Dreams

Chapter 11.

Obi-Wan's POV

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The morning dragged by, and Satine was becoming increasingly more fidgety. Pre Vizsla had made no attempt to contact her, give her any indication of what time he might arrive, or even tell her if he was coming at all. The stress and weariness that she carried on her shoulders was nearly visible, and it hurt me to see it. I offered what help I could, but I couldn't make other people's decisions for them.

By midday, Satine had nearly given up hope of meeting him. She sat on her throne in the main room, leaning an elbow against one of the armrests and tapping her chin pensively. I stood just behind and to her right, hands folded behind my back, keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings. Nothing had seemed out of place today, besides Pre Vizsla coming, but even that wasn't unexpected. Still, I made sure not to get complacent.

Satine looked over at me. "I don't think he's coming."

"I think perhaps not," I responded diplomatically.

There was a pause.

"Do you think I should give my speech to the people now?" she asked resignedly.

"I do."

"Alright." She straightened up, repositioned the golden ring wrapped around her forehead, and then glanced at me. "How do I look?"

I held out my hand to assist her down the few stairs leading from her throne. "Like a queen."

She smiled slightly as she placed her fingers in mine, then slid her arm under mine when she stepped off the last stair. "Then you shall be my knight in shining armour."

"As you wish, mi'lady," I whispered to her as we went up one of the staircases to reach a balcony overlooking the town. I stepped back, standing against the wall but making sure I had a good vantage point – just in case.

It took a short while for the people to assemble, and there was an air of anticipation and excitement fizzing in the atmosphere. Delicate ladies traded enthusiastic whispers, young men exchanged different theories, and little children danced and skipped, cooing and pointing at their beloved ruler. Satine watched them for a few minutes, the love for her people matched only by the grief that accompanied their uncertain future. Then she stood straight-backed and began.

"My good people of Mandalore ..."

As she spoke, I divided my attention between listening to her, watching the reaction of the people, and looking out for any danger. Nothing seemed unusual or out of place .... And then I saw it. Then I saw him. He stood in the crowd, near the back and so well hidden I almost missed him. He had his helmet tucked under a muscly arm, revealing a shaved head and a scar under his left eye, and he was kitted up in familiar Mandalorian armour. He was watching Satine, not saying a word, not uttering a protest, and not shouting a praise. He was just watching ... and, if my guess was correct, waiting. 

I straightened up and took a small step out of the shadows, letting the sunlight show only some of me. My eyes were fixed on him, and I saw him glance up at my movement. His face changed almost imperceptibly, but I was too far away to figure out in what manner it changed. He stayed for another few minutes, then turned around and left, fitting his helmet on as he slipped away.

I resisted the urge to chase him. No, my mandate was to protect Satine. If I left her side, even for a moment, that could be all it would take for something to go wrong. A casual thought dropped into my mind: Anakin would have chased Pre Vizsla without hesitation. I frowned at myself. Where did that come from? Certainly, I loved working with the reckless and sweet young man. But he wasn't my padawan anymore. And yet, the feelings still remained.