Chapter Text
Satine was not at her best.
Over the past few days, there had been new legislation for the educational system to go through and approve, a protest in Peace Park about an issue that was apparently “insignificant” enough that her advisors had known about it but hadn’t bothered to bring it to her attention, some interpersonal altercation between two of her advisors, and to top it all off, just when she thought things were finally settling down, her alarm clock didn’t go off that morning, and Satine woke up two hours late.
The rush of panic when she saw the time had been enough to get her up and moving. She’d thrown on a robe over her nightclothes and rushed into her personal kitchen, started the caf machine, ripped off a chunk from a loaf of bread and stuffed it into her mouth instead of bothering to have firstmeal, and was about to sprint to her ‘fresher to brush her rats-nest hair out into something decent-ish when her protocol droid wandered in and told her she was receiving a call from Obi-Wan Kenobi.
And wasn’t that just wonderful timing.
“El’ im ah’caah im ‘ack,” Satine mumbled, which was supposed to be “tell him I’ll call him back,” but R1-37 decided that meant “answer immediately.”
His glowing face appeared before her as she stood in frozen panic.
Obi-Wan—perfectly impeccable as always—burst into laughter.
Satine knew her face was flaming as she swallowed her mouthful of bread. The caf machine beeped, and she went over, taking a gulp of the scalding liquid straight from the pot and turning back around to face her old friend.
“It has been,” she said, deliberately, holding her head high and looking as dignified as she could in a fluffy bathrobe, “a long week.”
Satine told R1-37 to cancel her appointments that morning and made firstmeal while Obi-Wan talked.
The story started on Naboo, and it involved the rescue of Queen Amidala. Of course, the Federation blockade and the following battle had been all over the holonet, not to mention the Vote of No Confidence in the Senate, but this was a part of the story she had not heard.
Apparently, they had made a stop on Tatooine, and in the process of getting parts to repair their ship, they also freed a young slave boy by the name of Anakin Skywalker, in hopes that he could be trained as a Jedi.
“The problem is that Anakin is just too old,” Obi-Wan explained as Satine carried her food, her mug of caf, and the holotransmitter over to the sofa and dropped down into it, setting the dishes on the low table in front of her. “Had he been a few years younger, maybe… but the Council is right. He’s too old to begin Jedi training. And so Master Qui-Gon and I have to find someplace for him to go, now.”
“And you thought of me,” Satine said, slowly, sipping her caf.
Obi-Wan smiled quickly, showing just the smallest dimple. “I thought of Mandalore. Your people do have a reputation when it comes to taking in children.”
“I suppose we do.” Satine leaned back with a tired sigh, closing her eyes. “You said he was nine years old?”
“Thereabouts.”
“Well-behaved?”
“I doubt he’ll know which fork to use for what at a formal dinner, but he’s polite enough,” Obi-Wan replied with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
It had been a long week, and Satine was exhausted and feeling impulsive. “Obi-Wan, you remember my nephew, Korkie.”
The question was a little ridiculous. How could he forget?
There was a pause between them, and then Obi-Wan nodded wordlessly.
Satine folded her hands together and leaned towards the holoimage of her old friend. “It’s quite common for Mandalorian families with just one child to take in an orphan as well. We believe that no child should grow up alone. Korkie is five now, and my legal ward. Why don’t you let Anakin come stay here, for a few weeks? Call it a… vacation. If he and Korkie get along… perhaps… a more permanent arrangement could be made.”
Obi-Wan looked a little surprised. “Satine, I’m not asking you to take him in yourself. I wouldn’t want to make trouble for you. I was only hoping you might be able to—”
“Nonsense,” she interrupted. “It will be no trouble at all.”
“It’s very kind of you,” Obi-Wan said softly.
“To be frank, it’s entirely selfish. Korkie is turning into a little hellion who spends all his time making trouble. Another child may help occupy him.”
Obi-Wan laughed again, and this time she smiled along.
Then she heard the door to her suite open, and seconds later, Korkie came running in and threw himself onto Satine’s sofa, nearly spilling her drink and excellently proving her point.
“Auntie!” he yelled, then saw that she was on a holocall. “Auntie, who’s that?”
“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, young one,” he said, and Satine saw, if Korkie did not, the fondness on Obi-Wan’s face. “Would you happen to be the famous Korkie Kryze?”
Korkie giggled, squirming bashfully.
“Korkie,” Satine said, trying to get the boy to hold still for more than half a second, “Obi-Wan knows a little boy who might be coming to stay with us for a time?”
Korkie gasped aloud. “Is he gonna be my brother?”
“I hope he will be your friend,” Satine answered, instead of yes or no.
“What’s his name? What’s he like? When’s he coming here? How old is he? Does he like ships?” Korkie took a breath, then looked over at Obi-Wan, who had laughter dancing in his eyes. “I like ships. I have toy ships but one day I’m gonna have a real one and I’m gonna fly everywhere—”
“Me, too!” A boy appeared in front of Obi-Wan, hogging the holoimage. “I’m going to see every single planet and every single star! I already flew in space once!”
Satine chuckled to herself, remembering her first flight in space, sitting on her father’s lap and steering and feeling like the galaxy was hers.
“I’m gonna have a blue ship,” Korkie continued, “and it’s gonna be a kom’rk, and it’s really really fast!”
The boy, who Satine could only assume was Anakin, frowned. “I’ve never heard of those.”
“It’s Mandalorian,” Korkie said proudly.
“You’re Mandalorian? Wizard! I knew Mandalorians on Tatooine, but they were mostly bounty hunters.”
“Yeah! But we’re not bounty hunters. I’m gonna be a pilot, and my auntie is a Duchess, so she makes ‘portant decisions and drinks lots of caf,” Korkie said, helpfully. “Also sometimes she swears a lot when she thinks she’s all alone.”
“Korkie!”