This is Satine Kryze.

This is Satine Kryze. A Mandalorian who despised fighting. A pacifist in a wartorn galaxy. Heir to the Kryze clan. Someone of unshakeable faith and pure stubbornness and biting wit. Someone who could tear your world down with only a few choice words. Who stared death in the eyes far too many times and came out laughing.

Her people called her weak.

A Jetii's whore.

A woman who scoffed at tradition and cared only for her extremeness ideals.

That. Was. Fine.

This is Satine Kryze. A woman who refused to watch her people burn in flames around her. A woman who once stared Dooku in the eyes and walked away without harm. Who openly despised Chancellor Palpatine and questioned the motives of the war, the Jedi Order, the Galactic Republic. Whom had one of the best - probably the best - Jedi on a leash. One that commanded a tenth of an army made up of the same man.

She was a woman who should not be living right now. She was a woman who was standing before the front grounds of Sundari palace, back erect, draped in Kryze colors, her husband and sister on either side of her.

Every Holocam in Sundari was trained on her - well, what was before her. Every home in the Mandalorian system - heck, most of the Galaxy - was probably watching the broadcast. There was a small crowd, yes, of mostly New Mandalorians, watching their pacifist ruler in stunned silence.

But the amount of New Mandalorians was far outweighed by the number of traditional Mandalorians - and Satine knew she had the latter's support.

Members of Death Watch were being led onto the grounds, stripped of their weapons, guarded by several dozen members of the 3rd Systems Army. All of their eyes fell on the bodies of Maul and Vizla, sprawled just out of their reach.

Maul's lightsaber wound was still smoking. Vizla's head was barely recognizable.

Fear began to twine in the air, and a slow realization hit everyone.

This was not a woman to be messed with, no matter the circumstances.

Fingers brushed her wrist. Satine glanced to her right, smiling gently while her husband twined their fingers together. He met her gaze with tired blue eyes, and pressed her knuckles to his lips.

"The beard," Satine muttered. "Still don't like it."

"That's what you focus on right now?" Obi-Wan murmured, his crowsfeet crinkling.

"Mmm." She scanned the scene before her, lips pressed together. From here she could make out Korkie and Commander Cody, leading what remained of Death Watch's command into the grounds. Meeting the gaze of Commander Cody, she gave a small nod.

The silence filled with the sound of a few hundred clone blasters readying for fire.

The Death Watch flinched.

The New Mandalorians gasped.

The Galaxy was probably on the edge of their seats.

"Duchess?" Cody eventually asked.

Satine looked at her sister, whose face was impassive. She couldn't do it - she couldn't execute all these people...all these people her sister had served beside for years, these people that she somehow shared blood with.

Despite her quiet voice, Satine knew the Holocams could pick up her words. "Let this be a warning, Kyr'tsad. I will not be so lenient next time someone challenges my rule."

Mando'a words:

Kyr'tsad - Death Watch

Jetii - Jedi

Author's note: well hello there! I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Short, but Satine threatening violence? Man, I love that idea a little too much.

Let me know what you think! :D

ii Digestive Reader ii