Here I was, worried that I wouldn't be able to produce a whole chapter in time for Sunday, and now we have 4.5k words...

Take your time reading this one, my dears :) In the second scene there are references to 35 (Chapter 34) of The Last of the Clan Kryze if you wanted to cross-read for completeness.

Almec sat in a clean, well-lit prison cell on a tolerably comfortable mattress and seethed.

It had hardly been personal, this black market business, at least not in the beginning. Almec had always had such a brilliant mind for finances that when he had first begun to siphon wealth from the Duke Adonai he'd attributed it to boredom; keeping the royal accounts in order was too easy, otherwise. And yes, he had come to enjoy the better standard of living afforded to him by this scheme, and had clung to it more tightly still once the Duchess came to the throne and there was less for the public servants and more for the people. Almec had never liked that phrase. Public servants. His Clan was of noble blood and were servants to no one. Which he supposed in part explained why he had never warmed to Satine the way he had to her far more malleable father. Adonai had respected him. Satine, meanwhile, seemed to deliberately do the opposite of everything he instructed no matter how sound his advice. She'd been a bratty child and was worse with a crown upon her head.

No, Almec had never much liked the Duchess but today her pathetic kindness enraged him.

Every last Mandalorian – every last true Mandalorian – pacifist or not, knew that kindness was weakness. And yet she had arrested him quietly and without fanfare and placed him here in this perfectly humane prison cell. A well-balanced dinner sat untouched before him. The walls around him, secure though they may have been, were designed so that he could see and talk with his inmates. The Duchess insulted his malevolence.

"Did you feel it, Partell? Am I going crazy?"

His fellow conspirators were not brooding as Almec was, preferring instead to recount their humiliating defeat at the hands of children.

"When we were trying to tackle the Prince and fell back. I swear he didn't touch us."

This piqued Almec's attention. Partell rubbed at his aching head.

"I'm not sure. That floodlight crashed down right next to me, Ro'lan, and it shook my head up."

"I think I saw it," another contributed. "I was fighting the girl. You two flew back like you'd been shot."

"Not a bruise on me," Ro'lan reported earnestly. "Not on my front, I mean. Kid didn't touch me, I'm sure of it."

"What are you saying, then?"

Ro'lan chewed at his nails pensively.

"That was nothing Bo-Katan could have taught him. It was unnatural. He's something else, that kid."

And with a sinking certainty it was suddenly clear. Of course.

"Jetii'ad," Almec murmured.

His followers looked at him with wide eyes. His voice was gravelly; he'd not spoken in the few hours they had been imprisoned.

"The Prince is a Jetii'ad," he repeated. "That's how he pushed you without touching you."

There was stunned silence from most of the officers, punctuated eventually by stilted expressions of disbelief.

"A Jetii'ad?"

"Wouldn't we know if he was a Jetii'ad?"

"You sure, Almec?" Ro'lan asked. "Jetii'ade are rare."

"I'm quite sure," Almec affirmed, with a faint smirk. "Just as I'm quite sure the Duchess does not truly hate the Jetii."

There were inquisitive eyes upon him again. His recruits were young; it was always easiest to bribe the youngest. They hadn't seen what he had seen. They would have been children during the Revolution, when Satine Kryze held a dying Jetii Padawan in her arms atop a train in Keldabe. Yes, Almec mused, with increasing certainty. It had always been there. There had been ample signs. In retrospect it seemed obvious.

Satine's eyes searching for a fleeting figure in the palace gardens. The Jetii's intake of breath when the Duchess appeared in her mother's blue-dyed wedding dress. A parliamentary session cut short and a tight-lipped statement about an operation. The reappearance of the Jetii five days later. The way they had stammered their second goodbye.

It had always been suspicious but now it made perfect sense.

"You met the General Kenobi on his recent visit to Mandalore, no?" Almec prompted of his inmates. "You can surely all appreciate the similarities."

For there were so many, Almec realised, in that moment. The auburn hair and dimpled smile and arrogant charm and blasted perceptiveness and obnoxious vocabulary and-

"That's some theory, Almec."

The young ones didn't believe him. They didn't need to; they were opportunists, young idiots, and would not shape the destiny of Mandalore. But several cells over, Tal Merrik was frowning.

"I haven't seen them often interact. But she started the most ridiculous argument with him at a Coruscant ball a few years ago. I told her that he was beneath her attention but she wouldn't listen. They were at each other all night. Wouldn't talk to anyone else…"

His face darkened.

"Whore."

"Whore and traitor," Almec affirmed.

He sat back and surveyed the prison cells around him.

"There must be some way to get a message out of here," he mused. "Your leader would want to hear of this, don't you think, Merrik?"

"Vizsla?"

A smirk rose on Merrik's face

"He would be very interested to hear of it, I'm sure."

Obi Wan and Anakin landed on Mandalore and strode across the hangar in unison for the first time since… Well, it had not been so long. But it somehow felt it. The journey to Coruscant before the Senate vote on Mandalore's occupation – before Satine was made a fugitive, before Maul appeared in his head, before Raydonia and before Siri's funeral – was surely an age ago.

It had been like a holiday, once, coming to this planet. Anakin had skipped down the ship's ramp and Obi Wan had broken stride, half-jogging behind him. They had been eager for the chance to see how big Korkie had grown, to be together as a family. And today was perhaps no holiday but they were at least together with good intentions again. There had been no real need for Obi Wan to accompany Anakin in collecting Ahsoka at the conclusion of her mission to Mandalore. But Anakin had asked him whether he would like to come and he had agreed immediately. Master Yoda was fortunately occupied on a mission of his own and had not yet managed to excommunicate him. Things were looking up.

Obi Wan walked the path he had followed so many times before – he remembered, as clear as day, coming this way to visit his infant son late at night – and opened the locked doorway to the passage that would take him and Anakin to Satine's private quarters without risk of encountering regular palace traffic. What he did encounter, however, were two unruly teenagers bounding towards him, Satine following a few paces behind.

"Stars, Korkie, what happened to your eye?"

His son could surely barely through the swelling of his right orbit. Ahsoka grinned guiltily.

"She's even more competitive than Anakin, Buir!" Korkie exclaimed in wonderment. "She got me with an elbow. Allegedly an accident."

"It was an accident!"

"I see."

Obi Wan caught his son's rapidly growing frame under one arm and embraced him, frowning as he looked more closely at Satine.

"And what happened to your neck, dearest?"

Satine tugged her already high collar a little further upwards.

"It's nothing."

It was a burn, Obi Wan realised. A burn worse than that she'd sustained in their runaway days, when an Old Guard soldier had slashed at her with his vibroblade and Obi Wan had felt sick to his stomach with fear. The angry purple wound circumferentially around her neck.

"It's not nothing," Anakin protested, face heating with anger, "it's-"

"It's my bad," Ahsoka offered solemnly. "I'm really sorry, Masters. I was a step behind Almec when the troubles began. Satine was held captive for a few hours."

And that sickness was deep in Obi Wan's gut all over again.

"Satine, what did he do to you?"

She turned brusquely in the other direction, folding her arms protectively across her chest and speaking in stern reprimand.

"Really, everyone-"

"It was a shock collar," Korkie informed his father.

Even from behind, Obi Wan could see the angry flush of red in Satine's face and neck. Muscles tensed as she clamped her jaw. There would be tears in her eyes.

Anakin seemed to realise their error. He bundled Ahsoka and Korkie under his arms and hustled them to the head of the procession through the private hallway.

"I want a blow-by-blow analysis of this sparring session, alright?"

Obi Wan laid a hand on Satine's shoulder and she froze beside him. They listened as the children walked the length of the corridor and out of sight.

"I'm sorry, my love," Obi Wan murmured. "I shouldn't have mentioned it in front of everyone. I was worried and I didn't think-"

"It's fine."

Obi Wan looked at Satine with knowing scepticism. He sat down on the floor of the hallway, leaning his weary head against the smooth stone wall. After a few moments' deliberation, Satine came to join him.

"You're upset," he ventured.

"Of course I am, Obi Wan," she gritted out, swiping at tears. "I was taken prisoner and chained up like some…"

Her voice cracked.

"He was family, Obi Wan."

Obi Wan took her hands in his own.

"Satine…"

"I've known him all my life," Satine managed, through tears. "All my blasted life. Merrik, too."

She shook her head, face contorted with a rage that Obi Wan knew was directed only – and unfairly – at herself.

"I'm doing something wrong, Obi Wan," she lamented, voice hoarse with emotion. "I don't understand it. They've known me all my life and they would rather see me dead-"

"They're power-hungry, Satine," Obi Wan reminded her. "And you have power. That's why. You have done nothing wrong to deserve this."

Satine bit her lip, not consoled.

"They don't believe in me anymore," she whispered.

She did not want him to speak, so Obi Wan did not. He rubbed a hand along her back, his fingertips running over the familiar hills and valleys of her spine. It seemed impossibly unjust that the woman he loved with all his heart should suffer like this.

"When we stormed Iadon's house, Obi Wan, on the day that Iadon lost power…"

Her voice was steady, now, tears slipping from her eyes without acknowledgement.

"I went through all the books and records in his office. Amongst it all I found his journal. He was dutiful. He wrote in it every day."

She sighed at pushed her hair from her face.

"I read it because I thought it was important to know how the traditionalists thought. So that I might empathise with them, learn from their mistakes. But really, only one passaged stayed with me."

"Yes?" Obi Wan prodded gently, in her silence.

Satine fortified herself, pressing her lips together until they were bleached white.

"Iadon wrote an entry on the day that he killed himself," she recounted factually, eyes dropping to her boots. "On the morning that we came into Keldabe on that train. I remember it by heart. He wrote, 'I love the people of Keldabe, for they are independent of thought and fierce of spirit and they cannot be lied to, nor can they be persuaded to believe something they do not themselves believe to be true. I do not understand how I am beginning to lose them, and yet it is as clear to me as the ink upon this page. I know where I must take them but the people do not believe in me anymore.'"

The recitation sparked another cascade of tears, which Satine wiped away irritably with her sleeve.

"I thought once that I was different to Iadon," she went on, meeting Obi Wan's gaze once more. "That I could never fall as he fell, for my policies were objectively good, just as his were objectively wrong. But now…"

She shook her head, at a loss.

"Those could be my words, Obi Wan. I could have written them last night."

"Satine-"

"Except," she amended herself stoically, "that Iadon always loved his people. Right until the end. Whereas I, sometimes… I shouldn't, but sometimes…"

"You hate them," Obi Wan supplied gently.

She nodded, jaw clenched.

"I shouldn't. But they don't listen to me, Obi Wan. They don't see. I feel sometimes that we live in different universes, that we are seeing some different reality. It's so frustrating that I…"

"I don't blame you, my love," Obi Wan murmured. "But you must remember, the people have not lost faith in you. Almec and Merrik and their followers represent a small minority."

"Those closest to me have chosen to betray me," Satine rephrased bitterly.

She squeezed his hand in apology for her brusque words, gentle to the last.

"I'm sorry, Obi Wan. I'm being petulant like a child."

"My love, you are hardly-"

"It's not about me," Satine sighed. "I have no real love for power. I'd give it away to Bo-Katan, if I could. But I don't want to put her through it all. She doesn't deserve the sort of treatment she'd get."

She shook her head, sadness swelling in the Force.

"My people are cruel, sometimes, Obi Wan. And stupid. People have insulted me for a thousand reasons but they have all insulted me most prominently, Merrik and Almec included, for my apparent failure to marry and bear children. It disgusts them."

Obi Wan nodded his solemn understanding.

"I am the first woman on this throne and it will be many generations until the Mando'ade learn that a woman can lead as a man leads," Satine summarised. "And Bo-Katan will not marry. She will not have children. I've known her from when she was a baby and I know…"

She managed a weak smile.

"I mean, I've legalised it, but it's still far from acceptable, especially if one is to call themselves Mand'alor. She could never marry. And she's never wanted to lead, anyway. She's been a solider from the day she was born, breaking apart the fortress of my mother's pelvis. The people would perhaps like her better. But she'd hate this job."

Obi Wan squeezed her hand.

"You're a good sister, Satine."

Satine shrugged.

"Hardly. But I'm trying to make up for lost time."

"I think you're doing well."

Satine gave him a smile that showed her gentle scepticism. She hugged her knees to her chest.

"So I suppose the future is Korkie. And thus the future is bright."

There was finally some genuine light to her smile. It reminded Obi Wan of the visits he made years ago, when Satine had been pushed to the brink of utter exhaustion, but in whom joy was still sparked by their son's infant smile.

"He's the best of us, Obi Wan," she mused. "And he inherited the best of Bo-Katan too. He will be a beloved leader. He will be so much greater than I ever was. But…"

She barked out wry laughter.

"He's twelve-standard, for star's sakes. Hardly the solution to our immediate problems."

She leaned back against the wall, tilting her gaze to the ceiling.

"I'm going to hold on for him, Obi Wan," she vowed. "No matter how many blasted assassination attempts. No matter how many shock collars. He needs a chance to grow. I'd like to give him ten years at the least. I'll dig in my heels. For him."

And her face was brave but the task enormous.

"Satine…"

Obi Wan faltered.

"Does it always have to be… this family?"

She did not anger, as she might have once upon a time.

"Who else could I trust?" she asked plaintively. "The people of Mandalore are my responsibility, Obi Wan, and I must hand them over to someone I trust. Besides," she added, with a roll of her eyes, "my father would die a second time if I gave away our Clan's leadership. And don't say that memory and legacy aren't important because they are."

"I wasn't going to say that," Obi Wan protested mildly.

"You might have."

"In my younger years, perhaps," he conceded.

"You were so stupid back then," Satine informed him fondly.

"Thank you, my dear."

Her hand came to rest on his thigh.

"But I liked fighting with you."

Obi Wan snorted with mirth and came to rest his head against hers.

"I know."

They sat in silence until Anakin jogged back down the hallway, giving them an apologetic smile as he approached.

"Sorry to interrupt, but when you're ready…"

He shook his head in wry disbelief.

"I think you'll want to hear what Korkie's saying about the clones."

"I'm not saying I know exactly what's going on," Korkie admitted. "But I think something bad could be going on. It's hard to explain what I feel, but-"

"It's five cases," Anakin muttered, eyes focused on the holo-files before him. "Five cases of… encephalitis. Or psychosis. Or whatever they are. Out of more than two hundred thousand clones."

Sewlen Jerac was not Force-sensitive but was aware of the faint undercurrent of tension in the planning room, where the extended family was sprawled over various chairs and lounges.

"It's presumably under-reported," she contributed, from her seat at Korkie's right. "An illness that prevents a soldier from obeying orders is presumably rapidly fatal in battle. These cases were all recorded in regiments not currently deployed on active service, who had the luxury of time to notice and document the illness."

"You don't think it represents the normal rate of psychosis in a human population?" Anakin pressed. "I mean, when your soldiers are human, it's inevitable, isn't it? That some of them develop schizophrenia or something?"

"Maybe," Sewlen conceded. "But there's a pretty good understanding of the aetiology of psychotic illnesses in genetic science now. You'd imagine that the expert cloners on Kamino would have designed clones who wouldn't develop those conditions."

"Maybe it's the stress of battle," Ahsoka suggested. "The brain's complicated, right? Surely you couldn't perfectly design a clone who would never develop a mental illness, especially under all that pressure."

"I couldn't find any records of any other mental illness in the medical records," Korkie countered. "No major depression or anxiety or bipolar or anything. It looks like they've been designed well."

"They presumably wouldn't bother to report it," Satine pointed out grimly.

"The clones look after each other," Anakin retorted, an edge to his voice. "The doctors want what's best for their brothers. They'd report it if there was a problem but there aren't any. The clones are healthy and well. And they aren't unhappy."

Satine raised her brows, surprised by the outburst, but did not retaliate.

"You're right, Anakin," Obi Wan murmured, in consolation, laying a hand on his former student's shoulder. "But I suppose the question is, why hasn't this mystery illness been better investigated?"

And there was no answer from anyone around the circle.

"I don't want to make anyone upset," Korkie muttered, with an apologetic glance at Anakin from the corner of his gaze. "But it's just that… all of the five cases were noted to have paranoid delusions. And four of them clearly articulated anti-Republican and anti-Jedi sentiment. Calling them enemies or dangerous or traitors, and I just…"

He looked pleadingly at his audience.

"What if it happened again? And it was one of your clones? One of your armed clones who was unwell and thought you were a dangerous traitor?"

"They wouldn't," Anakin muttered darkly. "My soldiers are more loyal than anyone I know."

Korkie grimaced.

"I know they are, Vod, but something's happening that makes them-"

"But what are we meant to do?" Ahsoka asked, face bright with worry. "I mean, let's just say… let's say there was a problem. Some malfunction they were having that turned out to be dangerous. What would the Republic do? Retire them?"

There was a horrible silence as they pondered what it might mean to retire a clone.

"We need to talk to the clones," Sewlen managed eventually, in a low voice. "I respect that you all have different thoughts and worries about this but if I'm going to investigate anything it has to be with their consent."

Korkie snorted.

"Technically, soldiers of the Grand Army don't have medical autonomy. The battalion medic or their commanding general makes medical decisions on their behalf."

"It's one of the issues we're arguing in the Galactic Court," Satine supplied.

Anakin looked pained.

"Just because the laws are kriffed, that doesn't mean I'm going to force one of my soldiers to-"

"We're not asking you to, Anakin," Sewlen reminded him calmly. "I would never practice medicine according to those laws."

Anakin nodded, jaw clenched tight.

"We have to talk to Kix, Anakin," Ahsoka murmured. "Think of how hard he works to keep everyone safe and healthy. He'd want to know about this. We can let him make the call. He'll know what's best."

Another rigid nod.

"We're going to keep them safe, Anakin," Obi Wan said. "I promise. Which means," he elaborated, eyeing his companions sternly, "all of this is kept entirely secret. We do not tell anyone on Mandalore of our concern. We do not tell the Galactic Court. We do not tell the Senate, nor the Council, and we especially do not tell the Chancellor."

Anakin coloured and lifted his gaze.

"You think I was going to tell him?"

Obi Wan shook his head.

"I'm being thorough, Anakin. Besides, I know he's requested to meet with you upon your return to Coruscant. As he often does, no?"

"We don't talk about... Kriff it, you wouldn't understand."

Anakin folded his arms irritably.

"I don't see why you think he's especially dangerous. I know he's not been good to Mandalore. And sure, the Republic approved the Grand Army, but only after the Jedi had. It was Master Yoda who called them into action first, you know."

"I do know," Obi Wan agreed grimly. "Which is why we're not telling the Council either."

Satine sighed indulgently and rubbed at her forehead.

"Wouldn't it be lovely if there were just a few more people in this miserable galaxy that we could trust…"

They sat in pensive and unhappy silence.

"It might be nothing," Ahsoka chirped.

The hapless optimism fell flat.

"If I'm wrong, then I'm sorry, and you can tell my what a di'kut I am every day for the rest of my life," Korkie declared solemnly. "But if you could please just talk to Kix..."

He grimaced.

"It's just that I really do have a bad feeling about all this."

We especially do not tell the Chancellor.

Kriff. Anakin knew what his Master thought of Sheev Palpatine. That his interest in Anakin's career was excessive and inappropriate. That Anakin should have broken off the relationship in solidarity with Satine. That he had been in office too long.

And look, he had technically been in office too long, but emergency situations called for emergency responses. Not to mention it was a bit rich to suggest an unwavering commitment to the Republic's democratic constitution when Master Yoda and Satine were both essentially dictators themselves.

As for the rest of it… Anakin couldn't quite grasp what was so wrong with the fact that the Chancellor liked him. Obi Wan had fiercely "protected" him from the Chancellor's interest throughout his Padawan years – Anakin had, only years later, found a number of gifts from Palpatine that Obi Wan had intercepted and never given to him – without ever talking properly with him about it. It was a different excuse every time Anakin dared challenge him on the matter, which wasn't very often, because he loved Obi Wan and didn't want to upset him.

"It was inappropriate for him to have bought you something this expensive, Anakin. A Jedi does not pride themselves on material possessions."

"You were a child, Anakin. You would have been too easily swayed by his influence."

"A Jedi must not have political leanings, Anakin."

"The Chancellor must not have undue influence on the Jedi Order, Anakin."

Anakin suspected that Obi Wan's true justification for his inordinate dislike of the Chancellor, which had developed long before the Republic's dispute with Satine, was simply a bad feeling, of which Obi Wan had far too many.

All the Chancellor wanted, Anakin suspected, was to have a normal conversation with a person he'd known for a long time. He thought of Anakin as a sort of grandchild, presumably. He had no family of his own. Anakin had loved watching Korkie grow. It must have been the same thing. Their chatter was seldom political.

"I hear that your Padawan fought valiantly on Mandalore," Palpatine congratulated him, upon arrival in his office. "It seems she has benefitted greatly from your teaching."

Anakin smiled. All the drama with Korkie's clone paranoia and Anakin had almost forgotten how proud of Ahsoka he was.

"She did well," he agreed.

"It is good that you give her a chance to test herself without your direct support," Palpatine mused. "Obi Wan, by comparison, rather coddled you, no? It seems he continues to do so, following you about the galaxy…"

"I appreciate Obi Wan's support," Anakin countered shortly.

Stars. Why did it always have to be like this? Why one or the other? Anakin couldn't deny that Obi Wan's ill feelings towards the Chancellor seemed to be reciprocated; Palpatine sniped about him whenever given the chance. He didn't see why he couldn't simply respect them both, in the different roles they played in his life.

"It is quite a shame, really, all that conflict on Mandalore," Palpatine sighed. "I do wish the Duchess would let the Republic help her. By asserting such stubborn neutrality and bringing economic ruin upon her people… It's no wonder that ally after ally turns against her."

He shook his head sorrowfully.

"And all because she is opposed to our army. I fear she has missed the forest for the trees."

Some part of Anakin couldn't help but agree; neutrality had objectively been the worst thing to happen to Mandalore since the last Clan Wars. Another part of him – the childish part of him, he supposed, the naïve part of him that had once promised to free the slaves – felt an enduring discomfort.

"Sentient rights are important to the Duchess, I suppose," he managed diplomatically. "The issue of humans being manufactured for conflict-"

"She was produced by her parents to lead that planetary system," Palpatine countered dismissively. "The Jedi raised you to live by their Code and fight their fights. If one is to truly fight for universal, uncompromising sentient freedoms… they would have to change the galaxy rather dramatically, no?"

The words jolted him. Anakin swore that a vision almost flickered before his eyes – the galaxy inverted, shining black and gleaming white, blazing fire and settling sand – but it was so brief and elusive that it was more a feeling than an image. He folded his arms and blinked effortfully and hoped that the Chancellor had not noticed him acting strangely.

"It is sometimes hard to see how we can do any good in a system so convoluted," Anakin admitted. "No one seems to be prepared to sacrifice their own personal gain to truly help others. It all comes back to money and ego and power…"

Who was he talking about? The Hutts. The Senators who bowed to their demands time after time. The Jedi Council who never listened to him. Was he talking about Satine? Who wouldn't give up her throne no matter the unrest? No. He knew his Ba'vodu. She was selfless. Anakin felt mixed up and confused. Why would he even for a moment think-

There was something strange in the Force around him.

Palpatine nodded sagely and came to rest his hand on Anakin's shoulder. There was something calming about it. They looked out at the Coruscant skyscape together.

"Enemies on all sides, my young friend."

Boooo slimy Palpatine. About time I brought him in properly, though, no? I hope I got him right, and I hope that this answers some of your thoughtful questions about this relationship, mike3455.

As you can see, badness is brewing. I hope you at least found some joy in Satine's love for her family and her people; I wanted to do her some justice, showing why she clung onto power as she did, even with hatred pressing in from all sides.

Next chapter, things will continue to be very much AU (yes, I'm aware that there weren't this many cases of 'faulty' clones in canon media). Anakin and Ahsoka speak to Fives. Vizsla receives the message. He finds he has something in common with another powerful warrior.

Thanks so much for your ongoing support!

xx - S.