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Market day in Sundari was probably Obi-Wan’s favorite day of the whole year. It was better than his birthday, way better than ushering in a new year, and better still than the first day of summer when his father prepared his famously delicious fruit cakes. Nothing in the whole world could beat the riot of colors, smells, languages, and cultures all clashing together in the biggest market in the whole kingdom of Mandalore. For a whole week, merchants from all over Mandalore and even the neighboring kingdoms would showcase their products and creations for the world to see.
Obi-Wan and his father came from the distant kingdom of Stewjon, from a secluded village high up in the Wandering Mountains. It took them months to get to Sundari, even though they’d sped up the journey as much as possible through their magic arts. Stewjoni, or the Air People as they were sometimes called, had natural magic abilities tied to the natural world, a connection to the Force that coursed through everything and everyone, tying everything together. Though they much preferred to be scholars and wander the world helping people with their talents, they sometimes liked to use their talents to create items or spells to sell.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan’s father, had been a great warrior and diplomat for most of his life. Until one day, he’d discovered a passion for gardening and started to grow plants he then infused with magic to give them properties they didn’t have before.
Their stall wasn’t big and bright like most of the others, Qui-Gon couldn’t be bothered to advertise anything he did, but they still managed to attract a good flow of people interested in their plants. Qui-Gon managed the actual selling part, while Obi-Wan was tasked with taking the money and giving people change. He took his task with all the seriousness his five years of life gave him, counting coins attentively and slipping complimentary charms into the clients’ bags. He was still an apprentice, but he’d worked hard to craft the little spells Qui-Gon pretended he didn’t see him slipping to the clients.
Halfway through the day, a Mandalorian man in full armor approached their stall. He sized up Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan’s father positively towered over this man, before scanning their modest selection of plants.
“You got any plants with healing properties here?” The man spoke, voice low and gruff.
Obi-Wan looked up at him, but with the helmet hiding his features it was hard to gauge whether the man meant trouble or not. Two dark blue horns sprung from the helmet and curved backwards, and a long scaly tail rested lazily against the man’s leg when Obi-Wan stood on his tiptoes to take the man’s whole figure in. He tried to attune himself to the Force, letting his mind slip into that mental state that meant he was more perceptive of everything around him. He knew there was probably nothing to worry about, but still it was a useful exercise.
“Depends on what you are looking for, my friend,” Qui-Gon answered, unbothered as always.
“Something against venom would be nice.”
His father started listing the plants they had that could act as antidotes in a pinch, so Obi-Wan focused harder on syncing with the Force. He scrunched up his eyebrows and glared at the man speaking with his father, trying to glean something from him with his magical talents. He felt barely anything until a small ripple in the Force tugged at his senses.
That’s when he noticed the little boy half hiding behind the armored man.
He was a tiny little thing compared to his father, at least Obi-Wan thought they were father and son. He had short curly hair from which two short nubs sprung near his forehead. His skin was dark like his friend Depa and her sister. He was clutching a white and orange helmet in his hands. Much like his father’s, the helmet had two holes to make room for the horns springing from his head. Obi-Wan was sure that it had been thought to accommodate the horns’ growth over time.
Obi-Wan smiled at him, trying immediately for a friendly approach. The boy kept looking at him with his dark eyes, but he shuffled a little closer to his father’s legs. Maybe he was shy.
The boy’s father kept bartering with Qui-Gon on the price of the plants he wanted to buy. Obi-Wan stole looks at them but kept trying to engage the kid, or even simply provoke a reaction out of him that wasn’t trying to disappear from existence.
As a last resort, Obi-Wan pulled out a sheet of paper from below the desk. He’d had to keep track of their sales all day, but he still had a couple of sheets available. He started to fold one, over and over, following imaginary lines that he could practically see. He smiled within himself when he noticed the boy moving closer, eyes following what his fingers were doing.
He folded the paper one more time and the butterfly was complete. Or, well, almost complete. He grabbed the pencil he’d been using all morning to do his book-keeping and started drawing runes onto the paper. As soon as one rune was complete, it shone bright and then disappeared. The boy moved closer still. The last rune was drawn and that was it. Obi-Wan put down the pencil and tapped the paper-butterfly.
The paper-butterfly fluttered its wings and flew away, gliding elegantly through the air. It was a simple spell, but Obi-Wan felt quite proud of it.
“Oh!”
The boy’s eyes were trained on the butterfly, he seemed determined not to lose sight of it for even a second. The butterfly kept flying around and then it turned and went to the boy to rest on the tip of his nose. The boy flinched and took a step back, startled by the sudden contact. The butterfly fell on the table, the spell having worn off.
Obi-Wan chuckled at the boy’s reaction.
“That will be ten credits,” Qui-Gon’s lazy drawl reached his ears.
“Here.”
Obi-Wan was so focused on the way the boy kept poking at the paper butterfly, that he needed Qui-Gon to rest a hand on his shoulder to remember that he had a very serious job to do. He scrambled to take the credits from the man in the armor, then counted carefully the change he had to give and handed it back to the man. As Qui-Gon handed over the bag with the man’s purchase, Obi-Wan quickly snuck inside it the paper butterfly he’d made for the boy. He winked at him when the boy caught what he did and stared at him all big-eyed.
“Let’s go, Kote,” the man rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder to steer him away. He missed completely the way his son slammed his helmet on his head to hide his blushing cheeks.
Obi-Wan watched them walk away wondering if he’d get to see Kote again.
The satchel fell on the surface of the table with a soft thud.
“For you.”
Obi-Wan looked up from what he was doing – an intricate spell that demanded weaving the Force in a fine web around the object he needed to enchant – and immediately he smiled when he saw who was standing right in front of his stand.
“Kote, you’re back!” He said, pushing the bracelet he was working on to the side without a second thought.
“That seemed important,” Kote followed the bracelet as it slipped off the side of the table and into a basket on the ground.
“This is more important,” Obi-Wan replied, fingers already unraveling the knot tying the satchel closed. “What did you bring me?”
He heard a low scratching sound, like pebbles rubbing together, and knew immediately that Kote was scratching nervously at the scales on his neck.
“I went through a growth-spurt during winter. I kept some of my scales, the ones in better shape.”
Obi-Wan cooed softly as he made the scales tumble out of the satchel and onto his hand. The golden color of Kote’s scales was hypnotizing, catching the light and reflecting it back in gentle rays. The most endearing quality though, was how the scales were still warm to the touch, retaining even now some of the fire that simmered low and constant inside Kote, inside everyone of the Dragonborn people.
“These are beautiful! Thank you, Kote!” Obi-Wan rose on his hands and leaned over the table separating them, stamping a loud kiss on Kote’s cheek.
“It’s nothing,” Kote murmured, lowering his head to hide the violent red darkening his cheeks.
Obi-Wan smiled knowingly at him, privately chuckling at the way Kote’s tail thumped loudly against the nearby stall when he wagged it happily. In the five years they’d known each other, Obi-Wan had come to realize that Kote would probably never outgrow his shyness, he would always try to hide his feelings even though his body kept betraying them. Part of Obi-Wan thought that perhaps Kote’s shyness depended a lot on always being on the move with his father Jango. All Dragonborn people tended to be secluded individuals, only truly engaging socially with their family.
That Kote chose to cultivate his friendship with Obi-Wan, always searching him when Market Day came in Sundari, was nothing short of a miracle. One that Obi-Wan treasured dearly.
“I made something for you as well!” Obi-Wan said, trying to give Kote a respite.
He rummaged through the travel bag he had previously stored under the table. Hiding under all his travel clothes and the enchantments he’d been working on on the road to Sundari, he pulled out a small knife wrapped in a dark leather sheathe.
“You made this for me?” Kote asked when Obi-Wan pushed the knife toward him.
“Well, yes.” Obi-Wan smiled. “I mean, I didn’t make the knife but I enchanted it. It should now be able to cut through most things. You’ll have to tell me if it works.”
He’d started training in sword fighting with his father, he’d even managed to produce a light blade after enchanting the kyber crystal he’d found with his father. He didn’t think he’d ever want to be a warrior all his life, he much preferred studying the world and its people as opposed to waging war against them, but learning how to fight had made him think of Kote. Dragonborns were secretive by nature, that much was widely known, only some details of their culture made it into popular knowledge. That they were renown fighters that often put their skills to the service of the better offering was probably what they were mostly known for.
That’s why he’d started focusing on learning more on how to enchant weapons and such. He didn’t think Kote would need magical armor of any type, his body alone protected him from most dangers in the world, but weapons that could cut through anything were always useful.
It also didn’t hurt that there was pure happiness in Kote’s eyes and lips as he turned the knife over and over in his hands.
“What do you say we go and see what that knife can really do?” Obi-Wan heard himself say.
“Won’t your father be angry that you’re leaving the stand?” Kote asked, but it was clear he wanted to accept Obi-Wan’s offer.
Obi-Wan hopped over the table and landed gracefully next to his friend. “Qui-Gon never really gets angry. Besides, we’ve sold what we could for the day. It won’t matter if we close up shop a little earlier.”
With that said, Obi-Wan waved his hands in precise figures, threading his magic through the air and sealing their stand closed so that no one, besides Qui-Gon and him, could even come close to it.
“Now let’s go!” Obi-Wan smiled and took Kote’s hands, pulling him away so they could train together.
At the tender age of fifteen, Kote knew Obi-Wan would be the love of his life.
Alright, to be perfectly honest, he’d known that the moment the paper butterfly had come to rest on the tip of his nose. Age had only taken the tender feeling that had curled around his heart and warmed it, and turned it into a fire that smoldered through the year to become a raging fire when Market Day came around.
He watched Obi-Wan waltz around the various stalls, the innate elegance the Air People possessed really shone through him. He moved as if he weighed nothing, the simple cream and brown colored tunics he wore moved with him in an effortless dance. He’d grown his hair out over the year and had it tied in a long braid that swung behind his back, tendrils of hair escaping it to frame his face. He must have spent a lot of time under the sun because the freckles Kote considered one of his most appealing qualities, were more evident than ever across the bridge of his nose.
Kote rubbed his hands against the soft leather of his pants. He’d decided that today he’d outright ask Obi-Wan out on a date and his hands had started to sweat like never before. Not even his first fight while on a mission with his father had made him feel like this. He’d prepared hard for this day. His scales shone bright in the sun after he’d washed them and rubbed sweet perfumed sand on them. He’d clipped gold rings to his horns, the way he’d seen his father do when he would go out with the intention of attracting mates. His claws were neatly trimmed; he knew not everyone liked long nails that could puncture skin at a moment’s notice. Obi-Wan had always had nothing but appreciative words for his dragon features but Kote was not willing to take any risks.
And suddenly, a terrible thought manifested itself in his mind.
What if he doesn’t like me? What if he says no?
The mere possibility of Obi-Wan telling him that he wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with him had his heart clench painfully in his chest. Their friendship would be ruined if that were the case. Kote would have to spend the year they lived their separate lives learning how to pretend he hadn’t made a fool of himself, and hope all would be good the next time they met. That, or he could hope Obi-Wan would suddenly suffer from a bout of amnesia and forget all about Kote asking him out.
“Kote! There you are, I was looking everywhere for you!”
Obi-Wan was making his way towards him, feet barely touching the ground as he moved as if he were dancing. He had a big smile on his face which immediately put him at ease. He was getting ahead of himself. There was no reason to believe that Obi-Wan would reject him.
“I just arrived,” he said, shaking off his nerves and greeting his friend as he always did. “Father’s mission ran a little longer than we both thought so we got here later than usual.”
“Well, you’re here now, that’s what’s important.”
“Why’s that?” Could it be that Obi-Wan wanted to say something similar to what Kote had been thinking about for weeks now?
“Because my father has left me with a never-ending list of errands to run while he and grandfather are locked in their quinquennial discussion on life choices appropriate for the family.”
The disgruntled look marring Obi-Wan’s face more than made up for the disappointment he’d felt. Alright, so Obi-Wan had been looking for him merely because he needed help with his chores. It was fine. They both did this every year, helping each other out with the stuff their parents unloaded on them so they could spend more free time together. He would just have to help Obi-Wan and then ask him out once they were both free to do whatever they wanted.
“We should get started, then.”
Obi-Wan hadn’t been joking when he’d said that his father had left him with a mountain of things to do. It felt to Kote like they didn’t stop moving from stall to stall even for a second. Obi-Wan picked up items from some stalls, left letters and tools in others, enchanted potions and created spells for various people in some other stalls. Kote trailed after him, taking in the way his hair seemed to catch on fire when the sun hit them right, and his long pointy ears flushed red sometimes when Obi-Wan caught him looking. Kote was no expert on love, but he took that as a good sign that he would not get rejected.
When finally Obi-Wan was done with his chores, they were both exhausted.
They looked for a place to sit down and promptly collapsed on a bench in the main plaza they found miraculously free.
“Please tell me you did something to anger your father and this wasn’t a normal day for you.” Kote moaned, slouching down on the bench, legs stretched in front of him.
“I object to this being my fault. I never did anything wrong in my life. Ever.” Obi-Wan said, sliding down the bench much like Kote had done. “I’m sorry the day was spent running around doing chores instead of us having fun.”
“I have always fun when I’m with you.” He said it instinctively, before he could think his words through.
“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed out, surprised probably by his candor. Kote had never been one to be so forward. “Oh, well, I...oh I wanted to show something to you!”
Kote turned to look at him, smiling when he saw the way he’d flushed to the tip of his long ears. Yes, he was pretty sure he definitely had a chance with him. Obi-Wan reached for a wooden box, one he’d gotten from an old woman during one of his last commissions.
“Look,” Obi-Wan said, opening the box and showing it to him.
“That’s an egg,” Kote blurted out, perplexed.
“It’s a dragon egg,” Obi-Wan corrected him. “Mind you, it’s a minor species, it will probably only grow as big as a small dog, but!” he paused, looking at Kote with barely conceived happiness. “It will help us stay in contact when we’re apart! They’re small dragons but they’re very fast fliers and have an absolutely amazing sense of direction so we could have it fly from one to the other and exchange missives!”
“Well, it will certainly make things easier, for sure,” Kote murmured, deeply touched by the fact that Obi-Wan had clearly thought a lot about this.
“Easier?”
“Yeah.”
And Kote leaned forward, quickly pressing his lips to Obi-Wan’s and drawing back immediately.
He expected Obi-Wan to look stunned, speechless maybe, but he was smiling wide instead. Kote smiled back when Obi-Wan kissed him next.
They didn’t see each other for the next ten years.
The world they lived in spiraled rapidly into chaos when the kingdom neighboring Mandalore became more and more aggressive. The man who ruled it, a sorcerer named Palpatine, had tried for many years to gain a foothold in Mandalore. At first, he’d tried to do it subtly, undermining their economy, then interfering with their politics. When everything else had failed, he’d decided to proceed by brute force.
It was no secret that Mandalore was a military power to reckon with, but Palpatine had been building up to this for years. His army was prepared, well armed, and far more capable than anyone had given it credit for.
The result was a long, slow, war that trudged on through the years. Battles lost and won here and there, both inside Mandalore’s borders and inside Palpatine’s kindgom. The war interfered with commerce between countries, making it so Market Day in Sundari became such a small and poor gathering of artisans, merchants and people that Kote’s heart ached when he visited with his father during that first dreadful year of war.
The Air People were the first to desert Sundari.
Information was harder to come by in those days, but Kote managed to piece together what was a not so great picture of what was happening in Obi-Wan’s homeland. Palpatine was apparently greatly interested in the Air People talent for magic, believing that the source of it was located somewhere in the Wandering Mountains. Wanting to get his hands on a new source of power that could potentially win him the war or at least give him an advantage, he’d started sending troops to any Air People village he could find.
The Air People defended themselves well, not ceding ground, but Kote was sure that the war was taking its toll on them. Through Obi-Wan, he’d come to understand that as much as they could be great warriors and knew well how to harness their powers to fight, the Air People were primarily peaceful. They were more interested in arts and cultures than blood and war.
The only reason Kote hadn’t abandoned everything to go look for Obi-Wan was trotting right toward him in that very moment.
“Come here, sweety,” Kote cooed as the little green dragon slithered in his direction. “Oh, you’re getting big aren’t you, Boga?”
Boga warbled that in that high tone Kote had come to understand was her way to greet him. Her long green body moved sinuously on the ground, wide paws clawing at the earth under her as she propelled herself forward. She was now as big as a small dog, coming up to a little higher than Kote’s knee when she came to a stop in front of him.
“Hi, girl,” Kote greeted her, kneeling to scratch the scales right behind her left ear. “Look at these nice feathers you have here. You didn’t have those last time we met.” He ran a finger along the soft blue fathers that crowned her head. When she pushed herself against his hand, his fingers brushed against the little leather harness that Obi-Wan had made for her and that held the letter he’d written.
He unfolded the roll of paper gingerly, skin itchy as his eyes quickly ran over the neat calligraphy of his love.
My dearest Kote,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I hope this war has spared you, my love, and that we can see each other soon in person. Do not worry for me, I am safe with father and grandfather. Though Palpatine’s army is trying its hardest to conquer my people’s land, he has not been able to succeed. I heard more and more Dragonborn clans are uniting, so I hope you have your cousins, aunts and uncles with you. I wish this war would end soon so we could safely see each other again in Sundari. If the Force wills it, we will see each other again soon.
Yours always,
O-WK
As always, Obi-Wan’s letter were short and simple, but Kote never had any problems reading between the lines. They’d been exchanging letters for almost ten years, Boga their fateful messenger, the thin thread that kept them together when apart. He’d been skeptical, in the beginning, as it seemed impossible to be together only through written letters. But in these ten years, the letters had come nonstop and he’d never felt closer to Obi-Wan than when reading his words.
Sometimes, Obi-Wan’s letters were full of his worries for the future, of his feelings for Kote, of his dreams. Sometimes they were full of his most random thoughts and ideas. Kote had been a little clumsy in his answers, out of his depths, but he’d gotten better and better and soon it felt like Obi-Wan was right by his side.
Boga butter her head against his leg, demanding his attention.
“I know,” he answered patting her head. “How about we get something in your stomach before I write up a response for Obi?”
The excited thrill he got in response was answer enough.
It took five more years for them to see each other again.
As soon as they both set foot in the market square in Sundari, it was like they could sense each other’s presence.
Sundari had been changed by the war. Though no battles took place in the city, Palpatine never managed to get that far into Mandalorian territory, there was no denying that the city wasn’t the same as it was before. For years, Market Day had been reduced to only those who lived in the city or in the surrounding lands, the only ones who could still build their stalls and sell what they’d been able to produce through the year. Gone were the foreign accents of people from far away, and gone were their exotic merchandises, their expertise, their stories.
For fifteen years, Sundari had lost its greatest treasure.
None of this was important to Obi-Wan and Kote at the moment. They too could see that the city where they met and that, in some way, was a home to them whenever they were together, was but the shadow of what it used to be. But it didn’t matter. Not really. The only thing that mattered was finding each other and finally be together after so many years.
Kote clutched the last letter Obi-Wan had sent, the one where he asked if they would be able to meet in Sundari now that the war was over, as he walked briskly through the streets. He wanted to run to be honest, every step he took was an effort in control lest he bowled over some poor innocent. He’d filled up in the last fifteen years, not in height thanks to his father, but in bulk he was second to none. So he walked as fast as he could toward the place where he remembered Obi-Wan and his father used to set up their stall.
His heart jumped in his chest when he saw the imposing figure of Qui-Gon Jinn. He knew the man had survived the war, even fought in it with great reluctance right by Obi-Wan’s side, but to see him again after so many years seemed to make the reality of the day just that more solid. He was still as tall as a birch, back straight and hair long if graying.
“Qui-Gon Jinn, sir,” Kote addressed the man barely hiding his excitement.
“Oh, Kote, my dear boy,” Qui-Gon Jinn answered, brogue thick on his tongue. “I was wondering when I’ll-”
“Where’s Obi-Wan, sir?” He interrupted, too strung up to be polite. He would apologize later.
Qui-Gon smiled, not at all surprised. “Oh, you just missed him. He went looking for you, that way.” He pointed behind Kote.
“Ah, no,” Kote lamented, tail lashing wildly behind him. The day just wasn’t going like he’d imagined. He threw a hasty nod in Qui-Gon’s direction, and turned around.
Obi-Wan had written that he’d wait for Kote at his usual place, why would he run around now of all times? Kote wasn’t late, he’d come as soon as he’d been able once the roads had been opened. He’d have words with him as soon as he found him.
It was in the main plaza of all places, where they sat down on a bench fifteen years before and confessed their feelings, that he saw a flash of red and immediately pounced in that direction.
Obi-Wan was sitting on a bench at the center of the plaza, right next to the fountain that dominated the space, Boga on his shoulder like an over-sized lazy tooka. He stole Kote’s breath away without even doing anything. He looked older, gone was any remaining baby fat on his face. His hair was still beautifully long and tied in a braid that he’d thrown over his shoulders. He was more muscular, his skin was not as smooth and milky as he remembered it from the last time. There were signs of war on his body, scars that even from afar Kote could see clearly. One high on his forehead, near his hairline, some on his arms, even one near the base of his throat that had Kote’s heart skip a beat.
“Obi-Wan,” he shouted, running the last few meters that separated them.
Obi-Wan looked up immediately, his blue eyes shone bright like they always did when they came to rest on him. “Kote!” He sprung up, Boga gave an annoyed chirp at the sudden movement, and started to run toward him.
They crashed into one another, Kote’s arms immediately wrapping themselves around Obi-Wan’s solid body, and Obi-Wan’s own going around his neck. Kote didn’t even have time to think that Obi-Wan was planting a rough kiss on his lips, all clashing teeth and happiness.
When he drew back, Obi-Wan smiled as bright as the sun. He ran a hand tenderly over the scales on his neck and then up the side of his face to the new scar that curled around his left eye and climbed up his temple. A hint of sadness marred his eyes but then he was looking up and the smile was back on.
“Your horns,” he said, fingers following the hard curve of the bone. “They’re finally all grown.”
“They stopped growing years ago,” Kote answered, cheeks warming up. Obi-Wan never shied away from his dragon heritage.
Obi-Wan’s smile turned bitter. He pressed another kiss to Kote’s lips. “We missed so many years,” he whispered against his him.
“We didn’t,” Kote disagreed. “We never stopped being in touch, we always spoke about everything, we know almost everything about one another. I don’t think we missed much.”
Obi-Wan laughed soft and gentle, “I never though I’d hear you talk so much! You were always so shy!”
“It was hard talking to you,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know how to find the right words.”
“Well, I’m glad you finally found them that day,” Obi-Wan said, sliding down from his embrace. “And now we can finally be together for the rest of our lives.”
“For the rest of our lives.” Kote answered, his hand finding Obi-Wan’s ready to start the next part of their life.