It's been a big week, but here's the new chapter! Some sad times in here at the end. Apologies in advance.

"I have news for you," Obi Wan announced.

He had suspected he would find his Padawan in the empty dojo, relearning katas with his new arm long after the other Jedi had retired for the evening.

Anakin grinned, extinguishing his 'saber.

"I've got news for you too."

And Obi Wan knew just from that grin alone that it was trouble.

"You first," Anakin prodded.

"The Council told me today that they wish to Knight you. They've been impressed by much of your conduct recently, most of all against Dooku."

Anakin looked as shocked as Obi Wan had felt.

"But I lost my arm, Master!" he protested, with laughter.

"You lasted much longer than I did," Obi Wan reasoned fairly. "Look. You're far more ready for Knighthood than I was when I was Knighted, and I told them as much. Perhaps…"

He gave a hapless shrug.

"Perhaps we are never so ready as we would like to be. But it is not my promotion to accept; they told me only out of courtesy. What say you, Padawan?"

Anakin frowned a few moments.

"I think I'm ready," he announced, eventually.

Obi Wan shrugged.

"I suppose that settles it, then. The Council will approach you on the matter tomorrow, I believe. Congratulations."

He felt increasingly like the galaxy was going mad, but he suspected that the answer was not to fight it.

"What's your news, then?"

Again, that giddy and definitely problematic smile. The news, Obi Wan was certain, would give him a headache.

"I'm going to ask Padme to marry me," Anakin declared.

There it was.

"You want to get married?" Obi Wan asked, his hand flying to his temple. "Aren't you a little young for that?"

"Everyone marries way younger than that on Tatooine," Anakin reasoned. "And-"

"Tatooine is backwards, Anakin."

"Let me finish!" Anakin protested, grinning still. "And a war is starting, and we might not get another chance. And I know that Padme is the only woman I'll ever-"

"She's the first woman you've ever been with, Anakin."

Anakin rolled his eyes.

"I could say the same for you and Satine, Master. And no," he added, anticipating Obi Wan's interruption, "a crush on Siri Tachi when you were sixteen does not count."

Obi Wan scowled.

"You don't have to marry someone to tell them you love them, Anakin," he reasoned instead. "Satine and I-"

"Satine's aggressively modern, of course she doesn't want to get married," Anakin countered. "Padme's more… traditional."

Obi Wan's headache intensified.

"If by traditional, Anakin, you mean that you are getting married so that you are permitted to have sex-"

"No, no, no, no, no, Master," Anakin protested hurriedly, flushing a deep red. "That's not it at all. I, uh… we've already…"

Anakin's apologetic smile and the embarrassment flooding through their bond said it all.

"Kriff's sakes, Anakin!" Obi Wan lamented, sitting down on the dojo floor to steady himself.

"Don't be so dramatic, Master."

Obi Wan reached out an arm in invitation and Anakin came to sit beside him, allowing Obi Wan's arm to loop around his shoulders.

"You're growing up so fast, Anakin," he mumbled, with a smile. "Too fast."

"Most people get started a lot younger than nineteen-standard," Anakin reasoned. "You were probably nineteen-standard too, right?"

"I know," Obi Wan conceded, with a chuckle. "And yes, I was."

"And unlike you," Anakin went on smugly, "I know how to use protection."

Obi Wan clubbed his Padawan fondly over the head.

"I've been a terrible role model, haven't I?"

"I disagree, Master."

Obi Wan snorted.

"As usual, bratling."

"Padme."

The bride was startled from her preparations by the voice of her future… Master-in-law?

"Just a very brief word, if you please."

He looked faintly worried and Padme wondered briefly whether the infamous Jedi duo had brought their bad luck with them and her wedding was to be subject to some Separatist disaster.

"I've known you for many years, Padme," Obi Wan began, "and I know that you are strong and kind and good. But if you'll indulge me just once…"

Padme smiled with the dawning realisation.

"I'll be good to him, Obi Wan," she promised. "I love him very much."

The Jedi Knight returned her smile but was not finished.

"He may be the wisest nineteen-standard-year-old I know, Padme. But he is still nineteen-standard and you are older and wiser. You must never take advantage of him."

"Of course not, Obi Wan."

"If I ever heard…"

"Obi Wan," Padme groaned, with a grin, taking his hands in hers. "I will be good. More than good. I promise."

He finally relaxed into his smile.

"Thank you, Padme. And sorry."

"No need to apologise," she chuckled, turning back to her mirror and fixing her hair. "I get it – you love him too."

Shmi cried and cried and cried, the happiest tears of her life. To see her son grown, free, in love. It was all she had ever hoped for him. The bedtime story that she had told herself every night alone on Tatooine. She had told herself a thousand times that she had made the right decision in sending him away, but this was the first time, perhaps, when she could truly believe it, without a trace of remorse.

Satine's brows shot up the moment she answered the comm.

"You've cut your hair!" she remarked.

Obi Wan rubbed at his newly-exposed neck self-consciously.

"For the wedding," he explained.

"For the wedding?" Satine repeated, with an indignant scowl. "I've been begging you for yearsto get rid of that blasted mullet and then you decide that for the wedding-"

"It was a lovely ceremony, by the way," Obi Wan interrupted mildly. "Anakin, Shmi and Padme all expressed their sadness that you could not attend."

"Yes, well," Satine grumbled, partly mollified, "it's hardly wedding season, you know."

And Obi Wan did know. They were plummeting now without doubt into wartime. The Jedi Council were in discussion day and night about the role that they would play in this conflict. Satine's week would have been dominated by the severing of ties with the Republic, and the formation of new deals with her Council of Neutral Systems, and the preparation of her case before the Galactic Court of Justice.

"I'd have liked to attend," she added, realising perhaps that she had sounded too grim. "I take it Padme's wedding dress was a work of art?"

"Naturally."

Satine sighed.

"Well, my congratulations to the happy couple. What were you calling about?"

Obi Wan inwardly lamented a time when they could simply call one another to see their face and hear their voice.

"I was going to tell you that Anakin's Knighting Ceremony is tomorrow. And that if you can fit us in sometime next week we'd like to come to Mandalore and mark the occasion with you and Korkie. Before things get too chaotic."

"Before things get too chaotic," Satine repeated, chuckling. "That's a good idea. I'd like to congratulate him."

"We'll be in touch," Obi Wan vowed. "All the best with the politics, my love."

Satine set her mouth grimly.

"I can't wish you the same with the war."

"I know you can't. I love you."

Satine took a steadying breath and found the words.

"I love you too."

A Padawan kneeling before the Council. His braid severed. The rising of a Knight.

Through the clouds of his future… Visions of war, fire, the collapsing of cities. The arrival of great rain and the freeing of the slaves. Tears and anger. The crying of babies.

Always in motion, the future is.

It should have been a grand celebration. Two Jedi Knights descended the landing ramp onto Mandalore in tandem for the first time. Prince Korkaran tore across the private hangar at full sprint and embraced his father with gusto. And then those heartbreaking words.

"Dad! Dad! You can stay now! You can leave the Order! You can stay with us!"

Obi Wan grimaced, and Korkie's face fell, and it was like a thundercloud rolling over Sundari, obvious even to the Force-blind Satine.

"Korkie, I'm afraid that now is not the…"

Not the time. It was not the time to try to speak, for this pain could not be soothed by words.

Whose fault was this?

It was not fair to blame Korkie. He may have been intelligent and well-spoken beyond his age, but there was no excuse for forgetting that he was a child. He was ten standard years old and blessed still with childish optimism. He did not understand the strange circumstances of Anakin's knighting. He did not understand the promises never made between his mother and father. He did not understand galactic war; he had lived all his years in peacetime.

Satine would have liked to blame Obi Wan. Obi Wan who had avoided discussing this in the weeks gone past. Obi Wan who had never precisely promised anything – but had told her, in the days following Korkie's birth, that the reason that he could not stay with her was for his Padawan.

But of course, if she were to blame Obi Wan she would have to also blame herself, for Satine had read the unsaid and had not pressed the point. She had never asked him to clarify; she had never asked him to stay. She was the Duchess of Mandalore and she did not ask for anything. She was the Duchess of Mandalore and she made demands, and her demands were met. They had endured so many years of pride and miscommunication and they had thought themselves to clever, so invincible, in these years of happiness that they had shared. But perhaps they hadn't learned at all.

"It's alright, Korkie'ad," Satine murmured, coming to lay a protective hand upon her son's shoulder.

She might have said something else except that she could feel the rapid heaving of Korkie's breaths and knew that he was beyond hearing her. Obi Wan locked eyes with Satine and they both knew that they had failed.

"Didn't you talk with him about this?"

"How could I, when we didn't talk about this?"

Anakin knelt to find Korkie's eyes between his crowding parents.

"Hey, Vod, how about we go do some sparring together until-"

"I don't want to talk to any of you!" Korkie announced.

He still had not cried yet. The air was heavy with it. He was hyperventilating still.

"You're not supposed to fight in this war!" he roared at his father. "The war is wrong!"

Then to his mother.

"You told me he would leave!"

"I'm sorry, Korkie, I didn't explain it right-"

"And I don't want to spar with you!" he went on, glaring at Anakin now. "Because this is all your fault!"

"It's not Anakin's fault, Korkie," Obi Wan murmured, sending his words out into that horrible silence.

"Nothing is Anakin's fault, he's your favourite son," Korkie spat out, and wrestled his way from the adults surrounding him.

He strode back towards the palace.

"I'm going to get my coat and then I'm going for a walk and I don't want any dinner," he informed them, without looking back. "And I don't want to talk to any of you."

Finally, the child began to sob. Two Knights and a Duchess and all they could do was look at each other, hopeless. Obi Wan rubbed at his eyes.

"I'll go after him, Satine."

"He meant what he said," Satine murmured, shaking her head. "We have to give him some time."

"I'm so sorry," Anakin professed. "I should have thought about-"

Satine and Obi Wan spoke in synchrony.

"It's not your fault, Anakin."

And a heavy silence fell again.

"I'll have the ground staff keep an eye on him," Satine sighed. "We'll give him some time."

She looked at Anakin with a crooked smile.

"I'm afraid we've ruined your celebratory dinner, young Knight."

Obi Wan did not argue at the shared blame. Anakin could not find the words to deny it.

"Let's not stand in the cold," Satine decided, turning on her heel and stalking towards the palace. "We can be miserable indoors."

With Harshika's intervention Korkie did, thank the stars, come home from his treetop fortress on the edge of the palace grounds to sleep. He tolerated a goodnight kiss from his mother and then a few words from Anakin.

"Obi Wan, I'm not sure that you should-"

"I certainly should," Obi Wan countered, stepping around Satine. "If he doesn't want to talk to me, I won't make him. But he has to know that I want to try."

Satine sighed and nudged open the bedroom door.

Korkie was curled tightly in a ball on his side. His Force-signature was bleached out and dry, spent and exhausted from the afternoon's trials.

"I'm so sorry, Korkie'ad," Obi Wan ventured.

"If you were sorry, you'd stay."

Korkie spoke to him without turning to look at him.

"And I don't want you to tell me why you're not staying. It doesn't matter why."

Satine had been like this too. It doesn't matter why. The furious fight they'd had when he had slain a soldier to save her life. There was no reason good enough – not then, not now. Perhaps it was not so different from the Jedi way of thinking. There is no try. He intended to protect everyone he loved by bringing this war to a swift end. But what good did his intentions count for?

"Can I meditate with you, then?"

After a moment's hesitation, Korkie gave a tight nod. Obi Wan placed a hand on his son's back and breathed with him. He sent all the love that he had for him into the Force. Not all is as it seems, Korkie. I love you as much now as ever. He hadn't shown it so well, in his actions. But perhaps he could show him now.

"You make me confused, Dad."

The plaintive statement brought tears to Obi Wan's eyes.

He hadn't got it right. He wasn't doing it right.

Qui Gon had always said that there was no failure, only learning. But Obi Wan was tired of learning. He just wanted to get it right, damn it. It was his son, for star's sakes. He wanted to get it right for him.

"I'm confused too, Korkie."

Wiser, kinder, stronger. Obi Wan felt none of these things.

He wasn't doing it right.

So a thoroughly disheartening trip to Mandalore would become more miserable still, as they flew back to Coruscant in silence. Obi Wan was tight-lipped and grim. Anakin sighed as he assumed the burden of commencing the conversation.

He couldn't think of anything subtle to say. To hells with it.

"So why aren't you leaving?" he asked.

Obi Wan grimaced.

"Everything has happened rather too fast for me to know the answer to that question."

"My Knighting?"

"And this war. And Korkie's new… awareness, of all of this."

Obi Wan was thirty-standard and looked like he had somehow aged a decade.

"You stayed for me all these years, Obi Wan," Anakin reasoned. "You can go now."

But Obi Wan only shook his head.

"It's not that simple," he muttered. "Besides, you must admit, Anakin, that your Knighting was… hasty. A decision made in the context of this war, I believe."

They'd always told him he was too proud. It was probably true. Anakin could not help but scowl.

"You don't think I'm ready."

"You are no longer in need of a Master's close supervision," Obi Wan reasoned, "but I do not wish to leave you yet."

Obi Wan always talked around the karking point.

"You don't think I'm ready," Anakin repeated, irritated.

"For independent Knighthood, to be a General in this war?" Obi Wan retorted, his own frustration shining through. "Honestly, Anakin, no. Not yet. Not entirely."

"You weren't ready," Anakin retaliated.

"I know that."

Obi Wan's demeanour softened then.

"And my Master told me it, too," he sighed, with bitterness.

He laid an apologetic hand on Anakin's thigh.

"I'm sorry, Anakin. I don't mean to suggest that I doubt you. Only that like every other nineteen-standard-year-old in the galaxy, you have growing to do."

Anakin accepted the apology with an uncomfortable shrug.

"Look, Master, I appreciate that you care… but if the Jedi Order can accept that I'm ready, you should too. They've never been my greatest fans, you know. And you've got better things to do. You have a family."

Obi Wan shook his head.

"You are my family too, Anakin."

Anakin rolled his eyes.

"A real family," he countered.

The stubborn bastard looked at him with utter sincerity.

"You really are my family."

"Obi Wan…" Anakin groaned. "I… I was just a pitiful kid. You looked out for me because I didn't have anyone else. I had no mum and no Master and you took me in because you had no kriffing choice. And I'm so grateful, Obi Wan, really, but…"

He looked at the older Knight, imploring him to understand.

"But not anymore," he managed. "You're not my father, Obi Wan, and you never have been. Your real family is out there, waiting for you."

A darkness came over Obi Wan's face.

"Anakin, I think you misunderstand-"

"I think you misunderstand, Obi Wan," Anakin interrupted, his frustration reignited. "Just because she's never asked, it doesn't mean…"

He was pushing too hard. But all he could think of was Padme and how he would never let her wait a whole kriffing decade. How he could never fly away from their child who wanted him to stay.

"I worry, sometimes, Obi Wan, that you… You don't know love like you're supposed to. I worry that you grew up without it and you don't truly know it and you can't truly feel it."

"Anakin-"

"She loves you, Obi Wan!" Anakin blurted. "She's always loved you. Your son, for star's sakes, loves you."

"You do not understand this, Padawan," Obi Wan snarled.

Anakin sat tall and unflinching.

"Yes, I do."

Obi Wan cursed under his breath and folded his arms.

"And what of you, Anakin? Will you be leaving the Order?"

Anakin shrugged.

"Not now."

"Then you are a hypocrite," Obi Wan declared.

Anakin shook his head ruefully with a half-grin.

"Unlike you, Obi Wan, I've actually spoken to my wife about all this. And we decided, together, that I'll stay a little longer."

Obi Wan seemed to have decided to disengage from the conversation entirely, glaring out at Coruscant looming before them.

"Look, Obi Wan," Anakin sighed. "All I'm trying to do is help. It makes you miserable, being apart from Korkie and Satine."

His former Master gave no indication that he had ever heard Anakin speak.

"You're some sort of sadist," Anakin grumbled. "Do you like the misery?"

"That's enough psychoanalysis for today, thank you, Anakin."

Anakin drummed his fingers on the dashboard.

"The good news is that I'll have ample opportunity to give you more psychoanalysis, if you're so intent on stalking me through the galaxy."

Obi Wan sighed heavily.

"I look forward to it, Anakin."

A mixed bag of a chapter! I hope you enjoyed.

Anakin, as always, says what needs to be said. Obi Wan must be driving you all mad with frustration... but he's in a tricky situation. Change takes time.

Next chapter will be a sort of interlude as we fall into established wartime. Relationships are tested. Anakin gets a Padawan. Satine continues to make an enemy of the Republic. And the Death Watch has plans.

As always, I love love love LOVE to hear from you.

xx - S.