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Mandalore
The gardens were lush and beautiful, their natural wildness flowing effortlessly with stone paths, cobbled bridges, and moss covered embankments; the walls were solid and high, protecting Obi-Wan and Satine from intrusive observations; the grounds were boundless, extending endlessly in every direction. A gentle evening breeze tousled the leaves above as little tufts of cottony fluff filtered through the low angled sunrays.
Obi-Wan could hardly remember the last time he had experienced such beauty. He could almost pretend nothing existed beyond this stone enclosure, no war nor death nor suffering. A tightness suddenly clenched in his chest and he held his breath until his rising emotions subsided.
These were Satine’s private gardens, constructed in the base of an ancient castle, planned and planted by her father’s family long before the modern domed cities dotted the planet. She kept them as a tribute to her father’s legacy, a symbol of a more elegant, softer side of Mandalore’s past. As she and Obi-Wan entered this sanctuary, and were no longer subject to her eavesdropping retinue, their conversation naturally dwindled. She was used to Obi-Wan’s manners and practiced conversation, but he was unusually quiet. His smile never quite reached his eyes, betraying his deeper sense of unrest. As they entered a warm sunny spot near several ancient trees, she suddenly felt his body tense against her hand that was still tucked under Obi-Wan’s arm. She realized he was holding his breath and that his teeth were clenched so tightly his jaw look twisted.
This could not go on. She took his hands in hers and led him under a tall tree with long, low-hanging undulating branches. Her voice was quiet and gentle. “I am glad to see you, my love, but you are not yourself.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “What’s happened, Obi-Wan? Why have you come?”
He closed his eyes and leaned into her palm, savoring the kindness. “I’ve been placed on mandatory leave,” he finally said flatly.
She was surprised. Kenobi would never willingly agree to being taken off the front lines. “Why would the Council do that to you?”
Obi-Wan shook his head and turned away. He began pacing back and forth, looking more exhausted than agitated. “I suppose it’s because I wasn’t able to focus, that I was short tempered and distracted.”
Satine’s brow crinkled into a skeptical frown. “That doesn’t sound like you at all. Did something specific happen to put you in this distracted state?”
He looked at her archly, half embarrassed, half frustrated. “I believe the term Master Yoda used was battle fatigue.”
She could see he hated to even say the phrase, and she could sense that he was not being entirely honest with her. He averted his eyes, turning to stare across the sunny garden; that was when she finally saw it. A barely healed scar was creeping up above the edge of his high collar, a pair of fierce, puckered intersecting lines that were irritated by the rubbing fabric. She came forward and gently pulled his collar aside, revealing a ghastly pattern cut through his flesh. She caught her breath, frozen in horror.
Obi-Wan did not recoil from her, did not try to hide his wounds. He simply took her hands in his, pulling them away from his neck, and said, “It’s nothing. Just another mission.” He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear then brushed his fingers along her cheek. “How I’ve missed you.”
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that Satine had never seen before, a heartbreak that she did not understand.
He looked down at her and smiled abashedly. “I’m sorry if I’ve put you in an awkward position by coming here. I couldn’t bear to stay on Coruscant but I truly had nowhere else to go.”
“Nonsense,” she said firmly, tracing his handsome brow with her fingertips. “You always have a place by my side.” She looked down at his strong fingers wrapped around her tiny wrist, marveling at the pleasure it gave her, when she noticed several deep lacerations carved across the back of his hand and along the edge of his thumb. Fear gripped her as she traced the lines that disappeared under his shirt cuff; the wounds were healed but they were grisly and looked painful.
“What is this?” she finally asked. “What’s happened to you, Obi-Wan?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
She felt like shouting at him for saying such a stupid thing, but she knew that would not help; she could sense that he needed comfort rather than provocation. “How can I not worry when you have so obviously been brutalized?”
They had an understanding, a new trust that was forged nearly a year ago when they had rekindled their passions. He knew she would not humiliate him or faun over him like a nurse, but he was still reluctant to tell her his truth; he did not want his horrors to become her nightmares.
“Tell me,” she urged.
He looked into her earnest eyes and he felt something in him budge, his inherent stubbornness yielded and allowed him to test this trust in a way he had never dared before. “Have you ever heard of the Zygerrian slave markets?”
She became very still as dread consumed her. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s said they are filled with unspeakable atrocities.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “The rumors are true.” He looked away, no longer able to make eye contact. “Several months ago an entire colony of Togrutas vanished from Kiros. Anakin and I were sent to investigate. We traced them to the Zygerrian markets. It was…” he swallowed thickly, is throat suddenly dry. “…It was a horrible place.”
Satine took his face in her hands as much for her own comfort as for his.
His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I made a stupid mistake.”
“But you don’t make mistakes,” she smiled gently, trying to brighten his mood.
“If only that were true.”
Satine touched the scars encircling his wrist. “It looks as though you paid dearly for your oversight.”
He suddenly looked like he might cry. He pushed away from her, desperation and anger flashing through his heart.
She wanted to reach out to him, wanted to take all his pain away, but she held herself in place, allowing him the space he needed.
“I wasn’t the only one who paid dearly,” he fumed. “I made an impulsive decision and misjudged my surroundings. The Zygerrians captured me and…” How could he tell her what they had done to him, what they did to the Togruta? Could he tell her how the Zygerrians dragged him into a cell where they beat and whipped him before leading him into the citadel market? How could he describe the Kadavo facility where innocent beings were tortured in front of him, because of him?
Obi-Wan felt like a great darkness was swallowing him. The entire weight of this brutal war seemed to crash down on him all at once. He curled in on himself, shaking with rage and unprocessed emotions; he had been fighting exhaustion and bitterness before they were sent to Zygerria, but afterwards he had been devastated and traumatized. Obi-Wan wanted to disappear, to escape the feelings that constantly preyed on him.
Heartbroken, Satine watched grief overwhelm the man she loved. She knew him well enough to not go charging in before he was ready. She gave him a moment to compose himself while rage boiled in her like a violent storm. Once again, as they had done countless times, the Jedi Council sent Kenobi into the anooba’s den without a second thought for the consequences. She despised their hypocrisy, their false claims for peace. How could they incessantly use Obi-Wan, take advantage of his diplomacy and kindness and strength without caring what it did to his soul?
She looked at him with renewed affection. His back was turned to her but she could see his eyes squeezed shut as he ran a hand over his face. This Jedi was the embodiment of altruism in a brutal galaxy; the horrible scars, the torture and pain he faced daily, were an enraging injustice. Obi-Wan Kenobi deserved better.
Satine went to him immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together as she closed her lips over his, kissing him fiercely. She pushed her fingers through his thick auburn hair, pulling it gently until she felt his tension ease. He wrapped himself around her completely, his arms pulling her up onto her tiptoes, as he returned her kiss. Physical comfort was a rarity, if not outright forbidden, in the Code. Obi-Wan had thoroughly underestimated the healing power of being in Satine’s arms; she felt like she was designed for him, like her shape and smell and lips were the perfect match for his own. He had been self-conscious about coming to her in a moment of weakness, but as she held him and kissed him, he knew he had been a fool not to come sooner.
“If it is too horrible to speak of, you need never tell me what happened,” she finally whispered.
“That’s just it,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “If I come to you tonight, you’ll see for yourself what happened.”
She understood him. “Is it so awful?” She could barely get the words out.
He took a steadying breath. “It is.”
Satine bit her lip, holding back the sob that threatened to climb up her throat. What had Obi-Wan suffered?
She controlled her emotions quickly; she could not allow herself a moment of weakness, she had to stay strong for him. “Your scars will never repel me,” she finally managed to say. “They may anger me, but only because the thought of anyone hurting you is abhorrent to me.” She ran a hand along his beard. “You need never be ashamed or self-conscious. I love you, not your body.” She gave him a sudden coy smile and brushed his lips with her thumb. “Well, I rather enjoy your body but that is another matter entirely.”
This tease elicited his first genuine smile, a little shy smirk that she rather enjoyed.
Sadly, the pleasure was short lived as his eyes grew narrow with dark thoughts. She shook him a little, trying to reinvigorate his strength. “Obi-Wan, I have never known you to be concerned with your appearance.” She snorted internally, realizing that the ridiculously handsome Jedi knew damn well how dashing he was. She also understood that he was not remotely concerned with superficial attraction, nor was his gorgeous hair, perfect bone structure, nor beautiful eyes meant to be intentionally distracting. Obi-Wan was naturally disarming, his charm never premeditated, and his good looks a blessing from the gods. She knew that his scars would not make him self-conscious; there was something darker bothering him.
He held his fists out in front of him, staring down at the awful marks stretching over his wrists and the back of his hands. “When I see my own body,” he said quietly, “I’m reminded of those who suffered far worse than I.”
“You carry too much pain in your heart, Obi-Wan. War does not agree with you.”
Satine’s words sent ice through his veins. This war had stretched him emotionally and physically; he did not know how much more he could take. When he was young he would never have believed the galaxy could hold so much suffering. He had always believed in the inherent goodness of life, that love, kindness, and empathy would win out in the end. For the first time, he was not so sure. Was it enough to find goodness in one’s own life, to live simply, to carve out one’s own corner of happiness? Was there any point carrying on an endless battle to protect the weak and continue standing up to injustice? Could he give up the cause?
No, he thought, I could never turn my back on those in need.
It was Obi-Wan’s nature to fight for what he believed in. But what if it destroyed him? What if his beliefs led him to ruin? What if it ruined the ones around him, the ones he loved?
As these thoughts raced through Obi-Wan’s mind, panic began to rise in his chest. His hands clenched into trembling fists while he fought for air. Just as he was about to collapse to the ground, Satine’s arms wrapped around him, shoring him up, pulling him protectively against her body. Obi-Wan curled into her, burring his face in the crook of her neck while he held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. She gently kissed his temple and cheek and lips, whispering quietly to him in Mando’a.
“The Zygerrians used my strengths against me, undermined me at every turn,” he finally gasped out. “I can’t carry this burden anymore, Satine. It’s going to kill me.”
She looked him squarely in the eyes and spoke firmly. “Then confess it all to me. Right now. Tell me everything. Say what needs to be said. You must not keep this toxin in your heart.”
The idea of divulging his burdens frightened him but he could not stop the words before they poured out. “I hold so many lives in my hands; those who fight by my side, those whom I love, those that I train. But there are others, innocent lives that are lost because of my decisions, beings on planets I may never visit. So many people have died because of me.”
Satine hated to hear Obi-Wan say such a thing about himself, but she refused to interrupt him; the pain he carried was too real.
“That responsibility hangs over me everyday. Nothing distilled that more clearly than my time spent on Kadavo.” He could see that she had never heard of the place. “It’s a slave processing facility, or it was before the Jedi destroyed it. It’s where the Zygerrians took me, it’s where the Togruta colonists were being held.”
She slowly began to understand; Obi-Wan had not just been taken prisoner, he had been taken as a slave. The Zygerrians were known for their brutal use of laser whips, for “processing” poor creatures with torture and hard labor until they became acquiescent. Her eyes became wide as she realized how Obi-Wan had received his scars.
“Every time I tried to help I just made things worse. I’ve never been so helpless in my whole life.” He could not bring himself to say anymore.
Satine was horrified. This man lived to help others; he relied on his strengths in the face of injustice. What had these monsters done to break him so completely? She could sense there was more that he was not telling her, and though she truly feared what she would discover, she had no intention of leaving him to suffer on his own.
“Show me,” she finally said. “If you cannot bring yourself to say it out loud then show me. Share your burdens, Obi-Wan.”
He was shocked by her suggestion. “I couldn’t,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to witness that kind of horror.”
She could see he was conflicted, not wanting to expose her to violent images but desperate for relief. She pulled herself up to her full height, regal, elegant, and powerful. “Isn’t that why you came to Mandalore? Didn’t you come seeking comfort, seeking to unburden yourself? Didn’t you come here, to me, because you knew I could help carry your pain?”
He hated to admit it but her words were true. Of all the beings in the galaxy, he had needed Satine, truly needed her, because she had unmatched strength. She had seen her world burn but never lost faith in her people. She knew Obi-Wan more intimately than anyone else. He chose to come to Mandalore almost on instinct, without a second thought, yearning for Satine’s fortitude and compassion. He would have been embarrassed to ask anyone else for assistance, and he had been certain that if she could help him she would do it without question.
Satine pulled him close and ran her hands up the back of his head through his hair, causing him to shudder. She watched his soft eyelashes flutter before she placed a lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. “You know I am strong,” she said quietly. “I have seen misery and war. I’m not afraid, Obi-Wan. Share your pain with me and I will help carry your heavy heart.”
He scooped Satine up, desperate to hold her, both arms wrapping around her waist. He looked into her pale blue eyes for a moment before gently pressing his lips against hers, reveling in the soft warmth. The more he kissed her the more intoxicated he felt. If only he could stay with her forever.
She always forgot how strong he was; his arms slid up her curves as his kiss deepened. He was not a bulky man but he was exquisitely fit and Satine always found herself nearly delirious with pleasure when he cast aside his reserve and defied the Jedi’s ridiculous rules. However, despite their mutual desire, she sensed sickening tension throughout his body.
“Show me now,” she whispered.
He understood her immediately. He pulled her tighter, enveloping her body, placing his hands flat across her back. Then, in spite of his better judgment, he kissed her again and used the Force to reveal the horrors he experienced on Zygerria and Kadavo.
The pleasure of their intertwined bodies took the edge off the pain, deadened the terror ever so slightly.
As Obi-Wan unveiled more and more, and their emotions grew stronger, Satine held on to him with manic hands, desperately fighting the sensation that she was falling into a dark, endless chasm. The images he shared washed over her faster than she could process.
Obi-Wan was shot in the back of his right shoulder and fell off a brezak into the clutches of the Zygerrian guard. They bashed him in the face with a blaster before dragging him into the catacombs beneath the citadel. His only comfort was they did not suspect he was a Jedi.
Obi-Wan was chained to a wall in a dark, miserable cell. He was lashed endlessly and interrogated by Atai Molec, the Zygerrian prime minister, who had recognized Kenobi almost immediately.
Obi-Wan was in the auction square, his body beaten and bloody, fighting dozens of Zygerrian guards, when a laser whip made contact with the shock collar around his throat. The searing pain that radiated through his body made him lose consciousness.
Obi-Wan stood on a Kadavo landing platform and watched helplessly as seven Togrutas fell to their death, plummeting into a bottomless pit – a special welcoming gift from the processing center’s warden, Keeper Agruss.
Togruta men, women, and children toiled in a dark, sweltering mine; some were worked to death, others were beaten as entertainment for the guards, most were lashed regularly for no reason at all.
A Togruta male was nearly whipped to death because Obi-Wan had spoken out of turn. Whenever the Jedi stepped out of line the Zygerrians made him watch while they tortured an innocent colonist. It was the worst punishment a Jedi could endure.
It did not take long for Obi-Wan to become desperate. He was not sure Anakin would ever find them. He was not sure he would ever be free of this hell designed especially for him. Many gentle souls were tortured in his name. He had never known such agony.
Satine was suddenly released from the visions and she pushed away from Obi-Wan turning her back on him. Breathing heavily, fighting unimaginable heartbreak, she looked out at the beautiful swaying trees and the gauzy sunlight filtering through the soft leaves. The lovely view was a strange contrast to the horror she had just seen. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she tried to process the senseless violence that Obi-Wan had been forced to experience. “This is why the Council required you to take mandatory leave?”
“Yes.”
“Battle fatigue?”
He snorted. “Yes.”
“Do they know the extent of what happened?”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “They know some of what happened.”
“How do you carry all this despair on your own?” she asked.
“I don’t have much choice.”
She turned to face him. “Not anymore.” She crossed to him and folded herself into his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest. “You are not alone in this universe, Obi-Wan. You must allow others to help you.”
“I’m so sorry, Satine. I shouldn’t have shown you.”
“No, you misunderstand me. I will always help you, my love, no matter how heavy your burden. We will help each other. You have cared for me in the past, tended to my safety and protected me. Now I will do the same for you.”
A flicker of hope flared up in his heart. She was right; he was not alone. He had her. He had a love, and she was strong and spectacular. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She pulled back and looked up into his brilliant blue eyes. “That’s what a good wife does.”
Surprise flashed across his face as his gaze sharpened. “Wife?” He was shocked to see Satine blush for the first time since they were young.
“Would you like to marry me, Obi?”
His mouth hung open until he finally said, “You’re asking me now, in a moment like this, after seeing all that misery?”
“Yes. It’s clearer to me than ever before. We are not guaranteed tomorrow. Our lives are too short to be wasted. We will be stronger together than we are as individuals.” She looked at him with burning vibrant eyes. “Well?” she prodded impatiently. “Do you agree? Would you like to be my husband?”
He blinked, dumbfounded. Then he said, “Yes. I would.”
It was Satine’s turn to be shocked. She had not expected him to say yes. In truth, she expected him to smirk and tease her before dismissing the idea. “You would?”
He nodded then brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm.
“What about the Code?”
“Do you want me or not?” he teased.
“I do,” she said incredulously, “but I never thought you would defy the Jedi so blatantly.”
“I defied them the moment I fell in love with you, and again on Coruscant when we spent that night together in your rooms…”
“That was rather fun,” she interrupted with a coy laugh.
He smiled roguishly. “Indeed it was.” He took both her hands in his. “I want to marry you. But I will not leave the Jedi.”
“Then it is to be a secret?”
He nodded.
“Yes, I suppose it must be,” she said, thinking out loud. “Very well. You will be my secret husband.” She smiled brightly.
He leaned in and kissed her, a sense of pure joy flooding over him; he felt happy for the first time in months. A thought suddenly crept into his mind, a perfect jibe to tease her with. “Does this mean I will be a duke?” he asked arching his brow.
“Secret dukes do not hold any power in Mandalore. I’m afraid your title would be strictly ornamental, and you would not be free to disclose your status to anyone but me…”
“Wedding’s off then!” he shouted.
As he laughed, she swooped in and kissed him before he could tease her any further.
Growing more serious again, his eyes softened as he gently ran a thumb along the corner of her mouth. A new, more self-conscious thought had suddenly taken hold of him. “After all you’ve just seen, are you sure you really want me?”
Satine’s response was simple and final. “I’ve only ever wanted you, Obi-Wan.”