A/N: Also posted to AO3

Letters to Satine

Eirian Erisdar

Chapter 1: Obi-Wan to Satine, 36 BBY

(Cheap industrial ink on creased flimsi, the merest shake in otherwise immaculate handwriting, a sanguine thumb print in one corner smeared off the edge of the flimsi in an imperfect attempt to wipe away a blood-streak)

Dearest Satine,

(Several aborted attempts at the next line, crossed-out so as to be barely legible)

I hope this letter finds you well.

(crossed out: I implore you to read this letter athough I am the worst of)

I apologise if the state of this letter comes as somewhat of a shock to you. I pen this in a med-evac shuttle fresh off the surface of Huk, where the Yinchorri Crisis has reached new levels of chaos. I'm sure you'll have heard as much, through your own intelligence channels.

(A large, seeping ink blot after this line, suggestive of a stylus tapped repeatedly against the same spot of flimsi)

Satine, I know I am breaking a promise of sorts by writing to you.

When we parted on Mandalore I swore as you did to sacrifice our future for the sake of our duty, separate as they must be; yours to Mandalore, and mine to the Order and the republic which it serves.

I had thought that would be the last we would ever see or speak of each other; that the glimmer of Mandalore's sunset then in the Mando'a poem woven into your hair would be my last, cherished memory of you, kneeling there before you at your throne with your hand in mine.

But today, on the streets of Huk, when the fragmentation grenade slipped past our guard and I found myself all of a sudden curled on the duracrete with the remains of Padawan Vyelren all over my face, my first thought was of you.

Of that brightest shade of sun across your hair, of your grieving smile, then, through the tears forming in your gaze as you waited.

As I had waited.

I think back on that day now, a long, lonely year between us, aphelion from its occurrence, and I suspect now that you were waiting for me to offer.

And I was waiting for you to ask.

We waited and waited for each other to speak, until the time for waiting was past and the choice was made for us.

And today, laying there in the rubble with the world fragmented and the Force still suspended, I realised what a fool I had been, then. What a fool I was to think I could exist without knowing you.

I do not expect you to (crossed out: love me) care for me in the way we once might have thought. It would be too selfish to expect that when we each have duties we have pledged ourselves to.

Burn this letter if you wish, Satine. I hope I have not broken what peace you may have found these past twelve months; if you wish to keep that peace, and erase the ghost of my existence from your memory forever, say the word and I will take this silently with me to my grave.

But if it is the contrary and you find (crossed out: joy in writing me) it acceptable to continue our acquaintance, please do write.

I must go. We are almost to the Republic shuttle, and I confess I may have been straining my hand overmuch; I think my stitches have given way.

May the Force be with you, Satine.

(crossed out: In love)

(crossed out: Ever yours)

Always,

Ben

(Signed in the shaking hand of a man struggling against pain)

A/N: Somewhat of a companion fic with Dearest, which you can find on my profile here or on AO3. For more Obitine, try The Rain Curtain or With Questions Like These. For more Obi-Wan, try The Silent Song. All can be found on AO3 or my profile on FFN.