talked to her, but I think you probably already know that. If it's too hard for you to talk to Mum that's okay – maybe you can just talk to me instead. I know that you and Mum don't agree on lots of things. She told me about how you aren't a pacifist and want all the Mando'ade to be able to carry lethal weapons. I personally don't think that's a very good idea but I would be happy to engage in some discussion with you about it. My first question for you would be: people say that weapons keep them safe, but don't you think that if no one had any weapons then we wouldn't need to protect ourselves? I know that some people can fight without weapons but it's much less dangerous. Mum and Dad have both taught me about fighting without weapons. Mum is pretty good but Dad is next level. My Dad is a Jedi – I'm not sure if you know (it's a secret). It means he can do all sorts of acrobatic tricks and he has a lightsaber but he only uses it for good. When I am older I will have a lightsaber too. Mum didn't want me to but Dad has talked her around to it. At the moment I have a training 'saber and it is wicked.

Please write back.

Much love,

Prince Korkaran Kryze.

Dear Prince Korkaran,

Happy belated 8th life-day. Your writing is very advanced for your age but given who your parents are I should not be surprised. I recognise some of their mannerisms in your writing.

I celebrated my life-day with my friends and a big roasted shatual. Thanks for the happy wishes. It is in fact very cold here on Concordia but you get used to it. I doubt you have had the chance to wear armour given your mother's attitude towards it but well-designed winter armour is surprisingly warm.

You are indeed lucky to have been born a boy. Ballgowns are shit terrible and heeled sandals are worse. Being a boy also means that people will take you more seriously and think of you as a leader. My parents hoped for boys but got girls instead. They would be very happy to know they have a grandson.

I'll talk to your mum when there's something worth talking about. At the moment, I think our views are too different. In answer to your question about weapons I think there are two parts to address. Firstly, there will always be things we need weapons to protect ourselves from, such as wild animals and invading forces from other planets. We live in a galaxy full of non-pacifists. Secondly, a weapon is not only used for self-defence. In the time before the New Mandalorians the Mando'ade were prized warriors renowned for their skills galaxy-wide. We made our livelihoods with weapons. Weapons are part of our strength and culture and tradition. My people and I are carrying that tradition on.

In fact, I did know that your dad is a Jedi. I met Obi Wan briefly during the revolution. He and your mum and I were all captured together and thrown into the back of a ship one night and taken out of Keldabe. Your mum was too busy crying and your dad too busy telling her how much her loved her to escape – I had to come save the day. I think your mum was maybe already pregnant with you then, so perhaps you were there too. You can ask her if you're not too grossed out by it all.

I'm glad to hear you're learning hand-to-hand combat. A good tip for when you're sparring with your mum is to go after her left knee because she injured it badly when we tried skiing one winter when she was thirteen. She's learned to cover it pretty well with her footwork and her right-leg kicks, which keep you at a distance, but if you can move fast and get it and kick her on the lateral side of the left knee you'll throw her right off her game. Don't kick her hard enough to hurt her (the Duchess of Mandalore must be able to walk), just enough to get her worrying about it. It'll distract her from her other movements.

I can't say I have many tips for sparring with your dad, because he's very highly trained and has the Force to help him. I don't suppose you're a young wizard too? The Jetii Prince of Mandalore has an amusing ring to it.

Thanks for writing, it's good to get a chance to get to know you. When I last saw you, you were so tiny and useless and wrinkled I'll confess I couldn't imagine you growing into a real child who could write and fight and all those important things.

Keep in touch,

Ba'vodu Bo.

Dear Ba'vodu Bo,

I most certainly am the Jetii Prince of Mandalore, and proud of it too – except that I have to keep it a secret which is sad. I wish that our people didn't hate Jetii and I wish that it wasn't forbidden for Jetii to have children. Did you know that if anyone knew who my Dad was he might get kicked out of the Jetii Order? I probably wouldn't be too sad about that, because then I would get to see him more. But Mum says it would be unfair.

I tried your trick on Mum. It worked – except she got suspicious of how I knew and I told her that I was writing to you. She doesn't mind. I think actually she is happy about it. She says that she and you will talk when the time is right. She agrees that you are a bit stuck because you both think such different things about Mandalore. I just don't see why we couldn't all catch up as a family and not talk about politics? I'd like to meet you for real. That time when I was "tiny and useless and wrinkled" doesn't count.

Please let me know if you can come. I bet Mum would let us do a roast shatual for you even though she's vegetarian. We could make it a late life-day party.

Love,

Korkie.

Dear Korkie,

Not talk about politics? Our family? You're a real joker.

I can't accept the invitation just now. It wouldn't go down well with my people if I was having roast shatual for lunch with the Duchess.

Be patient, ad'ik. Our time will come.

I love you too, of course.

From,

Ba'vodu Bo.

3630 ATC (23 BBY)

"I just wish that he could stay."

Satine had heard these words before. They were no less excruciating today, on her son's nineth life-day. Her ever-dutiful boy was packing what was left of the meal they had shared in the brief hours that Obi Wan had been able to stay.

"I know, my love."

And it did hurt her too, waving goodbye to Obi Wan, but perhaps her claim to understanding was not fair; perhaps it was different to miss a lover than a father. Satine knew who he was. She had her own strength and power and purpose. Her son was nine-standard-years-old, for star's sakes, and just wanted his dad to be more than a visitor in his life.

"He loves you so much, Korkie-ad," Satine went on, coming to rest a hand on Korkie's shoulder. "He travelled such an enormous distance – flew such an enormous distance in that ship that he hates – to see you, even though he could only stay briefly. He does his best, my love."

"Doing his best would be leaving the kriffing Order," Korkie grumbled, shrugging her hand off and stalking over to the sink, where the dishes fell in a clatter.

"Korkie…"

It is his life, Korkie. And a parent must have their life, no matter how much they love their child.

You see your father more than I saw mine, Korkie, and mine had less excuses.

We never planned any of this, Korkie. We're simply trying to make it work. Of course it isn't perfect.

She looked at her son with his hands under the scalding water of the tap and she couldn't say any of it. It wouldn't help.

"No need to cook the dishes, Korkie," she murmured instead, walking over to adjust the water temperature. "I love these beautiful hands."

When he was young and learning his words and everything was simple (simpler?), she had said those words to him in a pre-bath ritual. I love these beautiful arms. And I love these beautiful elbows. I love these beautiful wrists. And I love these beautiful hands. He had beamed so brightly.

"The next life-day in the calendar is Anakin's, Korkie," Satine reasoned. "He's turning eighteen-standard this year and it sounds like he's growing into a brilliant young Jetii. We're getting closer to a time when your father might leave the Order."

Korkie grimaced.

"But Dad was Knighted when he was twenty and everyone said that was so young!"

"A few more years, Korkaran-"

"A few more years might be nothing to you, Mum! You're old! But it's a long time for me."

Retorting that twenty-nine-standard was hardly old would not have been particularly helpful. Her beautiful son with bronze hair was standing at the sink and gritting his teeth while tears ran down his face.

"Cyar'ad…" Satine murmured, taking Korkie's hands gently from the dishwater and pulling him against your chest.

"I'm nine-standard now, Mum. I'm not a cyar'ad."

Despite his verbal protestation, his body relaxed into hers.

"You will always be my cyar'ad, dearest. And nine-standard is not so very old."

"Nine-standard is too old for crying," Korkie hiccupped.

Satine gave a wry smile and brought her cheek down to touch her son's.

"Have you learned nothing from your mother, Korkie? One is never too old for crying. And don't you dare say that I'm allowed to cry because I'm a woman."

Korkie managed a tight smile against the tears.

"I know, Buir Mama. Everyone can cry."

And hearing him call her that, the childhood tautology of mish-mashed Mando'a and Basic, Satine squeezed her son tightly against her.

"I love you so much, Korkie-ad."

"You're going to suffocate me!" he protested weakly.

"And that is because, cyar'ad," Satine murmured, loosening her grip slightly and depositing a kiss on his cheek, "I am squeezing you with the love of Buir Mama and Dada both. I promise you, dearest. He may still be a Jetii but that doesn't mean he loves you with any less than all his heart."

Korkie nodded bravely.

"I'll be patient."

"Patience wins revolutions," Satine agreed encouragingly, kissing her son this time atop his golden curls. "But you're nine-standard and you're allowed to be angry and sad, too, when it becomes too much. So long as you always let me hold you and make it all better."

"Yes, Buir Mama."

"Time will fly, Korkie-ad," Satine vowed, and hoped that she was right.

"Happy life-day, my love!"

"Happy life-day, Satine!"

Satine embraced her riduur and his Padawan on the ship's exit ramp; she may have aged another standard year but she was still too impatient to wait for them to descend. She and the Jedi both had managed to secure two days of leave that would be spent by their private summer-house on Kalevala's great Kebiin Lake.

"Now, I won't have anyone dancing around my new age," Satine announced, as they made it off the ramp and onto the lush grass.

She shot a look at Obi Wan.

"Do you know how old I am today?"

Obi Wan rolled his eyes as he placed his hand in hers.

"Of course I do, dearest. You know I'm only a few months behind you."

"Almec wished me a happy life-day today before I left Sundari," Satine went on, in explanation. "I told him how pleased I was to be thirty-standard and he went all bashful and said that the number wasn't important. He thinks I ought to be ashamed of my age! Can you believe that?"

"It's because you're technically unmarried," Anakin snickered. "He's probably worried you'll be alone forever."

"Almec's an idiot," Korkie announced pertly.

"Almec is misguided about many things," Obi Wan rephrased reservedly.

Satine nodded her fervent agreement.

"If he weren't so uncannily good at running this planetary system I would fire him," she muttered. "I will tell every last person who will listen that I am thirty-standard. I'd have skipped my twenties if I could. All the last decade I've been too young to lead, too inexperienced, second-guessing myself… Thirty is a proper age for a Duchess."

Obi Wan gave her hand a squeeze.

"I agree, dearest."

"Are you sure you're not in denial, Mum?" Korkie asked, with a sly grin.

"Don't be ridiculous," Satine retorted. "Motherhood is an excellent example. I'd have had you when I was thirty if things had gone to plan, Korkaran. I'd have been a better mother and a better leader besides."

Korkie conceded the point with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault, cyar'ad."

Anakin directed a smirking gaze at his Master.

"Sorry," Obi Wan acquiesced.

"Not your fault, either," Satine countered dismissively. "It was a team effort."

"Mum!" Korkie protested, feigning covering his ears.

They had reached the shores of the great lake before the house now. Through the Force Anakin flicked a ream of water from the surface at his brother. Korkie howled his displeasure and joined in the fight.

Satine took a few steps to be clear of the chaos and looked out over the water.

"I'd have another child, now, if I could," she murmured.

Obi Wan squeezed her hand. He was good at not saying anything, when there were no words to say.

"I'd know how to do it right, this time round," Satine went on, quietly. "I'd be so much better."

"You were so good, Satine," Obi Wan told her firmly. "Perhaps not perfect. How could you have been perfect? But you were a beautiful mother from the very first day and you still are now."

"Korkie used to tell me when he was little and didn't know… He used to talk to me often about how he wanted a baby sister."

"I remember."

Anakin and Korkie's water-fight had evolved into a swim in the deep lake. The shouts of the cold shock, transforming quickly into shouts of joy, echoed across the flat expanse of water.

"I suppose we're both rather too busy for a third child, anyhow," Satine conceded, bringing herself out of her reverie and gathering Korkie's clothes from where he had left them, insensibly close to the water's lapping edge. "Between these two and Mandalore…"

Obi Wan nodded his hearty agreement, lending a hand and moving Korkie's boots.

"You are hero, you know that?"

Satine shrugged. She didn't feel a hero, if she were honest. There was the news of the faction skirmishes on Concordia, and the ever-griping Council of Advocates for Mandalorian Tradition, who she would like to ban except that doing so would make her a despot, and the disastrous knock-on effects of the Raxus Address and the formation of the Confederation of Independent Systems on Mandalore's trade agreements. All the things she was not supposed to be thinking about on her life-day.

"You are a hero," Satine countered, taking her riduur's hand once more. "For finding two days of leave that you can spend with me."

Obi Wan brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. There was a faraway look in his eyes that made Satine wonder whether he too was distracted by distant troubles. If the galaxy was starting to look messy from Mandalore's point of view it was surely worrying for the Republic and their Jedi too.

"We will make the most of it," Obi Wan vowed, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.

"We will," Satine agreed, looking out at the boys' bobbing heads above the water. "Do you suppose the children would miss us if we hurried off up to bed?"

Obi Wan grinned at her and the weight in Satine's chest finally relaxed.

"They would not miss us terribly, I'm sure."

And so, like teenagers, they ran.

Woohoooo we've got Bo-Katan back! We'll see her again next chapter as we settle into the big year of 22 BBY. Troubles are brewing in the galaxy.

I'll be honest: I am now as behind on writing as I have been in publishing this story. The next chapter pretty much needs to be started from scratch, so we'll see how fast I can get it up. I suppose that means you can take your time to digest all 4000+ words of this one!

Please tell me what you think of all these new developments, I am so grateful for your support and love to hear from you.

xx - S.