Blood of Mandalore

by Kurenaino

Engaged in a bloody civil war, the Mandalorian government requests the aid of the Jedi to help protect their Duchess, the last hope for peace in their war-torn world.

7. Clan Ordo

AN: I did it...holy shit, I did it...this chapter is SO LONG! Really, I hope you enjoy. Let me know, my lovelies!

Chapter 7: Clan Ordo

Obi-Wan felt that something was off the moment they entered Ordo's atmosphere. He sat in the pilot's seat, a frown on his face, his hands tense around the accelerator and the yoke as he guided the cruiser through the sky. Qui-Gon sat in the pilot's seat, at ease and relaxed, his face calm and serene, If anything was wrong, Qui-Gon didn't feel it, or at least didn't show he did. In the aisle between them stood Satine, the Duchess' hand on the back of each chair, the tips of her fingers brushing the soft robes on Obi-Wan's shoulder, the light physical contact making the Padawan only more tense, which only served to irritate the other teen.

"You need to relax, Obi-Wan," Satine said, her fingers reaching for his braid and tugging at it when it was in her grasp, and she frowned when the Padawan's dour mood only seemed to deepen. She stood taller, her head held confidently. "Clan Ordo has been allies of Clan Kryze since the Mandalorian Wars nearly four thousand years ago."

"And are they allies now?" Obi-Wan grumbled, doing nothing to hide his displeasure and his skepticism, and Satine crossed her arms over her chest. There were many things to like about Obi-Wan, but this wasn't one of them. Stubborn, suspicious Jedi, too cautious, too wary for his own good, and Satine could feel herself becoming stubborn and argumentative in response. As they had agreed earlier, they brought out the worst in each other, and that was especially true now.

"Of course they are allies!" Satine nearly snapped. "Count Tegris was a good friend of my father, and I grew up with Veela and Edric."

"A friend of your father," Obi-Wan said, drawing out the word for additional emphasis "But what about you?"

"I'm friends with the Count's son!" Satine shouted, her temper finally getting the better of her. "And his daughter was very close to my brother! I know what I'm talking about, Obi-Wan, Mandalorians value loyalty very highly!"

"If that were true," Obi-Wan said, his tone matter of fact and so casual that Satine found it almost grating, "then why are you even fighting a war like this?"

"Ooooh, you are insufferable!" the Duchess shouted, stomping her foot and edging closer to Qui-Gon's seat. "I know you may be against me, Obi-Wan, but not everybody is!" That seemed to get to him, and he looked back at the girl, the gaze he turned on her superior, arrogant, like she was a foolish child that knew nothing at all.

"As I said earlier," Obi-Wan said between grit teeth, his voice tight with his straining patience, "I sense-"

"Well Qui-Gon doesn't sense anything, and he's the Master, not you!" Satine said pointedly, and the Padawan's eyes widened slightly, in anger or embarrassment, she couldn't say, and his ears burned red. Without saying a word, he turned his attention back out the viewport, his hand gripping the controls so tightly she thought he may accidentally wrench the levers from their places. Satine couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at seeing the Padawan's displeasure. She leaned closer to the Master. "You don't feel anything, do you, Qui-Gon?"

"Not as of yet," the Jedi said. "If there's ill-intent here, it has yet to pass." Satine leaned toward Obi-Wan, a smug, self-satisfied smirk on her face. Kenobi did his best to ignore her, but the twitching at the corner of his eye was a very good indication that she was getting to him.

"See?" Satine smoothly drawled. "You're just nervous, Obi-Wan, your apprehension is little more than anxiety."

"Be mindful of the present, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said when the teenager made to bitingly respond to Satine, and instead he glowered and sunk further down in his seat.

"...Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future," the teenager said tightly, and Qui-Gon looked tiredly at his student.

"Master Yoda isn't training you, Obi-Wan, I am, and you should never focus on the future at the expense of the moment, as is your inclination. Remember, it's being out of step with the present that nearly saw you lose your chance at ever becoming a Jedi Knight." For a moment, it looked as though Obi-Wan would stand his ground and argue, but ended up grinding his teeth together and fixing his gaze out the viewport.

"...yes, Master." Qui-Gon reached out and laid his hand upon his Padawan's shoulder.

"Find your balance, Obi-Wan. I need you at your best, and irritation will not serve us when we deal with the Mandalorians." It was the first sensible thing he had heard all day, and breathing deeply, Obi-Wan slowly began to calm himself, his emotions and fears releasing into the Force, but still, deep in the back of his mind was a nagging irritation, like a small, buzzing insect that would not go away.

"There is no emotion, there is peace..." he softly said, and Satine rolled her eyes and turned away from the Padawan. So closely he held the Jedi's cold Code, it was a wonder that there was room for anything else within him.

"Duchess," Qui-Gon asked softly, and Satine smiled at him, pushing all thoughts of the infuriating Obi-Wan out of her mind. "Who did Clan Ordo align with during the Civil War?" Satine pursed her lips.

"My father and Count Tegris fought together, but the clan was divided." She frowned. "All clans were divided. It's much like the situation now, only...there were real factions then. Now, it's the clans that are warring, not the factions they belong to."

"If that's so, how can we be certain that Clan Ordo will not fight Clan Kryze?"

"Because there is no Clan Kryze anymore..." Satine said bitterly, clutching her arms tightly against the sudden loneliness she felt. "Our fathers fought for the New Mandalorians when so many of the faction chose to remain neutral in a conflict when neutrality wasn't an option. My father's force was small, but the warriors that stood beside him were close friends until the day he died. Tegris Ordo is an ally." Qui-Gon nodded slowly, leaning back in his seat as he considered what had been said, his eyes drifting to his student, who still sat mouthing the Code to himself, his entire bearing so much more relaxed and at peace than before. His fears from the night before were unfounded, clearly, and when he reached through the Force to measure the teenager, the Master found Obi-Wan calm, cool, dispassionate, ever the vision of a Jedi.

Qui-Gon had been paying very close attention to the two teens since his conversation with them the night before, and found that two of them argued. Often. The main staple of their conversation seemed to conflict and trading barbs with each other, though the tension between them was simply non-existent. It seemed less confrontational and more bantering, engaging in verbal sparring that sharpened the already quick Satine and allowed the usually quiet Obi-Wan a chance to banter with an intellectual equal. It was a dynamic that the Master had hoped would develop between Obi-Wan and his friend Luminara, but the two Padawans agreed on nearly everything, and so Obi-Wan's ability to navigate a verbal confrontation stagnated completely. He and Luminara would often spend hours in peaceful, like-minded discussion, and Obi-Wan was simply too shy to go head to head with bold, brash Quinlan.

With Satine, though, he had his chance, and while the Duchess tended toward the more verbose, young Kenobi often found a way to score definitive strikes against Satine using as few words as possible. It wasn't exactly the sort of training he needed, but wit and quick thinking were necessary skills to being a good negotiator, and he was getting plenty of practice with the confrontational, stubborn Mandalorian. He may have been shy, but Qui-Gon saw in his student the perfect mix of sharp wit, intelligence, and quick, creative thinking that were key components in a good negotiator, and it was an avenue he had long hoped to develop. If he could hone that talent in his arguing with the Duchess, so much the better.

But then there were those...other times. He had only seen it once that day, but on reflection, Qui-Gon recalled seeing it many times in the month they had been together. Every conflict, every argument, every verbal confrontation swiftly ended with three, simple words. Teach me Mando'a. No matter the argument, no matter how involved, how intense, the teens would stop, their frustration replaced with patience, their stubbornness fading into understanding, Satine so easily assuming the mantle of teacher while Obi-Wan slipped easy into the role of attentive, thoughtful student. At first, it had been an almost frantic request, the Jedi's voice tight and high with near panic, almost as if it had been an uncomfortable last resort, the actions of a child backed into a corner. But now...

Now, the request for instruction was a gentle plea, soft-spoken and almost breathless in his ease, almost as if it was a welcome respite, a thing to look forward to, and something he genuinely enjoyed. Studious Obi-Wan had always enjoyed learning, of course. Sitting quietly while another spoke not only appealed to the shy boy, but his high intelligence often left him bored, and so constant instruction was necessary to keep him engaged. But this was different. The look on his face when he listened to Satine speak was almost...enthralled. He had seen it just that morning as the two teenagers sat quietly in the cockpit, the Duchess speaking in her native tongue, and Obi-Wan watching her, his chin resting on his hand, his usually cold, averted gaze focused on Satine's face, his blue eyes warm and expressive, almost adoring, a breathless air setting over him as he sat entranced by Mandalore's young ruler.

And then they were bickering again, and it was as if it had never happened.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened, his chest tightening when the control console began beeping, the ship-board com erupting with a burst of static and the weapon systems flashing in warning as four ships came into their scanner's range on an attack vector, all four ships locked on to the cruiser. Satine gabbed the backs of both seats and braced herself, the young Duchess holding her breath as she watched the ships quickly approach.

"Identify yourself, cruiser," a female voice over the com strongly commanded in accented Mando'a. "Disengage your weapon's systems and come no closer or you will be destroyed." Before Obi-Wan could stop her, Satine leaned over and pressed the com button.

"This is Duchess Satine of Clan Kryze," she said swiftly. "I seek sanctuary with Clan Ordo, I'm fleeing from Death Watch insurgents on Zanbar. Please, I need your help." Still on the attack vector, the starships continued to race toward the cruiser, the warning's blaring as the weapon's locks remained engaged. Obi-Wan's hand's tightened around the controls, ready to take evasive action when the starfighters flew right past them, the scanners registering that the ships had looped around behind them and were now following them close on their tail.

"You're flying in Death Watch colors, cruiser," the woman's voice said, still cold and commanding, but it had taken on a cautious quality that wasn't there before. "Who's on board?"

"Me and my two Jedi guardians," Satine said. "We had to steal a ship from the Death Watch to escape Zanbar, we had been stranded there. We have heard word of fighting above Mandalore in response to my activities, so surely you have heard about my escape. Please, consult with Count Tegris." There was silence for a long while, Obi-Wan tense as the fighters behind him moved to surround the ship, the scanners alerting him to the presence of five more starfighters rapidly approaching from behind. They were trapped. If they decided to open fire, there would be very little he could do. The alarms continued to alert him to the persistent weapon's lock.

"Cruiser," the com crackled again, this time with another female voice, less harsh, smoother, but far more commanding. "This is Commander Veela Ordo. We have no way to identify your ship. Your ident has been deactivated." Satine breathed a sigh of relief, a broad smile spreading across her face.

"Veela, this is Satine," the Duchess said, her voice light and filled with excitement. "We deactivated the ident and the locator beacon so we could get away from the people trying to kill me." She leaned in closer to the com. "Is your family safe?" There was a long silence, tense and heavy, so much so that even Satine started to become nervous until the alerts on the console switched off when the weapon locks disengaged.

"The family is well, my Duchess," Veela said, her ships quickly disbursing and falling into formation ahead of the cruiser, two of the fighters flying far behind as defensive sentries. "Edric was asking about you just the other day when we got word about the attacks on Zanbar. This ship's ident has been released, and everyone is looking for you."

"Then I'm glad we found you," Satine said, looking pointedly at Obi-Wan, a smug smirk on her lips. The Jedi was not amused. "Can you help us?"

"We're here to do just that. Follow us, Duchess, we'll get you safely to our fortress." The static of the active com cut, and Obi-Wan's hands entered the data into the instrumentation to lock them on to the lead ship's vector, all the while ignoring Satine's triumphant gaze. He stopped ignoring her when she grabbed his braid and twirled the long strand around her finger.

"I told you so..." Satine drawled, a coy smile on her lips as she watched a faint flush touch the Jedi's cheeks as he squirmed away from him, his head tilting to the side when the Duchess refused to let go of the braided strand. "Feeling better now?"

"Absolutely not," Obi-Wan said between grit teeth. "Let go of my hair!"

"What, this?" she said, tugging on the braid and smirking when he winced, and she slowly let it slide between her fingers to drape over the Padawan's shoulder. "Your braid doesn't count as your hair," she said, teasingly running her fingers over the short cut hair on his head, and he quickly mover his head out of her reach, an irritated look on his face. In the month since she had met him, the short cropped hair on Obi-Wan's head had grown out just over half an inch, making his previous military rigidness seem almost boyish. It was...endearing, the longer strands catching the light far easier and showing traces of a golden, slightly reddish blond.

"Of course my braid counts as hair," Obi-Wan said, rolling his eyes. "It is hair."

"It's a symbol of rank," she scoffed, eyeing him carefully. "Or a lack thereof..." Kenobi gasped in his outrage, sputtering slightly as he grasped for a quick retort, but found none. "Why do you keep it so short anyway?" she asked. "You'd be far more handsome if you grew-"

"Oh, it is not my desire to make myself aesthetically pleasing to you, Duchess," Obi-Wan drawled. "As soon as we land and we get settled, if Clan Ordo is as hospitable as you seem to believe they will be, the first thing I'm going to do is cut it back to regulation length."

"Have I mentioned today that you are literally the worst?"

Obi-Wan smirked and leaned in toward the Duchess. "Twice."

"And that is enough for today, children," Qui-Gon said quickly before Satine could respond with her own retort that would no doubt escalate the confrontation. "It seems a few days of close proximity to each other is finally beginning to grate on us." Obi-Wan also made to speak, and Qui-Gon held up a hand to silence him, already knowing what he was going to say based on the Padawan's growing anxiety he felt through their connection. "Be at ease, Obi-Wan," the Master said in a calm, soothing tone. "Nobody is alone in this galaxy, not even the Duchess. If she didn't have allies that wished to protect her, we wouldn't be here at all." He could feel Obi-Wan's frustration rise with his anxiety, but Kenobi made no show of it.

"...I understand, Master," the Padawan said, quietly resigned, and with the confrontation out of him, Satine drew proudly up to her full height, a clear indication that she considered herself the victor in the matter.

"Since we have a few minutes before we land, I'm going to go make myself presentable," Satine chirped, turning to leave the cockpit. "Come get me when we land." A tense grin spread across Obi-Wan's face.

"Oh, of course, as you wish, Duchess." He leaned back in his chair, his tight grip on the controls relaxing. "I wouldn't waste too much time on it, though. You're about as presentable as you're likely to get." Satine turned, her gaze furious as she looked at the Jedi, a cocky expression on his face.

"You are a spiteful, awful wretch!" she said, stomping her foot. "So long as you live, you will never be with a woman!"

"That's the plan, my lady!" Obi-Wan called after her as she stormed out of the cockpit. The wide, wicked grin on Obi-Wan's face faded when he saw his Master giving him a tired, exasperated look.

"It does you no good to vex the Duchess, my Padawan," the Master said softly, and Obi-Wan bowed his head, his hands tensing again on the controls.

"I apologize, Master, she just-"

"Just nothing, Obi-Wan, we are Jedi, we are protectors, we are here in service of her, and above all else, we are gentlemen." A dark red blush stained Obi-Wan's face, muttering something so softly the Master couldn't hear. "I expect you to apologize to her at the first possible moment. Her temperament will not improve if you are deliberately difficult." Obi-Wan frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation.

"Master..." he said slowly, as if he were still choosing the words to say. "I was under the impression that you wished me to remain..." He frowned. "Distant, Master." He averted his eyes and stared at the console, his face flushing with heat and his teeth grinding together as he thought. "You believed our friendship-" He stopped, closed his eyes and shook his head. "You believe me to be attached." Qui-Gon covered his face with his hands.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, you poor, perfect Padawan..." he sighed. "Are you trying to push her away? I do encourage emotional distance, but if you remain mindful..." The Master huffed in frustration. "I apologize, Obi-Wan. You are diligent, dedicated, disciplined, so unlike I was at your age. I am may be letting my emotions cloud my judgement. After Tahl..." He closed his eyes, his hands tightening around the arms of the chair, and he relaxed when he felt the student reach out and lay his hand over his. Qui-Gon smiled gratefully at the boy when he felt not just understanding, but compassion rush through their connection.

"I'll apologize to Satine, Master," Obi-Wan said softly. "I'll do whatever you need me to do to put your mind at ease." Qui-Gon laid his hand on his student's shoulder.

"I need you to stop acting like something's wrong." Obi-Wan frowned.

"Master, something is-"

"You being worried is making Satine less cautious because she so badly wants to prove you wrong," Qui-Gon slowly explained. "Did you truly think I wouldn't listen to you when you said you feel something? You? The boy who accidentally hid his Force talents from the Jedi High Council because he was two steps ahead of the present?" Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "Perhaps your attachment to Satine is simply making you unduly worried, but if you sense something, I would be a fool to discount it." He pointed behind them, smiling when he watched Obi-Wan breathe a deep sigh of relief and relax considerably. "The trick is keeping these things from her, because it seems as if she enjoys disagreeing with you."

"She is...highly confrontational, Master."

"An understatement..." Qui-Gon muttered, a smile on his lips when his student chuckled in agreement. "I need you to remain logical, removed, and impassive when we are with Clan Ordo," the Master said, his voice lowering in the off chance that Satine could hear them speaking from her room. "If you go in there and show them emotion, they will pounce and strike, and in such a confrontation, you will lose. They are accustomed to the sea of passion, and you are lost in it. Keep yourself open to the Force, and be mindful of your emotions. I don't want your unease clouded by your feelings." Obi-Wan nodded, his face attentive in his focus. "You or I will attend to Satine at all times. I don't want her alone with anyone, not until we are certain we can trust them."

"Do you believe they are enemies?"

"I don't know, but I do believed you have sensed future trouble, be it from them or elsewhere. We won't know until we investigate." Obi-Wan nodded.

"So...we're with Satine at all times?" he cautiously, and Qui-Gon glared and pointed a warning finger at the Padawan.

"Don't get any ideas, Obi-Wan, I will be keeping watch over her at night." The Master rolled his eyes. "Two attractive teenagers alone in a room together is an invitation for trouble."

"Master, please!" Obi-Wan scoffed, trying to remain casual, indifferent, as if the subject bored him, but his voice had risen higher and a deep flush made its way up his neck and to his face. "I wouldn't even know what to do with a woman, let alone with a creature of such intense passion and fire as Satine."

"It's true that you are no Quinlan Vos..." Qui-Gon conceded, and Obi-Wan sat up tall, his head held proud.

"Besides, Master, I'm sixteen years old, I'm practically a man now. I'm no longer a boy undergoing the growth to manhood. I've mastered my base desires."

"That so?" Qui-Gon asked, an eyebrow arched as he looked at the Padawan, and Obi-Wan nodded enthusiastically.

"That is so, Master." He gently eased back on the acceleration as the ships began to dive, beginning their approach toward Clan Ordo's fortress. "It takes a substantial amount of resistance and will to be friends with Quinlan and not break the vows of the Jedi."

Qui-Gon had to give him that one. If the wild and reckless Kiffar had been unable to lead Obi-Wan into delicious sin, it was unlikely that anyone could.

---

The palace fortress of Clan Ordo was a sprawling compound, a thing of beauty transformed into a thing of war, the ornate carvings in the steel of their walls the backdrop to the soldiers that trained in the halls and in the courtyard. The grand entrance showed signs of being elegant, had the long tables not been converted into tactical stations for their troop movements and their battle plans, and each room they passed through, from the hangar bay to the throne room, showed the similar conversion from luxury to military. Upon arriving, their escort had been commanded to meet with the Count in the throne room, one of the soldiers of their escort informing them that Commander Veela had rushed ahead to tell her brother about their arrival, and together, the Jedi followed the Duchess through the regal halls of the Mandalorian palace.

Obi-Wan couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He had forgotten what she had looked like when she wasn't dirty and ragged from weeks and weeks of surviving in a filthy, disgusting swamp. They did have water, of course, unfiltered and running with silt from the riverbed, but cleanliness was a difficult thing to maintain, and not a priority when being exposed like that could mean detection. By the time they had escaped, they had gotten used to the filth and the grime, and exhaustion and healing had won out over bathing with anything more than minimal effort. But at the prospect of returning to civilization, of returning to court, of seeing her friends, Satine had gone all out, and had spent ten minutes on the ship after they had landed finishing her bathing ritual.

Idle indulgence, Obi-Wan had called it. A complete waste of time. But when she emerged from the ship, Satine was glowing, her pale blond hair pulled back in a short, intricate braid, the fine strands gleaming like white gold. Her pale skin had been scrubbed clean, smooth and soft and flawless, and though she dressed in the simple, practical soft brown pants and loose-fitting blue tunic she had worn on her time on Zanbar, the girl had somehow managed to get them cleaned and despite the simplicity of her dress, she looked regal. The tunic, cinched at the waist, hung loose off her thin shoulders and made her seem less thin, less a wispy teenage girl and more of a woman, the cloth ending mid-thigh making her look taller than she was. She was...beautiful. Radiant and confident, and for the first time, Obi-Wan looked on her and didn't see a scared, wounded girl struggling to make sense of her loss, but a Queen.

He and Qui-Gon walked side by side just behind Satine, and in her wake, the air smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers, like a garden after rain, like the morning sun peeking through the trees of the forest, and the young Padawan could keep his thoughts from wandering. How did she manage such a thing? Or better yet, where did she get the soaps, the lotions, the fragrances necessary to produce such a pleasing sensation? He hadn't seen any such thing in the fresher aboard the ship, but he admittedly wasn't looking that hard. The better question, of course, was why a military cruiser had such an array to begin with.

The best question, of course, was why he hadn't noticed how beautiful she was before this moment.

Obi-Wan ground his teeth together, mentally chiding himself as he pulled his gaze away from the Duchess. He was better than this. All this was, he knew, was a biological pull, the result of his blood and brain absolutely flooded with the hormones that ran rampant through humans his age. It was an easy enough thing to contain and control in the safety of the Jedi Temple, but in the presence of Satine, all fire and passion, all wild, reckless, Mandalorian beauty, he could keenly feel the need pull within him. His eyes returned to the girl that walked before them, taking in every detail of the beautiful, elaborate braid in her hair, the shifting of her shoulders under her tunic, the movement of her hips with each step, her-

No! He tore his gaze away from her before he could look lower. He felt like Quinlan. He didn't even like Satine, haughty, arrogant Duchess that she was. Yes, there were times she had her moments. Times she was kind and understanding, times he felt he could listen to her rich, smooth voice for hours on end, but he didn't like her. Certainly not like that. Still, he didn't need to like her to imagine what she looked like when she-

There is no emotion, there is peace, he thought quickly when his mind again began to wander, a fierce flush on his face when he felt his pulse quicken in response, the physical reaction to the sudden rush of hormones he felt running thick in his blood. This was a biological response, a natural thing, an expectation for a boy his age, he knew, though fierce shame and embarrassment helped keep the desire down. He was better than this, he had risen above it. No want, no lust, no desire, none of it. This wasn't love, he knew, which was a great relief, but it was shameful, disgusting need to fulfill the biological purpose of propagating the species.

As if humans weren't numerous enough.

Quinlan said it was simple recreation, that it was something fun to do, something pleasurable, something that staved off the boredom and restlessness he so often felt. Like so many other Padawans, Quinlan justified it as a vital need, that physical release was just as important to maintaining balance and health as Obi-Wan felt meditation was, but on that count, he knew the Kiffar was wrong. Meditation brought him peace, serenity, a sense of fulfillment. Unless he was extremely anxious about something, meditating left him feeling renewed and refreshed, just like the Masters taught it would. But on the nights he would wake up flushed and aroused, in the times when he was too distracted to meditate, when every time he closed his eyes and saw bare, heated skin flushed with lust, he would give in, allow his hands to wander, his entire body aching for relief from everything he had worked so hard to repress.

Satisfaction only lasted for a moment. After that, it was all shame and disgust with himself, and he could only imagine how much worse it would be if he dragged some poor girl down with him to be used when he was at his weakest. The Jedi did not give in to desires, they rose above them. Jedi Masters never stooped so low. He couldn't imagine the likes of Grandmaster Yoda or the young and powerful Mace Windu ever being so weak. He could be strong. He would be strong.

He caught scent of Satine once again and almost came undone.

"Satine!" The deep, masculine voice called to them the moment they passed through the door into the throne room, and Satine's face lit up like the sun. Standing in front of the throne was a man clad in black and green armor. He was young, a few years older than Satine, but gone was the awkward gauntness of youth, replaced instead by the thick, strong muscles and broad shoulders of a man hardened bu intensive training He was tall, not so tall as the towering Qui-Gon, but standing at least six feet, his skin bronzed, his jaw square, his chin patched with fine, trimmed hair. With eyes a piercing green and dark, wavy hair falling to the base of his skull, he was undeniably handsome, and though still clearly a teenager, he was far more man than boy.

When Satine rushed forward and threw her arms around him, the man returning the gesture with powerful arms that enveloped the thin girl, a flush of desire and attraction pierced through the Force. Obi-Wan felt himself burn.

"Edric, I am so glad to see you," Satine said, her voice nearly spilling over with joy as she looked at her old friend. "I barely recognize you, you're so tall now!"

"Two years is far too long for us to have been apart," Edric agreed, his face solemn and sincere. "You were still a child last time I saw you." Satine pouted.

"I was fourteen!"

"Fourteen years old with legs like twigs and flat as a ten year old boy," he said, boisterous laughter in his voice that was both lightly teasing and filled with familiar warmth. He stopped when the Duchess' eyes narrowed, and he reached out, stroking her suddenly flushed cheek with the back of his hand "Look how beautiful you've become..." he said, soft and breathless, his green eyes looking her up and down. "You're a woman now..."

The Force pulled at Obi-Wan, warning and insistent and hot with passion, lust, desire and jealousy, so thick and so turbulent he had to shut his eyes and look away, uncertain where the mire was originating from, and frightened by the idea that it may have, at least in part, been coming from him.

"You couldn't wait more than five minutes to begin seducing the Duchess, little brother?" a woman asked as she entered from the side of the room, her hand running through wet, curling dark hair, her own armor shined and pristine, and she glowered at the man as she drew closer. "Honestly, Edric, you stand before the Duchess of Mandalore looking like that?" she sneered, pointing to the scuffed, carbon scored and badly worn armor he sported. "Have some kriffing respect."

"We're at war, Veela, I doubt the Duchess cares what my armor looks like," the man said, rolling his eyes, and the girl pointed an accusing finger at his chest, her eyes narrowed in anger, and the bold, confident warrior shrank back before the fury of the older girl.

"She might not care, Edric, but I do," she growled. "You're supposed to be a man at eighteen, brother. Act like one." When the boy inclined his head, Veela turned to the Duchess and bowed slightly. "Satine. It's good to see you. I'm deeply sorry about your family. I never knew your father and mother well, but your brother was a fine soldier and a good man. Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. He will be missed." Satine's gaze drifted toward the ground.

"Thank you, Veela..."

"Hey," Edric said slowly, looking around the two women and pointing behind them, "are those the Jedi?" Qui-Gon bowed slightly, Obi-Wan quickly following his example.

"Indeed we are. I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi." Edric frowned.

"Huh. I've never seen a Jedi before. I expected something...different." He flashed them a lopsided smirk. "You certainly don't look like warriors of legend. I thought you'd be super human, but you're just people."

"I think you'll find that the most extraordinary things come in the humblest packages," the Master countered, returning the clever smirk. "I have often found that those who feel the need to wear their strength like armor have the least to show for it." Green eyes narrowed as the Mandalorian tensed and stood taller, his chest puffed in challenge as he surveyed the calm, collected Jedi before him, tall, regal and serene, and the smaller, much younger teen at his side. Slowly, a sly smirk spread across his lips, eyes predatory as he sized up their historic enemy.

"Of course," Edric said casually. "I'm certain that you are up to the task, Jedi. I just didn't think the Republic would send a child to defend the last hope for Mandalore," he said, pointing at Obi-Wan, the young Jedi's chest tightening. He didn't like this man at all, the unease he had been feeling burning to the forefront of his mind. "Do the Jedi not take this mission seriously?"

"I can assure you, your Duchess is safe in our care," Qui-Gon said calmly, his eyes briefly flicking to the uncomfortable Satine, her entire being seeming to struggle under the weight of sudden grief and the gravity of her situation, a healthy mix of confusing emotions only serving to leave the girl uneasy and lost. "My student may be young, but he was sent with me because he is up to the task. He's the best there is for the job."

"Oh yeah?" Edric asked, his tone both skeptical and amused, his posture shifting to impose domination and control, a silent challenge for either of the other males to test him. "In that case, I suppose we have nothing to fear. I am pleased to see you keep good company, Satine," Edric drawled, turning his gaze back to the Duchess, a wry smirk on his lips, and beside him, Veela chuckled softly.

"Or handsome company, at the very least," the young woman said, her eyes raking over the Jedi, and Obi-Wan quickly turned his gaze away when her eyes met his, burning and intense and far too much for his already hormone-flooded brain to reasonably take. What was wrong with him?

"I-is Count Tegris here?" Satine asked swiftly, her pale skin flushed, her delicate hands wringing together as she tried to change the subject away from her protectors. It worked, and the mischievous, teasing look of the two older teens abated, their expressions becoming serious once again.

"No, father is on our front line defenses," Veela said with a frown. "The Wrens are making a push into our territory. I was just returning from battles on our western front when we caught your ship on our scanners." She frowned, her brow creasing in her irritation. "Ursa is fighting. I'm going to kill that little bitch the second I see her. But father commanded I return here to play hostess to you until he can break away and return."

"You are far more important and more valuable to Mandalore than my sister's personal vendetta," Edric said, leaning in close to the Duchess. "She and I are here because you deserve the very best defense."

"And your Jedi guard is a great deal nicer to look at than the kriffing Wrens," Veela slowly drawled, eying the Jedi once again. "I could use a break, in any case, and I've always welcomed new blood." She grinned wolfishly at Obi-Wan when he met her gaze once again. "You, boy. How old are you?" Kenobi flushed deeply, his eyes cast at the ground once again.

"...sixteen, my lady," he said softly, his voice even and emotionless, his face becoming impassive when the Mandalorian clicked her tongue appreciatively.

"Oh, I'm a lady now, am I?"

"You are the daughter of a Count, are you not?" Obi-Wan asked softly, expressionless eyes meeting the fiery heat of her gaze, and she drew back, the predatory smirk wavering in the face of a boy that simply didn't respond to her teasing. Here, in a room full of people, faced with the bold, intimidating Edric and the sly, beautiful Veela, Obi-Wan felt his natural shyness come front and center, and he quickly withdrew within himself, his emotionless mask sliding with ease into place, his voice even and monotone as his mental walls flew up to defend him. The emotions faded, save for the edge of his social anxiety, which stayed carefully hidden away, the hormonal rush he had felt when he walked entranced behind Satine a distant memory. Once again, he felt in perfect control. He could do this.

"The daughter of the Count, yes," she answered, leering once again at the impassive boy. "But not a Countess. I can assure you, I'm no lady..." she said, her voice low, seductive, putting meaning behind her words that wasn't missed on anyone, and while Satine flushed and glared at the older girl, Obi-Wan simply was. He bowed his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I apologize. I confess that I do not know how to properly address you."

"We can talk about it later, Jedi," she said, smirking. "Do the Jedi consider you a man yet? You would be on Mandalore..."

"And we unfortunately have little time for recreation," Qui-Gon said strongly, his face stern as he met the gazes of the siblings. "Our only goal is the protection of the Duchess."

"As is our goal as well," Edric said smoothly, sliding closer to Satine. Qui-Gon cocked an eyebrow when the Duchess smiled gratefully up at him.

"It pleases me to hear that," the Jedi said. "In that case, perhaps you will be willing to render the air we need so that we may be successful in our mission."

"Master Jedi," Edric drawled. "Satine will remain safe here. With me." With a slight, sly smirk, he brought the Duchess' hand to his lips, the pale girl turning fierce red, and beside him, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan tense, though his student showed no emotion, his presence completely shielded.

"I disagree," Qui-Gon said firmly, his stance firm, his presence commanding when the two Mandalorian siblings flashed with insult and anger. "If you haven't noticed, there's a war on your doorstep. Satine is being targeted by a great many of your people, and even the might of your Clan cannot hold back the tide if all those that oppose her came to call."

"You doubt our ability to protect our Mand'alor?" Edric growled, and the Jedi frowned deeply.

"Not at all, but a moving target is harder to hit. We can keep her moving, we can keep her safe, and when this war is over and Satine sits uncontested in Sundari, I am certain she will remember the clans that provided aid to her safety." Qui-Gon turned his eyes on Satine and found her conflicted, but there was a soft smile on her lips that she flashed in her direction. "Isn't that right, Duchess?"

"...I-I don't want to bring danger to Clan Ordo..." Satine said softly, her eyes drifting away from the siblings and focusing on the Jedi. "But I'd like to stay here as long as possible. Nobody knows I'm here, right?"

"Not yet, but they will know," Qui-Gon insisted. "Word spread about our activities on Zanbar, and word will spread about your presence here."

"But for now, we are safe," Satine said, her voice strained and slightly frantic as she edged closer to the cocky Edric. "Qui-Gon, I spent a month in a swamp, running for my life every day, being hungry and tired all the time..." She laid her hand on Edric's arm. "I want to stay here as long as I can. I don't have many people left, and I have known Edric and Veela a long time."

Qui-Gon sighed, bowing slightly. "We will, of course, submit to your decision, Duchess. We are your servants, after all." A sly smirk crossed Edric's face.

"Well, my Satine..." the warrior drawled. "You certainly are something else. Jedi Knights, servants of Mandalore."

"You'll give them what they need, won't you?" the young Duchess asked, laying her hand on the armored chest and smiling up at the handsome man. Leaning in close, Edric ran his hand over her pale, braided hair, a bold, pleased smile on his face. Qui-Gon quickly looked over to Obi-Wan to find him withdrawn, but otherwise unexpressive.

"Of course we will, my Duchess..."

"What is it you need, Jedi?" Veela asked, and Qui-Gon drew up tall.

"I need a secure com connection so I may contact the Jedi High Council to check in," the Master said, his eyes drifting to his student when Veela nodded in acknowledgment. "Obi-Wan? Your needs?" The reserved boy looked up and met Edric's gaze.

"I'd like a ship," Obi-Wan said in his dispassionate monotone. "Ours is a stolen Death Watch ship, and you said many are hunting for it."

"You want a ship?" Edric said, scoffing and laughing. "We're at war, boy. We need every ship we have to fight the rival clans!"

"You can keep our cruiser to replace it, naturally," Obi-Wan said cooly. "You are allies of Duchess Satine, are you not? Your ships should be her ships." Edric's eyes narrowed in anger, drawing up tall as if he made to confront the young Jedi, but it faded quickly when Satine turned hey clear blue eyes on him, a bright smile on her face.

"The Death Watch ship is small for the three of us, Edric," she said softly. "It's really meant for two, and there's only one room."

"One room, hmm?" he said, his suspicious, searching eyes boring into Obi-Wan, and the Padawan cooly met his stare. "...very well," he said. "For you, Duchess. You can pick out a ship you like, and it will be yours if you leave." Satine smiled at the Jedi.

"Satisfied?"

"Almost, Duchess," Qui-Gon said, bowing. "As your protectors, I insist that either Obi-Wan or I are with you at all times." He smiled when offense stained the faces of the Mandalorian siblings. "Just in case."

"You don't think we can protect her in the safety of our own fortress, Jedi?" Edric growled, but stopped when Satine stepped forward and nodded.

"That's fine," she said, looking back at the siblings and smiling. "The Jedi are very hard to sneak up on. I would feel safer with them at my side."

"Of course you would, Duchess," Veela said, driving her elbow into Edric's side and glaring at him. "We have a war to fight, Edric, it's safer to have extra eyes on her. Don't get jealous just because she has a young, handsome protector, it doesn't become you." The man scoffed, but said nothing. "Come with me," Veela said, walking toward the Jedi. "I'll take you to the hangar, you can pick out a ship before we get Satine settled in." She walked past them toward the door, her eyes languidly running over Kenobi, a mischievous smirk on her face as her brother and Satine closely followed, arms linked together, the Jedi taking up the rear guard. Qui-Gon observed his student carefully, reaching to him through the Force, but the boy was completely closed off, his gaze lingering on Satine's delicate hand on the tall, strong man's arm.

"Thoughts, my Padawan?" Qui-Gon whispered, and Obi-Wan's brow knit together as he considered the question.

"The feeling remains, Master," he whispered after a moment of silence, his pace slowing to put more distance between them and the Mandalorians ahead, the three teens joking and laughing, the Duchess more free and easy than Obi-Wan had ever seen her. "What's more, I'm certain. Something's not right."

"And it isn't just jealousy?" Qui-Gon asked, pointing at Satine and Edric as they walked close together, the image of lovers, not friends, the air between them charged with attraction. Obi-Wan's lips drew into a thin line.

"...I feel disquiet, Master, not jealousy," Obi-Wan said softly. "My attraction to her is irrelevant to the fact that he wants something from her."

"I couldn't agree more," the Master said. "I'll see to getting Satine to agree to leaving with all due haste. Make certain the ship is to your specifications as quickly as possible. I trust you know what to do."

"I'll get to work immediately, Master." Qui-Gon laid his hand on the Padawan's shoulder and smiled softly at him.

"She will be safe with us, my Padawan. No harm will come to Satine." Obi-Wan allowed a small, secretive smile touch his lips when he looked at his confident Master. Everything would be fine.

"Hey!" Edric called from ahead of them, his posture bold and brash. "Is it customary for Jedi Masters to take their students as lovers?" He clicked his tongue at the Jedi when they didn't respond. "Keep up. If you two want to be alone, we can certainly take care of Satine while you find release with each other."

"That won't be necessary," Qui-Gon said calmly, and with a smirk, Edric drew Satine closer and continued on. The Jedi waited for a moment before they followed. "Don't engage him, Obi-Wan," qui-Gon said softly, feeling the tension within his student. "Don't react, don't respond, don't make a mistake and rise to his challenges, because I want the first shot at him." Obi-Wan looked at his Master out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow raised.

"I doubt he Council will approve."

"When have you ever known me to care about what the Council thinks?" He smiled softly as he watched Obi-Wan snort as he repressed laughter, biting down on his lip to keep from laughing.

"I'd very much like to see you take that Mandalorian to task, Master."

"I'm sense that by the time we leave, I will."

---

Satine selected a huge, beautiful yacht from the hangar bay, a construction with smooth, sweeping wings, a recreation deck, four spacious rooms in the living quarters and an impressive engine for a ship its size. In the black and green of Clan Ordo, it was a splendid craft, one that was certain to carry the trio in greater comfort than they could reasonably expect in the war-torn Mandalore sector.

Obi-Wan immediately rejected the yacht in favor of a much smaller ship, more utility than luxury, though not nearly as elegant. A Kom'rk Class fighter, the ship had dagger shaped, rotating wings on each side of a long, knife-like body and sported a pair of extremely impressive engines. Sitting with its wings in the vertical position, a cursory glance showed that not only did the wings move to a forward facing position when in flight, but they could actually rotate around the ship's body, which lent itself to increased maneuverability, which was exactly what Obi-Wan was looking for. It's hyperdrive was nothing special, but that mattered less than impressive sublight speed, which the craft had, and along with two deceptively powerful laser cannons under the nose of the ship, it would be formidable in a fight, if it was needed.

Best of all, however, was that the ship was equipt with two rooms, each containing two secured bunks, one over the other connected with a ladder, which would give him a place for privacy, which he hadn't had in over a month. True, the ship was technically made for a crew of four, but Obi-Wan was confident in his abilities to pick up the slack. Qui-Gon was competent enough to run the simpler systems, and it opened up an opportunity to privately instruct Satine on running the other station. And he desperately wanted that. The ship couldn't fly properly otherwise.

His ship selected, Qui-Gon tasked Obi-Wan with tending to the ship while he went with Veela to contact the Council, leaving the Padawan to protect Satine as she flirted shamelessly with strong, handsome Edric. It would have been distracting were Obi-Wan not actually busy, the Padawan laying on the floor of the cockpit, the panels on the console removed as he fiddled with wires and components while Satine and Edric sat in the seats behind the pilots' chairs, leaning close to each other and speaking in swift, hushed Mando'a, mostly reminiscing, though occasionally, they would talk of the war, the clan alliances, how strong her enemies and allies were, and who to trust. Which led them directly to the subject of the Jedi.

"How could you even allow the Jedi to be involved, Satine?" Edric said, his gaze shifting to the boy on the ground, up to his elbows in wires and grease and lubricant as he made his adjustments. "They are historic enemies of our people. Death Watch is saying that their presence is proof of your treason." Satine frowned.

"And yet, Death Watch has killed millions of Mandalorians in this conflict alone, to say nothing of the disgusting acts of violence they perpetrated during the Civil War." She wrinkled her nose, her head held high and haughty. "And for the record, I didn't ask for the Jedi. I argued against having them here, but my advisors insisted." She looked sidelong at Obi-Wan, her frown deepening when her young protector said nothing, showed nothing, did nothing. Ever the impassive Jedi, it was like she didn't even exist. She did not like that. She scooted to the edge of her seat, bringing herself closer to Edric, and she looked at the Jedi again. Still, nothing, just his long fingered hands deftly twisting wires together and attaching them to their places within the console.

She had never hated his indifference so much.

"So, is this what the Jedi do?" Edric asked, leaning forward and watching as the Padawan pulled a small, rectangular device out of the console and set it to the side. "You just run around the galaxy, interfering in people's affairs, and fixing ships?" Kenobi shrugged, but said nothing, which didn't please Edric at all. "Hey, I'm talking to you, Jedi." This time, Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder.

"Do you mind?" Obi-Wan asked. "I'm working."

"Are all Jedi like this?" the warrior asked Satine, and the girl pursed her lips and looked at Obi-Wan as the Jedi returned to his work.

"No, his Master is friendly enough, Obi-Wan just has a foul temperament," she said slowly, her voice biting, slightly teasing, the tone she used whenever she and the young Jedi engaged in their typical verbal sparring, but this time, Kenobi didn't rise to meet her challenge, as he had done in the past week. This time, he remained cold, so like the boy she had first met in Sundari, so unlike the boy she knew him to be, and it was unsettling. "Obi-Wan!" she snapped, harsher than intended, and the boy looked over his shoulder at her, his blue eyes cool and attentive, but nothing else. "You are representing me, Jedi, and you're doing a poor job of it."

"I apologize, Duchess," he said evenly, bowing his head, and it only made her more angry. Three words.

"I don't want your apologies, I want you to correct your behavior. It is unseemly."

Kenobi closed his eyes and stood, wiping his hands on a rag he had fixed to his belt beside his lightsaber. "As you wish," he said softly, hie eyes cast at the ground, and Satine silently fumed. She hadn't expected him to be agreeable, especially not since she was being deliberately rude. Three words. Her eyes never left Obi-Wan's face as she took Edric's hand to help her stand, the warrior bringing her fingers to his lips, but his gaze was fixed on the Jedi's weapon. Nothing. Aloof, expressionless Jedi that he was, Obi-Wan showed nothing, and Satine found that it hurt.

"Going somewhere, Jedi?" Edric asked softly, and Obi-Wan folded his hands before him.

"I'm running an engine diagnostic."

"Ah." Obi-Wan bowed slightly.

"If you'd excuse me..." the Jedi said softly, gesturing past the couple, and Edric pulled Satine against him to clear the space to allow Kenobi to pass. Satine quickly followed her protector, dragging the Mandalorian behind her, the man following without complaint.

"Seem like my sister really likes you, Jedi," Edric drawled, a harsh, teasing edge to his voice that Satine picked up on immediately, a normal thing for brash, boisterous Edric, but his words...bothered her. Veela was nineteen years of beautiful, hardened Mandalorian warrior, all fiery passion and fury, all vicious soldier on the fields of battle and training, all wild, seductive temptress when she saw something she liked. Satine's brother had never been one of those men, ever kindred warrior to Veela, not the lover, but Satine had often seen the dark beauty in the company of several men that were taken with her.

The thought briefly crossed her mind, the beautiful, older girl quietly seducing her shy, inexperienced protector, and it made Satine burn with jealousy as images of Obi-Wan's pale, thin body being touched and pleasured by Veela's experienced hand filled her thoughts. She closed her eyes and shook he head to clear it, but the thoughts remained. She was not jealous! She just...didn't want Obi-Wan to be distracted from his duties. Surely Veela understood that as well. She must have known what a distraction she was to the men around her, and she certainly didn't have the time or the desire to seduce a dispassionate Jedi when there were literally hundreds of powerful, Mandalorian men inside the fortress that would be more than willing to lay with the daughter of the Count. She didn't need Obi-Wan. She couldn't.

"I told her not to waste her time," Edric said with a shrug when Obi-Wan didn't respond. "I told her you weren't much more than a child, and a Jedi wouldn't know how to treat a Mandalorian right anyway." A wry smirk crossed his face. "But you couldn't treat any woman right, could you, Jedi? I doubt you're even a man."

"Edric, stop," Satine snapped, and she was met with a casual smile from the older boy.

"Just a bit f fun, Satine, but I apologize."

"It's alright, Duchess," Obi-Wan said softly as he pushed a button on the wall, and the doors to the engine room and hyperdrive component slid open. "It's...how boys talk." A wide grin spread across Edric's face.

"See, Satine? No harm done. I may have misjudged you, Jedi." Obi-Wan shook his head.

"You did not. Jedi are forbidden from such things." He looked over his shoulder at the Mandalorians as he began his work on the engines, a slight, faint smile on his face that made Satine's heart jump. "Be at ease, Lord Ordo, your sister will not be touched by me."

"Such a shame that sentiment doesn't go both ways," Edric said, laughter in his voice. "Still, it's good to know that Satine won't be defiled by some Jedi," he said disdainfully. "If you don't take women to your bed, you must have other things you enjoy," the man said quickly before either of the younger teens could get a word in. "Do you like music? What music do you like?"

"U-uh..." This time, Obi-Wan's mask slipped, taken aback by a question he wasn't expecting, and though it was subtle, Satine had grown used to reading his expressions, and now, it was all confusion set over a mounting social anxiety. "I-I don't-"

"Do Jedi not listen to music?" Edric asked, scoffing. "Alright, fine. Do you dance? Everyone dances." Color rose to Obi-Wan's face as he looked away and shook his head, busying himself with his work on the engines, and Edric looked at him with disgust. "No, of course not. You Jedi aren't just a boring lot, you are soulless."

"That's enough!" Satine snapped, her fists balled at her side as she stepped between the soldier and the Jedi. "Obi-Wan is my guardian, Edric, and furthermore, he's a warrior, and I won't allow you to treat him this way!"

"I want to see this warrior in action," Edric said forcefully, pointing at Kenobi's lightsaber. "Come on, boy, you and me. Show me the skills of a Jedi, show me you are worthy of defending our Duchess. No music, no dnacing, no women, so you must spend all your time in training, and I want to test myself against that."

"I won't fight you," Obi-Wan said cooly. "We only draw our weapon in defense of others, not for some juvenile show of strength." Kenobi evenly met the furious Mandalorian's gaze. "I have nothing to prove to you."

"Your Jedi is a coward," Edric snarled, his gaze shifting to Satine, who met him with equal amounts of anger.

"My Jedi is not some bloodthirsty fool!" For a moment, Edric's anger spiked, the Force rippling with the waves of his wrath, his resentment, his fury, and Obi-Wan laid his hand on his lightsaber. And then it stopped, the anger on his face falling before tense, uneasy laughter, and the man ran his hand through his wavy hair.

"Forgive me, Duchess..." Edric said, inclining his head toward the angry girl. "It's this war, it's...changed us." He drew up tall, and Obi-Wan let his hand fall away from his weapon. "I apologize, Jedi. I did not mean any offense."

"None taken, Lord Ordo," Obi-Wan said evenly. "Your Duchess struggles with me as well. I am...difficult for Mandalorians to deal with, I have come to understand." He inclined his head. "The fault, unfortunately, is mine, and for that, I apologize." And just like that, the air was cleared, the tension eased, and Satine could breathe again, though she felt an aching in her chest when she watched Obi-Wan turn away and resume his work, his handsome face without a single emotion upon it. A wave of guilt washed over her for not defending her protector sooner from passionate, teasing Edric. But then again...

"Edric, dear," she asked sweetly, laying her hand upon the man's armored chest, and a charming, handsome smile spread across his face as he drew her close to him. And still nothing from Obi-Wan. "Could I bother you to get us something to drink?"

"Anything for you, my Duchess," he said smoothly, pressing his lips to her palm and bringing her hand to his cheek. "What's to your liking? My father has the finest liquors in the sector in the vault, if that's your desire." He leaned toward her and looked at her through half lidded eyes filled with desire, and she suddenly found herself unable to breathe. She hadn't ever been in this situation. Her protective brother and her fearsome father had always kept the boys her age at a respectful distance. But her father and brother were dead, and Edric Ordo had grown into manhood extremely well. "I highly recommend it."

"A-alright..." she said breathlessly, and the man took her hand, gently pulling at her arm toward the door.

"Come on, I'll give you the full tour on the way to the vault..."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Obi-Wan said, his voice in his even monotone, but there was a hard edge to it that had never been there before, and it snapped Satine out of the breathless haze she had found herself in. Blushing furiously, she took her hand from Edric and held it to her chest, willing her heart to stop beating so quickly and her wayward thoughts to come back under her control. Edric glared at Obi-Wan, but the Jedi was not effected. "As per our arrangement, the Duchess must have a Jedi guard with her at all times." Edric scowled.

"Fine. You come with us."

"I can't," Obi-Wan said quickly. "My Master ordered me to check and service the ship. I will not be done for some time yet." Satine shot Edric an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Edric..." she said, her voice warm and genuine. "Perhaps later when Qui-Gon returns." The warrior sighed and pressed his lips to her cheek, the Duchess flushing deeply and unable to meet his gaze.

"I understand. Another time. I am going to go get you that drink, though."

"I look forward to it," Satine said, smiling as she watched the warrior leave, and as soon as the door closed and Edric was out of sight, she turned and laid a furious gaze on the Jedi. He met her evenly, the ice in his stare effectively stopping the fire of hers. "Why are you doing this?" she hissed, and Obi-Wan drew up taller, his back straight and his shoulders tense.

"Doing what. Duchess?"

"This!" she shouted, indicating to all of him. "Acting like you don't care at all about what I do!"

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said softly. "Did you not wish to stay here with your friends?"

"W-well, yes, but-"

"Am I supposed to be displeased by the arrangement?" Satine said nothing, but shot him a glare to indicate her displeasure, her lips drawn into a thin line, her anger and frustration palpable, and though he showed nothing, Obi-Wan felt his chest begin to ache, the pull within him to sooth her almost overwhelming, but he held back, his toes curling in his boots in tension he felt unsafe to show in any other way. "Satine..." he said softly, taking a small step forward. "Your safety is the only thing that matters to me."

"I am safe," she said defensively. "But you-"

"If I appear cold, I apologize," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I'm...uncertain how you wish for me to behave."

"I don't know, any way but how you are!" she cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. Why was she bothered? "You said you'd trust me with your feelings, you said...ooh, you are the worst, Obi-Wan! You're retreating back within yourself because you are jealous!" she said, her head held high, her frustration with the Jedi spiking when he arched an eyebrow in confusion.

"I said I trust you with my feelings, yes," Obi-Wan said softly. "I didn't say I trust him."

"See?" Satine said, a triumphant smile on her face. "Jealous."

"Shy," Obi-Wan countered.

"Well, he's not here now, Obi-Wan, so start talking." She leaned in closer. "You. Are. Jealous."

"I'm no such thing, Duchess," Obi-Wan said dismissively. "You have made it clear what it is you desire. You are driven to passion and confidence, and he is certainly filled to the brim with it." He tugged at his braid. "You are attracted to him as well, I can sense that much." Satine gasped, outraged.

"I'll have you know, I grew up with Edric! I've known him for a very long time, this isn't just some...physical thing!" She smiled slyly. "Though he is extremely pleasing to look at."

"Which makes this even more natural," Obi-Wan said softly. "This was to be expected." For just a moment, Satine thought she saw the shadow of something darken Obi-Wan's features. Not jealousy, like she had been hoping ti incite within him, but...sadness. Her heart hurt, and she quickly shook her head. Why. What would she even want t make Obi-Wan jealous? Prodding the young Jedi simply to watch him react had been great fun, but this...wasn't going as she expected it to. Instead of a reaction, instead of his endearing, tongue-tied frustrations, the alluring flush on his cheeks, the almost captivating anxiousness he showed when he tried to control emotions that escaped him, she got nothing. Just blank, withdrawn, emotionless Obi-Wan. And she hated it more than she had ever hated anything before.

"I-it is, isn't it!" she countered, her desperation rising when a small smirk touched Kenobi's lips.

"A little brutish for you, I thought. For a woman dedicated to peace, I expected you to find someone a bit more..."

"A bit more like you?" Satine asked, and the slight amusement the Jedi was displaying faded instantly into hard lines and a stern expression.

"I will be a Jedi Knight one day, Satine," Obi-Wan said, his features hard, but his voice soft and understanding, much more like the friend she had come to see in him over the past few days. "My life is not my own, and has never been my own. I thought you understood that," he said, his tone hardening slightly. "You are in the same position. Duty before yourself, always before yourself."

"...it's not fair, is it?" she asked in a soft, trembling voice, turning her back to the Jedi and sitting up on one of the workstations. Obi-Wan looked at her for a moment, trying to remain distant, aloof, like his Master had said...and failed. With a sigh and a heavy weight in his heart, he wiped his hands on the rag on his belt as he moved beside the Duchess and leaned against the workstation.

"No, it isn't..." he affirmed softly, laying his hand close enough to hers for their fingertips to lightly touch, and despite the minimal contact, Obi-Wan felt as though electricity shot between them, his heart beating so fast he could hear it in his ears. His eyes lingered on Satine's delicate hand, her fingers wiggling discretely to increase the contact between him, and he could see her thin, pale wrist throbbing with her rapid pulse, and knew she felt the same.

"I don't even like you," she muttered half-heartedly, a small smile on her lips that she couldn't contain, despite her best efforts, an expression that Obi-Wan quickly mirrored.

"Nor I you, Duchess. I'm not jealous of your...paramour because there's nothing to be jealous of." She swiftly hit him on his chest, a pout on her face.

"You brute," she hissed, frowning further when the Jedi laughed softly. "I'll have you know, Edric is a real man. Unlike you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"...surely you must see what it is he wants from you," Kenobi said softly, his tone much more serious than before, and the expression on Satine's face told him she knew very well.

"Of course I do. I'm not blind. Do you really think I'd encourage his advances if I wasn't interested?" She scoffed slightly. "Or did you think I was simply leading him along in an attempt to make you jealous?"

"I don't believe you to be so childish as that, no," he said softly, and Satine looked away, newfound guilt suddenly welling up inside her. It hadn't been all to illicit a response from the Jedi...had it? Edric was the Mandalorian ideal, the sort of man Satine had dreamed about many, many times, strong and bold enough to sweep her off her feet, and kind enough to care. Not like scrawny, lanky, passionless Obi-Wan. Shy, quiet, brave, beautiful Obi-Wan...

"I would be cautious around him, if I were you," the Jedi softly continued. "Not just for the obvious, but you are a powerful woman, and people will seek to use you for their own ends." Satine looked at him, completely unamused.

"They are allies, Obi-Wan. Not everyone wants this fight, and not everybody is against me."

"I hope I am wrong," he said softly, a slight, sad smile on his face. "Truly, I do. As..." He paused, frowning slightly as he considered his words. "I desire your safety and happiness...as your friend. An...argumentative, antagonistic, frustrating friend." A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips, nodding slightly when he decided he liked the sound of it. "I'm not jealous, Satine, because your happiness is more important than anything I feel."

She stared at him, her jaw slack in a rare moment of speechlessness as she looked at the Jedi, his eyes averted, a shy smile on his lips, and faint color staining his cheeks. Edric, bold and brash and handsome, a childhood friend, passionate and strong and clearly interested in her, and when she looked at him, she felt a pooling of desire in her gut, could feel the stirrings of arousal within her, and she wanted him, Mandalorian passion overtaking everything else. She was attracted to Obi-Wan, yes, but he didn't inspire in her the powerful lust she felt for Edric, the older, larger male so open and so receptive to her, which she so easily reciprocated. He was like an amplifier, while Obi-Wan merely seemed to dampen her, a one way exchange that resulted in ultimately nothing.

Obi-Wan was nice to look at, a much appreciated sight over the month they had been faced with certain death, but when she looked at him, she never felt the burning deep in her core that made her feel reckless and stupid and so unlike herself. Instead, she felt...lightheaded, slightly dizzy in a struggle to catch her breath, the soft, gentle warmth that started deep in her core and brought color to her face. Her heart didn't pound so much as it fluttered, which was a sensation that was both frustrating and delightful, a subtle change within her that compelled her to draw closer to him to feel it again.

"How do you feel?" she asked breathlessly, her hand beginning to tremble when his eyes met hers.

"I feel that you deserve better than a quick tryst with the first man that takes an interest in you," he said firmly, his voice just as breathless as hers had been.

"And if he's what I want?" she asked, and her heart ached when the Jedi looked away.

"Then I wish you the best," Kenobi whispered. "You deserve to be with someone, Satine. You are a creature of passion. You should be with one of your own."

"...and what about you?" Beside her, she could feel Obi-Wan tense, a deep shudder running through him, his breath hitching in his throat.

"There is no emotion, there is peace..." he muttered. "A Jedi shall not know anger nor hatred nor love." Obi-Wan looked at Satine, a small, genuine smile on his face that made Satine's heart jump. "Don't worry about me, Satine. I'll be fine."

---

Qui-Gon frowned deeply, his eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the helplessly laughing hologram of Jedi Master Dooku. "It is not funny," he insisted, which only made the Master laugh harder. After telling him about their mission and their current situation, Qui-Gon quickly turned the conversation toward his fears about his studen't growing affection for the Duchess they protected. Dooku wasn't handling it the way Qui-Gon wanted him to.

"It is funny, my friend," Dooku insisted, slowly regaining control as he took long, deep breaths. "Obi-Wan is doing this? Your Obi-Wan? It's unlike him, are you certain you are not projecting?"

"I'm telling you, Dooku, he's making eyes at her," Qui-Gon stressed, frowning when the Master began laughing again.

"Puberty, my friend, will do that. And more, as you well know."

"How did you get me to stop?!" Qui-Gon cried in desperation, and Dooku simply rolled his eyes.

"I didn't. You spent your entire teenage years to the hilt within women, it's a wonder I managed to train you at all." Dooku gruffed as he crossed his arms. "I suppose the Council believes I didn't train you."

"Surely I wasn't that bad..." Qui-Gon drawled, and Dooku shot him a pointed look.

"Compared to Obi-Wan, you were Quinlan Vos." Qui-Gon winced.

"Alright, fine, but I wasn't attached! Obi-Wan-"

"Oh, for the sake of the Force!" Dooku growled. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is not, and will never be you." His features softened considerably. "You miss Tahl, my friend." A statement, not a question, and Qui-Gon felt a lump in his throat.

"...yes."

"And you are imposing your feelings and your pain on your student because you see your struggle in him, but he isn't you, and the little Duchess isn't her." The hologram drew closer to the chastened Qui-Gon. "Obi-Wan has never had a drunken night, has never rebelled against anything, has never known the touch of a woman." He scoffed. "Does he even know what he has between his legs?" Qui-Gon shook his head, chuckling softly.

"I'm certain he does, yes, though I doubt he knows it well. He spends a great deal in his meditations seeking to rid himself of his desires."

"And you think to compare him to you?" Dooku asked, and Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed.

"It's the quiet ones one must be wary of," Qui-Gon grumbled, and the patrician Dooku sighed deeply.

"Perhaps. But Obi-Wan knows his duty. I think drawing a teenage mind to the idea of something more between the only female he has ready access to is a poor idea, my friend." Qui-Gon was still for a moment before he gasped, his eyes wide as he looked at his former Master.

"You don't think I gave him the idea of a physical relationship between him and Satine, do you?" Dooku gave a short, amused laugh.

"Not at all. He's a teenage boy, he thought of that all on his own. But as you have said, your student takes great pains to repress those urges. He seems dedicated to Jedi chastity. Discussing it is only drawing his mind to the idea, and I promise you this, every time you sit him down and have the talk," he said, making quotations in the air with his fingers, "your student goes to sleep that night struggling with himself because he can't stop picturing the Duchess in a state of complete undress." He paused, a slow smirk spreading across his lips at Qui-Gon's horrified expression. "At least."

"Alright, stop, stop!" Qui-Gon glared at his smirking former Master. "I don't know why I talk to you, you always make everything worse."

"I've no better way to get back at you, Qui-Gon," Dooku drawled. "In this, Obi-Wan has failed spectacularly to cause you sufficient stress. Someone must pick up the slack." He sighed when Qui-Gon shot him a vexed expression. "Obi-Wan is dedicated and diligent. If he senses there is a problem, he will consult you. Trust him in this. If he doesn't believe he can speak to you, your concern for him might drive him into the arms of this woman."

"...sage advice," Qui-Gon muttered, a relieved smile on his lips as he sighed. "Thank you, Master. I am glad we discussed this."

"As always, I am happy to be of assistance," Dooku said, his deep voice low and soothing. "Have you contacted the Council?"

"Tch, no," Qui-Gon scoffed. "I was going to, but I called you instead."

"What. Me above the Council?" Dooku said in an amused voice.

"Always, Master."

"You flatter me," Dooku said, bowing mockingly at the other Master. "You should, though. They believe you are dead."

"Wait, what?!" Qui-Gon cried in disbelief, his jaw slack as he stared at the amused Jedi.

"Over a month away in a war zone, and not a word from you, the Padawan, or the Duchess. What are they supposed to think?"

"Have they so little faith in me?" Qui-Gon asked, and Dooku tiredly shrugged.

"It is the High Council. You know how they are."

"And this is why I contacted you, not them," Qui-Gon grumbled. "And what about you? Did you think I was dead as well?" Dooku scoffed.

"Hardly." Qui-Gon smiled. "I had proof you were alive, so I never had the chance to think so." The smile dropped off Qui-Gon's face.

"I don't know why I talk to you..." Qui-Gon said, rubbing his temple. "Did you at least tell the Council?" Dooku looked at him with a superior, patronizing stare.

"Have you ever known me to consult the Council when I could reasonably avoid them?" Dooku said, his deep voice twinged with bitterness.

"How did you know I was alive?" Qui-Gon asked, shifting the subject slightly to something the older Master could address with less bitterness. "We were stranded on Zanbar. Did talk of our activities there reach Republic space?"

"Hardly," Dooku said, reaching out of frame and grabbing a datapad, his finger running over the screen. "But word of your survival did, though not through any official means." He turned the datapad around, and Qui-Gon squinted, leaning in to observe the screen through the hologram. He gasped softly when he understood what it was.

"A bounty," he whispered, and Dooku nodded gravely.

"And a very high one at that. Your actions in defending the Duchess has made someone very angry."

"Or desperate..." Qui-Gon muttered, his thoughts racing. "The bounty is bad enough, but..." He shook his head. "If you managed to get word of this bounty all the way out on Coruscant, then it's certainly readily available in the home of the galaxy's most adept bounty hunters. So why didn't Veela and Edric tell us about it?"

"Mmm..." Dooku stroked his beard in thought. "A good question, and a valid concern."

"And Obi-Wan has been sensing something off since before we landed," Qui-Gon bemoaned. "I was hoping it was something more personal, jealousy that Satine was very receptive to the advances of the Clan Leader's son..." He sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope for."

"You may be in grave danger, Qui-Gon," Dooku said, his voice even and serious.

"I agree," Qui-Gon said. "We were told that people were looking for us, but it is a very different thing to have a bounty on our heads." Qui-Gon huffed in disappointment. "Damn it..."

"Nobody said this would be easy..." Dooku said. "If things are going to be bad, at least the Council had the good sense to send you. You need to discover what is happening there."

"Delicately, because Satine seems content to stay," Qui-Gon growled, and he gasped in realization as his mind swiftly ran through everything he knew. "Oh, those Mandalorian snakes, they're trying to drive a wedge between us and Satine." He smacked his head with his palm. "Seduce the teenagers to cause a rift between them. If they sew distrust between her and her guards, they get her." He frowned. "Perhaps Satine's death isn't the goal of Clan Ordo, but these are not our allies."

"I concur," Dooku said quietly. "It seems like extracting her may be difficult."

"Very, she grew up with these people. She doesn't see betrayal here, and running has made her weary."

"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you, my friend," Dooku said, waving Qui-Gon away with his hand. "Go. Take care of your charge, Qui-Gon. I'll give your report to the Council."

"What, you?" Qui-Gon asked, deeply amused despite the gravity of the situation. " Mighty Master Dooku, willingly stepping before the Jedi High Council?"

"Go before I change my mind, fool," Dooku growled, and with a bow, Qui-Gon cut the com and made haste to take Satine from Obi-Wan's care. They had some investigating to do.

---

Meditation

Qui-Gon came by to pick up Satine a little while ago, thankfully before Edric returned with that promised drink, which I didn't approve of at all. She's easy enough for him to manipulate without the use of alcohol. I can only imagine how quickly she would surrender to her desires if he plied her with liquor, as was his intent, I'm sure. He may be everything she wants, but she is still inexperienced, and more nervous and uncertain about the prospect of intimacy than she lets on. Which is...good, I suppose. I don't like the idea of her debasing herself with a brute like that, and her natural modesty should be respected. Edric clearly has no respect for her, or for anything other than his own selfish wants.

I wish she could see it. I wish she could understand what exactly he would do to her. I can feel the desire between them, I can sense her lust and her attraction, as much as I try to ignore it. I find it...difficult to look away from her when she is burning like that. Before, it was so hard to look at her because of her passions, but something about the things roiling in her now draw me to her. It's...intoxicating and infectious. I know it's wrong, but I can't help looking. She is beautiful. A thing of life and passion, and though her gaze isn't for me, I-

No! You can't think like this, Obi-Wan, come on. She's not for you, she was never for you...

Edric would be a good match for her, if he weren't up to something sinister. She has expressed a desire for one of her own, a noble warrior, and Edric at least looks the part. No wonder the attraction between them is so strong, though I find it something of a contradiction. He is a Mandalorian warrior, the very thing about her people that Satine seeks to change, so what is she doing, lusting after a boy like that? I suppose it is wrong of me to judge her for a biological urge. She can't help it. It's natural for teenagers to be driven to engage in intercourse, even more so for a passionate Mandalorian. It must drive her mad to be in the presence of someone she is so clearly attracted to. It's no wonder he barely had to try to get her so willing to take her clothes off and give herself to him, and-

...oh. Oh, no, we can't start thinking about that, not now...

It's a good thing Qui-Gon is with her. Even if Edric hatches his sinister plot to intoxicate her, if that is in fact his plan, Master will be with her to make certain nothing happens to her. He certainly wouldn't allow Edric to force himself on her. Even if she wanted it, even if she commanded him to leave, Qui-Gon wouldn't. Of course, he may not stop them from getting close. Maybe by morning, Satine will be committed to stay. Maybe she'll want him even more. Maybe he'll do other things, touch her in other ways that would open her up to him easier later. I'm not a fool. I know what a man can do to a girl like Satine. Quinlan's told me all of it, and Edric is in a good position to take full advantage of her. Intimacy can still occur without penetration, and Satine was so willing...

Obi-Wan, stop it, seriously!

It's not that I'm jealous of Edric. I'm not. Satine's life is her own, and I have no bearing upon it, no claim to her, and one cannot lose what one never possessed. She was never mine, because she isn't some belonging, she is a person, and claim to her can belong to nobody but herself. Which isn't to say I want it! I don't. Satine and I are friends, I believe. Nothing more, and nor shall we ever be. We have our duties to think of, and even if we wanted something more...well, it just isn't possible. I'm to be a Jedi Knight. Such a thing is forbidden to me.

No, what I feel is apprehension. Edric is up to something. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it in the Force. Something here isn't right. This is more than a simple seduction, but I cannot place exactly what. If the desire weren't so thick, if the emotions not so turbulent and confused, if it weren't so difficult for me to look at them without feeling the pull of arousal myself...if Satine...Satine...

She has been on my mind often as of late. I can't allow this. I need to meditate to purge myself of these desires. I can't tell Master Qui-Gon, he is worried enough as it is, and I can't imagine he will take it well if he learns that his fears are very well founded.

Keep her safe, Master. I can't bear the thought of that brute's hand upon her.

Goodnight, Satine...