Work Text:
The night sky had slipped from deep blue into inky black and millions of stars glistened like diamonds stretched across the infinite horizon. Obi-Wan lay on his back, his hands tucked beneath his head, in a rare moment of repose. The day had been long and physically exhausting; he had hike nearly thirty-five klicks round trip to a village at the base of the mountain. He had been on the run with Satine and Qui-Gon for months now and they had desperately needed to resupply. Obi-Wan volunteered to go alone, hoping to allow his master some much-needed rest. Satine stayed behind because she could not safely go into town without being recognized. All the better for Kenobi. He could move faster on his own.
Had he known how miserable the journey was going to be he might never have offered to go. The weather was horrendous during his descent; a torrential rain began about halfway down the mountain trail, complete with hail and lightening. By the time he arrived in the village he was soaked through to the bone. He collected the required supplies and then began his trek back into the wilderness. The rain had stopped and was replaced by blazing sun. The forest became humid and suffocating. Obi-Wan was sweating and a pitiable mess by the time he returned to camp.
The Jedi and their Duchess had taken residency in a cave overlooking a crystal clear lake. As Qui-Gon appeared in the cave opening and approached his apprentice to welcome him back, Kenobi dumped his heavy supply bags and walked right past Jinn without a word. The boy was filthy, sunburned, and soar. Qui-Gon and Satine watched in confusion as Obi-Wan walked quickly over the large flat boulders that edged the beautiful lake. Without hesitation, the young man walked right to the edge of a rock protruding far into the water and dove headfirst, clothes and all, into the ice cold deep blue loch.
After a long while Kenobi finally emerged, veritably crawling up the shore until he collapsed on his back, arms and legs sprawled in all directions, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily. Qui-Gon went and stood over him. “This is all a bit dramatic isn’t it?” the Jedi Master said with a chuckle.
“No,” Obi-Wan said simply, his eyes closed against the sunshine. “Just leave me here for a bit to dry out. I’ll come help make dinner in a moment.”
Qui-Gon could not hold back his smile. “No need. You’ve earned your rest, Padawan. Thank you for your efforts.” He gently kicked Kenobi’s foot. “Take those boots off and dry them out or they’ll be useless tomorrow.”
Hours later Obi-Wan was fed and snuggly wrapped in a blanket, lying drowsily under the stars on that same rock with Satine by his side. She lay to his right in the same reclined position, hands behind head and feet crossed at the ankles. She was telling him stories about the stars, but he had asked that she do it in Mando’a. She’d been teaching him the language and he found that listening to a dialect was just as important as speaking it. He often asked her to simply talk at him, allowing her to rattle on about whatever pleased her just so he could get a sense of how the sentences were structured and how the words flowed together. Obi-Wan had a brain for languages and he like the challenges presented by Mando’a; but what he liked best was listening to Satine’s voice as she spoke in her native tongue. There was something primordial and natural about it, something that stripped away her decorum and her self-consciousness. When Satine spoke to Obi-Wan in Mando’a it was like seeing her in her purest form.
“Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?” she suddenly asked in basic.
Kenobi shook his head a little to rouse himself. “You were talking about twin brothers that shared immortality… I think,” Obi-Wan replied, shifting his head to look at her.
“Very good,” she smiled. “Anything else?”
“One was the son of a god and the other was not, but they were still twins?”
“That’s the story,” Satine said with a light laugh. She sat up quickly and reached for her metal thermos mug of tea. “If you’re a god I suppose you can do whatever you want.” She took a sip and then wrapped her cold fingers around the hot metal.
Obi-Wan sat up beside her. “I know all the practical uses of the stars, how to plot coordinates and navigate, but I like hearing the mythology as well. I like that you know all of it,” he said looking down with a crooked smirk.
Satine gave him a shy smile before handing him his own mug of tea. She clinked the glasses together. “To the stars!”
Obi-Wan suddenly felt hot under his collar as he grinned back at her. “May they never burn out.” They both sipped their tea.
She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes reflecting like glass in the night. For a moment he thought she was going to say something but instead she stood and walked toward the water’s edge. She picked up a handful of stones and began skipping them across the obsidian lake.
He watched her for a long time, watched her delicate wrist flick, watched her balanced lithe frame, watched the defeated droop in her shoulders. Obi-Wan knew Satine had feelings for him, and if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he had feelings for her. But they both knew nothing could ever come of it. The Jedi Code forbid attachment, and Kenobi feared his and Satine’s burgeoning friendship was already in direct conflict with his vocation.
Satine was smart.
Satine was challenging.
And Satine was constantly surprising him with her survival instincts, her compassion, and her fervent beliefs.
Obi-Wan had never met a woman like her.
She was beautiful, inside and out.
His attention was suddenly brought back to the present moment as he realized she was humming to herself, something low and undulating. The mournful yet romantic and haunting melody surprised him. Satine’s back was turned as she continued skipping stones across the water, the rocks bouncing in perfect time to her song. Obi-Wan sat as still as possible, not wanting to break the moment. He barely breathed as he silently watched Satine standing under the stars, singing to herself as though no one else existed in the galaxy. He wanted to remember her like this forever.
Eventually she stopped and turned back to him, brushing dirt off her hands.
“What were you singing?” he asked quietly.
She gave him a quick, sad smile. “A Mandalorian waltz.”
“It was beautiful.”
“I’ve always thought so. It started as a ‘country’ dance but eventually became popular with all class levels in Mandalore.” She flipped her hand and tossed her head back jauntily in mock courtly manners. “It’s too beautiful to not be loved by all,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s easy to love.” Kenobi was glad it was dark out because he was quite sure he had just blushed to the roots of his hair. Shut up, idiot! he shouted at himself internally.
Satine suddenly rushed to him and held her hands out. “Come on,” she said, wiggling her fingers.
“Come on what?” he said, his eyes growing wide.
“Get up.” She reached down and took his hands. “Dance with me, Obi-Wan.”
He let her pull him to his feet. “No no no… I… I don’t dance, Satine.”
“Yes you do. You’re a Jedi. I’ve seen the way you move. Dancing will be like breathing.”
He shook his head uselessly, words failing him completely. He did know how to dance; Jedi were required to learn dancing not just to develop social and diplomatic skill but also to refine footwork and speed for combat. He simply had never danced with someone under such private circumstances.
Obi-Wan’s eyebrows pulled up in pure horror as his mouth hung open. “For heaven’s sake, relax,” Satine said, nudging him. She placed his arm around her waist and set her own on his shoulder; as they clasped hands she looked up at him. “It’s a waltz, so you know how it goes. One two three, one two three…”
Their feet began to move in step, making the traditional box formations. “So you can dance,” she said coyly.
“I didn’t say I couldn’t. I said I didn’t.”
“Well you’re doing it now.”
Then, before he could retort, she began again to sing.
He led her, forgetting his reluctance. He kept their movements small so they wouldn’t trip over their large boots, using his hand on the small of her back to guide her turns. She was elegant and graceful, following him perfectly. It was short and simple, sweet and gentle.
When the song was over and she stopped singing they froze in place, their arms wrapped around each other, their hips pressed together. Obi-Wan could feel her breath on his cheek as she squeezed her fingers around their intertwined hands.
He should let her go…
…but he didn’t.
He searched her face for guidance, not knowing what to do.
He was so boyish in his shyness, such a contrast to the graceful leadership he had shown only seconds ago. “You’re far more refined than you let on,” she whispered, trying to smile and put him at ease.
He brought his lips close to hers and nuzzled her nose. “You’re lovely.”
Obi-Wan wanted desperately to kiss her but he knew he shouldn’t. Satine took pity on him. She leaned up onto her tiptoes and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. He closed his eyes and let the Force come alive around him, savoring the sensation.
“Keep your Code intact,” she whispered, pulling away.
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. “I guess now I can say I’ve danced with royalty,” he said with a roguish smile.
“I suppose that’s true,” she laughed.
Duchess Satine curtsied in her combat fatigues and Obi-Wan Kenobi bowed in his sun-bleached Jedi robes before they made their way back to the campsite.