Chapter Text
“We are a people of tradition”
Satine
The news of Qui-Gon’s death had been a punch to her gut. She’d sent her aides away for the day, canceled her meetings, and taken a moment in the gardens. He was one of the best men she’d ever known. When the Jedi had first come to protect her, she had barely been able to put one foot in front of the other, she was so consumed by her grief. Qui-Gon had understood her reticence and her anger, and given her space until she learned to trust them. Then he helped her rebuild herself, one day at a time. He had negotiated peace between her and Obi-Wan tirelessly for weeks, and then turned a blind eye as they discovered the… cause of their tension. He was always sending them out together to gather food, needlessly collect firewood, and other nonsense. Either he was exhausted by their bickering-turned-flirting or he had known exactly what was happening.
Obi said that Qui-Gon had once a great love himself, until he lost her. He didn’t want them to share his regret. Satine realized he was finally reunited with her in the force, and only then did she begin to cry for her friend.
She would miss him. She would not have survived that year without him. She’d treasured seeing him, and of course Obi-Wan, in the years since they had returned her to Mandalore. They’d come to her coronation six years ago. Qui-Gon’s pride had meant the world to her. And the look on Obi-Wan’s face- she smiled at the memory. It had been one of the best days of her life. She had everything she wanted, everyone she loved who was still alive, for just one day.
She’d found out she was pregnant several weeks later.
And once again, she had never felt so alone. Her family was gone.The only people in the galaxy she knew she could trust were Obi and Qui-Gon… as much as she wanted someone to support her, telling them was not an option. Now Qui-Gon would never have the opportunity to know the truth, or to meet her son. She imagined how happy he would have been to see what she and Obi-Wan had created with their love. A love he had all but encouraged. He was much less stiff about those things than Obi-Wan was. She smirked and rolled her eyes.
Obi-Wan. Her Ben.
She was sure he was devastated by the loss. Though he would never admit it, he had loved Qui-Gon. Of course he had! Jetii and their nonsense about attachment. She rolled her eyes again, this time with markedly less fondness.
Satine did not resent the Jedi, or Obi-Wan for that matter. They were committed to keeping the peace in the galaxy, and she could wholeheartedly support that. But with Qui-Gon now dead, she was reminded of the lie she had lived, and how not even her beloved Ben knew the truth. They spoke fairly often, but she’d never been able to lie to him, much less tell him the truth. She wondered if he’d heard the story of the Duchess of Mandalore taking in her orphaned infant nephew, and raising him as her own.
Perhaps she should tell him. She knew- she’d always known- that if she asked him to walk away from the Order he would do it. She just didn’t know if they’d be able to live with themselves after.
There was a funeral for Qui-Gon on Naboo the next cycle. She would attend, of course. He had saved her so many times, from her own misery as much from any of the bounty hunters who had been sent for her. And Obi would be there.
She pressed the button on her comm that summoned her son’s nanny. Her son. She almost never said the words aloud. So few people knew the truth.
She couldn’t bring him with her to the funeral. But he could stay aboard the Coronet. He loved space travel, so he would enjoy the trip. She smiled, recalling how transfixed he was by their last journey through hyperspace. He had stared out the viewport for hours, the ion clouds casting a beautiful light on his face, and asked a hundred questions about space travel that she had no idea how to answer. He looked so like Obi-Wan to her, with those deep blue eyes. He had finally fallen asleep in her arms, lulled by the hum of the ship and the calming sweep of hyperspace.
“Auntie!!” He bounded down the path to where she was sitting. She stood, laughing, and caught him as he tried to bowl her over. His nannies had followed behind, and as she picked him up she waved to them, motioning that she would take him for the rest of the day. If Satine had her way she would spend all of her time with him. But she had her duties.
Her dear boy would grow up believing he was an orphan, all because his parents had their duties. She couldn’t imagine anything more opposite Mandalorian tradition.
As distasteful as it was, she was still grateful. She held him close, rocking back and forth for a few moments, before pulling back to look at him.
“Hello Korkie” she said, her heart overflowing. “Tell me what you did today! Did Lea’ner take you to the spaceport?”
“She did! We saw lots of freighters, a huge cargo ship, and even two gauntlets!” His excitement was tangible. But he was always like this, and Satine never stopped giving silent thanks to her ancestors that such a wonderful boy was hers.
“Oh wow! What a good day for watching ships! Which one was your favorite, ad’ika?”
“I liked the gauntlets,” he said thoughtfully.
“But Lea’ner said you don’t like gauntlets” he looked at her sheepishly.
She faked offense. “How silly! Gauntlets are beautiful ships!” She tickled him for a moment and giggled with him.
“When I was a little girl, some people used gauntlets to hurt other Mandalorians... But what matters most about a ship is the person inside flying it. Not what it looks like from the outside, and not what it carries, where it is from, or where it is going. That’s why I know you will be the best pilot in the galaxy”
“Will you let me fly the Coronet one day, ba’vodu?” He’d been asking since he had learned how to talk. Maybe on their trip to Naboo she would take him to the bridge so he could watch. Perhaps they’d let him press a button or pull a lever. Of course they would- the palace staff loved Korkie. He had each of them wrapped around his finger, knew most of their names, and had a favorite or two. She knew they doted on him constantly, passing him treats, bringing him gifts, or secretly letting him “drive” their speeders. She often felt like Qui-Gon, sweeping those details under the rug, just to see her beloved boy happy.
“Oh you have such big dreams, my dear! That is amazing. Of course you can fly the Coronet one day. As long as you keep working hard to become a pilot, I know you’ll be there in no time.”
She put him down, and they began a walk through the gardens, pointing out everything from insects and birds to the ships taking off in distance, under the dome. He ran ahead of her, and she thought how much she loved him. She tried to think of that every day, and never let it become a novelty.
Her thoughts returned to her son’s father, and to Qui-Gon. He would want Satine to give Obi-Wan a chance to know his son. She had always suspected that Qui-Gon would have been delighted if Obi had chosen to stay with her. He was very unconventional. She had definitely day-dreamed about bringing Korkie to an event that Obi-Wan would attend, but in her mind he had always been so much older. And she didn’t realistically know how any meeting would go. It might be that Obi-Wan would suspect the truth- it always seemed painfully obvious to her, but she had taken so many steps to keep her lie intact. No, it would be safer for Korkie to introduce them on Mandalore, in an environment that she could control, full of people she could trust.
She looked out over Sundari and sighed. She had made many sacrifices, yes, but to see her people at peace was a gift second to none. Her entire life was dedicated to this vision. And they had made progress the past six years. Everything looked so calm from the garden- thousands of people using the new ground-transit system, the cargo ships making deliveries, children going to schools… Just taking these simple steps had required much in political currency, and they’d barely begun. That is what she would do- invite a member of the Order to Sundari as a token of goodwill, to showcase the progress they had made, and advise future negotiations. The Jetii did like to keep a close eye on Mandalore. She would request Obi-Wan of course, the council likely to approve it because of their friendship and his penchant for negotiation.
Her son deserved to meet his father, at least once. So that force forbid, if anything ever happened, he would at least have one memory to hold onto. She shuddered, and considered the future.
Korkie obviously didn’t remember ever having a mother other than her. When she told him stories of his parents, and she often did, she gave him vague details about her and Obi-Wan. “You have your father’s eyes,” “your mother loved those flowers as well when she was your age,” “your father would be so proud to see you being generous”...
She had tried never to lie to him, except for telling him she was his aunt and that his parents were gone. But she knew that one day he would puzzle out the truth, and that the day was fast approaching when telling him things about his parents would be too dangerous to continue. She hoped to tell him the truth before he put it together himself, but he had to be old enough to understand the importance of secrecy.
The Mandalorians and Jedi had a long, mutual distrust. Knowing that the eventual heir to the throne was the son of a Jedi could upset the very fragile peace she had worked so hard for. Worse, it would put her son in danger. One day the truth could be revealed, but not yet. She had to protect him while she could.
Satine watched him closely, always looking for signs that he might have Obi-Wan’s gifts. That could complicate things further, but wouldn’t spell out certain doom if it were to happen. He was definitely a special boy, but did all mothers not think that of their children? She wasn’t sure. He was mature for his age, and had a sensitivity to others’ feelings that she thought was extraordinary. But she’d never seen him move anything with his mind or perform outrageous physical feats. Blasted Jetii and their magic.
No, her boy was perfect. They watched the sun setting, its light refracted by many layers of glass between them and the open sky. She was terrified by the events of the coming days, but knew she owed it to her son, to Obi-Wan, and to Qui-Gon. One day she would tell each of them the truth, she told herself. But when would depend on what they would make of that truth, and their own points of view. They could believe what they needed to for now.