Chapter Text
Satine Kryze had often wondered if her birth had been an accident of the fates.
A lovely child, she had been, bestowed with ethereal beauty, a serene personality, and the eagerness to please those around her. She would have made a desirable bride to unite her clan with another in an arranged marriage.
As the fates had it, though, Satine was the eldest child and her sex did not preclude her from her birthright, as her father, Duke Adonai Kryze reminded her often. But she had been born into a culture that revered strength, and she was not strong in the way that was asked of her.
As soon as Lady Satine of House Kryze had been capable of toddling around on her own two feet, she was not only learning traditional Mando’a battle cries and fabled stories, but she had also begun learning crude movements that later, as she aged, developed into the foundations of hand-to-hand combat.
By the time she was seven years old, it was clear to Adonai Kryze that his daughter was gentler in spirit than perhaps he had planned for.
She recited lore and recalled creeds without hesitation or flaw, and she was well-versed in the primitive, savage history of their home world. She was agile enough to exhibit precision with her tests of physical skill, and she was a formidable opponent when it came to martial arts.
But what could not be trained was what his child lacked: An inherently callous instinct.
Elders could only hope that the passing of time would reveal a more emulous nature to the heiress apparent. One elder in particular reassured Adonai and his wife, Zaila, that upon their daughter’s first blood, their concerns would be alleviated. The rite of passage into womanhood would bring change, and she would then more closely resemble a Daughter of Mandalore.
And when the future Duchess of Kalevala, in her twelfth year, experienced her first blood, there was quiet celebration among House Kryze, as their unorthodox scion was expected to fall into the natural order of things, and all fears would be eased.
But Satine remained softer than anyone would have preferred.
In the shadow of her father, Lady Satine would observe meetings, and when her opinion was asked, no one could argue against her intelligence. She was often better versed in an issue than the majority of the Duke’s councilors at any given moment. Her insight was wise beyond her years, and although it often raised eyebrows amongst her elders, they could not deny that Satine’s idealism was infectious. And when she was challenged due to her sex or her age, as was quite often, the lily of Mandalore, young and fair and weak, was known for responding with passionate maliciousness.
And in those moments when Satine’s defenses rose, when the fire in her belly boiled over after tempering over a low flame for years, it seemed to be the only time Duke Adonai Kryze looked on with pride. He longed for her venomous side to show more frequently, particularly where he thought she was too flexible and willing to compromise. Too outwardly thinking for a home world that believed in tradition, heritage, and history. But when Satine was vicious, he saw the shadow of what could be a warrior in her.
But more often than not, the poison of Satine’s tongue lashings was short lasting. She held grudges, and she was certainly vindictive; even her father could see that. But she was not willing to let her grudges cease her willingness to help others, and that mercifulness in her was complicated. Satine could hate someone greatly, but still want to help them. Because all her life she had been taught that Mandalore was stronger together.
The young future Duchess of Kalevala, however, had a natural curiosity to observe and understand the worlds around her.
In her eighth year, the story was told throughout Clan Kryze that when one of her father’s most trusted guards in Clan Kryze was tasked with looking after her, he spent nearly an entire day sitting at the foot of a veshok tree waiting.
The young Lady Satine had climbed up, completely out of reach, and commanded him not to move! She wanted to see the majestic shatuals in their element. She spent hours observing the animals as they peacefully went about their day, unaware of the curious child lingering above them in the trees.
When the guard returned at sundown, carrying an injured Satine who had fallen while climbing down the tree, he begged Adonai, the chieftain, to put him on latrine duty, as the day sitting on the forest floor had been a bore.
Satine wanted to know everything, everyone, everywhere.
And her father feared that his daughter’s natural curiosity would undermine her commitment to Mandalore.
Once, as an adolescent, in the early years of the Great Clan War, Satine recalled a time when she angered her father when she mused outloud to him that it was hard to discount the Force-abilities of the Jedi when, they themselves as Mandalorians, believed that Mandalore the First’s warriors had defeated a mythosaur.
Duke Adonai Kryze saw this flippant observation of his successor to be nothing short of a grievous defect.
Her father’s confidence in her had always felt strange after that, and she regretted the moment of levity she had taken with him. She had only meant to make light of the nature of humans, to be divisive when ideologies were different, when really, they were quite similar in nature; but, as many things about her were, it was seen as weak minded.
Only a few short years later, the constant disputes and tensions that overtook the quiet brotherhood of Mandalorian clans co-existing worsened, and the civil war grew worse. Horrific acts of violence between the clans was a regular occurrence, and the death toll rose steadily everyday. Alliances would form, then fall apart. Then reform. Then turn on one another. Families found themselves at odds. Generations of Mandalorians who called themselves friends were soon sworn to their clan and felt obligations to sever ties and civilities.
A fleeting moment of joy in the midst of so much sadness, Satine’s baby sister, Bo-Katan, was born to Adonai and Zaila as the Great Clan War raged. In the first days of her sister’s life, Satine was in awe of the child, so beautiful, with a gaze that met hers knowingly, as if they had belonged to one another all along rather than having met for the first time.
But even in the early days of little Bo-Katan’s life, Satine was aware of how her father doted on the baby, as if somehow, Bo-Katan would be the sum of all his successes and his errors in Satine’s governing, and she would be there to right the ship when Satine, undoubtedly, lost her way.
And the fifteen year old future Duchess could already see how her failures would quickly become burdens on an innocent child like Bo-Katan, whose existence would be shaped and molded to fill the void where Satine had not been good enough, or strong enough.
She felt so full of love for her sister that the thought was unbearable.
If Satine could find the time to break away from her studies, she would quietly make her way to the nursery and watch the baby sleep soundly. Her wispy copper colored locks would shine in the daylight, and the plump, roundness of her body was a delight to squish and tickle. And whereas Satine had eyes like their mother, baby Bo-Katan had inherited their father’s vibrant green eyes. Satine found her sister fascinating to look at, different from her in every way, yet still familiar.
At times when Satine would come to the nursery and Bo-Katan was awake, she would take the opportunity to hold her and tell her about her day. The baby nurses would instruct the Lady Satine on how to best support her sister’s head and how to bounce her gently in her lap, and sometimes, Satine would quietly sing in a whisper, “Kote! Kandosii sa ka’rta, vode an. Coruscanta a’den mhi, vode ah. Bal kote, darasuum kote, jorso’ran kando a tome. Sa kyr’am nau tracyn kad, vode an.”*
The madness of the Great Clan War raging around them was hushed by the stillness of the nursery, and with the perspective that came from gaining a sibling, Satine felt strangely protective in a way she had never felt before.
What kind of Mandalore would Bo-Katan grow up in? Would she know the lush jungles and forests that Satine saw burning under militia fire? Would she ever count children from neighboring clans among her friends as Satine had? Would she be forced to grow up in a world that only wanted her backbone and rejected the worth of her humanity? And would Satine be capable enough to show her sister that, even flawed as Satine was in the eyes of their father and Clan elders, one could be capable of doing great things without relying on cruelty and violence?
The only ease of the future Duchess of Kalevala’s anxieties for Bo-Katan was the comfort in knowing that she was not yet of age to assume the rule of Clan Kryze. Her time would come, but she would be wiser then. She would be fortified by the courageousness of her elders. She would prove herself to be a worthy leader.
Most of all, Satine would show her baby sister that she did not have to carve away the softness of her soul for those who deemed it weakness.
The gentleness that her father had tried to eradicate in Satine would be the mercy of their home world.
--
It was an orchestrated attack that forced Duke Adonai Kryze to send his daughter to Coruscant. An attack in which a primary school in Keldabi was reduced to rubble, killing all 920 citizens inside, the majority being children. Incendiary devices had made sure that there would be no survivors.
The clan that took responsibility for the attack believed that the school was a ruse, and that its rooms were being used to stash rations of food and water, medpacs, extra bacta, and massive pallets of weapons, maybe even beskar reserves. The responsible clan’s reconnaissance efforts had been lacking. They had not seen children and educators entering the academy, so they had felt confident in their intelligence efforts.
The truth was, the school was one of the largest in Keldabi, and Mandalorian children of many clans were in classrooms when the bombs exploded. Debris was found for miles, and so were the bodies.. and parts of the bodies.
Keldabi, a city with a large militant population, had taken extra precautions to protect their citizens from mid-level acts of violence occurring on the streets. Instead of allowing multi-point ground level entry into the academy, a utility tunnel below the building had been renovated to allow for a covert, guarded access to the school. Every day, teachers and students would step down into a tunnel platform nearly a half-mile from the school, pass through guarded checkpoints, and walk in safety until they ascended a staircase that led them into the school’s main gathering area.
Satine Kryze had been in the city with her father and his advisors when the explosion went off, and as the fates would have it, she had been admiring a skyline view of the city at the urging of a representative from Sundari. As her eyes marveled at the beauty of a city she hadn’t seen since she was a child, tragedy struck, and her expression became one of confusion as the building shook, the glass trembled, and she watched a place of education become a tomb.
In the chaos that ensued directly after the bombing, the young girl had pleaded in a private audience with her father to help. She didn’t quite know how, but she felt she needed to be in the fray, assisting wherever her hands could be needed.
Her face grief-stricken and her eyes wide with sadness, Satine was shaking as she discreetly begged for the opportunity to do something. She couldn’t just stand there and watch, couldn’t he understand? She needed to help the people of Keldabi. She would help retrieve survivors from the rubble. She would wash and bandage wounds. She would guide the reunions between parents and their children. Whatever was needed, she was certain she could help.
In times like these when Adonai had to choose whether to be gentle with the daughter he loved so dearly, or to treat her like his successor, he erred on the side of what was best for the Mandalorian system, even if it went against his instincts. He was blunt, maybe to the point of hurtful, when he firmly instructed her that there would be no survivors. Attacks of that nature were not meant to disable but to destroy.
And he could not, in good conscience, allow his daughter to put a bounty on her head by being accessible in the fray. Not only was it foolish, but it would be irresponsible to the entire House Kryze. She was their future.. wasn’t she?
Less than two weeks later, Duke Adonai Kryze had sent Satine off to Coruscant. He believed she would find her focus as she pursued her academics, learning more about how the Global Senate operated by having the chance to be right in the action. A leadership academy awaited their new pupil, and he hoped that maybe being on her own would bring out more of a fighting spirit in her.
The conflict in Mandalore was reaching highs that he had not anticipated, with the acts of violence increasing in not only number but also in sheer cruelty. As a warlord, he would stoop to these lows himself, but he could not allow for Satine to remain in her home world to witness it. Her reaction to the bombing in Keldabi had worried him. A leader needed to be strong, commanding, and capable of hiding their vulnerabilities.
Satine was not ready.
His contacts and connections arranged for a modest apartment to be provided for her in Coruscant, and she would be escorted by a team of guards who would ensure her safety. Handmaidens who had known Satine for years would accompany her, as a means to provide companionship so that she didn’t look for it and find her weakness exploited. He believed that when the Great Clan War ended, and years later when her time to rule came, she would be ready.
--
When Satine and Bo-Katan became orphans weeks later, Satine was summoned from her classroom in Coruscant and escorted to the academy administrator’s quarters. As two of her guards walked alongside her, they spoke not a word, and Satine knew that what was to come was grave.
The elder who had come to break the news was brief and unemotional. Her mother and father had been slain within the walls of the Kryze compound on Kalevala. The warlord and his betrothed were beheaded at the blade of a beskad, and they were discovered lifeless in the privacy of their marital chambers.
Adonai Kryze hadn’t had the chance to rise from the bed before the blade ended his war mongering. His wife, Zaila, had suffered a worse fate, as the carnage indicated that she woke as her husband was killed and she had fought for her life. Stab wounds from a kal dagger riddled her body, and she met her fate with the beskad blade on the cold floor.
“And what of my baby sister?” Satine finally spoke, asking with eyes gray with turmoil.
The only comfort that Satine could find was in knowing that Zaila, in her peril, had managed to activate a security beacon hidden near her bed, sending out a silent alarm to the occupants of the family home. Bo-Katan, only 4 months old, was still at the breast of a wet nurse, and she had been taken to safety by the nurses who spent their nights in the nursery tending to her needs.
No one had yet to take responsibility for the attack, but Clan Kryze elders were adamant that Satine stay in Coruscant and focus on her studies as her father had wished. She was still a child in many ways, but she would one day be something more. The baby would be in the hands of elders who would ensure that she and her nurses were safe, and when Satine was ready to take her rightful place, her younger sister would be there at the Duchess of Kalevala’s side.
In the three years that had passed since that day, Satine had been permitted by the elders to return home only once. Holo-calls to Kalevala weren’t always reliable due to the war, but on occasion, she was able to see her baby sister, growing so beautifully. She longed to hold her and sing to her, to tell her stories of their mother and father, and to know her the way sisters should know one another.
But the elders who once gave her the benefit of the doubt and believed that age would bring about compliance with Mandalorian traditions were no longer faithful. Their confidence in Satine was nearly gone as she had begun advocating vocally in Coruscant for Mandalorians to embrace a more complacent nature. She believed that the only course of action for the Mandalorian homeworld was for its people to lay down their arms and move forward together.
There could be no future in a world where war was waged among neighbors.
And as the New Mandalorian movement became a reality, the Duchess of Kalevala found herself at the helm of it all. Now, slightly older and empowered by a more worldly view due to her time in Coruscant, she was sharper than ever and her intelligence had only grown. As her passion to make change in Mandalore became her only goal, she found the strength she had always thought she lacked.
While the elders of House Kryze distanced themselves from her and kept Bo-Katan just out of reach, Satine felt the sting of isolation. She had never been the scion they had wanted her to be, and yet, here she was, actively fighting for change on a greater scale. There was potential for a rebirth in Mandalore, if only her cause could be given a chance.
On her only visit home to Kalevala, Satine was permitted to return for only a short time. Clan warfare was still dangerous, and she had become a controversial figure in Mandalore. Her arrival had been uneventful, and most of the elders were not interested in seeing her during her trip as they considered her a blemish on the Clan Kryze reputation. But Satine had only one person she longed to visit.
Now eighteen, Satine found herself staring into the green eyes of her 3 year old sister, Bo-Katan. She felt oddly maternal. Bo was every bit her father’s child, already reciting nursery rhymes derived from Mandalorian lore as if she was reciting war cries, and bounding with energy as she demonstrated early forms that would become the foundation of her physical training. It could not be denied, Bo-Katan had a certain fire that Satine never had.
But there were fleeting moments where Satine saw the baby, the tiny girl. She saw the softness of Bo-Katan’s cheeks, the crude sweetness of her fumbles, the primitive joy from her giggles. Satine wondered if the elders saw Bo-Katan as the child she was, or just the warrior they hoped her to become.
The Duchess of Kalevala knew that she had to succeed, because if she did not, the weight of everything would be dumped upon Bo-Katan’s shoulders. The childhood her sister had been born into was already in question, riddled by civil war. Her parents had been stolen from her by horrific violence. And her older sister was becoming a pariah as every day passed.
The New Mandalorian movement would have to succeed if Satine was ever to give her people, especially her sister, the peace they deserved. She dared to love a home that never quite understood her, but Satine could not have known in the optimism of her youth that she was doing it to love a sister that would never come to know her.