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.

13. Sharratt

AN: Alright! Done it! Now, I'm probably going to up the rating on this fic pretty soon. You guys seem to want things to get heated, and I'm starting to write it. And by soon, I mean now. Congratulations you guys, this fic is now M and all bets are off. Yikes. Hooray for adult content! Hooray!

Chapter 13: Sharratt

"You lied to me, Obi-Wan."

The silence of the brisk, clear morning was broken by the pleasant, musical Mando'a of Mandalore's Duchess, and the sudden nose broke the Jedi's focus, the teen dropping his lightsaber in surprise and he reflexively reached out to grab it, only for his fingers to pass through the blue plasma blade. With a yelp, he quickly drew his hand back, clutching it to his chest as the hilt clattered to the hard, dusty ground, the weapon hissing off as it fell, and Obi-Wan quickly looked over to the softly laughing Satine as she sauntered over.

The early morning sun broke put over the horizon, filtered through Draboon's distant, massive trees and the persistent dust that hung in the air, making the Duchess' pale hair almost seem to glow as it draped over her shoulder. She wore Obi-Wan's thin white tunic, now stained tan by dust and dirt, the garment cinched at the waist with a length of corded rope, the pants she wore cut at the knee when the full length became both restrictive and far too hot in the blazing heat of the planet's long days. Despite the dirt and the heat and the plainness of her clothing, Satine looked radiant, so unspeakably beautiful that the Padawan had to avert his eyes, as he found he often had to do with the Duchess now that things between them had...changed.

It had been two days since that night in the cave when they had made clear in no uncertain terms that the attraction between them had become something much, much more, something beyond their constant bickering, beyond their casual flirtation, beyond their completely unnecessary Mando'a lessons. Regardless of the circumstances, they found themselves simply wanting to be near each other, and they found any excuse they could to do just that. Flirting and fighting and the mission all made that possible, but after that night, they found themselves unable to hide behind their thinly veiled excuses.

They awoke that morning and said nothing of the night before, quietly shared breakfast and kept their eyes averted, almost afraid that eye contact would force them to confront what had happened the night before, what they had become to each other, that they were more than just Duchess and Jedi, protector and charge, far more than friends. They weren't ready to decide what they were to each other, what it meant for them to be together, what they were sacrificing to be so. It was all too frightening, too uncertain, too much for them to deal with in addition to the fight for their lives they faced daily. So they said nothing, got ready in silence, and were out just as the sun was rising, running across the sparse and dusty forest toward the west, just as they were instructed.

They said little to each other, easily slipping back into their roles of royalty and defender as they spent the day running from cover to cover, stopping only when the sun began to set and they had found proper cover. There was no sign of Qui-Gon, though Obi-Wan could sense his presence, his frustration, his struggle as he fought, keeping to the mines and scouting for information, allies, anything that could be of use as he ran after his apprentice. Though the Master wasn't seen, his presence could be felt, and Obi-Wan knew that they encountered no resistance, no hunters, no Death Watch because Qui-Gon was drawing attention to himself, allowing the teenagers to cross the land for Clan Sharratt with only the wilderness to impede them.

The evenings found them silent and alone by the fire as they ate the meager berries and nuts they could scavenge, and despite their hesitation and fear and reluctance, each night they found themselves in each other's arms, the Duchess' hands running over the Jedi's sunburned shoulders as they kissed, gentle and careful and beautiful, just like the boy that held her. Like the first time, they steadily grew more and more passionate as they drew closer, soft gasps and desperate moans in their throats spurring them onwards, though their passion was more a carefully stoked flame than the raging blaze of before as they touched and caressed, hands wandering as they hesitantly explored each other. They never got beyond long fingers tracing the strong, lean muscles of the Jedi's stomach, or callused palms stroking the Duchess' thin, curved waist before the gentle scraping of fingernails against sensitive skin or an accidental brush just too low would send them plummeting into maddening arousal and they would be forced to separate, the intensity frightening to the two teens back into their hesitation.

For two days, they went on like this, two days of silence punctuated only by the soft moans and breathless gasps as they drew closer and more curious, throwing caution to the wind in the absence of the Jedi Master, their duty and their responsibilities seeming so far away in the dark of night. Predictably, though no less embarrassingly, Obi-Wan had awoken early that morning, far before the sun began to light the sky in a flushed, panting state, his body heightened with arousal from the dreams that plagued him of bare, exposed pale skin and the moaning of his beautiful Duchess, the vision of her too real, the feel of her beneath him as he thrust within her too vivid.

When he was pulled into consciousness by the aching need deep within him, it took a moment for the dazed, aroused boy to understand why Satine lay so far away from him, and it took everything within him to resist the urge to crawl over to her and lean above her as he finished himself off deep inside the girl. With his sense returned, Obi-Wan felt a deep, burning need to purge the lust from his blood as shame and embarrassment asserted themselves, and with as much willpower as he could muster, he left the cave to sink himself into his long overdue studies, his lightsaber in hand as he walked through the katas he was in desperate need of practicing. Even then, the memory of his dreams seemed to haunt him, so real, so visceral were they that he thought they may actually be visions, a thing that both repulsed him and made him yearn to see them fulfilled. He did everything he could to forget the feel of the Duchess around him and before long, the meditative state he found himself in had cleared his body and mind, allowing him to focus on the Force and the blade in his hand.

Which is exactly how Satine found him hours later, and of all the things she could have said to break their two day silence, she said that.

"E-excuse me?" Obi-Wan gasped, clutching his hand and feeling the red welt already forming from the touch of the low powered blade. He finally made eye contact with her, his gaze locking with a crystal clear blue he couldn't look away from, his heart seeping to pound in his throat as she sauntered closer to him, the boy suddenly hyper-aware of his shirtless, sunburned chest and how perfectly his tunic clung to the girl's curves and lines.

It was all terribly unfair.

"You lied to me..." Satine said again, slower this time as she reached out and dragged a long finger lightly down his chest, the feeling of it against his sensitive, sunburned skin making him shiver. "You said that you didn't dance." The single finger became a full hand as she pressed her palm against his heart, a slight, excited smile on her lips when she felt how hard it was beating. "But I've been watching you for a little while now, and your work with a lightsaber is dancing."

"Don't be ridiculous, no it isn't!" Obi-Wan protested, a deep flush on his cheeks that came from more than just the harsh touch of the sun on his fair skin. He broke eye contact with the lovely girl as he knelt down to pick his lightsaber off the ground, his fingers running over the smooth, chrome hilt just to give him something to look at other than the object of his affections. "You should hate everything about it, it's combat practice, it's a sort of moving meditation to bring us closer to the Force so that we might...what, why are you staring at me like that?" he asked cautiously when a sly, triumphant expression lit up the Duchess face, the girl reaching up to run the Padawan's braid through her fingers.

"Your footwork is graceful, your blade work beautiful, instead of music, you listen to the Force to guide your movements..." When the Jedi modestly looked away, Satine cupped his cheek, her thumb running along his jaw line, and with a soft, desperate whimper, Obi-Wan leaned in to her touch. "My sweet Jedi, watching you is like looking at art. Believe what you will, but you are...dancing," she said playfully, tapping his nose. "And I want you to teach me."

Obi-Wan stared at her for a moment, unable to find his voice or any words, hopelessly distracted by the finger twining around his braid, the light brush of her body against his, her sun-flushed cheeks, the breathtaking beauty of her eyes as they caught the morning light. She waited patiently, and eventually Obi-Wan managed to squeak, "You want me to teach you how to use a lightsaber?"

"N-not how to fight!" Satine quickly corrected. "Just...just the motions."

"...for dancing," Obi-Wan slowly drawled, and the girl flushed and nodded, staring at the lightsaber in his hand and very, very slowly took it from him.

"Just...try it again but without the lightsaber and you'll see what I mean," Satine pleaded, the saber hilt clutched tightly in her hands, her eyes wide and bright, and the Jedi didn't stand a chance. With a sigh, he slowly backed away from her and assumed the ready stance, his eyes closed as he centered his focus.

"Just so you know, I feel very foolish," Obi-Wan announced before he took a deep breath and did as the Duchess asked, his movements slow, graceful and precise as he lost himself in the familiar steps, the kata without his blade no different than if ha had it held in his hands, and before long, he fell into smooth, even movements, flowing from one motion to the other with instinctive, practiced steps, his open hand mimicking his lost blade. A soft shuffling beside him drew him out of the moment, his foot mis-stepping slightly, and he hissed in irritation, could feel his chest tighten with the familiar disappointment of his perfectionistic inclination, and when he opened his eyes, he forgot all about his annoyance with himself when he saw Satine beside him, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to follow along with the Jedi.

"This is much harder than it looks..." Satine muttered when a wide grin spread across Obi-Wan's face, her eyes cast toward the ground when she felt her cheeks burning under his gaze, and she quickly looked up, her body tensing when she felt the Jedi behind her, his hands gently clasping hers and his chest pressed lightly against her back. It was all over for her when he pressed his lips against her neck, her knees feeling weak as she leaned her weight back against him.

"We're avoiding what keeps happening between us..." Obi-Wan said softly, shivering as he felt the girl move against him. "I know we have our duties, I know we are both forbidden from this but I...can't deny that I have feelings for you."

"What kind of feelings..." Satine reflexively asked, shivering when she felt the boy's uneven breath on her neck.

"I don't know, I've never felt this way before..." Obi-Wan said shyly. "I thought maybe we could find out together."

"I'd like that," Satine sighed as she leaned her head back, the Jedi very quickly taking the hint and pressing his lips against hers.

"We can't tell my Master," Obi-Wan whispered as they parted.

"We can't tell anyone," Satine quickly responded. "If the wrong people found out what you meant to me...gods, Obi-Wan, I don't even want to think about what they'd do to you just to hurt me."

"I won't let them..." the Jedi quietly reassured her. "It's alright. This can be our secret."

"Even if nobody ever finds out, this cannot last," Satine whispered. "When this war is over, you and I must part ways." She swallowed hard, forcing back the sudden lump in her throat. "My life will belong to Mandalore, and yours to the Jedi. There's no escaping that."

"...I know." He pulled her closer and breathed deeply, the floral scent of her hair invading his senses, a welcome respite from the humid heat and dust of Draboon's air. "My Master is always going on about trusting your feelings, and my studies of the Force constantly remind me that everything is transient, all things stemming from the Force must one day return to it." He quickly kissed her neck again. "All the more reason to treasure our time together, yes?"

"I was about to say the same thing," Satine said with a bright, easy smile before she paused, her nose wrinkling as a thought crossed her mind. "Well, not exactly the same. Oyacyir guuror gar kelir ash'amur nakar'tuur."

"Live like you will die tomorrow," Obi-Wan sighed. "You know, there's something starkly beautiful about your people, Satine."

"I know..." she said grimly, her fingers tightening around the lightsaber despite the comforting touch of the Jedi's hands upon hers. "All the more reason we must end this war. We need to preserve what life we can."

"Yes..." Obi-Wan pressed his lips to the Duchess' neck, laying languid kisses on her soft, pale skin until the tension left her, the girl relaxing against her with a soft, breathless moan, and when he felt her body relax completely, his hands moved over hers and activated the lightsaber, the weapon hissing on and thrumming in the air, her eyes focused on the brilliant blue glow. "I fear I'm not so good a teacher as you," the Jedi said softly, moving her hands to assume the ready position for the most basic of the lightsaber katas. "But I shall do my best. We'll move slowly, try your best to move with me."

"You know," Satine said slyly, looking back at the focused Jedi behind her, "when I imagined myself moving together with you, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind." Grinning as the Jedi seemed to choke on the very air he was breathing, Satine leaned up, kissed the pit of his neck, and slowly began following his motions when he had recovered his senses, allowing him to move her arms and the blade she held in slow, sweeping motions while she shifted her weight and moved his feet as he did. It didn't take her long to learn the movements, the graceful, elegant steps coming easily to her, and before long, Obi-Wan released her, took a step away and preformed the motions beside her, the two teens moving in nearly perfect unison as they walked through the kata.

They quickly became lost in the graceful motions, slowly moving faster as they became more comfortable with both the steps and each other. Obi-Wan watched her, his eyes fixed on the glowing blade, her light, graceful step, the elegant flicks of her wrist, far too practiced, too perfect to be the work of someone unfamiliar with a blade. She was brought up in a warrior culture, was a devastatingly good shot made even more impressive by the accuracy with which she shot only non-vital points on the body. Of course she had training with other weapons, and Obi-Wan wondered exactly how good she was with a blade. It was unlikely he'd ever find out, but she was beautiful with his lightsaber in his hand, just as she was beautiful in everything she did,

The subtle shift in the Force alerted him to the presence he suddenly felt drawing swiftly closer to them, worn and irritated and on high alert, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile, stopping his own motions as he watched Satine continue, the girl lost within herself and the gentle thrum of the blade in her hand, a personal and private thing that he was fortunate enough to be a part of. It took her a moment to realize her partner had stopped and was staring, an adoring look on his face as he followed her steps, and without stopping, she gently smiled at him.

"You see, Obi?" her tone light and playful as she swept the saber in a spiraling circle around her. "Dancing."

"Perhaps when you do it," Obi-Wan said gently. "I fear it isn't quite so artful when I do it, I'm not so sure-footed as you."

"Absolute nonsense, you just don't see yourself."

"Thank the Force for that, I may die of shame."

"Is that why you stopped, my Jedi?" Satine asked, spinning the blade around her hand, the weapon blurring in the air ever so slightly, and Kenobi shook his head.

"No. I sense Qui-Gon. He's on the way."

"Or he's already arrived," the deep, out of breath voice said, and both teens swiftly looked up to the rocky overhang to the entrance of their cave to see Qui-Gon, the Jedi Master bare chested, his robes hanging unceremoniously around his waist, his shoulders sunburned and his entire body covered in dust. He slid off his perch and quickly disappeared into the cave, emerging a moment later with Obi-Wan's canteen, the Jedi swiftly draining the container and wiping his cracked, dry lips. "I miss Zanbar..." Qui-Gon muttered. "At least Zanbar had lots of water."

"Lots of swamp water, Master," Obi-Wan quietly corrected.

"Yes, well, swamp water came from fresh water at some point," the Master said with a roll of his eyes. "And I remember making several camps beside fresh pools and streams." The Jedi wiped the sweat off his forehead, finally taking a look at the two teens, thin and sunburnt and dusty, the Padawan sporting several large gashes and bruises that were in dire need of healing. He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and despite the boy's wriggling, hovered his palm over the wounds and channeled the Force through him, the red, throbbing wound immediately responding to his touch. "What are you up to?" he asked, indicating with his head to the lightsaber in Satine's hands, and with a gasp, she shut the weapon off.

"Satine showed an interest in learning the footwork involved in wielding a lightsaber," Obi-Wan calmly explained. "Since she has been so generous in instructing me in Mando'a, I thought I'd return the favor." He grabbed Qui-Gon's hand, hissing when the Master's fingers brushed the healing wound in his side, and he pointed to the Duchess. "Our first night we had some trouble with venom-mites and Death Watch. Satine was wounded."

"I am fine," the Duchess insisted. "Your student foolishly wasted all our healing supplies while he was treating it!"

"The wound required more than I had on hand, Master."

"It most certainly did not!"

"Well, it is lovely to see your bickering has endured this trial of ours," Qui-Gon drawled, rolling his eyes and taking his hands off his student. "Let me see the injury, Satine." With a groan and a quick glare toward Obi-Wan, Satine pulled the tunic through the loosely tied rope and showed the Jedi the bandaged wound, Qui-Gon kneeling to look closely at Obi-Wan's handiwork.

"I was beginning to get worried about you, Master," Obi-Wan said as he watched Qui-Gon pass a healing hand over Satine's bandages. "Did you have a lot of trouble?"

"More than I like, and far more than I expected," the Master muttered. "I don't know if Death Watch is working with the Sharratts or not, but they certainly aren't doing anything to get them off the planet." He sighed and stood, patting Satine on the shoulder. "You did a fine job tending to that, Obi-Wan. How were you injured, Duchess?"

Satine thrust her fists on her hips and shot Obi-Wan a pointed look. "He dropped me!"

"I beg your pardon, Duchess, I saved your life!"

"Like some low class brute!" the Duchess said, her nose in the air. "I suppose I can't expect anything more from someone lowborn, but I am royalty!"

"A royal pain in the ass..." Obi-Wan muttered, and with a gasp, Satine threw his lightsaber at him, the Padawan easily catching it, which only served to make the Duchess more angry.

"You brute! You may be used to behaving like an animal, but you can at least try to give me the treatment I deserve!"

"Two days on the run from the Death Watch and I return to this?!" Qui-Gon said in disbelief as he rubbed his temples to stave off a quickly growing headache. "Sweet Force, I'd rather deal with the Death Watch!" The moment he said it, the three of them winced, a soft, high-pitched buzz in the air quickly becoming a loud screech as specks in the sky formed into ships that were very obviously racing toward them.

"Speak of the Death Watch and they will appear..." Satine muttered, quickly moving between her protectors as their lightsabers flew to their hands.

"Honestly, Master, you should know better than to say things like that," Obi-Wan said as they crouched down beside one of the trees that made the thinly forested woods, a soft smile touching is lips when he felt Satine grasp his arm.

"I am so sick of this..." Qui-Gon growled, his eyes focused on the nearby cave. "Alright, as soon as they pass, we take shelter inside the cave. With any luck, this is just a flyby and they didn't track me here, so-"

"There you are, you Jedi scum!" Qui-Gon hung his head with a heavy sigh, his lightsaber igniting in his hand when five Death Watch soldiers appeared over the mouth of the cave.

"Alright, forget the cave," the Master said between clenched teeth, his hand balling into a fist by his side and pushing back with the Force, sending the five soldiers crashing against the side of the hill just as they began to jump down. "Obi-Wan, take Satine and run! Go!"

The Padawan didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing the Duchess' hand, Obi-Wan took off running as fast as he could, the girl easily keeping pace beside him, the two conditioned from months and months of hard running in harsh climates allowing them to hit full sprint quickly and maintain it. They didn't get far before the ships above swooped in, fast and low as their bellies opened and released soldiers with jetpacks, mercenaries with speeders, and three large, fully armed tanks, cutting off their escape on all three sides, leaving them only the option to run back from where they came when the Death Watch began lobbing grenades, opting for a weapon the Jedi could not easily deflect.

Lightsaber held out before him, Obi-Wan stood defensively before Satine as he was forced back to Qui-Gon's side, his eyes quickly scoping out the scene before him, looking for a way through the quickly closing defensive line, but there was nothing. Before long, they were surrounded, standing in the middle of a wide ring of Death Watch soldiers, bounty hunters, mercenaries and a dozen ground vehicles, most of which could run them down were they somehow to miraculously escape. Perhaps without the Duchess to protect, the Jedi could have fought their way out, could have jumped the line and managed to run away, but with their decidedly frightened charge, the risk was too great.

They slowly closed in, their weapons primed and ready, but not a single one shooting, each of them waiting for a word or a command to take out the Jedi when the risk to the highly valuable Duchess wasn't as great. The line of soldiers stopped advancing when one jumpy bounty hunter fired his rifle, the kickback on the powerful weapon knocking him off balance just long enough for Obi-Wan to grab the weapon with the Force and pull it out of his hands while Qui-Gon expertly deflected the fired bolt, sending the green energy speeding back to pierce right through the creature's head. The rifle was handed to the Duchess, and before the bounty hunter's body hit the ground, the girl's deft fingers had adjusted the weapon to her specifications and primed it. Slowly, the solders backed up, giving the trio space when they saw their valuable target clearly had considerable skill with weapons, despite her non-violent policy.

One of the massive tanks before them lowered to the ground with a loud hiss, steam escaping through its lower vents as it settled and the hatch opened, two decorated Mandalorian warriors stepping out. The first was a large, intimidating man in Death Watch's black and blue, his helmet crested with a fringe and the short cape hanging off his shoulder denoting his rank. The man that followed was much smaller than the intimidating Death Watch commander, clad in ornate purple and gold armor and wearing no helmet, the man was young, no more than twenty five, his long, pale blond hair in a loose braid that fell over his shoulder, the straight, silken strands the exact shade of Satine's that was so highly prized on Mandalore. Unlike the heavily armed Death Watch commander, this man carried no weapons and was quickly flanked by two bodyguards wearing the same purple and gold he did, though theirs was more practical and less ornate.

"Well I'll be damned..." the young man drawled in a smooth, lazy lit. "If it isn't the Duchess of Mandalore." He laughed almost pleasantly when Satine pointed her weapon right at him, the man hitting the Death Watch commander on the chest. "Seems I owe you money. To think that Duchess Satine Kryze is here. Really, actually here. I thought you were just being paranoid, but damn."

"Perhaps in the future, the fools of your clan will listen when the Death Watch speaks," the commander growled, stepping away from the man and moving forward, motioning for his men to do the same, and nearly thirty warriors stepped forward, weapons raised and ready. "Kill the Jedi, but remember, Vizsla wants the Duchess alive!"

"So much for Clan Sharratt..." Satine said, raising her weapon and looking through the sight, her hands steady on the trigger. "Please, try to kill as few of them as possible."

"You heard the lady," Qui-Gon said, his saber raised and ready. "There are far more than we can handle. Play defensive, Obi-Wan, no heroics."

"Oh please, when have I ever been accused of heroics..." the Padawan said with a roll of his eyes, watching as the Death Watch slowly stepped forward, careful and cautious and keenly aware of how difficult these Jedi were to kill.

"Certainly not when you dropped me..." Satine said pointedly, keeping her eyes focused through her scope, and when she had her shot, she pulled the trigger, the kickback of the rifle slamming hard against her shoulder as the green bolt left the barrel and hit the Death Watch commander right in the head, the concussive shot knocking him unconscious to the ground. That one shot was enough to trigger every other soldier to start firing, sending streaks of red and green through the air as the Death Watch surrounding them shot toward the center. The Jedi quickly dropped low, their bodies shielding the Duchess, and the shots flew over their heads, several of the Death Watch going down after being shot by the soldier opposite them, and without their commander to take charge, it was enough to create chaos.

That brief moment of hesitation and uncertainty was all Qui-Gon needed to grab the Force and pull their legs out from under them, the soldiers quickly collapsing to the ground and giving the Jedi a chance to look for a way to escape. He found...nothing. The circle of tanks and mercenaries hadn't moved, the men taking cover behind large, thick shields, encircling them in an iron wall. It was...odd. The Death Watch was fighting, but they constituted only a fraction of the force. Perhaps it was a tactic, a strategy to keep their targets from escaping in a much more confusing battle. Perhaps they would enter the fray were the Death Watch to fail. Perhaps they simply had faith that the Death Watch could kill a teenager and an old man, but no matter the reason, very few were actually fighting.

He looked back at the teenagers, Obi-Wan standing protectively over Satine, his lightsaber weaving a colored shield around them as Satine crouched low to the ground and rapidly fired at the soldiers, nearly every one of her shots hitting its mark. The system they were inadvertently developing was working terribly well, and Qui-Gon rushed back to the teenagers, tossed his lightsaber to the defensive Obi-Wan, and crouching beside Satine. A flurry of green and blue light surrounded them from the blades in the athletic Padawan's hand, and Qui-Gon focused solely on the Force, grabbing soldiers and pulling them close or pushing them back, the Duchess quickly shooting them with the concussive shots when they were off-balance or on the ground.

Despite the perfect teamwork they developed, it took some time to take the Death Watch down, the group having to go back and deal with unconscious soldiers as they slowly came to, and the occasional bounty hunter that jumped the iron shields to make a go at collecting on the hefty bounty that sat on their heads. None were successful, and by the time the blaster fire stopped and the dust settled, the sun rising in the sky and beating down upon their already burnt and sweat-slicked skin, nearly fifty bodies, both dead and unconscious, lay scattered about the ring formed by the mercenaries. Nobody moved, the thrum of the lightsabers and the hum of the tank's engines filling the air, and when the man in purple and gold armor stepped out of the safety of his tank, the Duchess' rifle was promptly trained on him, her finger hovering over the trigger and waiting for a reason to shoot him.

"Oh!" the man said almost mockingly, his hands lazily slapping his cheeks in a show of surprise. "Oh no, what happened..." he drawled, his voice almost monotone and most certainly laced with sarcasm. "You took out the Death Watch! Oh, dear me, what ever shall I do..." He flicked his braid over his shoulder and pointed to the tank behind him. "Let's just make things easy, shall we, Duchess?" he drawled lazily. "All three of you get in the tank, and we won't kill your Jedi." When none of them moved, the man rolled his eyes. "Perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Jakal Sharratt, and you will get in my tank so we can take you to my fortress. We have ten more Death Watch there who would love to meet you." A crooked smile touched his lips as he looked at the trio, his bright green eyes glittering mischievously. "Understand?"

Satine's hands tightened around her weapon as she rose, glaring down the sights at the man before her. "You can't collect the bounty on the Jedi if they are alive," she said between clenched teeth. "I'm not an idiot, I know what their deaths are worth and I will not be complicit in leading them to their execution!"

"Oh, you poor fool..." Jakal said with a shake of his head. "My dear, I am of Clan Sharratt. We are the single wealthiest clan in all of the Mandalore sector, do you really think Vizsla's offer of spare change will sway us to kill their competition?" This time, Satine lowered her weapon slightly, the barrel pointed at the ground but ready to be aimed at a moment's notice.

"I don't understand..." she said softly. "You make it sound like you're my allies, but you say the Death Watch is at your fortress."

"They are..." he said bitterly. "Uninvited guests, if you will. As to an alliance between us, Duchess, I fear that falls to my sister, Katra. She's head of the clan, since our mother was killed." He smiled brightly. "By the Death Watch, as it so happens. She was tighter with our money than my dear sister is."

"Is Death Watch occupying Draboon?" Satine asked softly, concern in her voice as she charged down the rifle, though Obi-Wan did not deactivate the sabers. "Are they trying to force you to fund their war effort, is that it?!"

"As I said, Duchess..." Jakal drawled. "Get in the tank." With a look at her Jedi, Satine watched closely as Qui-Gon silently assessed the man before her, the army surrounding them, the impossibility of the situation were they to decide to become hostile, and feeling the tug of the Force, the Master nodded, his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder as he took back his lightsaber and switched it off, the Padawan nervously following his example. Without another word, Satine, flanked by her Jedi guard, entered the tank, Jakal ordering his men to take the unconscious Death Watch commander captive. Leaving the remainder of the injured and unconscious Death Watch in the care of a particularly hostile group of mercenary soldiers, the man followed the Duchess and the Jedi inside the tank, the hatch hissing closed as he stepped inside.

As soon as the tank shuddered, its repulsors powering on as it was lifted off the ground, Jakal sighed and sat down in one of the restraining seats along the wall, his eyes running over the trio in the seats opposite him, the stern expression on the older Jedi, the nervous unease on the younger as his fingers wound around the braid that hung behind his ear, and the curious look in the Duchess' eyes as she carefully examined every detail of his face and the way he carried himself.

"I apologize, Duchess..." Jakal said tiredly, waving his hand toward the hatch. "For that...mess."

"We could have been killed!" Satine snapped, her tone fierce and commanding, though the man seemed unaffected. "Threatening my Jedi and standing by doing nothing while we are attacked is a good way to foster ill will between us!"

"We remained neutral in the conflict, Duchess," Jakal said lazily, his gaze not once leaving hers. "Given your views, I thought you'd approve."

"If you're trying to insult me-"

"I'm not," Jakal said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "Apologies, Duchess. The truth of the matter is we simply lack the power to take a stand, be it for you or against, and my sister is not one to throw her support behind what she believes to be a lost cause."

"You have an army!" Satine said firmly. "Much greater than the strength of the Death Watch here on Draboon! If they are here against your will, why not oust them!"

"A paid army, Duchess," Jakal calmly explained. "You know as well as I that a mercenary's loyalty can be bought and sold, but at the first sign of real danger, there's a chance they will flee. There's only so far money goes when lives are on the line, and while we meet a high price, I've no doubt many of our men would rather live to spend their money than die trying to earn it." He shrugged, a small smile on his lips when he saw the Duchess' eyes widen slightly, her aggressive posture relaxing. "Clan Sharratt is a small clan, and we know what it means to cross the Death Watch. We know what happened to Clan Itera, and they had far greater numbers and were far more fierce than us. We aren't warriors anymore, Duchess," Jakal said, leaning in and his expression serious. "We are businessmen."

"So you yielded to the Death Watch when they arrived?" Satine asked, her tone softer now that she was beginning to understand the situation.

"We have...accepted them among us, yes," Jakal said thoughtfully. "When we heard they were here hunting you, we thought at first they were simply jumping at shadows, or using it as an excuse to station troops here while they petition for us to fund their war effort. But since you are here..." He smirked as he shrugged his shoulders and shrewdly eyed the Duchess and the Jedi. "Well, let's just say that additional opportunities have presented themselves."

"I can't see how this is good business," Satine said stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back in her seat. "By playing both sides, you only serve to make enemies of both."

"And who said I am playing both sides?" Jakal lightly drawled, laughing softly when Satine looked confused. "Duchess, I could very well be delivering a gift to the Death Watch command my sister is entertaining, and it may very well seem like that when I come with you three in my grasp." He quickly held up his hands when the lightsabers flew to the Jedi's hands, and the cabin sounded with the high whine of Satine's rifle priming. "However," he slowly said, "I just watched the three of you take down over thirty warriors of the Death Watch without any outside help at all. Such a thing may make my sister reevaluate where to place our bets. The war effects us all. We can't keep out of it forever, and we are of the mind to choose before the choice is made for us."

"So that's your plan?" Satine carefully ventured. "You mean to have us force the Death Watch off Draboon?"

"What I mean is of little consequence," Jakal drawled. "The decision lies with my sister."

"Sounds like quite a gamble," Satine said coldly. "Not just for you, but for me as well. You know, Clan Itera is gone because they harbored me. Don't think Death Watch won't do the same to you."

"Well, nothing has ever been gained without substantial risk!" Jakal said in his light, carefree tone, which only served to rankle the already tense Duchess. "Though I believe the Death Watch would appear much more threatening had they not been bested by a teenage girl at every turn."

"Does your sister believe that?" Satine asked, and for the first time, the man seemed unsure.

"I honestly don't know," he said quietly. "Katra has been under tight guard since our mother was killed, she and I haven't had the chance to discuss it..."

"There's something I don't understand," Qui-Gon said, drawing the attention of the two Mandalorians. "If they are after your wealth, what is stopping them from killing you and taking it? They have murdered for far less."

"Our funds are only accessible by us, Master Jedi," Jakal explained, his earlier unease gone and replaced with pride. "We are merchants, our wealth isn't kept in some vault in our fortress like so many other clans. We have secure accounts with the Intergalactic Banking Clan. We were to perish, our funds would simply sit untouched in accordance with our contracts."

"Which benefits nobody," Qui-Gon said, nodding. "I understand your situation."

"There really are no winners in this war, are there?" Satine asked bitterly, throwing her rifle on the ground in disgust, the weapon clattering against the hard steel floor. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, the girl's anger so seething and raw it seemed to hang tense in the air around her. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his deep connection to the girl causing her emotions to effect him much more keenly, and he shut his eyes and took deep, calming breaths, trying to push his emotions away to allow himself to focus clearly on the trials to come at the Sharratt fortress.

It wasn't working. Ever since their first kiss in the cave, every emotion she had pulled at him, every thought he had inevitably turned back to her, every fiber in his being ached and yearned to draw her close and keep her safe and protected and loved, and now was no different. This was exactly why Qui-Gon had cautioned against becoming too attached, it made it impossible to focus on the task. But then, Satine was his task, his mission, his very purpose for being here, wasn't she?

Even now when he thought of her, when he felt his feelings and attention drawn toward her, he could feel the Force, cool and clear, pulsing deeply inside of him. It was strong, the rush more powerful than anything he had ever felt, the slightest brush of his feelings for her lending him strength and purpose and focus that he had never known before. This wasn't the corrupting obsession he had feared, this was something pure and beautiful, something warm and gentle and all the stronger for it, and despite all the warnings and all his fears, he couldn't begin to imagine how such a thing could be wrong.

But then, that was the danger, wasn't it?

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his thoughts filled with nothing but Satine as he felt the Force gather within him, he saw Qui-Gon looking right at him. The Master had felt it as well, and Obi-Wan quickly looked away, could feel his face heating with embarrassment and shame as he tried to push his feelings to the back of his mind and hide behind the walls he had so carefully built, but the swift tug within him made him all too aware that he had been too late. Qui-Gon had sensed something. And while his Master didn't say anything then, Obi-Wan knew he was going to hear about it when they were safe. If they were safe. With any luck, Qui-Gon would simply see a boy focused on the mission instead of consumed by thoughts about the girl that was the mission, but when he thought about it like that...well, the distinction didn't seem too different.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, a tension in the air that seemed to come from everyone but the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon was calm, as always, his eyes closed in a light meditation as he communed with the Force for guidance, feeling its whims and pulls as he floated easily along with wherever the current brought him. But Obi-Wan sensed turmoil from the Mandalorians, which was in turn making him fraught with his own brand of tension. Jakal's posture seemed relaxed and at ease as he leaned back in his chair, but the Padawan could feel the uncertainty and the unease in the younger brother of Clan Sharratt's leader. There was familial longing in him, a pain of separation that Obi-Wan understood as a similar yearning for his peaceful home among his own brothers and sisters in the Jedi Temple. There was a sincerity in the extravagant young man that Obi-Wan did not expect, the boy honestly having no idea what to expect when he returned to his sister's side with Mandalore's most wanted.

Unlike their temporary host and possible captor, Satine felt no confusion, no indecision, no conflict. She felt strong, focused, a woman with a mission who knew exactly what she wanted and possessed the determination to see it through. She was clear and centered, a fierce, beautiful strength within her that she had lacked at the beginning of their time together when she was more emotional and more volatile, the changes in her seeming almost Jedi in the way she carried herself. And yet, at the very heart of her, Obi-Wan felt fear, a primal terror that gripped her heart deeply and kept it pounding in her chest. She was afraid that her presence would cause a repeat of the tragedy of Clan Itera. She was afraid that her faith would lead her into yet another trap. She was afraid of the fight she knew was coming. But most of all, she was afraid for her two guardians, the Jedi who had so selflessly protected her through all her trials, led into yet another mess because of her own foolishness, her own naivete, her own stupidity, and she hated herself for it. She wasn't afraid to die, and a part of her welcomed it, but to see her brave defenders, the old, wise Master and the sweet boy she cared so deeply for struck down in her name was more than she could bear.

The whole situation was pulling Obi-Wan thin. He was torn between attempting to calm himself in emulation of his Master, his feelings of pity for the young, lonely Jakal, the deep concern for his Duchess and the need to protect her born out of his love for her, yet another thing he was desperately trying to hide from Qui-Gon. This secrecy didn't sit well with him. These feelings didn't sit well with him, though there was nothing he could do to stop them from sinking deep within him. Despite his efforts to stop it, his affection for beautiful Satine had grown into what it was now, the pure and beautiful strength that he knew the Jedi would forbid him from, the same thing that had pushed Qui-Gon so close to the Dark Side, the thing he knew his Master feared so completely. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't, because even if one day he had to let go of Satine, he would never let go of the feelings he had for her. He didn't want to.

Obi-Wan didn't realize how tense he was until he felt Satine's gentle fingers brush the back of his hand, his braid wrapped so tightly around his fingers that they were turning purple from the lack of circulation. Immediately he could feel himself relax, the tense muscles in his bare shoulders easing under her touch and pushing his worries from his mind. Obi-Wan's eyes quickly looked to the woman at his side and found her looking at him almost expectantly, like he would somehow make everything better, like he had all the answers to her problems. He didn't, of course, but somehow, when her hand brushed his and the warm comfort of the other spread, both of their worries seemed to melt away into nothing, the bond between them strengthening, the tenderness of her caress a promise of things to come.

With a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips, Obi-Wan took her hand in his and held it, their fingers slowly intertwining. They could feel Qui-Gon and Jakal critically watching them, but neither could bring themselves to care. Soon enough, they would be forced to face the world again, and with it, the war and death and betrayal and the horrors of being chased by people willing to slaughter the innocent for credits or for nothing at all. They would take what comfort they could, even if it was little more than a touch in passing. It was enough, and when the time came to face the harsh realities of Mandalore, they would be ready, and they would be stronger for it.

---

The moment they stepped inside the ornate throne room of Clan Sharratt's fortress, the high whine of priming blasters filled the room as the promised ten Death Watch soldiers aimed their weapons at Satine and her Jedi protectors and the defenseless, carefree Jakal that lead them. Immediately, the two lightsabers hissed on, the blades thrumming in the air as they quickly took defensive positions in front of the two Mandalorian nobles in their care. Very slowly, Jakal draped his arm over Satine's shoulder, protectively drawing her closer as he looked around the room, a small smirk on his face as he watched the woman on the throne look at them with shock, which quickly became confusion, and then unbridled anger.

"Are you quite done yet?!" the woman snapped, the show of temper and her commanding presence drawing the attention of every person in the room, her own guards stationed around the perimeter pointing their own weapons inwards toward the hostiles. "I swear, every time someone comes in the door, it's like you lot need to show off who's in charge. Why don't you all just drop your pants and compare the size of your manhoods, hmm? It's the same thing, and at least that has the benefit of amusing me..."

"This isn't a game, my lady," the commander at her side growled, his own rifle aimed at the new arrivals, the man even bigger and more decorated than the commander they had defeated in the field before. "In case you haven't notices, that is Satine Kryze. She belongs to the Death Watch."

"Oh, does she?" the woman asked, the Death Watch commander gasping softly when he felt the end of a blaster pressing between the armored segments of his armored torso, a lopsided grin on the woman's face as she watched him. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks as though the Duchess and the Jedi are in the custody of my brother, which means they belong to me, and you know how badly I take to thieves, my dear." With the same lazy affect of her brother, the woman slid her finger over the trigger, the whine of the weapon as it primed ringing over the thrum of the lightsabers. "Tell me now, is the Death Watch trying to steal my assets when they are so willing to pay bounty hunters for the same merchandise?"

"...no, my lady," the commander growled bitterly, his weapon lowering slightly and his men slowly following suit. "But I don't think the bounty hunters care either way," he said with a deep, malicious chuckle as five heavily armed hunters muscled their way forward. The Jedi tightened their defenses, their sabers raised and ready, but the woman on the throne just rolled her eyes.

"What is the bounty on the Duchess these days?" she asked nobody in particular. "Ten thousand dead, twenty alive?" She shrugged indifferently. "Hunters, I'll give fifty thousand credits to the last man standing among you, but if you kill each other within my halls, the deal is off." For a brief moment, nobody moved, the bounty hunters still and silent as they eyed each other, the Jedi, the tight-jawed Death Watch commander, and the beautiful woman on the throne. Without a word to anyone, they quickly turned and rushed out of the hall, snarling threats and curses at each other as they left, and with the hunters gone, the Jedi slowly relaxed.

"Well..." the woman drawled, looking around the room as the Death Watch lowered their weapons. "It seems as though negotiations for the Duchess can begin."

"The price has already been set," the commander growled, kneeling beside the throne and taking the woman's hands in his, an overly familiar gesture that made Jakal draw in a sharp breath and his shoulders tighten with tension. "Twenty thousand for the Duchess alive and five thousand for each head of her Jedi companions."

"Thirty thousand credits for Mandalore's most valuable commodity?" she said, laughing as she holstered her weapon. "I care nothing for your petty, meager credits when Duchess Satine is mine to do with as I wish."

"I do not belong to anybody!" Satine snapped, pushing her way past the Jedi and tearing her arm away from Jakal. "I will not stand here and listen to you haggle over me as if I am a bantha at the market! I am the ruler of Mandalore, and I will be treated as such!"

"You are the ruler of nothing," the Death Watch commander snarled, but was silenced when the woman raised her hand, her gaze focused on the young Duchess, and Satine looked her in the eyes and refused to look away.

"You are awfully bold for a prisoner," she said evenly, and Jakal quickly stepped forward, his arm draping once again over Satine's shoulders.

"Actually, Katra," the young man drawled, "Satine here is hardly a prisoner. She and her Jedi defeated the thirty Death Watch soldiers that accompanied me on our search for her." The woman's eye widened, and she very quickly looked back to the Duchess, her head held high and proud, the Sharratt's ruler quickly looking at her with renewed interest, and for the first time since they arrived, Satine got a good look at their new hostess. She was beautiful, to be sure, with her brother's same pale blond hair, the royal purple of her armor making her light, lavender eyes almost seem to glow. Though unlike her easy-going brother, Katra Sharratt had something hard and shrewd to her fine features. Her clan may not have the martial strength of the others, but it was a mistake to assume that Katra was not a warrior.

"Did you truly best the Death Watch soldiers?" she asked almost carefully, and the Duchess gestured back to the Jedi behind her.

"If I did not, my guards would be dead and I would be delivered to you in chains."

"She took the commander as her prisoner," Jakal quickly cut in, and the man beside Katra snarled in fury as he jumped to his feet, his weapon raised once again, but this time pointing at the younger Sharratt.

"You allowed this!" he snapped at Jakal, his eyes quickly shooting to the now dangerously calm woman beside him. "I told you that your brother was traitorous, I told you we should execute him with the rest!"

"Clan Sharratt has no official loyalty to the Death Watch or Clan Vizsla yet, my dear, so stand down." The cold command of her voice, coupled by her soldiers quickly raising their weapons once again made the commander do as he was told, his sharp eyes never once leaving the group that stood before the throne. "Besides, my brother brought the Duchess here. That is exactly what you wanted, is it not? It's not treason simply because your men failed to complete the job."

"If she is not a prisoner-"

"She is," Katra snapped. "My brother may say otherwise, but she is in my fortress and surrounded by my men, which makes her my captive in everything but name." She shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk on her face as she watched the Jedi quickly flank their charge and her brother. "But the circumstances that brought her to me does make the negotiations far more interesting..." She waved her hand carelessly in the air, her eyes falling on Jakal and Satine, and while her mannerisms were lazy, her gaze was sharp and piercing. "Brother, tell me of how she came to us a guest. You have soldiers, why not capture her?"

"As I said, Katra," Jakal said, pulling Satine closer and gesturing to the Jedi standing at their side. "The three of them defeated thirty Death Watch warriors and captured the commander. It didn't seem wise to turn our forces on them, especially since the rumors out of Zanbar seem to be far more accurate than the commander has been saying." He scoffed and patted Satine on the back, a light, easy smile on his lips as the Death Watch commander visibly bristled. "I think before we make this deal with Vizsla, we should have a look at the teenage girl that's making fools of them."

"I do so love dangerous assets..." Katra said, leaning back in her throne. "But that is all she is. She has nothing to do business with."

"Except for the captured commander..." Jakal said slyly, motioning for his men, and the soldiers quickly rushed forward, dragging the beaten Death Watch commander before the throne, the man badly bruised and dazed and stripped of his armor, and the mercenaries threw him unceremoniously to the ground. "The Duchess offers him as a sign of good faith in exchange for her safe passage here."

"Does she..." Katra asked, a small, knowing smile on her lips as she looked at the confusion on the Duchess' face and the hard, stoic expressions on her Jedi protectors, their hands on their lightsabers and ready for a fight. "Well, Duchess, I accept your offer. Until our negotiations are concluded, you are welcome in the home of Clan Sharratt."

"This is absurd!" the commander snapped, drawing his blaster once again and pointing it at the Duchess, gesturing for his men to help the captive man off the ground. "Men, kill the Jedi, seize the Duchess!"

"Is this the strength of the Death Watch?" Katra said with a yawn. "Ten of Mandalore's finest warriors against a little girl, a shirtless boy, and an old man?" She scoffed in disgust, making the commander cringe, though he never dropped his weapon. "No wonder your cause is in need of help, you are hardly even Mandalorian anymore."

"You will hold your tongue!"

"I will do no such thing!" Katra snapped, finally standing from her throne to face the livid commander. "My clan may be small, but we are proud, and I will not obey the commands of thugs that so fear children that they need to vastly outnumber them to feel safe! The Death Watch claims to hold true to the old ways, so prove it. Let this be decided as these matters have always been on Mandalore, in single combat."

"You would have me face a child?!" the commander gasped, and Katra crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Fool, I'd have you face her Jedi champion. Kill him, and I'll see Satine delivered to the hands of your leader myself, free of charge."

"No!" Satine cried, staring to rush forward until both Obi-Wan and Jakal stopped her, the girl struggling against the men that held her. "No, I won't allow this!"

"But I will," Qui-Gon said, laying a hand on Satine's shoulder as he stepped forward, his eyes searching Jakal's face, the young Mandalorian's green eyes wide and concerned and fearful, his expression lost and on the edge of hopelessness. Slowly, the Master nodded in understanding and stepped forward to stand before the throne, the saber in his hand igniting in a flash of green. "I serve as Satine's champion."

"Qui-Gon, no!" the Duchess shouted, wriggling free of the men that held her and rushing to throw her arms around the man. "We can work this out, Qui-Gon, we can negotiate, we can talk this through!"

"Not so long as the Death Watch is here," he said firmly, prying her arms off him and gently pushing her toward Obi-Wan, the Padawan wrapping his arms protectively around the shaking girl. "Defend her, Obi-Wan," the Master quietly commanded, and the boy nodded, his arms tightening around her as the Duchess slipped her arms behind him and clutched to his sunburned back.

"No matter what happens, she will be safe with me, Master."

"...I know she will be." With a small, reassuring smile to his student, the Jedi Master looked at his opponent as the Death Watch soldiers brought him weapons to choose from, the vambraces at his wrists adjusted and checked and his helmet secured upon his head. He selected a long, bladed staff, swiftly tapping the metal pole upon the ground, and the curved blade crackled with purple electricity, and with a cocky grin, he sauntered forward, the staff spinning around his hand.

"You won't be the first Jedi I've killed," the commander said quietly. "I killed many in the last war. When I kill you, I'm adding your saber to my collection. Hell, when I'm finished with you, I'll kill your little student too. I may even give the Duchess to my men to use to celebrate. I doubt Tor will mind her being a bit broken in when he gets her." He laughed harshly, the weapon held in both hands, his stance loose and relaxed and ready to fight. "I may just give the other Jedi to my men as well before I kill him. He's pretty enough to be taken like a whore."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Qui-Gon said calmly, his dispassionate demeanor causing anger to flare in his opponent, his lightsaber held before him as he watched the soldiers in the room back up against the walls to give them space, Jakal leading Obi-Wan and Satine to stand beside the throne where Katra once again sat. Breathing deep and blocking himself against the fear raging through the Duchess and the tense, muted anxiety of his Padawan, Qui-Gon turned his gaze to the commander as he paced, the tip of his lightsaber following the man's every predatory move. A slight shift in his weight and a rippling of aggression through the Force alerted the Jedi to his opponent's intentions, and the commander lunged at him, his weapon thrusting toward him as the fight began.

Qui-Gon deftly sidestepped, his lightsaber catching the blade on the staff, the weapons hissing as they clashed, the electricity keeping the saber from cutting through the sharp edge. Twisting the blade, he ran his weapon across the staff's sharp edge to slice at the vulnerable staff, but the Mandalorian spun it in his hands, knocking the lightsaber out of the way and bringing it sweeping across fast and hard around his body. The Jedi spun in toward his opponent, his blade held angled downwards as he allowed the green plasma to catch the staff's metal shaft only to find that his blade merely slid along it, leaving a black line of carbon scoring, but not slicing through as expected. With a hiss of irritation, Qui-Gon ducked under the staff as the Mandalorian used the force of the repelled weapon to swing it around the opposite direction, spinning the blade around his hand and stabbing downwards at the Jedi when it passed over the man's head, the swift motion allowing the sparking electric blade to graze Qui-Gon's side.

The pain was intense, a sharp stinging from the cut he could feel bleeding just along his ribs and his muscles involuntarily contracting under the electric current, the rippling jolts shaking his balance in the Force. Qui-Gon tried to dodge out of the way of the next flurry of stabs and sweeping swings, his lightsaber connecting with each blow at the last moment as he tried to regain his step, but the relentless Mandalorian kept on top of him, pressing his advantage while he had it and forcing Qui-Gon to retreat. When the commander overreached, Qui-Gon siezed his opportunity and quickly moved in, his hands planted on the ground as he ducked under the crackling blade on the staff and throwing his legs under him and kicking out at the commander's knee, his heel connecting and causing the joint to snap back, a loud, wet crack echoing through the hall as the soldier pitched forward and fell to the ground.

Howling in pain and rage as his staff clattered uselessly to the ground, the commander drew his blaster from the holster on his hopelessly broken leg and quickly fired at the Jedi, the lightsaber rising to block the barrage only to find the rounds to not be the easily deflected plasma, but slugs fo sharpened steel. Despite his quick reflexes and sharpened senses, Qui-Gon's skin was flecked with drops of molten steel, the Jedi hissing as holes were burned into his flesh. He quickly dodged the next volley by jumping up and flipping over the scattering fire, the man's accuracy suffering for the pain he was in, and at the peak of his flip while he was upside down in the air, Qui-Gon flicked his wrist and threw his lightsaber, the weapon spinning across the distance between them in a green, glowing disc of deadly light, the saber slicing through the commander's arm just above the elbow, the limb dropping to the ground along with the blaster.

Reaching out with the Force, Qui-Gon pulled his weapon back to him, landing with a crouch on the ground and quickly advancing when he saw the badly wounded man aim his vambrace at him, the arm shaking as a pulse of energy fired from the gauntlet, a mimicry of a Force push, and Qui-Gon went skidding backwards, his saber held defensively before him and his low position allowing him to keep his balance. Before the Jedi could rush in, the other commander drew his own weapon and rushed forward, the other Death Watch warriors following suit as they broke from the wall and began firing at the lone Jedi. Forced into a frantic defensive, Qui-Gon's blade flew around him, deflecting the rapidly fired plasma as best as he could, but it was far too much, and bolt after bolt struck the Master in the legs, the arms, the shoulders, the Jedi moving well enough to keep the fire from striking his vitals, but it was not long before he was forced to his knees.

When Obi-Wan's lightsaber hissed to life and the Padawan flew to his Master's rescue, Satine quickly snatched the blaster from Katra's hip and rushed forward, Jakal defensively coming to her side as she began firing on the Death Watch. With the warriors distracted by the two Jedi, Obi-Wan furiously rushing the soldiers, heedless of the wounds he sustained as he severed limbs and Qui-Gon pushing and pulling with the Force, his focus returned with the pressure off of him, the Duchess' perfect accuracy made short work of the warriors. Her shots struck shoulders and legs and arms, causing the Death Watch to drop their weapons or fall to the ground in pain, shots aimed at their protected, helmeted heads sending them sprawling dazed or unconscious to the ground.

When the Death Watch lay groaning upon the ground, Qui-Gon stood over their commander, his lightsaber held to the man's neck as the Sharratt mercenaries all raised their weapons, primed and ready to shoot the Jedi down on Katra's word. Obi-Wan quickly stood by his Master's side, the other commander at his feet, the armor-less man's arms severed at the shoulders and his face pale. The Padawan's was limping, a smoking hole in his leg just below the knee, his bare torso covered in grazing burn wounds, and Qui-Gon lay a hand on the boy's back, partly to reassure the student and partially for his own support.

For a long moment, Katra sat silently on her throne, leaning forward with her hand on her chin as she looked at the mess before her, the Jedi stoic and relaxed, their blades ready and waiting to once again be put to action. Every time one of the wounded on the ground stirred or tried to rise, Satine would quickly shoot them again, and the soldiers would lay still.

"You are fierce, Satine," Katra finally said, standing from her throne and slowly coming to stand before the Duchess. "Like your brother and your father and your mother. It's little wonder you and your guard have been making fools of the Death Watch with the way you fight."

"Katra..." the commander hissed from the ground, his one remaining arm trying to pull himself toward the woman who looked coldly down at him. "Slay these traitors, execute them!"

"Just because you've been in my bed, don't you dare think you can command me, filth," the woman sneered, looking down at her nose at the pitiful man on the ground. "It's bad enough that you lost, but for your men to turn a trial by single combat into an attempted slaughter..." She scoffed as she drew nearer, the Jedi slowly backing away from her, their sabers raised as they flanked the Duchess. "You have forgotten what it means to be Mandalorian. We truly are lost. Perhaps we are in need of a new way."

"This is treason!" the man snapped, his voice tight with bitterness and pain, and Katra harshly laughed as she glared at him.

"Treason against who? I don't remember swearing any loyalty to the Death Watch. And I can't imagine how you thought to gain our favor since I seem to remember you executing my mother..." Before anyone could see her move, Katra drew the blaster on her other hip and quickly pulled the trigger, the high whine of the shot echoing through the hall as the red bolt of energy struck the Death Watch commander in the face, killing him instantly. With a quick flick of her wrist in the air, her mercenary soldiers raised their weapons and without hesitation, quickly shot the remaining Death Watch, the unconscious and wounded soldiers executed as the Sharratt leader returned to her throne and sighed tiredly.

"Someone get this garbage cleaned up..." Katra sneered with disgust, gesturing around the hall at the bodies that lay upon the ground, her eyes drifting up to look at the hall's entrance when a bounty hunter came limping in, a huge armored figure over seven feet tall, the creature's armor splattered with blood and covered in dents and scratches and burns. With a low, guttural growl that was distinctly not human, the creature tossed a bag at the foot of the throne, Katra poking the bag open with her toe, and at the sight of the heads and helmets inside, she nodded and waved two mercenaries forward.

"See that our friend here is paid fifty thousand credits on his way out," Katra muttered, her eyes roving over the hulking creature as it groaned its thanks, a slight, clever smirk crossing her lips. "I'll pay ten thousand credits for each head you bring me belonging to the bounty hunters after the Duchess Satine. Understand?" The creature wailed its understanding and lumbered after the mercenaries and after that, all that could be hears was the quiet shuffling of the soldiers as they dragged the bodies from the hall.

Satine stood with her arms wrapped tightly around Obi-Wan, her head resting on his chest, her entire body trembling as the adrenaline was flushed from her blood, the girl sniffling as her silent tears ceases as she listened to the slow and steady beat of his heart and the deep, gentle reverberations in his chest as he soothed her. His fingers threaded through her hair, his hand gently brushing her cheek as she clung to him, each touch seeming to brush aside her fears and her worries, the comforting embrace of her young Jedi shielding her from the death that surrounded them. More dead in her name, more injuries to her Jedi protectors, more death and ruin in her wake, all she had so desperately hoped to avoid. She felt disgusted with herself, just as she had when they had fled Krownest, leaving Clan Itera to be extinguished. Death Watch may have been her enemies, but she never wished for their deaths. This was not what she wanted.

"Sister." Katra looked up as Jakal walked up to the throne, the young man uncertain and uneasy as he knelt before his much harsher sibling, a slight, hopeful smile on his lips. "I had hoped you'd be willing to deal with the Duchess."

"She has nothing to offer," Katra muttered, her hand resting against her palm as she watched the young Jedi slowly release the Duchess, though her hand never left his, nor did his hand leave the small of her back. "However, she is still very valuable."

"You cannot possibly aim to profit from her," Jakal said carefully, and the woman sighed heavily.

"That is exactly what I intend to do, brother. It is what our clan has always done, we profit, and if there's one thing I understand, it's good business. Duchess Satine." Satine tensed, instinctively moving against Obi-Wan for protection, her eyes snapping up to meet Katra's. "You know what's bad for business?" the woman asked as she leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "War. If Tor Vizsla and his thugs rule Mandalore, it will never end, but you..." She laughed softly when he brother gasped and the Duchess' eyes widened. "A pacifist has no chance of winning this war, but you are fierce, I have seen that much, and there are those willing to fight and die for the future you envision. And that future is very good for business."

"You'll support me?" Satine asked carefully, cautiously taking a step away from the Jedi, and Katra steepled her fingers together as she examined the girl, her pale skin lightly reddened by the sun, her pale bond hair matted with sweat and dust, the oversized tunic she wore plain and unsuited to a woman of her station, and Katra couldn't help bust shake her head and laugh. This girl looked nothing like the mighty highborn that would lead Mandalore into a new age.

"Support comes in many forms," Katra drawled. "I don't suppose you'd consider a marriage pact with my brother."

"Katra!" Jakal admonished, his outrage matching the bewildered expression on Satine's face. "I want no such thing, you know I want no such thing!"

"I-I fear I'm not for sale..." Satine stammered, slowly shrinking back against Obi-Wan, and Katra flashed her a knowing smile, her gaze running over the two teenagers as the Jedi drew a light, hesitant hand across the Duchess' shoulder. "I've had enough of that these past few months..."

"Ah, that business with the Ordos, yes?" she asked, smirking when the girl seemed to pale. "Yes, we heard all about that, and we've no desire to end up as they did." She waved her hand dismissively. "In any case, Jakal lacks the inclination. He would be more agreeable if he was offered that Jedi of yours, though I suspect he isn't for sale either."

"Katra, honestly..." Jakal said with a roll of his eyes. "Although..."

"He most certainly is not," Satine said firmly, drawing up tall as she felt Obi-Wan fidget behind him, the Jedi Master on her other side slowly dropping to his knees, his breathing heavy and his skin sweat-slicked and pale. "Neither of my Jedi are." She laid her hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Please, if you aim to help me, my Jedi need to be healed."

"Of course," Katra said quickly, standing from her throne and quickly moving beside the Duchess, snapping for her guards and they quickly came to assist Qui-Gon to his feet. Looking at the beautiful older woman suspiciously, Satine pursed her lips, her mind racing with all the worst things that could happen, trying to find ways how this could be a trap, how she could be betrayed like she was by the Ordos, how things could go so wrong as they did on Krownest, but each time she reached for something terrible, all she could think of was how tired she was, how nice it was to be safe, how she longed to be alone once again with her Jedi.

"My ship is docked in a mining town," the Duchess said quickly. "We don't have much in it, but I've become somewhat attached to it, and my Jedi is used to piloting it."

"You heard the Duchess," Katra said, pointing toward the guards stationed along the wall. "Go get her ship, bring it back here." Saluting quickly, the soldiers ran off, and Katra motioned for them to follow her, the woman slowly walking out of the hall through a door at the side of the throne, the soldiers carefully helping Qui-Gon along.

"...we're also hungry," Satine ventured, and Katra rolled her eyes, her brother laughing softly beside her.

"Satine, sweetie, you are royalty," Jakal drawled. "Clan Sharratt will treat you as such."

"You are the key to our investment, after all," Katra said quietly. "And if that were not enough, our father was cousins to one of the lesser members of Clan Kryze." She shrugged. "That practically makes us family. We'll set you up with the best during your stay here and tomorrow, we'll contact Clan Cadera so we can finalize our investment."

"What investment?" Satine asked quietly, and the taller woman looked down at her.

"In your war effort, Duchess," she said softly. "As I said, the war is bad for business, and we will fund your cause if it means a quick end to the conflict so we may have our prosperity back. Contrary to how it seems, there are many who desire your peace, and you've shown me today that your cause has an actual chance of winning."

"Failure is not an option," Qui-Gon whispered, limping along as he clung to the soldiers. "We swear to you, we will see her to power."

"Oh, I believe you," Katra said quietly. "Just promise me, Duchess, that you will end the war quickly."

"I...will do what I can," Satine said hesitantly. "I just...I-I don't know how."

"The Caderas have some ideas about that," Jakal said as they stopped outside a large, ornate door. "Don't you worry about it right now, Duchess. We'll have plenty of time after you're rested."

"Your room, Satine," Katra said, gesturing to the doors. "We'll get your Jedi-"

"No," she said quickly, sudden panic seizing her chest and she quickly grabbed Obi-Wan's hand. "No..." she said again, calmer this time. "My Jedi don't leave me. Ever."

"I understand," Katra said, her voice calm and gentle, the hard edge she had in the presence of the Death Watch gone. "The room's big enough for the three of you, I suppose. There's a couch they can sleep on, I'm sure you can find a way for all of you to be comfortable." She patted one of the soldier's supporting Qui-Gon on the back. "We'll just take this one to the infirmary to-"

"No!"

Again, Katra sighed, her eyes closed as she shook her head. "Very well, we'll summon the medic here." With a wave of her hand, the soldiers pushed the doors open, allowing them to step inside the room, and Satine walked inside and looked around, her jaw slack and her eyes wide as she took in the opulent space, a rounded sitting room with a couch and large, comfortable chairs circling a low, carved table, large windowed doors leading out to a stone balcony overlooking a deep, green valley, a winding river cutting between the steep ravine. Smaller doors led to rooms that branched off the sitting room, bedrooms, most like, just like her own rooms on Kalevala, and again in the palace in Sundari, and Satine felt her heart ache. She missed home, the fear for her life keeping her thoughts on survival as she ran, but now, here where she had the time to catch her breath, she keenly felt the longing for home, and the pain to know it was so far out of her reach.

"No, wait," Satine said quickly when the soldiers started to lay Qui-Gon down on the couch. "He should have the bedroom. He did save my life. He's the reason you are free from the Death Watch, he deserves the best." With a sigh, Katra nodded and pointed to the door leading to the bedroom, the soldiers hoisting the Jedi up again and helping him into the other room, an ornate, regal bedroom with a large bed that made Satine look comfortable just looking at it. They laid Qui-Gon down on the bed, the Jedi groaning as he settled into the pillows and the comfortable blankets, struggling to keep his eyes open as the soldiers were ordered away.

"Anything else, Duchess?" Katra asked, and Satine shook her head, paused for a moment as she bit her lip, and shyly looked to the ground.

"You said you..." she began, her face reddening as she considered her question. "You said you...y-you went to bed with the Death Watch commander."

"So I did," she said casually, a sly smile crossing her face as the fair-skinned Duchess turned fierce red, her eyes wide as she stared at the older woman in disbelief. "Like all things, Duchess, your body is simply another asset to be bought and sold, and I sold mine to ensure the safety of my clan while they lived among us. Loyalty looks like different things to different people, but I have found that to most men, it looks like a willing woman in their beds." She shrugged. "You'll understand one day. Anything else?"

"No, just..." she whimpered, having to stop herself when her throat tightened with emotion. "Thank you..." she whispered, so quietly she didn't think Katra could hear her, but the woman nodded and with a swift smack to her brother's shoulder, the two siblings followed the soldiers, Jakal stopping before he closed the doors.

"We'll be up soon with the medic and something to eat. Just relax." With that, they left, the doors closing behind them, and Satine collapsed on the ground, curled up as she sobbed into her arms. Obi-Wan reached out to her, but quickly stopped, his hands shaking as he tried to decide what to do with the crying girl, with his injured Master, and for a moment, all he could do was pace between them, pulling on his braid as he fretted until finally, his own legs gave out from under him, his elevated strength leaving his body as his busy mind filed away his emotions, setting them to the side as weariness overtook him. With what was left inside him, he crawled over to the Duchess, draped his arm over her shoulder, and pulled her close, a happy sigh escaping his lips when she quickly turned in his grasp and laid her head on his chest, her own arms slipping behind him to absently stroke at his back. It felt like home, and for the first time in a very long time, the Force felt clear and still and peaceful, the disturbances of the war and death and fear a far and distant memory.

"It's nice to have things work out well for once, isn't it..." Qui-Gon said from the bed, his voice thick and heavy and distant, and with the reminder that they were not alone, Obi-Wan and Satine sheepishly looked at each other, shy smiles on their faces as they slowly helped each other up, the two teens leaning on each other as they stood beside the wounded Jedi.

"Master, you know better than to say things like that..." Obi-Wan chided teasingly, Qui-Gon chuckling softly as he closed his eyes. "You know that's when things go wrong."

"Of course..." Qui-Gon said, sinking into the pillows and sighing. "I'm not in my right mind, I clearly don't know what I'm saying. And you worry enough for the both of us, my Padawan."

"Someone has to, Master," Obi-Wan said, laying his hand on the Jedi's arm, and Qui-Gon lightly laid his hand over his student's.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the man barely able to keep his eyes open, and when Obi-Wan nodded, the Master closed his eyes again. "Good...I'm going to rest, Obi-Wan, you keep watch..." He lifted his hand and pointed as menacingly at his Padawan as he could manage, but only managed a limp twitch of his finger. "Make good choices..."

"I always do, Master," Obi-Wan reassured, patting the man's shoulder and pulling the covers over the Jedi's body as he quickly drifted to sleep. Putting his finger to his lips to call for silence, Obi-Wan motioned for Satine to follow him, the two teens leaving the room and closing the door behind them. Back in the sitting room, they slowly shuffled to the couch, their fingers lightly touching as they walked, almost hesitant to have more contact than that, almost as if they were afraid of what might happen. They threw themselves on opposite sides of the couch, the soft cushions giving way as they dropped down upon them with heavy sighs, the two wiggling to lay themselves comfortably among the pillows, kicking off their boots and allowing their feet to teasingly brush against the other's legs.

"This doesn't feel real," Satine finally said, trying to keep the smile from spreading across her face, but the warm feeling in her chest and the pounding of her heart made it impossible.

"Doesn't it?" Obi-Wan asked innocently, sighing as he looked at the girl, his heart skipping every time she moved her leg against his, the warmth pooling deep in his gut each time she relaxed and her bright blue eyes lit up. "We were bound to find you allies eventually. Even warriors at some point must grow weary of war. Perhaps that time is coming now."

"Perhaps..." Satine said slowly, her hands gripping the hem of the tunic she wore. "Do you think this is a trap?" she asked, fear creeping back into her voice, and Obi-Wan tensed, holding his breath as he watched the girl begin to tremble. "What if this is like it was with the Ordos, w-what if..." She sat up quickly and took a deep breath, her hand resting on Obi-Wan's thing, and the Jedi did everything in his power to repress the deep, pleasured moan building in his chest when her fingers began absently stroking him in her distress, the girl's need for close contact and comfort expressed in the nervous movements of her grip on his leg. "D-do you sense anything, can you feel something wrong?"

""Y-yeah..." Obi-Wan said nervously, swallowing hard as he quickly snatched her hand in his before she could do more damage, mentally kicking himself for his tired mind unable to fight the sudden urge of his body as lazy arousal slowly pulsed through his blood, the boy only just managing to keep his traitorous body from reacting to the beautiful girl's touch. "I feel you, Satine, seeing the ghost of your past failures because given the chance to relax, you don't know what else to do but to look for danger."

"B-but-"

"And I know this because I am doing the same thing," he reassured, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. "No, I felt nothing from Katra and Jakal. They are...afraid as well," he said, closing his eyes. "They fear the Death Watch. They fear falling to the same fate as Clan Itera. But most of all, they fear the war. And...they feel hope now where they had none before." He opened his eyes, a slight smile on his lips as he watched the emotions play across the Duchess' face. "I do not believe we have anything to fear from Clan Sharratt, although..." he said with a frown. "Jakal was making eyes at me on our way here..."

"He just doesn't know that you're mine..." Satine slowly drawled, her fingers intertwining with the Jedi's and her eyes darkening with desire as she crawled over him, her free hand on his chest for support as she slowly laid her body over his and captured his lips with her own, quickly deepening the kiss when Obi-Wan moaned deeply. Both teens were exhausted, making the kisses they shared both languid and deep, their inhibitions gone with their alertness, their taxed minds quickly surrendering to the relaxation the flood of pleasure allowed them. Their modesty had prevented them from this before, their tongues sliding against each other and exploring deeper than they had before, but they were simply too tired to care, too drained for shyness and uncertainty to assert itself as it usually did.

Obi-Wan gasped when Satine's leg brushed against the hardening length in his pants, the girl stilling for a moment as she broke the kiss, and the Jedi found himself looking into eyes black with arousal, a thin, bright blue ring surrounding the Duchess' dilated pupil. With her own soft moan, Satine's hips slowly began to roll against his, and Obi-Wan found his hands sliding to grab her thin waist, not to still her, but to move her gently downwards into position, her hips fitting perfectly against his and his engorged member pressed between them. His involuntary gasps and moans as Satine slowly, slowly rolled her hips was enough to bring Obi-Wan out of it, the two teens rushing headlong past the line they had drawn together when one was usually left on the other side to pull the other back.

"Satine..." Obi-Wan gasped between deep, lazy kisses, the boy moaning softly when the Duchess began nipping at his pale neck. "My Master is in the other room, w-we should stop..." he muttered, watching in fascination as Satine sat up to straddle his hips, a deep groan pulled right out of his chest when he felt the burning heat between her legs against him, the arousal in his pants beginning to painfully throb with need. "Satine," he said more urgently when the girl took his hands in hers and laid them upon her breasts, the Jedi gasping and tensing as he felt the soft flesh beneath the thin cloth of his tunic that she wore. "W-we should...oh..." When she removed her hands, his stayed in place upon her, his fingers gentle brushing against her, feeling the small, hard points of her nipples beneath them. The girl planted her hands upon the flat, lean muscle of his chest, her eyes closed and her expression blissful as she rocked her hips back against his, and for just a moment, nothing else mattered.

The moment was over when the Jedi's hands returned to her hips, shaking as they slid under her tunic and began to tug at the waist of her pants, the girl's eyes widening and her breath catching when she realized how far she had pulled her hesitant Jedi, the hard length pressed between her legs throbbing in time with his rapidly beating heart and sending shots of arousal deep into the very center of her being, and she recoiled, afraid of the lust she saw within her that had so very nearly consumed the both of them. Leaning down and kissing him gently, the boy returning it with a ferocious desperation she hadn't seen in him before, the Duchess slowly slid off his lap, sitting back on her side of the couch and leaving the Jedi to whine pitifully from the sudden loss of the heat above him.

"Y-you're right..." Satine stammered after she found her voice, swallowing hard as she watched her Jedi turn on to his side and grip handfuls of his hair between his fingers. "We need to stop..."

"Temptress..." Obi-Wan hissed between panted breaths, his eyes shut tight when he couldn't bear to look at her flushed face. "Sweet Force, what are you doing to me..."

"The same thing you are doing to me, I suspect..." she said softly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she wiggled, the slickness between her legs distracting her from her attempts to calm herself. "I want you, Obi-Wan..." she said, swallowing hard and watching as his eyes shot to her, wild and untamed and so unlike the repressed boy she had met back on Mandalore so many months ago. "I have for such a long time now, I-"

"Y-you have?" Obi-Wan asked innocently, the conversation allowing himself to focus on anything but the need deep in his gut. "I wonder if you've wanted me for as long as I've desired you."

"Perhaps," Satine said with a smile. "I just...y-you were right, we need to stop. I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, no, don't be..." Obi-Wan said, his pulse finally beginning to slow as his unfulfilled arousal began to fade, though the need was still there. "Someone needed to assert reason, because Force knows I wasn't going to."

"I didn't want to stop," Satine explained, her eyes averted from the Jedi. "Believe me, I need it as badly as you do, but I'm..."

"...afraid?" Obi-Wan offered when the Duchess said nothing, and biting down on her lip, Satine quickly nodded, the Jedi chuckling softly and smiling when the girl looked petulantly at him. "Come here, Satine," he quietly commanded, and after a moment's hesitation, the Duchess moved to lay beside her Jedi protector, the young Kenobi wrapping his arms about her and drawing her closer, and despite her initial tension, Satine relaxed quickly against him, her hand running over the length of his braid. "I'm afraid too," he quietly confessed. "As a Jedi, I'm not..." He hissed and shook his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling the sweet cent of flowers that Satine always seemed to take with her. "I don't know what this means for my place in the Order."

"I won't hold you back from that, Obi-Wan," Satine said firmly. "I would never. If it gets in the way of your place among the Jedi, I'll step back. I don't want to be the one that killed your dream."

"You never could be, Satine..." Obi-Wan said, frowning slightly as he felt his eyelids grow heavy, the deeply relaxed way the girl was leaning against him indicating that she was similarly exhausted. "How would you say what we are in Mando'a?" the Jedi asked, and Satine shifted slightly, the Jedi smiling as without seeing her face, he could feel her lips purse in thought, her brow knit together as she considered the question.

"Kar'tayli," she finally decided. "It means...I hold you in my heart."

"Kar'tay'li..." Obi-Wan repeated, slowly nodding and planting a lazy kiss to the girl's shoulder. "Yes, I think that's it. It's...beautiful."

"Like us..." Satine said as she nestled against the Jedi.

"Yes..." he agreed, his eyes closing as he drew her closer. "Just like us."

By the time the medic arrived for Qui-Gon, both the Jedoi and the Duchess were fast asleep.

---

Meditation.

Satine. Satine. Satine. Satine. Satine. Satine...

It doesn't stop, over and over in my mind, just Satine, Satine, Satine, without end. I need this to stop. This is bordering on obsession. It certainly doesn't help that my body's need to be inside her gnaws at me day and night without end, and it certainly isn't helped by the fact I can't get a moment alone to bring myself some damned relief. This would be easier if I had my own room, or a moment alone to "fix the ship." But the ship hasn't been delivered yet, and I promised Qui-Gon I'd watch Satine while he's recovering. And I am watching her. Force, but I am watching her, and it's making the problem so, so much worse than it needs to be.

Satine, Satine, Satine...

Qui-Gon is expected to make a full recovery, by the way, which is, of course, excellent news. I make a terrible guard, since I didn't even hear the medic come in, though I suppose the Force would have awakened me had there been trouble or ill-intent of any kind. I suppose I just can't get used to the idea that we are safe, which is a...good thing? We aren't truly safe, after all, but here within the walls of Clan Sharratt, it's certainly difficult to see that there's a war, that we're being hunted, that peace is still a very, very long ways away. I will remain vigilant, of course, so Satine and Qui-Gon can rest. It would not do for complacency to dull our senses. We must remain alert if we are to complete our mission, if we are to protect Satine.

Satine, Satine, Satine...

Stop it, Obi-Wan, you are better than this! Force help me, Quinlan Vos is not so bad as this! Alright, perhaps I am not quite that bad, but Luminara would certainly be ashamed of me. Certainly the Council would call into question their decision to not throw me out of the Order as they were going to do. I wonder if the Masters on the Council ever felt this way. I wonder if Master Windu ever thought of nothing but sex in his teenage years, or if Master Yoda ever fell in love. I suspect not. One doesn't become a Jedi Master of the High Council by being like the rest of us.

Satine and Qui-Gon are both sleeping now while I keep the watch that I failed to keep earlier, but I won't fail again. They deserve the rest. They need the rest if we are going to continue to run, and if the past months are any indication, we will always be running, at least until the day we end the war and Satine sits the throne of Mandalore. When they wake up, I suspect we'll all have a chance to bathe, and then it's down for dinner, which is the most excellent news I have ever heard. I'm positively famished, I think I might be able to eat three whole bantha's on my own. I know we have had bad luck with eating real meals, and I know I said we need to be ready to run at the first sign of danger, but...Force, I'm just so hungry...

I'm looking forward to getting back on the ship and away from this planet. I do confess I miss the stars, even if the close proximity to my traveling companions quickly drives us mad with the need to get away from each other. There's something surreal about feeling claustrophobic when surrounded by the infinite majesty of space, but I suppose life is made of curiosities and contradictions. It would be a dull place indeed if there existed an explanation for everything. What else would there be to learn? What faster was is there to take the wonder out of the world? The Force reduces to mathematics and probabilities. Love explained away as a blending of neural impulses and hormones brought on by the need to propagate the species. It makes the world seem so...so...clinical, I suppose. So inhuman. So lifeless.

I used to think that way. I used to see myself as above the emotions that beat in the heart of life itself. I was so...arrogant to believe that I stood above these mortal concerns, so disgusted with myself when I faltered. I tried so hard to purge myself of all desires, of all emotions, but being a Jedi isn't about that. It can't be. To feel is human. Anger and passion and love and joy are all a part of life. It isn't a Jedi's goal to purge themselves of these feelings, they're natural. We just must rise above them when our duty calls to us, place the betterment of others abouve our own wants and needs and desires so that we may do what is best and good and right. At least, that is what I am beginning to believe.

Or perhaps I'm deluding myself. Perhaps I am merely finding ways to justify how far I have strayed from the Code. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force...

Force, what have I gotten myself into...

I've learned so much here on Mandalore and from Satine, but am I discovering myself, or becoming lost? I don't think I know anymore. I'm not sure I ever knew.

I must talk with my Master.