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.

12. Draboon

AN: OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE.

Been a little while since I updated, but here it is! And it is infinitely long. Really, these things just get longer and longer...

This chapter has what we in the business know as "The Good Stuff" and I know it's what a lot of you have been waiting for. I took some liberties on this one, especially on the matter of freaking venom-mites, since, you know, when researching them, all I have to go off of is "They live on Draboon!" Really? No shit. So...liberties taken.

Enjoy, my lovelies!

Chapter 12: Draboon

"How hard can it be to kill this bitch?!"

The soldier had to duck out of the way to avoid the bottle that flew through the air and shattered on the wall behind him. The others in the room cringed and slowly backed away from the wrathful man on the throne. The last person to fail Tor Vizsla had been shot in the face, and that was for a much less serious offense than what had recently transpired. Chances are, someone was going to die today. Beside the throne stood Pre Vizsla, a look of disgust on his face as he surveyed the soldiers and bounty hunters before them, and at his side was Bo-Katan, frustrated and angry and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

She stopped her fidgeting when the older teenager pulled her against him and nipped at her ear, the girl gasping softly when he moved to mouth at her neck, her hand winding tightly into his pale blond hair, the same shade that so many Mandalorians shared, including her beautiful, eloquent, soulless older sister. Growing up, she had been intelligent, well-spoken, always the beauty that Bo-Katan never was, always the center of attention, despite her frailness, the trait that should have seen her outcast from her family of proud, noble warriors. Instead, she was doted upon by their father, fawned over by their fierce mother, protected by their brother, her weakness nurtured when it should have been reviled. And now, on top of all her natural talents and genetic fortune, it seemed as though Satine was almost supernaturally lucky as well.

It was disgusting.

"You're so tense, Bo..."Pre said, his strong hands kneading at the girl's tight shoulders, and she scowled at him despite leaning back against the tall man. "When this idiocy is over, how about I help drive that tension from you, hmm?"

"That would be perfect," the girl growled, her sharp green eyes focused on the nervous soldiers as Tor Vizsla paced before them, silent and seething and positively furious. "I've been itching to kill some of those New Mandalorian bastards."

"Not the sort of stress relief I had in mind..." Vizsla growled into her ear, his hand laying over the armor that covered her breasts. "But we can go out afterwards, if you're so inclined."

"Pre!" Tor snapped, his furious gaze falling on the teenager and the young Kryze in his grasp, and he quickly let the girl go when he felt himself being scrutinized. "I will tolerate talk of indulging your passions with your woman when there is something to celebrate."

"Y-yes..." Pre stammered, backing off slightly with his head bowed. "Forgive me, Mand'alor, I just-"

"You just nothing," Tor hissed, turning his wrath on the teenager. "You want to impress the girl?" He swept his hand across the air in a broad gesture. "Go out in the city and kill the Cadera leaders. Or better yet, get out there and murder her sister! I would do it myself if I could leave Sundari without losing Mandalore! But I can't." With a snarl of frustration, he dropped into the throne, his hand rubbing his temple to relieve the swiftly oncoming headache. "One little girl..." he growled. "Not even a warrior, a diplomat," he sneered in disgust.

"Mand'alor..." one of the warriors said, stepping meekly forward. "The problem are the Jedi. Satine is safe so long as they-" A sharp, sudden ring filled the air, Tor Vizsla's blaster in his hand before anyone saw him move, and the warrior fell to his knees, a burning hole in his neck from where Vizsla had nonchalantly shot him.

"We are Mandalorian," Vizsla snarled, watching with disgust as the body collapsed upon the floor. "We are the finest Jedi killers in the galaxy, and you dare tell me that the Jedi are a problem?! An aging man and a child! These are the threats to Mandalore?!" His sharp eyes darted around the room, daring anyone to step forward and defend the statement, but nobody moved. "How far we have fallen..."

"It's the weakness of the New Mandalorians," Pre growled, his hand tightening on Bo-Katan's shoulder. "We will reclaim our strength."

"Will we?" Tor snarled, glaring at the teenager and letting loose a short, sharp laugh. "I think not, not with warriors like you in our ranks." He scoffed harshly when Pre looked away, his jaw clenched in anger. "Warriors who would put being inside a girl over killing our enemy..."

"If we summoned our finest Jedi killers-"

"You've yet to kill a Jedi," Tor snapped. "Perhaps I should send you out there so you may blood yourself with a Jedi. Prove yourself a man worthy of leadership instead of a man only good for siring children. Which you've yet to do as well." He reached back and grabbed hold of Bo-Katan's wrist and pulled her forward, the girl torn out from Pre's grasp and settling herself on the arm of the throne, Tor's large hand patting her thigh. "You deserve so much better than the dregs of Clan Vizsla, my dear."

"He'll make something of himself," Bo-Katan said quietly. "Send him out to lead. Cadera has been pushing back our boundaries in the city. Have Pre take it back."

"Perhaps I will..." he said, dragging his hand up her leg. "Make him show us he is worthy of you before I take you for myself." A sly smirk spread across the girl's face, and she glanced back at the fuming Pre as she slowly slid her hand along Tor's broad shoulder, her heart beating faster as she watched rage turn to intense jealousy on her young lover's face. "After losing the Ordo alliance and then losing the dear, sweet Duchess on Krownest..." He growled deeply, his hand tightening on Bo-Katan's leg. "By all rights, she should be dead. If the hunters couldn't kill her, the cold certainly should have. Perhaps she is built from stronger stuff."

"Of course she is," Bo-Katan scoffed, earning herself a glare from Tor that she boldly met. "She comes from a strong, powerful line of warriors. Even if she is not one herself, even if she is dar'manda, she is still the blood of Mandalore. Killing her will not be a simple thing."

"So it would seem..." Tor growled, quietly ceding to Bo-Katan on the matter. "I could do with some good news."

"Then I have come to the right place." The voice came from the open doors of the throne room from a teenage woman in gold and gray armor strode in, her helmet tucked under her arm, her long, black hair braided and falling to the middle of her back. The hunters and warriors quickly parted for the bold, confident woman, her personal guard falling in behind her, and she swiftly bowed to Vizsla when she reached the base of the steps, a sly smirk on her face as she winked at the delighted Bo-Katan.

"Ursa Wren," Vizsla quietly acknowledged. "What brings you to Mandalore? Last I heard you were abandoning the fight on Ordo to defend your home on Krownest."

"Old news," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "As it so happens, Krownest no longer needs to defend itself against traitors." She thrust her helmet at one of her guards and snatched a blue and green helmet from another and tossed it up to Vizsla. "Clan Itera is finished."

"Artus Itera is dead?" Tor asked in disbelief, handling the heavy helmet and turning it over, carefully examining it. The young Wren scoffed and took a tied bag from another of her guards and tossed it up to him as well, the man quickly opening it and looking inside to find the severed head of the former Count Itera.

"Clan Itera is dead," Ursa said firmly, Tor looking her over and frowning.

"All of them?"

"To the man," was the growled response. "They reenforced their stronghold when the Duchess arrived, the entire clan and all their warriors were inside when we. Nobody survived. The Countess, all their sons and daughters, and now Artus himself. All dead." She shrugged. "Except for their son that defected to join me, that lovesick fool."

"And except for Satine and her Jedi," Tor growled, and Ursa rolled her eyes.

"Some things can't be helped, and I'd rather have Krownest purged of the Iteras than a dead Duchess. My loyalty, first and foremost, is to my clan." She shrugged. "And we have made a very strong point about what happens to those that aid Duchess Satine. In time, her support will fall, and soon enough, she will have nobody."

"The war won't end if we kill Satine," Bo-Katan drawled, smiling at her friend at the base of the steps. "But it will end when all the New Mandalorians are dead."

"And so long as she is alive, she will continue to draw new allies to herself," Tor snapped. "She may not be a warrior, but she is defeating us by escaping. Each attempt on her life that doesn't end in her death only brings her more support."

"And so you entrusted her execution to bounty hunters?" Ursa said, laughing when the large, angry men glared at her. "Oh, I didn't think Death Watch was so weakened by our civil war. Manned by boys and old men, if this is who you're turning to."

"And what would you do, Ursa, given my situation?" Tor growled, and Ursa shrugged.

"I'd turn to the ladies. And I just so happen to be available, now that all of Krownest is mine."

"I'm free too," Bo-Katan said, swiftly standing and striding down the steps, quickly clasping hands with the young Countess. "It's been too long since I've seen dear Satine. I think a reunion is long past due."

"No, absolutely not!" Pre snapped, quickly striding forward. "You are too valuable, Bo-Katan, what would happen to our position here if the last true Kryze died on some battlefield!"

"You severely underestimate me, Pre, if you believe that of me," Bo-Katan growled. "Besides, Satine is a bleeding heart. She will not have it in her to kill her own sister. But I do."

"You're lucky to have a warrior as fine as Bo-Katan Kryze committed to your Death Watch, Tor," Ursa drawled. "Gives me hope for the future. She'd be a fine commander."

"In time..." he said thoughtfully, flicking his hand in the air. "Go. Find the Duchess. Kill her Jedi, and bring her to me. And if you must kill her..." He shrugged. "It's no great loss. The body will suffice."

"I'm going too!" Pre said, stepping forward, but was stopped by a sharp glare from Tor.

"You will do no such thing. You will stay here and defend the city, as Bo-Katan suggested, and you will learn something of leadership." He growled, his hands tightening on the arms of his throne. "If you are to lead Death Watch one day, you are to be worthy of it. I will not see some soft, bloodless child lead Mandalore's finest warriors." Pre stepped back, clearly angry, but didn't argue again. "Go, girl. Kill Satine and return to me."

Quickly saluting, the girls pulled their helmets on their head and strode out of the throne room to prepare for the hunt.

---

"Obi-Wan, look out!" The Padawan hissed and pulled the yoke to the side, the ship spiraling out of the way of the flurry of green lines of laser fire from the ships flying in close pursuit behind them. Pushing the yoke forward, the ship suddenly dove, flipping the stomachs of his passengers and he quickly wrenched it sideways again, the flying erratic, but very difficult to follow, which was the plan until the jump could finish being calculated. The bounty hunter ships simply outclassed the ship the Jedi flew.

"You think they'd get tired of this after two weeks of chasing us..." Obi-Wan said through grit teeth, his eyes darting to the navicom and frowning when he saw there was far more time than he had hoped. Just as the ship evened out, he yanked back on the accelerator, the three of them lurching hard against their restraints as the forward thrusters brought them to a swift stop, and six ships shot past them. Obi-Wan quickly reached over and grabbed the forward cannon controls and fired, the rapidly shooting red beams hitting two of the ships' rear engines, causing smoke and flames to rise from the modified armored freighters as they were disabled. Obi-Wan yanked back on the yoke, the ship quickly shooting upwards and flipping around as it dove.

"Or maybe," Satine snapped, "they keep coming after us because you are shooting at their friends like some common criminal! Violence begets violence, Jedi! I thought they taught you that as a supposed peacekeeper!"

"Ha!" the Jedi harshly barked. "Friends, Duchess? No, they are after us because you are worth an insane amount of credits!"

"And I told you to stand down a week ago when they demanded we let them board! We could have reasoned with them!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, should I pull over now?" Obi-Wan drawled with a roll of his eyes. "Satine, the only reason these people understand is credits. You're a walking payroll, Duchess, they don't care about what you have to say!"

"You don't know that!"

"I do because they don't want reason, they want money!"

"Well maybe I should go with them!" the Duchess snapped. "Then all this idiocy can end!"

"Got news for you, Duchess, the war doesn't end when you die, your idiot people will keep fighting it!" Obi-Wan growled. "Only then, they would have no hope for peace!" He wrenched the yoke to the side, sending them leaning into the spin as the ship spiraled to the side, up, down, in loops, all to avoid the new volleys of fire. When he finally righted, the Duchess sitting behind him kicked the back of his seat with as much force as she was able.

"You are flying like an amateur!"

"Do you want to fly?" Obi-Wan snapped, turning in his seat to glare at the woman, his temper finally getting the better of him. "I would be happy to surrender the controls to you!"

"I don't want the controls, I want you to fly better!"

"I am doing the best I can..." Obi-Wan mumbled as he turned back around, his hands tight on the controls as he rapidly accelerated.

"I wonder, Obi-Wan, what's it like to have everything you do never be good enough?" the Duchess growled, and a short, tense laugh from the Padawan saw the ship plummet downwards, flipping and spinning and blazing in twisting, winding patters at top speed through space.

"This good enough for you, Duchess?!" Obi-Wan said through tense laughter, his eyes wild and focused on the streaking green lines across the space in front of them, weaving in an out of them as though they were gates in a swoop race. When he finally righted the ship, Satine was gripping the back of the pilot's seat for dear life, and she shot a nervous, pleading look to the Jedi Master in the copilot's chair.

"Qui-Gon! Tell him to fly better!" Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and did no such thing, instead bringing a bag to his mouth and vomiting into it as he did for the third time that week. The first time they had encountered the bounty hunters on their way to Vorpa'ya to meet with Clan Cadera, the situation had been far more dire than this one, and some clever flying on Obi-Wan's part had seen them to safety, but the evasive acrobatics he preformed saw Qui-Gon embarrassingly empty the contents of his stomach over his end of the command console, and his poor suffering Padawan had spent the next few days cleaning vomit out of the intricate systems and running repairs on the ship's operations. The thoughtful boy had tucked a stack of bags away next to his chair for the next time. And there were many of them.

Satine had been far more difficult than usual since they had watched the slaughter of Clan Itera as they left Krownest. That was saying quite a lot, since Satine was already difficult in the best of circumstances, but now, she was damned near impossible, She and Obi-Wan argued often, but now, it was constantly, their strangely strained relationship becoming something else entirely. Any gentleness on Obi-Wan's part was met with swift and uncompromising harshness, hurt on the Padawan's face plain as day for a few days before he retrained himself to be distant from the girl's moods, which only served to make emotional Satine even worse. They were strained before, but now there was actual tension, and neither teen seemed to know what to do about it, which only made it more tense as their emotions ran high.

And still, Obi-Wan seemed to accept this, angry and upset while they were together, but when Satine stormed off, he settled into a calm, sorrowful calm, his precious Code on his lips as he slipped into his meditations. Conversations with the Padawan showed that Obi-Wan understood Satine's position, knew why she was as upset as she was, even agreed with much of it, but there was something else there, something he wasn't telling his Master. Something beyond the trauma left by watching a girl her age gleefully behead a man that could have been her father, something far past her visceral aversion to violence of any sort.

But the introverted Padawan had fallen silent once again, his words saved for Satine when he was called on to defend himself from her fury, from her accusations of murderer and soldier, both things he firmly fought her on, but privately agreed with. Obi-Wan strove to be a Jedi, a peacekeeper, a student devoted to the Force and all the lives it touched, and he was here in a war he didn't agree with, forced to end lives he held so precious to him in order to complete his mission. Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan badly wished to return to the Temple where there was peace, that each life he took weighed heavy upon him, but he also was learning that there were those that would stop at nothing to kill, and for the sake of peace, for the sake of saving as many lives as possible, those people needed to be dealt with. That was the sacrifice of the Jedi, that was their duty as keepers of the peace, and Obi-Wan would do his duty.

While Obi-Wan's struggles were largely internal, Satine's were extremely external, the girl flying between unstoppable rage and sobbing bouts of depression in the span of seconds, her violent mood swings accompanied by destructive behavior and fits of self-loathing. On one particular difficult incident, Satine had gathered the blasters they had on the ship and marched them to the airlock, ready to dump them into space before Obi-Wan stopped her

"What are you going to do, hit the bounty hunters in the heads with the actual blaster?" Obi-Wan had chided. "That isn't how you use a blaster, Duchess, and I think giving weapons to people that want to kill you is a poor choice. You may not want to shoot them, but they will shoot you." The Duchess had responded by telling Obi-Wan that a murderer could never understand, but she had listened to him and kept the weapons. Qui-Gon found her in her room later welding the settings adjustment, trapping them on the stun setting. She had made threats against the Jedi's lightsabers as well, but those were proving to be much more difficult for the girl to obtain.

And still, there was something else, something deep beneath all the pain and the anger and the bouts of weariness that saw the Duchess wish to turn herself over to the Death Watch just so she could finally have the weight on her shoulders lifted, just so her own death would spare the lives of all those who would have stood by her and protected her. So turbulent and unpredictable were her emotions that Qui-Gon couldn't see what else was eating at her, but he knew it was something, perhaps even something she didn't know was eating at her and pulling her spirit so tight it threatened to break.

The deck of the ship shuddered as they made the jump to lightspeed, and Obi-Wan quickly unbuckled and jumped up from his seat, his hand on his Master's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" the Padawan asked softly, and Qui-Gon nodded slowly, smiling softly at the boy.

"You fly like a maniac, Obi-Wan. A genius maniac, but a maniac none the less." Obi-Wan patted his Master on the back and took the bag from him.

"Fifteen minutes to our destination..." he muttered, shooting a glare at the Duchess before he left the cockpit, the door sliding closed behind him, and Satine furiously undid her restraints, her entire body nearly tying in knots as she threw herself petulantly back in her chair.

"Perhaps it would serve us all well if you did not go out of your way to antagonize our pilot," Qui-Gon said when his stomach settled.

"Perhaps it would serve him well not to spite me by flying like a child!" Satine snapped. "He's good enough to escape without these theatrics!"

"The bounty hunters have faster, stronger ships, Duchess," Qui-Gon quietly explained. "When the tools are inferior, one must rely on skill. And when that fails as well, he must resort to tricks. Obi-Wan is a fair pilot, but many of these hunters have been flying for longer than he has been alive. Experience and skill will outdo a younger, less seasoned pilot, even if that pilot is aided by the Force." He smiled softly. "But there are very few who can out-think Obi-Wan."

"Yes, well, he only thinks he's intelligent!" the girl snapped at the closed doorway, and Qui-Gon sighed heavily.

"Satine, he isn't even here to goad, and I'm not impressed by your moods."

"Of course not, you're a Jedi, you don't feel anything!" Though Qui-Gon didn't react to the girl's vitriol, Satine immediately regretted having said anything, biting down on her lip when she felt tears well up in her eyes, and she quickly turned away from her protector. "I'm sorry..."

"I understand," Qui-Gon said gently. "We watched something horrible happen. These things stay with a person, and you care more than most." The Jedi closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. "You are a gentle soul, Satine. Fierce, to be certain, but also gentle and caring. Your heart beats for your people."

"And now Clan Itera is gone because of me." She gripped her arms and shivered, curling up in her chair and looking so very small, the Jedi frowning when he saw the line of her vertebrae clearly through the tunic she wore. She hadn't been so thin when they left Krownest. The girl must not have been eating. "I led the Wrens there. They came for me." She gasped, her voice shuddering as she took a shaking breath. "They all died because I was there..."

"The conflict seemed a fair bit more personal than that," Qui-Gon gently consoled. "It seemed to be a long standing feud. Did Count Itera not say the very same Wren destroyed the rest of his family? That was before you were in the picture. These are warring clans occupying the same planet. I'm certain the history between them is very long and very violent. They simply seized upon an opportunity."

"Because I was there..." Satine whimpered. "If not for me, I..." Her arms tightened around her as a weak, pitiful sob escaped her throat, and she curled up even smaller. "I should be dead..."

"Satine." She gasped, her wide, wet eyes shooting to the Jedi, the harsh tone startling the sobs away, but it only lasted a moment before she closed her eyes and shook her head, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

"Everyone I have ever cared about, or have come to care about is being taken from me, they are all dying..." she whispered. "W-what's going to happen when they come for you and Obi-Wan?! Qui-Gon, I can't...I can't..." She buried her face against her arms, her shoulders shaking with silent tears. "I should be dead...at least then the people I care about would be safe. They would have all been safe if I just did the right thing and gave myself to Vizsla when he took Sundari..." She whimpered softly into her arms, meek and pitiful and by far the weakest he had even seen her. "I would gladly give my life if it meant they could be saved...and now Clan Itera is gone..."

With a sigh, Qui-Gon stood from his seat, a single long stride carrying him the small distance between them, and he scooped the Duchess up in his arms, the girl tensing when he did, but very quickly grabbed his robes and seemed to try and hide herself within his embrace as she freely, quietly cried against his chest. He was shocked at how light she had become. Satine had always been a thin, willowy, wisp of a thing, but months of eating what they were able, when they were able simply wasn't enough for a growing teenage girl. More than that, there was a frailness to her now that had been absent before, and as he sat back down with the lanky Duchess held to his chest, he thought she may break if he held her too tight. Grief and the trauma of violence on her gentle soul had driven her to the edge, and it seemed that only the slightest push would send her tumbling down into hopelessness.

It hadn't been like this before, and the familiar feeling returned. There was something else, something that had changed within her that he had somehow missed, something that had gone far beyond the constant strain of terror and loss and violence she felt every day. The weight of the lives given for hers was crushing her, and not for the first time, she looked at the accounting and saw the discrepancy, but this time, she saw the massacre, and now, she could no longer find it in her to justify that one life - her life - be worth so many. She was becoming almost eager to pay that due, a part of her craving her own destruction so that no more lives be spent in her name because it wasn't worth it.

She was pushing Obi-Wan away, that much was clear. She was pushing everyone away, going beyond her Jedi protectors and touching the people of Clan Cadera and her other allies as well. It was the only way she knew how to protect these people, and she did it at the expense of herself. It was a sacrifice, an unnecessary one, a damaging one, even, but young Satine was on the edge of breaking and tearing off pieces of herself for the safety of others was all she could think to do to help. Qui-Gon couldn't let it stand, of course. Watching Satine isolate herself from the carefully tended friendship she had with Obi-Wan was damaging not just to her, but to his student and to their mission. Absolute trust was needed if they were going to protect her properly, and in perhaps her own subconscious desire for her own destruction, Satine was very effectively pushing away the people trying to save her.

"All these deaths are for nothing..." Satine whimpered against the Jedi, and Qui-Gon instinctively tightened his arms around her, the feel of her boney arms a reminder of how fragile she was, and he loosened his grip.

"Do you believe your death will stop the violence, Satine?" Qui-Gon asked, and though she said nothing, the quick tension in her back answered the question for her. "It will not. Obi-Wan was correct, your death will yield nothing. The clans will continue to fight and die for control of Mandalore."

"If I am so insignificant, it's wrong that so many should have to die for me!" she snapped, her hands tightening in his robes as new tears fell from her eyes.

"You are not insignificant, your death is," Qui-Gon said, his voice gently but firm, and the Duchess' breath hitched in her chest as she struggled to inhale. "There is no meaning in your death, Satine, but your life holds great significance. Many see you as Mandalore's only chance for peace. That is a thing that a great many people are willing to die for, and a thing many will die to stop."

"I-I am not more valuable than all of those who have died," she whimpered, and Qui-Gon shook his head.

"Not more valuable, no. But as the leader of Mandalore, you bear the weight of all the lives given for you. It would be irresponsible to throw your life away because you cannot shoulder the burden. Do not let their sacrifice be for nothing." He squeezed her slightly when he felt the girl shifting her weight in his arms, his chin resting upon her head. "You will rule Mandalore, Satine. You will see peace. I promise you that."

With a sniffle and a small nod, Satine wrapped her arms around his neck and slowly relaxed as his large hand ran soothingly over her back. It was unfair that such a responsibility fell to such a young girl, unfair that her formative teenage years should be spent in war, a time when she was struggling enough to discover who she was, let alone having to carry the weight of the lives lost in her name and having to run from the millions that called for her execution. She didn't deserve this. Nobody deserved this...

"You don't need to carry it alone, Satine," the Jedi whispered. "Obi-Wan and I are here to help you, let us-"

"Obi-Wan doesn't know anything," she said, her voice muffled by the robes and not nearly so bitter as she was trying to sound, and through the turmoil of her emotions, Qui-Gon could feel the sharp tug, the pull from within her that he couldn't quite place.

"...Satine, I don't know what he's done to offend you, but pushing him away the way you have been-"

"I-I like him." Qui-Gon choked on his words and almost gagged, quickly regaining his composure when the girl began shaking in his arms. She wasn't just conflicted, she was afraid. He should have seen this coming. Of course two attractive teenagers forced to be together would be drawn to each other. Of course the stress and strain of war would make their emotions run high and sens them grasping for whatever comfort they could find. And of course the two dutiful teenagers, strictly forbidden from this impossible thing, would do as was expected from them and run from their feelings in hopes of stopping it. No wonder things had changed between them.

Really, the only thing surprising about this was that it hadn't happened sooner.

"As..." Qui-Gon frowned, his lips pursed as he considered his phrasing. "More than friendship, I take it?"

"I don't want to, Qui-Gon," Satine whimpered. "I know my duty, and I know his. I understand that my life and his are on different paths, that there is no room for romance for either of us, but I..." She shivered and nestled closer to the Jedi's comforting presence. "I can't help it, he's just...s-so sweet and gentle, and he's saved my life more times than I can count." She scoffed softly and swallowed hard, laughing bitterly to herself. "I know it's his duty to do such, but...I don't know, it just feels so...s-so..."

"So right?" Qui-Gon offered, and Satine pulled away from him enough to look at his kind, understanding features and she slowly nodded.

"I can't trust my feelings," Satine said through strained, stressed laughter, sniffling as she held back tears of frustration. "Not after all the mistakes I've made, not after I so badly misjudged Edric, I-" She swallowed hard and looked away from the Jedi, staring instead at the coarse weaving of Qui-Gon's brown cloak. "I know this is just...s-something inside me that wants...y-you know..."

"Has Obi-Wan reciprocated your feelings?" Qui-Gon asked, and the girl swiftly shook her head.

"No," she said without pause. "No, Obi-Wan is...will be a good Jedi. I am his mission," she whispered, a sudden pain in her chest making her keenly aware of the void within her that longed to be filled with nothing but the smart, sweet, infuriating Padawan Kenobi. "I'm nothing more than that..." She kept quiet, though, about the last time they were close, the moment they shared together on Krownest before her world was turned upside down. How sweet and shy he had been, the flowers he had brought her because they reminded him of her, not just for their beauty, but their resilience, and deep inside her, she knew these was something more, knew that he felt the spark between them. She knew it, yes, but she couldn't trust her wayward emotions. She said nothing because that moment was for her, a private, precious thing she would hold close to her and allow it to fill her with warmth when she needed to feel loved and knew she would never be. Not by him, at least.

"I don't know what to do, Qui-Gon..." she whimpered, burying her face in the soft robes crossed over his chest when she felt the tears begin to slip down her cheeks once again. She felt weak. She didn't want him to see her like that. Crying was one thing, an expression of her losses, but this meek, quiet sobbing over a boy she knew well in advanced that she could never have made her feel stupid.

"Is this why you have been so difficult with him?" he asked softly, his long fingers running though the silken strands of her hair.

"I suppose..." Satine muttered, picking at the Jedi's robe to give her something else to fucus on. "I lose everyone I care about...if I try and keep him at a distance, m-maybe I'll like him less. Maybe he can stay in my life, maybe he won't die." The Duchess swallowed hard and took a few calming breaths. "I don't want them to target him to hurt me. I can't bear the idea of losing him..." She laughed sadly and slowly pushed away from the Jedi. "Gods, you must think me so foolish..."

"Not at all..." Qui-Gon said with a small, understanding smile. "I was young once too. I remember what it was like to be infatuated. The feelings you feel are...natural. We are in a stressful, emotionally difficult situation. It's only natural to turn to someone for comfort and strength to get you through it."

"B-but my duties-"

"And his, yes," the Jedi said with a sigh. "You are both quite dedicated to your responsibilities. It's...admirable." The Duchess smiled shyly, and Qui-Gon reached up to wipe the trails of tears from her cheeks. "Is this something that may get in the way of that?"

"He dreams of becoming a Jedi Knight," Satine said wistfully.0" It's all he's ever wanted. He's going to be a Jedi Knight. No, a Jedi Master and I would never get in the way of that."

"His goals," Qui-Gon said. "But what about yours?"

"No, I..." She bit her lip and looked away. "My goals don't matter. I may very well allow myself to love if..." She shook her head. "But his...I won't keep him from his dreams. He's...all that matters..."

"That sentiment is so very Jedi, Duchess," Qui-Gon said softly, though the feeling was not. Poor Satine may have been more infatuated than she knew.

"I-I know you must be worried about your student," Satine said quickly. "Please don't be. He's never been anything but a perfect gentleman, and he's always done his duty, and...a-and..." The Duchess bit her lip in frustration, her hands balling into the fabric of her tunic and wringing it between them. "Obi-Wan is a good Jedi."

"I'm not worried about him, Satine, I'm worried about you," the Jedi stressed. "You are tormented. Look what this is doing to you. You are already suffering because of the war, and your affections for him are making you push him away." She looked away from the Jedi, her lip caught between her teeth to keep it from trembling. "He is your friend, is he not?" Satine slowly nodded, but said nothing. "Please, trust in his abilities to keep himself safe."

"But he doesn't," Satine snapped as she stood and began pacing. "He is terrible at keeping himself safe! How many times has he been shot for me? How many times has he thrown himself before me to act as my shield?!"

"It is his duty, Satine," the Jedi insisted. "You are letting your affection for him alter the way you see him. Above everything else, our purpose here is your protection."

"Y-yes, I know that, but...ugh!" Satine covered her face with her hands and took a few deep breaths to calm herself, but it wasn't working. "I should be better than this..." she muttered. "I am the Duchess of Mandalore, a woman of Clan Kryze, not some sniffling, lovesick, foolish child!" Resolved, she nodded to herself and met the Jedi's gaze again, a faint smile on her lips, but it was clearly not genuine. A politician's smile. "This is just...a crush. That's all this is, just some little girl's foolish fantasy. I'll get over it, so...please don't worry about me."

Qui-Gon was still worried. He couldn't help it. Not just because of the obvious, but because it was his job to defend the young Duchess, and she looked so...broken. As a defender, he felt like a failure. A relationship between the Duchess and the Padawan could only end in pain, and he knew it was right to continue to discourage such a thing, but looking at the crestfallen girl now only made him feel like the thing that stood between her and her noble Jedi's loving embrace, a thing he suspected empathetic Obi-Wan would give her without a second thought.

His student's way of dealing with things was far easier. Obi-Wan would retreat to meditate, would tug on his braid, would immerse himself in the Force as he trained. He was a generally anxious young man, but he handled it well, just as a young Jedi should. Satine was...emotional. Highly volatile in her passions, and she handled her pain not at all. Instead, she didn't eat, as evidenced by her body, and she became reckless and argumentative, turning her wrath on the hapless Obi-Wan because she cared so deeply for him. A part of Qui-Gon wondered if Obi-Wan harbored the same feelings for Satine, something beyond the physical attraction he already confessed to. The rest of him didn't want to know.

The ship shuddered as it exited hyperspace, the blue and white streaks snapping back into the glow of stars, and right on cue, the cockpit door hissed open and Obi-Wan purposefully strode in, ignoring the other two and seating himself in the pilot's seat, his face cold and expressionless, the result of his meditations. Satine silently returned to her seat behind the Padawan, her eyes on his hands as they flew over the console, tapping buttons and swiping across displays, and more than once, the girl tried and failed to initiate conversation with the boy, the words dying in her throat before she could utter a single sound.

"The rear thruster is burned out," Obi-Wan said softly. "I tried to repair it, but the energy converter needs to be replaced."

"Well, maybe it wouldn't have happened if you didn't fly so recklessly," Satine scowled, gasping softly and wincing as soon as the reflexive words were said, and the Padawan looked over his shoulder, his calm expression broken by irritation.

"If I wanted your opinion, Duchess, I'd ask for it," Obi-Wan hissed as he turned back to his work, and Qui-Gon looked back at the girl as she shrank back into her seat, almost as if willing herself to disappear. The Jedi Master groaned and rubbed his temples. Teenagers just made dramatic messes of everything.

"Sounds like we need to set down," Qui-Gon said firmly. "We need to refuel anyway, and our rations are running low, and I am going to take you and Satine out to eat some real food."

"Master, we don't have to, I-"

"You are growing teenagers, Obi-Wan, you need to eat, and you two are far too thin as it is. I won't have my charges waste away under my watch." Obi-Wan stammered for a moment, trying to find an objection, but words were lost on him. "What's the nearest planet?"

"...Draboon, Master," Obi-Wan said quietly, and the Master looked back at Satine.

"Do you know anything about Draboon?" The Duchess shrugged.

"There's not much on Draboon but lapis mines and venom-mites."

"Where there are mines, there are ports. Sounds like our place. Take us there, Obi-Wan." It was a command, and he left no room for debate on the matter. With a reluctant sigh, Obi-Wan punched in the coordinates and grabbed the controls, his previous calm gone completely and replaced with agitation. The Padawan tensed when Satine's delicate hand gently laid on his shoulder, the strong, corded muscle twisting into knots under her touch.

"Obi-Wan..." Satine whispered. "I'm so sorry..." she said in a voice that trembled, and in an instant, all the irritation, all the agitation and bitterness, all the resentment and hard feelings between them disappeared, a small, grateful smile on the Padawan's face as he closed his eyes and laid his hand over hers.

"I understand," Obi-Wan said softly, and with a breath of relief, Satine leaned her head against the back of Kenobi's seat and gently began kneading her long fingers into his shoulder, the tense muscle relaxing instantly. For a moment, the Force pulsed with warmth, a gentle breath of spring wind that cleared the chill of winter and filled the world with life, and for a fleeting instant, to Qui-Gon, it felt like love.

---

After negotiating for a fair price for the parts Obi-Wan needed, Qui-Gon dragged the two teens into a small, humble diner near the city center of Draboon's primer mining town. The town was filled with gruff and dirty miners, mostly human, though through the crowds, they could see Rodians and Twi'leks, the odd Togruta and a variety of other species, most of them sporting prosthetics or large, noticeable scars and amputations, the results of dangerous work within the mines. For the most part, they walked with their heads down, minding their own business, occasionally glancing up to spout profanities at the newcomers impeding their progress on the way to work. If they noticed who the fugitives were, they neither said anything, nor seemed to care.

According to Satine, Draboon was a planet that was mainly governed by trade and commerce, thanks to the valuable veins of high quality lapis that ran deep throughout the ground, a gemstone with absolutely no military value, which made it of little interest to the warrior Mandalorians. As a result, Clan Sharratt, the clan in control of Draboon, were excessively wealthy, but held in low esteem by the other clans. A previous war had diminished the clan so severely that they were still recovering from the devastation, and by clan standards, were still considered small and weak, their enormous wealth used to supply them with mercenary guards to protect them while they rebuilt. It wouldn't be safe, and they were prepared for trouble, but if they kept their heads down, they were confident that they could finish their business quickly and be on their way before the hunters tracked their location.

The diner was small, but comfortable, a screen projecting the holonet news hanging over the counter, the seats filled with miners that quickly scarfed down their lunches before heading back to work, and the trio slid into a booth at the back near a jukebox that cycled through its uploaded songs at random. Obi-Wan pulled his hood back and looked around the room, the disheveled appearance of his tousled, lengthening hair making him easily fit in with the disheveled miners. When Qui-Gon pulled back his hood, Satine nervously followed suit, the decision that three hooded people in the corner of a diner looked extremely suspicious a sensible one, but it made her uneasy anyway. Obi-Wan had been adamant that Satine just had the look of nobility about her, and it was not a thing she could hide, even of she wanted to. Even though it was meant to be a warning to be cautious, Satine found her heart beating faster when he said it.

"The plan," Qui-Gon said after he put in their orders with the teenage waitress, "is to get our supplies when we finish eating, and we'll be on our way after that."

"Provided things actually go according to plan..." Obi-Wan said with a roll of his eyes. "Because it didn't go that way for us on Krownest."

"We ended up vomiting that meal," Satine said, her eyes wandering the diner cautiously as she drew circles on the table with her finger. She gasped softly when a large, four armed Besalisk lumbered toward their booth, and she tucked herself as closely as she could to Obi-Wan, the Padawan smiling softly and draping an arm around her shoulders to draw her closer. The massive creature in the aisle didn't stop walking, but appraised the group before rolling his eyes with an irritated gruff, turning instead toward the jukebox in the corner and punching in a selection before shuffling back the way he came.

"You'll draw attention to yourself if you're so jumpy..." Obi-Wan whispered, twirling her fine hair around his fingers, the silken strands tied back in a simple ponytail, though the shorter strands that framed her face ruined the plainness they had hoped to achieve.

"Can you blame me?" she hissed in response, slowly scooting away from Obi-Wan and trying to look calm, but the tight muscles in her neck made it clear how tense she was. "Last time we were in a place like this, the city was stormed by bounty hunters and we almost froze to death in the mountains."

"Well..." Qui-Gon said as he leaned back. "At least we won't be freezing to death here. The climate is quite agreeable."

"It's too humid..." Obi-Wan said, shrugging off his cloak and his robe, leaving him in his thin white tunic, his robes looping down by his legs where they folded over his belt. "Look at this, I'm already sticking to my tunic..."

"Good thing you left the armor on the ship, you would have boiled in it," Qui-Gon said, drumming his fingers on the table as he looked at the holonet for a moment, then quickly rose. "While we're waiting, I'm going to go poke around. If there's danger here, I want to know."

"Do you sense anything?" Obi-Wan asked, and the Master arched an eyebrow.

"Do you?"

"N-no, I don't...I don't think so."

"Nor do I, but stay alert. We run into trouble most often when we let our guard down." The Padawan nodded, and Qui-Gon turned to go, but quickly reeled back around and pointed a finger at his student. "...make good choices," he firmly instructed, nodding when he felt satisfied with the instruction, despite the confused look on the Padawan's face, and with that, Qui-Gon left to mingle. After a moment of awkward silence between them, Satine wrinkled her nose.

"I hate this song..." the Duchess muttered, and Obi-Wan strained his ears to listen to the music over the buzz of conversation, catching the staccato melody, an arrangement that invoked boldness and empowerment, something he would have thought Satine would appreciate.

"Is it distasteful to you?" Obi-Wan asked innocently, and he flushed deeply when Satine gave him a look that suggested he was insane. "It sounds like something that would fit you, that is all..." Fury crossed over her face for a moment, and Obi-Wan quickly scooted back, his hands raised before him in a gesture of calm and surrender, and the angry girl bit her lip, her eye boring holes into the uncomfortable Jedi.

"...well?!"

"W-well what?" Obi-Wan asked, confused, and Satine crossed her arms over her chest.

"Edric asked you if you listen to music. Do you?"

"O-of course," the Padawan said defensively. "Music is very important to the Jedi as an expression of culture. All art is important to us."

"So what sort of music do you listen to." It was a question, but it sounded like an accusation. Satine was clearly still angry, and Obi-Wan didn't know why.

"All kinds..." he said shyly, flushing as he wiggled back to put more distance between them. "Mostly instrumental pieces." She was still frowning, but the Duchess' shoulders relaxed somewhat.

"So...you listen to just the music?" Obi-Wan nodded. "Not the words?" He shook his head, and Satine pointed back to the jukebox. "So what exactly are you hearing?"

"The melody is bold and empowering, I thought..." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. He swore the nerves were making him sweat, but it may have just been the humidity. "I thought...y-you're strong, and it sounds like strength to me." Slowly, the Duchess grinned, making the Padawan turn an even more fierce shade of red, and he wished he had his helmet with him.

"Sweet Obi-Wan..." Satine said softly, laying her hand on his cheek. "The song is about solus ca'nara pirimmur dala. One time use women." Her smile widened as she leaned in, the Jedi squirming uncomfortably under her gaze. "Taken to bed once and thrown out afterwards."

"O-oh, Force, I am so sorry!" Obi-Wan said, snatching his braid in his hand and frantically twisting it around his fingers. "I-I didn't mean...Satine, I just...I-I don't usually listen to music with words, I thought you were supposed to feel the emotion conveyed in the melody, not-" He stopped when Satine began to laugh, his ears burning as he felt the fierce flush on his face spread down his neck and chest, quietly wishing for a hole he could crawl into and die.

"I imagine the Force is a bit like music, yes?" she asked softly, and the Jedi nodded slowly. "Well, Obi-Wan, in the real world, the lyric is just as important as the melody. The melody may give you the feel of the piece, but the lyric tells you what that feeling is about."

"Like the Living Force and the Cosmic Force, yes?"

"...sure," Satine said slowly. "If you like. Hold on." She climbed over Obi-Wan to get out of the booth and bounded to the jukebox, pressed a few buttons and made her way back. "This is one of my favorites, listen," she said as the music faded out and changed to something else, a much slower, more melodious harmony almost mournful in the rich tones of the tenor instruments, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes listening to the sound carry on the air, the Duchess beside him sweetly humming along, the reverberations felt in his own chest. It felt like sadness, like loss, but there was something distinctly beautiful about it, something in the perfect harmony and melody that spoke to him and filled him with warmth and made his heart beat faster.

"I-is it a Mandalorian song?" he asked softly, and Satine chuckled and shook her head.

"There is nothing beautiful about our music. It's all war chants and rallying cries and celebrations of the defeat of our enemies. This comes out of Coruscant and has been translated into Mando'a by a Mandalorian performer." She smiled broadly. "Who, incidentally, supports New Mandalore."

"You ought to get her to write a song about you..." Obi-Wan drawled, watching the Duchess as she swayed gently with the music. "I'm not sure how this makes me feel. It sounds sad, but it makes me feel..." He laid a hand on his chest and closed his eyes. "It...aches. But I like it. It's very confusing."

"Well, the song is about love, and love is very complicated," Satine said, her nose in the air like she was the authority on the subject. "It's nothing you stunted Jedi would understand. And for the record, the song is a hopeful one. It isn't sad, the melody is supposed to conflict with the lyric, that's the point."

"It seems very Mando'a..." Obi-Wan said softly. "Perhaps we can work music in to our lessons. There is so much I do not know."

"We do have access to a music broadcast on the ship," Satine said as she scooted closer to the Jedi. "I'll see about working it in to our Mando'a lessons."

"I-I'd like that..." Obi-Wan whispered, unconsciously leaning in toward the Duchess, and he quickly jolted away from her when Qui-Gon slid back into the seat opposite them, a cup of caf in his hands that he drank deeply from.

"Bounty hunters," the Master declared, "are in and out of the port all the time looking for some royal with a bounty."

"Really?" Obi-Wan said, rubbing his neck and keeping his eyes off the Jedi Master and watching as the teenage waitress came out of the kitchen with plates in hand, striding quickly towards them. "Any word on if they're interested in help? We're getting low on credits, and the ship doesn't fly on wishes."

"Seems like they were here a few days ago, but have since left," Qui-Gon said, smiling at the waitress as she laid the food on the table, and frowning when he saw how little the teenagers ordered. "The whole point of this was for you two to eat. Who knows when we're going to get our next real meal." He gently laid his hand on the waitress' arm. "Please, tell my companions that they need to eat."

"You need to eat," the waitress said sweetly, her eyes very noticeably running over Obi-Wan, which Satine was very, very fast to pick up on and express her immediate displeasure with a glare that could slay a rancor. The waitress didn't seem to notice. "Warriors need to eat to keep themselves big and strong." She placed her hands on the table and leaned over, her low cut top giving the Padawan a very close look at her nearly exposed, ample breasts, and he swallowed hard as he averted his eyes, the waitress laughing softly when the boy turned a fierce shade of red. "You are warriors, aren't you?" she asked. "I overheard you talking just now. Did you come from the war?"

"In a sense," Qui-Gon said, saving his Padawan from the waitress' leering gaze. "We're looking for work, but it seems like the only thing anyone's interested in these days is the execution of some little girl." Qui-Gon shrugged. "The bounty's good, but the competition is too high. Not worth the effort, and I hear she's putting up quite a fight. Seems like a bad investment, and something about hunting a little girl seems..." He paused and shook his head. "Wrong, I guess."

"My father says the same thing," the waitress said, the tray clutched to her chest as she nodded. "He stood with the True Mandalorians in the last war before the faction was destroyed by Death Watch."

"Yeah?" Qui-Gon asked. "Where does he stand now?"

"In the kitchen," she said slyly, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb to the kitchen where a grizzled, grumpy looking Devaronian stood with a skillet in his prosthetic hand. "His injuries keep him from fighting, and he doesn't believe in any cause for Mandalore but the honorable mercenary, and, you know..." She shrugged. "They're all dead." She waved her hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter anymore anyway. You said you're looking for work?"

"We are," Qui-Gon said and the girl smirked.

"Well, there's always work in the mines, but..." Her gaze drifted over to Obi-Wan again, the boy trying to boldly hold her gaze, but quickly looked away. "I don't think they take pretty boys down there..." A soft whistle from the Jedi Master drew the girl's attention back to him.

"Focus..." Qui-Gon drawled, looking back at his student briefly before turning his attention to the waitress. "My friend here would be very appreciative if you could tell us about any work in the area."

"Oh, would he?" she asked in a low, sultry voice, looking back at the flushing boy for a moment before shrugging and casting her gaze back at Qui-Gon. "You could try going to Clan Sharratt. They're always looking for guards to protect their interests here, and that are very wealthy, so they pay well." With an alluring smile, she looked back at Obi-Wan. "Just be careful if you go, sweet thing. Death Watch has been hanging around trying to get them to fund their war effort."

"Well..." Obi-Wan said, swallowing hard. "Seems like the place for us." A sharp, irritated growl from the kitchen made the waitress grimace, and with a sigh, she took a few steps away from the table.

"I'm off after the dinner rush," she said quickly. "Come see me, it gets so boring around here at night..." With a wink, she sauntered off, and the three immediately huddled around the table, their food pushed to the side and forgotten.

"We need to go," Obi-Wan hissed. "Now."

"How far away is the Sharratt fortress from here?" Qui-Gon asked Satine, and the Duchess shrugged nervously.

"I don't know, I've never been here before," she hissed, her eyes wide and nervous. "Obi-Wan's right, we should leave."

"I'm not so sure," Qui-Gon said softly. "I sense something else here..."

"Well, what have we here..." said a harsh voice, made cold by the vocal modulator of a helmet, and they quickly looked to the door to see six Mandalorian warriors walk into the diner, the stomping of armored boots by the jukebox announcing the arrival of four more through the side door, all of them in the black and blue armor of Death Watch. "Seems the port authorities were right. We've got ourselves a Duchess."

Without wasting a second, Qui-Gon struck on his lightsaber and cut the table's fixed legs, and Obi-Wan flipped the table, pulling it back to wedge it in the corner as they barricaded themselves off from the rest of the diner. Pressing Satine down to crouch under the line of cover and safely behind them, the two Jedi knelt, their lightsabers humming as they peeked over the table, ready to defend their position against the ten warriors in the small, crowded establishment and looking for the swiftest way for them to escape, a task that seemed very difficult without causing casualties, since the miners in the establishment had stubbornly refused to move or abandon their food.

Before the soldiers even had a chance to draw their weapons, an angry growl tore through the air, followed by the sharp, loud snap of a slugthrower rifle being loaded, and a moment later, a cascade of snaps, clicks, and electronic whines followed as every single patron of the diner pulled pistols, blasters and revolvers from holsters, belts and slings and aimed the weapons at the Death Watch warriors. In the tense silence that followed, Satine very slowly poked her head up to peek out from under Qui-Gon's arm at the standoff.

"There's a sign in the window," the Devaronian owner snarled, stepping around from his place in the kitchen to stand behind the counter, his rifle pointed menacingly at the Death Watch commander. "No Death Watch. I don't serve your kind here! Can't you read?!"

"Got a problem with the Death Watch, friend?" the commander said in a soft, menacing tone. The Devaronian seemed unaffected when he scoffed and sneered at the warrior.

"Sure do." The owned spat on the ground and glared at the soldier disdainfully. "You're bad for business."

"Then let us be good for business," the commander growled. "Give us the Duchess, and we'll be our way. Nobody needs to get hurt."

"Duchess ain't on the menu," the Devaronian snarled, the slugthrower snapping as a slug loaded into the barrel. "Get out." The commander looked around the diner at the Jedi, alert and ready with lightsabers drawn, the Duchess barely visible behind them, close to fifty weapons trained on him and his men in the hands of disgruntled, irritated miners who took it personally that this mess was coming between them and their meal and their limited lunch break. The odds were not in their favor.

"Listen here," the commander announced loudly, his finger pointed toward the Jedi and the girl hiding behind them. "That over there is Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore. There is a bounty of twenty thousand credits for her capture, and five thousand for each head of the Jedi scum that protects her." He scoffed softly. "She is dar'manda. It is our responsibility as Mandalorians to rid the galaxy of that bitch."

Not a single miner moved, their unwavering weapons trained on the Death Watch.

"Dar'manda..." the Devaronian growled. "From where I'm standing, that looks like a scared little girl." He raised his rifle to his shoulder and looked through the sight at the Death Watch commander. "We don't want your blood money. Get out."

"Fine," the commander snarled, pointing to his men by the side door. "Kill the Jedi and anyone who gets in your way! Take the Duchess alive!" The Death Watch didn't even get to draw their weapons before the entire diner erupted in gunfire, bullets and beams of plasma flying through the air and piercing through the weaknesses in the warriors' armor, the plasma burning holes and the bullets tearing bloody gashes, and within seconds, all ten Death Watch soldiers lay dead upon the ground.

"Alright, you sorry lot!" the Devaronian called, slamming his still smoking rifle on the counter top. "Break's over. Get the hell back to your shifts." Grumbling and complaining, the miners got out of their seats and stepped over the bodies on the floor, ignoring the Jedi in the corner as they left to return to work. Slowly, as the diner emptied out and the owner came around with a broom and a dustpan, the Jedi deactivated their lightsabers, slowly coming out from behind their cover when the irritated Devaronian began sweeping, his waitress daughter grabbing the dead men by the ankles and dragging them into a pile with roll of her eyes, a bothersome chore that kept her from other work. Clearly, this sort of thing had happened before.

"You," the owner growled when the trio cautiously led the shaking Duchess toward him. "Get out of my diner. You're bad for business."

"Sir..." Satine said in a shaking voice. "T-thank you, I-"

"Don't thank me, girl, I didn't do it for you," the owner growled, spitting on one of the bodies as he swept the floor, frowning when the bristles began smearing blood across the floor. "Girl! Get the mop!" With an irritated groan and a roll of her eyes, the waitress dropped the body she was dragging and disappeared in the back. "I fought for Jaster Mereel in the civil war, for the true Mandalorians, and that bastard Tor Vizsla and his Death Watch killed him." He snatched the mop from the waitress when she brought it to him and began furiously scrubbing the floor with it. "I don't give a kriffing shit for your cause, Duchess, but if the Death Watch wants you dead, you're worth saving."

"Can you help us?" Qui-Gon asked. "If what they said was true, they've been to the dock and probably locked down our ship to prevent our escape. It's likely there are more Death Watch there."

"What part of bad for business don't you understand, Jedi?" the man growled, shaking the mop handle at him. "With a mess like this, I'll have to close for the dinner shift to get the bodies dumped before those assholes come looking for their friends! I might kill men for you, but don't ask me for help." He spat on the ground and immediately mopped it up. "Try the Sharratts. Don't know if they'll help you, but you'll have better luck with them then you will here. There's no love for Death Watch here, but that bounty on your head looks really nice to folks who don't have much. At the very least, those wealthy Sharratt bastards won't be swayed by that."

"Where can we find them?" Qui-Gon asked, and the man rolled his eyes.

"You got a ways to go, Jedi," he said with a smirk on his face. "If you start now, you may get there by the end of the week." Qui-Gon felt the Duchess shiver in his grasp and clutch at him tighter, the tension within her rising to new heights, and he looked over his shoulder at his student to see Obi-Wan kneeling beside the bodies and stripping them of their weapons, strapping blasters to his thighs, clipping them to his belt, and slinging a rifle over his shoulder. He had set several extras on a nearby table for his Master and the Duchess, and when the waitress sidled up to him and began flirtatiously talking with him, he eagerly responded and followed her into the back.

"What direction?" the Master asked, and the Devaronian sighed and wiped his brow.

"Due west. Follow the sun and you'll come to it eventually. They're situated at the foot of a mountain, you can't miss it. You'll be passing through a hell of a lot of mining land and a forest that's more root and rock than trees, but it's not a particularly difficult trek." He shrugged. "Provided you get underground at night. That's when the venom-mites come out, and if you get caught in a swarm, you're gonna die. You see them, you run, find a cave and hide in it and you should be fine." His eyes narrowed when Obi-Wan returned with the waitress, both of their arms filled with packets of dried food and rations, and he gave a small, irritated grunt when the girl teasingly pulled the Padawan's braid. "Hope you're going to pay for that, boy..." His eyes darted to his amorous daughter and he frowned. "Unless you already did..." All eyes fell on Obi-Wan, and he flushed furiously when he realized it.

"She, uh...she wanted to see the Force..." he meekly explained.

"Oh, I bet she did!" the Devaronian snarled, furious eyes snapping to the indignant girl. "So help me, if you exchanged my product so you could see some magic tricks-"

"They aren't magic tricks, Father!" the girl countered. "They're super powers..."

"Alright, I have had enough of you!" he snapped, thrusting the mop at the offended girl. "You three, out now. I'm adding Jedi to my sign out front," he grumbled. "And I'd add Duchesses too if you weren't rich."

"Thank you for your help," Qui-Gon said, pushing Satine toward Obi-Wan, and the boy quickly began handing weapons to the protesting Duchess. "Is there anything we can do to repay you?"

"I'll take the little Jedi!" the waitress shouted from behind the counter, and her father quickly reeled on her, barking in harsh Mando'a before returning his attention to the Jedi.

"Give Death Watch hell," the man growled. "I don't have a stake in this war, but if them losing means you guys win, you had better win."

"We will," Qui-Gon said, pressing a bag of credits into the man's hand, and he grinned broadly when he opened it.

"I didn't know Jedi were rich!" he called after the retreating trio. "I changed my mind, I'm not going to add Jedi to the list!"

---

Obi-Wan ran next to Satine, keeping to the shadows of the large rocks and jagged hills of excavated stone when they could, and sprinting across the open, dusty expanse of the plains when they could, occasionally ducking into one of the hundreds of entries to the mine shafts below when they thought they heard something. As suspected, the port was crawling with Death Watch when they left, and attempting to sneak their way to their ship in the unlikely event that it wasn't locked down was suicidal. The prospect of fighting their way through was an even worse idea. With the city crawling with the enemy, staying was no longer a safe option, but neither was traversing hundreds of miles on foot across land without much cover, so as was their usual, Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan and Satine out of the city to begin the journey to the fortress of Clan Sharratt while he stayed behind to secretly secure aid or transportation.

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, the red sky giving way to pitch black as the humidity brought dark storm clouds in, the air charged with electricity and the damp, heavy smell that promised rain, and the two teenagers pressed harder, eager to reach the edge of the forest that lingered in the near distance. As the Devaronian said, it wasn't much as far as forests went, the land mostly cleared for surveying the quality of the mining grounds beneath, but the sparse trees were large and covered in a thick canopy of leaves that seemed almost purple in the light, and they would offer protection from the rain if they couldn't find cave shelter in the rolling hills. The open mines were far behind them, left long ago as the teenagers ran for the better part of the day with only few very short stops in the shelter they found.

They crossed over from the plains of the mining land and into the forest just as the sun dipped below the horizon to the sound of rolling thunder, the ground becoming rough and uneven with the gnarled net of the superficial root system of the massive trees, which slowed their progress considerably. Still, they jogged while they still had enough light to see, and they only stopped under one of the enormous trees when Satine laid her hand on Obi-Wan's arm, the young Duchess panting in ragged, labored breaths.

"Obi, I can't..." she started, devolving into a fit of coughing as her lungs burned, the Jedi hovering over her and fretting. "I can't run anymore, I can't...I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Hush, Satine..." Obi-Wan whispered, drawing her close to him and leading the girl to the base of the tree at the junction between two enormous roots and the white trunk, the Duchess heavily favoring her right leg, and concern filled him as he did his best to support her. If she had injured herself, their progress would be significantly slowed. "You did well," he said softly, helping her slide to the ground. "Very well. I didn't believe we could go so fast for so long. You are...impressive."

"Yes, well..." she said, a faint smile in her eyes despite the grimace of pain on her lips as she rubbed at her leg. "Not having any food in our stomachs certainly helped. It's nice not having to vomit like last time."

"That it is..." He slid off the rough brown cloak, the fabric tied to function as a pack that slung over his shoulder, and undid it enough to get his hand inside and pull out a ration pack, which he handed to the grateful Duchess, and quickly retied it and returned it to his back.

"Do you think Qui-Gon's alright?" Satine asked quietly as she broke off small pieces of the ration bar to nibble on. "I thought he'd have found us by now."

"You know how these things go..." Obi-Wan muttered, closing his eyes and reaching through his training bond to his Master to find him very much alive and very, very irritated, and the Padawan couldn't help but smile. "He's fine, Satine. He's wet, though, and very agitated. Seems like he got caught in the storm we're going to be subject to."

"Is he close?"

"I..." He paused, breathed deep, and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. He seems...distant. We may be on our own for a little." With a small, weak laugh, Satine curled up against the trunk of the tree.

"It's just like Zanbar. Sometimes he'd be gone for days at a time before we moved."

"Those times weren't so bad, were they?" Obi-Wan asked softly, kneeling beside her. "We got to know each other pretty well in the times he was gone."

"They weren't so good either..." Satine said, her voice low as she winced and drew her knees to her chest. "I dislike being hunted. I dislike all the death and all the killing this war forces me to take part in."

"Y-yes..." Obi-Wan whispered, his finger making circles in the loose dirt. "Yes, of course...I-I'm sorry, that was insensitive..." Satine immediately felt awful, a dull ache beginning in her chest stat stood apart form the burning of her lungs from overexertion. She gently nudged the Jedi, and with a sharp gasp, Obi-Wan fell over, surprise melting into a pleased smile that for a moment, almost looked longing as he stared up at her.

"It wasn't so bad," she gently admitted. "I mean, when it wasn't awful. It was always a pleasure getting to teach you, you're a very quick learner."

"Only because my teacher was exquisite," Obi-Wan said with a sigh, his breath hitching when Satine gently laid her hand on his stomach, a sly smirk on her face.

"I said you were quick, Obi-Wan," she lightly teased. "I didn't say you were good. You've much to learn."

"Teach me..." the Padawan whispered, his voice heady and breathless, far huskier than Satine had ever heard, and it pulled at something deep within her, and for just a moment, she saw desire in her protector's eyes, his expression almost entranced as he looked at her, and she could feel the pooling of her own desire deep in her gut. She had tried to push it aside, tried to deny the feelings she had for him, knew it was doomed to fail, but for that moment, in the second she looked into those blue eyes and saw not the cold, removed Jedi, but the desires of a man, she didn't care.

And then it was gone, pushed away from his expressive face and into the very pit of him, as he did with all his emotions, and she felt her heart sink as reality returned. Until she saw his expression, tight and tense and edged with apprehension, as it always was when he reached into the Force and found something he didn't like. Quickly, the Jedi scrambled to his feet, his lightsaber unlit in his hands and standing in front of the space where the Duchess sat guarded by high walls of wood. The cold laughter that peeled through the air beside the thunder confirmed their fears and set both their nerves on edge.

"Oh, how sweet..." said a thick, malicious voice, a female Death Watch captain stepping toward them with four men at her side. "Looks like love...a shame it ends today." She indicated with her hand to advance, the men slowly began creeping forward, blasters in hand whining as they were charged and devices on their gauntlets humming to readiness, and Satine stood as quickly as she was able and looked at the devices.

"Obi-Wan, those are vambraces," she whispered, pointing to the devices on the gauntlets. "Those were designed specifically to combat the abilities of the Jedi. There are Jedi hunters."

"Only the best for you, Duchess..." the woman said sweetly. "Tell me, why would they leave you with the student when you have a Master to protect you?" Satine didn't answer, and in the silence, she could hear rain softly begin to patter upon the leaves high above them. "I suppose it doesn't matter, they'd die either way." She laughed softly. "I hear Tor Vizsla dispatched two of his best to come and get you. I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they find out I got to you first."

"Obi-Wan..." Satine whimpered, pressing herself close to her Jedi's tense back, the blue lightsaber in his hand igniting. "Obi-Wan, they're trained to kill Jedi..."

"Right now, they're the least of my concerns..." he muttered, his attention on the Mandalorians before him. "Whatever you do, don't shoot!"

"What?!" The woman stared at him for a moment before breaking out into a fit of laughter. "Oh, Duchess, your Jedi is a prize!" She flicked her hand in the air. "Boys, kill the Jedi. Take care not to harm the Duchess, Vizsla wants her alive. Be cautious, he may just be the student, but he must be incredibly gifted to be entrusted with her life!"

The Mandalorians quickly jumped into action, Obi-Wan's lightsaber poised and ready when a grappling line made of yellow energy shot out of one of the vambraces and wrapped around Kenobi's wrists, his eyes widening in surprise as he was jerked off-balance and pulled away from Satine, the Duchess screaming for her knight as he was surrounded by the four warriors. He reached out with the Force to push them away, but his focus was disrupted by another swift jerk of the line that bound him, and he was hit by a blast from a repulsor from another vambrace, a technological mimicry of the Jedi's own Force push, and Obi-Wan was knocked off his feet, his body skidding along the gnarled roots within the ground. He could feel scrapes and cuts and bruises tear at his skin, even under the protection of his robes, and with a gasp of panic, he quickly rolled to the side, evading three successive bolts fired from the Mandalorians' weapons. He rolled again to avoid the next volley and managed to catch the one after that with his lightsaber, but he was never given the opportunity to get up, the constant firing keeping him pinned to the ground.

The loud, high whine of a powerful blaster firing ripped through the air over the sound of the steadily heaver rainfall, followed by a loud, piercing scream as one of Obi-Wan's assailants was shot, the man falling backward and writhing in pain as his body convulsed, the result of a powerful stunning shot from the enraged Duchess. She aimed the weapon and fired again, but this time, they were ready for it, their attention on the girl, and the commander rushed forward, evading the next shot and knocking the rifle out of Satine's hands. The Duchess quickly reached to grab for the pistol strapped to her thigh, only to have the commander grab the girl by the arm and throw her to the ground, her armored boot pressed to her back to keep her down.

The brief distraction that Satine provided was enough to give Obi-Wan a chance to push off the ground and flip in the air, the tug on the grappling line coming too late to pull him back down, but just at the right moment to spin him in the air. Obi-Wan lashed out with his blade in his trapped hands, the saber cutting through the taut line with ease, and grabbed the severed line as he fell with his now free hands. As he touched the ground, he used the momentum from the fall to pull the line back, sending the Mandalorian skidding across the ground to the Jedi's feet, and without wasting a moment, Obi-Wan tore off his helmet and slammed the hilt of his lightsaber on the back of his skull, the man's body falling instantly limp as he was knocked unconscious.

The gasping cries of his name on Satine's lips reached him, and he stared at the remaining three Mandalorians, his focus intensifying as he saw his beloved Satine, his mission, struggling and in pain under the heel of the cruel commander, dirt and tears streaking her face. When the sound of the rain faded, when her screams became muffled and distant, when he heard the buzzing loud in his ears and the warning pull of the Force in his chest that he had felt before, the lazy, hungry humming in the air becoming slowly closer, slowly more lively as it awakened, disturbed by the commotion below. It grew louder with the inevitability of their descent upon them, and Obi-Wan felt in them an opportunity, and he knew exactly what to do.

Swiftly drawing the blaster strapped to his thigh, Obi-Wan aimed and fired three rapid shots, not at the Mandalorians, but into the canopy above. The moment of shock and disbelief of the warriors was just enough for Obi-Wan to push out with the Force, sending the commander on top of Satine flying back through the air to strike the trunk of the tree. Clutching his hands and pulling back, Obi-Wan pulled the Duchess toward him, his blaster holstered and his lightsaber safe at his hip by the time he snatched Satine out of the air and held her tightly against him, quickly drawing his saber again and deflecting the volley of shots fired by the enraged Mandalorians, and when the bolts had hit the hard armor of their chest plates, knocking them back but not injuring them, Obi-Wan gathered Satine in his arms and ran as fast as he could out from under the cover of the tree, the Mandalorians in pursuit as soon as they regrouped.

Slowly, the pounding of the rain was drowned out by the low, angry buzz, the Mandalorians slowing in their chase of the Jedi and the Duchess to look at their unconscious comrades they were leaving behind. They realized too late the change in sound, and within seconds a black cloud descended upon their unconscious friends, thousands and thousands of buzzing, flying insects the size of fists falling upon them, dark red stingers exposed and stabbing through cloth and skin and puncturing armor. They began to scream as the insects swarmed them, and the others looked on in horror as they began to be swiftly devoured by thousands of the hellish creatures, and the three began to run once again, their legs carrying them as fast as they could go after the Duchess and her Jedi when the thick, angry swarm rose into the air and went after them as well.

The hard, pounding rain slicked the ground and made it difficult to see and hear, though it didn't seem to effect Obi-Wan at all, the Jedi's vision clear as he sat entrenched in the Force to give himself the advantage he needed to save Satine. He could feel the three Mandalorians behind them, the lead they had been given slowly diminishing as the three warriors sprinted across the distance, both in relentless pursuit of their prey and for fear of becoming prey themselves. Plasma shots cut through the rain, sizzling as the water struck them and giving Obi-Wan ample time for his quick reflexes to move himself out of the way.

A scream cut through the air as the swarm caught up to the Mandalorians, one of the warriors flailing and swatting and shooting futilely at the insects as they buzzed around him and landed upon him, the vicious stingers stabbing into him where ever the killer creatures landed. The other two stopped and turned to shoot suppressing fire at the black, carnivorous cloud, but quickly realized it was too late, the venom injected into his blood burning and dissolving through veins and muscles and bones. They abandoned him when he collapsed, the swarm eating him alive before it quickly continued the chase.

"Are those venom-mites?!" Satine asked, the girl peering up to look over her shoulder when another scream sliced through the pounding rain and rolling thunder and the low buzz of the swarm. "Obi-Wan, did you disturb a hive of venom-mites?!"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time..." he panted through grit teeth, holding the Duchess closer and restricting her movements. "I had hoped the rain would slow them down..." He pushed off a root, bounding over the uneven ground, and jumped for a rock, pushing off of it and bouncing between stones and roots and trees to keep himself moving as quickly as possible. The ground was mud-slicked with rain, and the tangled web of superficial roots made moving quickly difficult. When the third and final scream cut through the air, Obi-Wan grit his teeth and ran faster. The Mandalorians were dead, and the swarm of venom-mites would be coming for them next.

"The name is very misleading, actually..." Obi-Wan panted through fast, hard gasps for air. "Mites seem to suggest they'd be small..."

"Obi-Wan..."

"I'm just saying that if you have an insect that should be called Venomous Carnivorous Hell Swarm, don't call them venom-mites." He scoffed as he jumped over a particularly large root, landing on the other side and not losing any speed as he continued to run. "Honestly, what is wrong with Mandalorians..."

"Obi-Wan, we are about to be devoured by insects, and you are bantering?!"

"Isn't that the best time for it?" Any response that Satine may have had was cut off when a root caught Obi-Wan's foot and the boy feel hard to the ground, and the Duchess went skidding across the rough, uneven ground, gasping in pain when she felt a sharp rock scrape against her hip and tearing her tunic, and through the rain, she could feel hot blood pouring from a gash in her pale skin. The swarm was upon them a moment later, and panic gripped Obi-Wan as they swarmed closer. Looking at the terrified face of the girl he loved, and feeling pain and guilt grip him when he saw the blood staining her clothes, he reached deep within the Force and begged for the power he needed to save her. He found it, felt the swell of the Force within him surge with power, and he reached up toward the swarm with both hands, fingers splayed, and pushed against everything around them, the venom-mites and the sheets of rain scattered by a fierce, sudden gust of wind as the Force hurled it all back from the Jedi and the Duchess.

It was enough time for Obi-Wan to scramble to his feet and quickly gather Satine in his arms, and once again, the boy was sprinting full speed across the terrain, this time entrenched in the Force to aid his speed and agility, his entire being focused on the life he held tightly to him. Behind him, he could hear the buzz of the swarm, but this time, the sound grew fainter as Obi-Wan's surge of focus allowed him to increase the distance as he outran the predatory insects. He kept close to the hills, his sharp eyes searching for a cave for shelter, the Devaronian's warning about the insects clear in his mind. Run, and head for underground, which was exactly what he planned to do.

He wasn't sure how long he ran, but he knew it must have been miles before he saw the opening in the hillside through the pouring rain, and with a final burst of speed, he rushed toward it, skidding to a halt when his feet touched the dry dirt inside the cave. They stood completely still for a moment, their breaths held as they waited and listened for what seemed like a small eternity, and there was nothing. Just the sound of the falling rain and the occasional roll of thunder. No low, menacing buzz, no sign of the swarm at all. They had lost them.

Obi-Wan gently put Satine down on a smooth rock inside the cave, his hands shaking with worry as he gently tucked a wet, stray lock of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek as he pulled away. He swiftly took off the sling made out of his cloak and stripped himself of his wet robes, his light tunic soaked and clinging to his thin frame, dark spots marring the fabric where blood had soaked through from his injuries. He set himself to making a fire, a task he was getting quite skilled at, the snaking vines inside the walls of the cave that were quickly torn down provided fast and easy kindling, the thick, twisting stems proving to burn both slow and very well.

With warmth and ample light, Obi-Wan sifted through the pouches on his belt and removed a small medical kit, suitable for small injuries, but not for the extensive wounds between them. Through the Force, he could feel an incessant pull, a surge of worry and concern through his bond with Qui-Gon, and he quickly reached back, reassuring him that all was well, that for now, they were safe. His fears at ease, the Master sent him silent encouragement in a warm, soft pulse, and Obi-Wan let go of the connection, his attention drawn to his wounded charge. He knelt before Satine, his hand hovering over her hip hesitantly for a moment before lightly dropping to her thing, his head bowed as he looked away from her.

"I'm sorry..." the Jedi whispered, lightly stroking her thigh, the medical supplies clutched tightly in his other hand. "I'm so sorry..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for..." she whispered. "You saved my life. Again."

"For this..." Obi-Wan said, his shaking hand hovering over the bloody stain on her tunic, and she laughed softly, her heart skipping when he finally looked up at her with worried, wounded eyes filled deep with affectionate desperation.

"I-it doesn't even hurt, Obi," she lied, looking away from the Jedi quickly when she saw the hardened flash in his eyes, the recognition of her dishonesty. His fingers brushed over the wound and he held up the hand with the bacta and bandages.

"May I?" Obi-Wan asked softly, and with a quick nod, Satine pulled the wet garment up to allow him to see the gash on her hip, and with a slight frown, she changed her mind when she shivered in the damp air of the cave and carefully pulled the tunic over her head, leaving her to sit before the blushing boy with her torso nearly completely exposed. It was true that they had seen each other in states of undress before, as their close proximity occasionally demanded it, and Obi-Wan was not always so quick to avert his eyes, unintentionally, of course, while Satine more than once very intentionally allowed her gaze to linger. But there was something different about this. There was something electric in the care of his light touches, his gentle fingers softly caressing her raw, pale skin as he tended the wound, leaving trails of raised goose bumps everywhere he touched.

He kept his eyes focused on his work, not once looking up at the indecent female, though the furious red that trailed down his neck and beneath the line of his tunic showed that he was keenly aware of it, his breath occasionally hitching when the Duchess would shift or move or gasp softly in pain, a quick apology on his lips as those gently fingers slowly pet and soothed the pain away. The gash was deep, and the carefully applied bacta did its work, but the limited medical supplies were hardly sufficient to properly treat it, and while the wound did close, it promised to scar. Satine didn't mind, but Obi-Wan was clearly unhappy about it, the mark a reminder of his failure to keep her from harm like he promised, the guilt plain on his face through his softly whispered apologies.

When he had done all he could, Obi-Wan laid a padded bandage over the treated wound, the sticky adhesive edges clinging to her skin and sealing the injury off to keep dirt and bacteria from entering while it healed. His fingers lightly traced along the edges, making certain it was in place before he allowed his hand to drop away from the girl, his head bowed as he remained kneeling before her, and Satine found herself immediately aching for his touch again. She felt stupid, the foolish whimsies of a little girl allowed to run through her mind when she should have been focused like her protector, but no matter what she did, she couldn't banish the yearning she felt.

"It should be alright now..." Obi-Wan muttered at the ground. "Does it still hurt?"

"Only a little," she said, and the Jedi looked up at her, his entire being warmed when he felt her honesty this time, a soft, beautiful smile on her face as she regarded him, and he couldn't help but smile in return, his eyes shyly averted as his heart began to pound. "What about you, are you injured?"

"Nothing serious," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing we can do anything about anyway, I used up the last of our supplies on you."

"Well, that was short-sighted," Satine hissed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking the Jedi over, only now becoming aware of how much blood soaked into his own tunic. "We should have brought more medical supplies instead of so much food."

"We were in a hurry, and our supplier was a diner. It wasn't like they had a lot of bacta just laying around."

"Well, you ought to be thinking about that the next time we go out," Satine said with a roll of her eyes. "You have a talent for getting injured." A faint, relaxed smile passed over the Jedi's lips as he sighed, the tension in his muscles disappearing. If Satine was joking, she truly was fine.

"As you say, Duchess..."

"...may I see?" she asked, biting on her lip in an attempt to keep the flush from her face, though the burning in her ears was a good sign she had failed. "Y-you're injuries. Just so I may know what you suffered in my defense."

He was still for a moment, simply looking up at her, searching her face for something he couldn't place, and slowly he nodded, looking away from her as he pulled his tunic up over his head, carefully wringing it out to busy his shaking hands, and laid it on the rock beside Satine to dry. The Duchess had grown used to seeing her young protector covered in scrapes and bruises and worse, the boy more often than not using his own body to absorb a ridiculous amount of punishment, but her chest ached every time she saw it, and now was no different. She gasped softly, her hands covering her mouth to hide how upset she was, since she knew how it upset Obi-Wan, though from the way his hands balled tightly around the fabric of his pants, it was almost certain that he had felt her distress. She could almost see his clever mind running in circles of self-deprecation for causing her stress.

She had seen far worse on Obi-Wan before, the most notable after the escape from Ordo that she was certain had nearly claimed his life, even though neither Jedi had said it was something to worry about. But it was still bad, long, oozing scratches running across his ribs and abs and dark bruising running down his body like spilt paint from each one. On his back was a deep, bloody gouge that was every bit as Satine's own wound, if not far worse, and on closer examination, several more marred his sides where he was dragged by the Death Watch soldier. She knelt before him, the boy refusing to look at her and shivering when she gently ran her fingers over the bruising, keeping clear of the bleeding open cuts, frowning when she saw them contaminated with dirt and granulated stone.

"Wait here," she said, running her hand along his jaw line, a shiver running up his back as she touched him, and Satine got up and grabbed his tunic from the stone and walked swiftly to the mouth of the cave and held the cloth out in the torrential rain. When she turned back inside, the Jedi was looking at her with a with a frown on his face, his intense gaze seeming to look right through her, and when she knelt before him again, Obi-Wan took her arm and turned her around, the Duchess looking over her shoulder and shivering when Obi-Wan ran his fingers down her back, the space between her shoulder blades tender when the Jedi touched it.

"You're bruised..." Obi-Wan said morosely, and Satine knocked her hand and quickly turned around, laying the wet cloth on the scratches on his chest.

"It must be from when that woman stepped on me," she muttered, gently dabbing at the wounds on her Jedi and carefully cleaning them until the scratches and gouges glistened pure red and pink, clear from any of the dirt and grime that had tainted them before. They said nothing as she tended to him, the Jedi occasionally wincing when the cloth dug a little too deep, his skin prickling in the places she touched him, and when she had finished, she sat back on her heels and smiled, her eyes stealing a quick glance at his bare torso and appreciating how strong he was beginning to look.

"We have the worst of luck, don't we?" she asked, breaking out into a bright smile when Obi-Wan shyly looked at her.

"Is the luck so bad?" he asked, and the Duchess laughed softly.

"Uh, chased out of another town," she said, counting on her fingers. "Almost killed by Jedi hunters, almost eaten by killer insects, stuck in another cave for the night. And it's raining."

"Maybe so..." Obi-Wan softly agreed. "But if we're going to be enduring all of that..." He shifted from side to side, his eyes cast at the ground as he tugged his braid. "Well...there's nobody I'd rather have at my side than you."

Satine could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she looked at him, her shy, sweet, beautiful Jedi protector, a faint, warm smile on his lips, his eyes respectfully averted, his perfect, toned body marked with scars and wounds he got in defense of her, his braid wrapped tightly around his fingers in that endearing nervous habit of his. His damp hair was plastered to his forehead, the short cut he sported when she had first met him gone, the golden strands grown to an appealing, attractive length long enough to thread her fingers through. Looking at him like this in the light of the fire was enough for her to forget how little she was wearing, and she scooted closer to him, feeling the boy's breath hitch as she laid a delicate hand on his chest.

She thought about her duty to Mandalore, to her suffering people, how they deserved her full attention and dedication, and would until the end of her days. She remembered her promise to Qui-Gon, her assertion that Obi-Wan was a good Jedi, and he was, about how she had told the Master that he had nothing to worry about. She saw the dead of Clan Itera, felt each and every one of their wasted lives weigh heavily upon her, crushing her under the responsibility of seeing the hopes of the dead fulfilled, the monumental task of remaking Mandalore laid out before her, and looking upon it felt like eternity. Her life was not her own, born for the people of Mandalore to serve the people, to see them safely into a new world, and with so many dead clinging to her soul, it took more than she had within her just to stay afloat, her entire being dedicated to her people.

She decided, for once in her life, to not care about any of it and do something for herself.

Even if it was just this once, even if she never did a single thing for anything but Mandalore for the rest of her days, even if she threw a wrench into what was a beautiful friendship in her selfishness, she decided it was worth it if she could have just this moment. He heart pounding wildly, she rose to her knees, her weight supported by the hand on Obi-Wan's chest as she leaned in and lightly pressed her lips to his.

It was a chaste kiss, and she could feel Obi-Wan suck in a sharp breath just before their lips touched, his chest still as he held his breath the short time they were connected, and after a moment, Satine pulled away, her face burning in embarrassment and hardly able to believe how bold, how foolish she had been. But she held by it, refusing to look away from the Jedi, committed to facing the consequence of her action because she had no regrets for her first kiss being with her Jedi protector, nor did she regret stealing what she knew was his first as well.

Obi-Wan looked stunned, the boy completely still, his eyes wide and his breath held as he looked at her. Even his heart had seemed to stop beating, and for a moment, Satine had thought she had perhaps broken the poor, repressed Jedi, but still, she refused to look away from the stunned boy, simply waiting for him to do something, anything. In an instant, something seemed to break behind those blue eyes, his carefully crafted walls he hid behind crumbling to dust, allowing passion and desire and longing to shine through with such intensity that Satine could almost not breathe herself. Under her hand, Satine could feel the Jedi's heart suddenly jump, beating so fast it nearly hummed, and a desperate, keening whimper escaped his throat as he leaned in and kissed her, as swift and as chaste as the one she had given him. For just a moment, they looked at each other as their skin turned fierce red, and the next time they leaned in, they met halfway.

The kisses they shared were fast, almost frantic, becoming longer and deeper as they began to relax and as hands slowly began to wander, caressing cheeks and necks and sliding into fine hair damp from the rain. When Obi-Wan's hand lightly brushed Satine's hip and gently settled upon it, a soft moan from the girl saw her climbing into his lap, her legs straddling his hips as his arm snaked around her waist and drew her closer. Lips slowly parted underneath the movements of the other, and while neither teen had any idea what they were doing, the quickly figured out which touches made the other gasp or squirm or moan, and when Satine darted her tongue out between her teeth, the compliant Jedi melted into her and dutifully parted his mouth to allow her access. They only parted occasionally to breathe, coming together again quickly after with a chorus of soft whimpers and moans as they clung together, almost afraid that were they to stop, the moment would be over, and they would return to what they were before, when everything was about the mission, when they were dutiful Duchess and steadfast Jedi.

Eventually they did part, their eyes closed and their foreheads pressed together as they struggled to catch their breath, they hands in hair and holding hips and gently stroking bare skin, the two keenly aware of how little clothing existed between them. Slowly, Satine opened her eyes, worried she would find shame or regret on Obi-Wan's face, only to find the shattered look of desperate, innocent longing, a look she had never seen from anyone. She knew passion and desire and lust, all things every Mandalorian knew well, and that was certainly present within her Jedi, but it was buried under something far more pure and meaningful. She couldn't help but wonder how long Obi-Wan had felt this way, how long he kept this bottled up inside him with the intention of never letting it see light, and if it had been as long as she had kept her own feelings secret.

Satine meant to push away from him, to give herself distance to catch her breath, to allow her heart to slow before it burst, to let the warm churning of desire deep inside her abate, but when she moved to press back on his chest, she found herself slipping her arm around his neck, a whimper in her throat as she kissed him again, deeper and more insistent this time than she had before. Obi-Wan eagerly responded, drawing her closer with a deep moan that reverberated in his chest through the Duchess and sent waves of heat right to the core of her. They quickly lost themselves in each other, surrendering to the feelings between them that had been kept tightly contained for so long, and with the dam broken, there was no stopping the flood they found themselves caught in.

They only patted when each felt the arousal of the other, Obi-Wan through the blazing hot pulse of carnal pleasure through the Force, and Satine through the hard, straining bulge in the Jedi's pants pressing against her. With the return of reality came their inhibitions, their shyness and their forgotten modesty, nervousness overtaking the drive for intimacy that their raging hormones demanded, and Obi-Wan's arm slowly released the hold on her waist, Satine slowly, almost reluctantly sliding off his lap. They quickly turned their backs on each other, each taking deep, slow breaths as they attempted to force their bodies to comply with the demand for calm, and they reached behind each other, quickly finding the other's hand, and gently grabbing on, a comforting, understanding gesture meant to assure the other that they weren't alone.

Slowly, the two teenagers calmed, their ragged breathing slowed to shuddering breaths, their arousal faded to burning, pleasurable memory, though they could still feel the burn of the other's touch upon their lips and bare skin. Under control once again, their hands tightly clasped together, the Duchess and the Jedi turned to face the other, neither certain of what to say or how to say it, the two teens staring awkwardly at the ground as they slowly realized the importance of the responsibilities resting on them, the weight of what they had done, and the line they had so carelessly crossed.

"Satine..." Obi-Wan started, swallowing hard and his hand tightening around hers. "We-"

"I don't care!" the Duchess said firmly, far stronger than she knew she felt, her hand coming to rest on Obi-Wan's cheek and urging the Jedi to meet her gaze. "Come what may, I don't care." She swallowed hard, averted her eyes for a moment before looking back at him. "D-do you?"

"...no..." Obi-Wan whispered breathlessly, a faint, adoring smile on his lips, and together, the two teenagers laid down next to each other by the fire, their fingers interlocking and their foreheads gently pressed together, though they were careful not to allow their bodies to touch, delighted in the warmth of emotions between them but fearful of taking it further. It didn't take long before exhaustion and the warmth of the fire and the shared connectedness between them lulled Obi-Wan and Satine into a deep, restful sleep.

---

Reflection.

There has been a change in the Force. I can feel it. Right now, at this very moment, something has changed within my student. I've tried reaching out to him, but he is closed off to me. Sleeping, maybe, but there's something more, something just out of reach that I can't quite...

I know exactly what it is, of course. I'd have to be blind not to see it. Obi-Wan must think he is so clever in hiding it, but I can see the deep affection he holds for Satine, and with the Duchess' confession this morning, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Really, the moment we set foot on Mandalore, something like this was bound to happen. It had to. As I told the Duchess, this situation is emotionally very difficult, and bonding so closely with someone will lead to this sort of thing. It's only natural that these feelings would develop. Great trust breeds great love, and Obi-Wan and Satine exhibit both for each other, and have for some time. Despite my warnings, despite their responsibilities, despite the knowledge that as soon as this mission was over, they must part...

Honestly, what was the Council thinking?! Sending an anxious, uncertain, teenage Padawan into a high-stress situation like war to guard a beautiful, scared, lonely girl his age. This is cruel and brainless, even for them. I don't understand. Did they believe that the example of my own love and loss for Tahl would prove to be a sufficient deterrent for my student? Did they think my own brush with the Dark Side would scare Obi-Wan away from these feelings forever? Do they think him so strong and so dedicated that he could resist the sway of love when a beautiful woman laid it at his feet? He is not a droid. My Obi-Wan is a kind, compassionate, empathetic boy who feels deeply for those around him. Furthermore, he is a teenager! What teenager in the history of the Jedi Order has been a perfect, shining example of what a Jedi Knight should be?!

Sweet Force, what am I supposed to do? I know what's expected of me. Remind Obi-Wan of his duties to the Order, tell him that he is not to become attached, remind him that such a thing can never be, that he and Satine are on different paths that only intersect now and never will again once we depart. I'm supposed to remind him about the dangers of love, about how its loss can so quickly lead to darkness. I'm supposed to help him master his feelings and release them into the Force, so he can learn to feel them as a transient state of mind, one that visits him briefly and then vanishes in the next moment.

But I remember what it felt like to be in love. I remember how strong Tahl made me, how complete I was in those few, precious moments we knew how much we meant to each other. And even with how it ended, even knowing how far I fell, I cannot find it within myself to regret it, not for a single moment. Even knowing the outcome, I would do it again, were I given the chance. What we had was fleeting and beautiful, a lifetime of friendship that grew into love over time, and no matter how terribly it ended, nothing can take away all the good that came from having known and loved her.

I confess, I am still uneasy about this. I wish to spare Obi-Wan any pain I can, and the outcome of this romance is already predetermined to end with the war. Nothing can change that, and nothing will stop it from hurting, and my Obi-Wan is a gentle soul. I want to protect him when I can, and the best way to protect him now is to make certain he keeps his emotions in check. But then...

Is this not the will of the Force? I know the idiots of the Council sent us here under the assumption that my teenage student would somehow not fall in love with a hot teenage Mandalorian, but now that we are here, could this be the workings of the Force? Could this be a test of his dedication to the Jedi? Could this be a way to expand his horizons, to make him more understanding by experiencing the depth of emotions that those he is meant to protect feel? A Jedi cannot truly be compassionate if they do not understand the feelings that run strong through life itself. Really, distancing ourselves from them may be a fallacy. Our strength must lie not in our ability to remain passionless, but in our ability to feel deeply and let go when the time is right. Perhaps this is the lesson that Obi-Wan is meant to take away from his time here. Perhaps this will be what transforms him from boy to man. Perhaps it isn't war that will shape him, but love.

So help me, though, if I catch the two of them together, that boy is going to hear about it, and I will be looking. If that secretive little shit thinks he can hide things of this importance from me, he has another thing coming. I am, of course, obligated to object to this, since I do object to it, but teenagers will be teenagers, and who am I to get in the way of the will of the Force. Or the will of hormones, as it were. Still, if I find them en flagrante delicto, the Force itself won't be able to save that boy. Dooku wasn't easy on me, and I see no reason why I should be easy on him. The lesson must be taught. If you're going to break the Code, be kriffing smart about it.

I sincerely hope it's not as bad as I fear. Please, Obi-Wan, make good choices.