AN: Hey... guys... hum, I know it's been a while, and I KNOW I have several other stories I have to finish, but this has been bugging me too much not to at least start it. So... sorry, not sorry?

PS. Translations for Mando'a are found at the end of the piece.

Rogue and Royal

Chapter 1: "That could have gone a lot worse"

A cloud of dust billowed about, twisting and ripping through the clothes of any who were unfortunate enough to be standing near the landing platform – a temporary thing which was nothing more than a patch of flat land with red paint circling it. A choking, spluttering noise could be heard above the roar of engines, and as the air cleared, it revealed its source:

A G9 Rigger wobbled slightly as it came closer to its destination, the end of its horizontal wing missing and spewing a toxic black smoke, but it held steady, legs already lowered, and it settled with nary a bump. Slowly, its engines powered down, and the ramp lowered.

A small crowd gathered, unsure of the cargo ship's purpose, murmuring amongst themselves as they waited for the pilot to appear. When, at last, they did, a wave of shock ran through those gathered.

The boy couldn't have been much older than 18 standard, at most, and yet he held himself with a confidence that opposed his gangly appearance. He wore a rag-tag collection of armour (second hand from the looks of some of the pieces), a blaster strapped to his hip, and there was sign of a vibro-blade hilt peeking out from his boot. But most bizarre of all was his hair; a dirty ginger, tied away from changeling eyes with a chord. The crowd had not seen anything like it in some time.

Looking around, the boy sighed.

"Some welcome."

As though his words had broken a spell, the crowd dissipated, leaving only a hooded figure and two guards behind.

The boy folded his arms and smirked. "The Duchess of Mandalore, I presume?"

The figure hummed and drew the hood back, revealing a young, regal woman, her pale hair set in short curls about her ears. "The Bounty Hunter, I presume?"

"Sometimes," he stepped forward and nodded back towards the Rigger, "but for now, I'm just delivering some cargo."

The Duchess smiled, and held out her hand. "You have my thanks…"

"Obi-Wan," he said, bringing her hand to his lips, "My name is Obi-Wan. And it was nothing."

The Duchess frowned. "Nothing? You mean to say that your ship is not damaged because of our call for your aide?"

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at the smoking wing and flinched. "Yes, well, it's nothing I won't be able to fix or replace I'm sure."

The Duchess smiled before turning to one of the guards with a nod. He then turned towards one of the nearby buildings – a warehouse – and brought his wrist to his mouth.

"The cargo has arrived. Repeat, the cargo has arrived."

The young woman returned her gaze to the Rigger. "Did you have much trouble?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "A little. The blockade was a little more tight than I had anticipated, but I managed."

"I am glad. Without you, I fear that my people would have starved."

Several men emerged from the warehouse and made their way past the small group, entering the ship only to emerge a few moments later, large crates in hand.

Obi-Wan sighed again. "If only there were no need for this."

"Excuse me?"

He turned to face the young woman again, a solemn smile replacing the roguish smirk from before. "To use the people one wants to rule some day as a weapon against the one you wish to overthrow… it's barbaric."

The Duchess looked shocked. "My, you are a surprise! A Bounty Hunter and a philosopher!"

He looked away. "No. It's just logic. It shows they don't truly care for the people, and it loses them support."

She nodded. "And that is how I know I cannot lose this war. I will not let my people suffer, nor will I let them be ruled by those who will not listen to their cries."

"But the longer you wait, the more they do suffer. It's a complicated dilemma, no?"

The Duchess made to reply, but a shout rose from behind the warehouse the supplies were being deposited in.

"Stop her!"

"La ganar chakur baar'ur srubiva!*"

"Chakaar!*"

In an instant, Obi-Wan sprang into action, pulling his blaster from its holster even as he ran towards the source of the commotion. He paid no attention to the Duchess's cries behind him.

As he rounded the corner behind the building, he caught sight of a middle-aged woman running down the road, a large bag strapped to her back. The workers, who were still shouting about her act, stood by the warehouse, no doubt unwilling to leave it in case others had the same idea as the woman.

Quickly pushing past them, Obi-Wan took aim, and fired.

"No!"

The Duchess shoved his arm to the side, but it was already too late, and his aim was true.

A moment later, the woman fell to the ground in a nerveless heap.

The Duchess froze in shock, hands clasped over her mouth as members of the public began to gather. Once again, the Bounty Hunter ignored her, and he made his way over to the fallen woman, his long strides making swift work of the distance between him and his goal. By the time she had recovered, his pistol had been holstered and he was already pulling the bag onto his own back.

"You… you monster!" she cried, racing towards the boy, "How could you?!"

"It was necessary."

"Necessary?! She was probably an innocent woman, trying to help her friends or… or family!"

"And I'm sure she will," he continued, carefully lifting the woman into his arms, "after she wakes up."

"After she… what?"

Obi-Wan smirked. "You didn't think I'd killed her, did you?"

The Duchess stared at him. "But… you… she…"

"I stunned her," he explained, eyes softening as they lowered to the woman's face, "she'll probably be up and about again in about half an hour." He returned his gaze to the Duchess. "We should probably get the supplies back to where they belong."

"Uhm, yes, of course." Her cheeks blushed, and she tried to look anywhere but at the boy, making a hasty retreat. Obi-Wan couldn't help but chuckle as he followed close behind.

The walk back towards the warehouse was made in silence, and the wary gazes of the public followed them every step of the way. Looking around, Obi-Wan could see a lot of hostility in their eyes, and not all of them were watching him.

"How many people speak basic here?"

The Duchess paused, turning back to face him. "Basic? I doubt more than thirty percent of the people in this area speak it fluently."

The Bounty Hunter groaned. "Then they probably don't know that she's not dead."

"What?" The Duchess looked around, the confusion on her face soon replaced with horror. "Oh."

Several of the figures were beginning to close in, long poles and other make-shift weapons in hand.

The Duchess turned to them, hands raised in a placating manner. "Gedet'ye, la ganar va cuyir kateyita. Temya'r gar besbe'trayce.*"

One of the men, his fist closed tightly around what looked like the antennae of a vaporator, snorted. "Jehaat. Mhi haa'taylir meg ibic gemagolka ganar narir.*"

"What did he say?" Obi-Wan asked, becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the proximity between him and multiple blunt weapons.

"He said that he doesn't believe me," the Duchess replied.

"I thought he might have."

Eyes darting from face to face, he quickly made a decision.

"I need you to take my blaster."

"What?"

"My blaster. I need you to take it. And the vibro-blade in my boot, take that too."

"Why?"

The man waved the antennae in the air. It was still a few feet away, but Obi-Wan could feel the air it made moving past his cheek. "Meg cuyir kaysh sirbur? Garay at dajunar at kuryida mhi an?*"

"Duchess, you take them now or this is going to turn into a blood-bath."

"But I-"

The man and his compatriots took another step closer.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and sunk his heels into the ground, fingers twitching as he kept himself from reacting to the threat. "Duchess. Do it now."

She hesitated a moment longer, but then he could feel his pistol slip from his hip and fingers clutching at his leg as she searched for the blade. The rabble watched carefully as he was disarmed, stopping in their advance, but still wary.

"Meg mruskr cuyir ibic?*" the man asked, his arm lowering little.

"Nayc mruskr." The Duchess slowly placed the weapons on the ground before returning to an upright position. "Kaysh tid'ica nayc kateyita. La cuyir vahu'lgie, va kyrayc.*"

"Where are your guards?"

"I told them not to intervene should something happen."

Obi-Wan shot her a look of disbelief. "You really don't understand the point of body guards, do you."

She huffed, but didn't stop looking at the man before her. "Ni dinu gar ner miit, asas Dehi'r be Manda'yaim, asas a vod be adate, ibac va'io malyasa'yr cuyir kateyita.*"

The man considered it for a moment with a frown. "La cuyir oyayc?*"

"La cuyir.*"

The man looked around at the others, who all seemed to nod in agreement. "Rala ni haa'taylir.*"

The Duchess turned to Obi-Wan. "He wants to check that she's alive."

The Bounty hunter took a deep breath and nodded at the man, who returned the gesture.

Keeping hold of the antennae, the man approached, keeping a wary eye on Obi-Wan, even as he reached for the woman's wrist. He held her pulse point for a few moments before moving his hand over her mouth. With a satisfied nod, he stepped back and bowed.

"Ni eparavur takisit, tyra'de. Akaan ganar gotal'ur mhi an aya'ye."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Uh…"

The Duchess smirked. "He says that he is sorry, and that war has made us all wary."

"War makes animals of us all," he murmured, before raising his voice. "There is nothing to forgive. No harm was done, and the way I acted was suspicious. It should be I asking for your forgiveness." With his last words, how bowed his head.

The Duchess quickly translated, and the crowd began to speak amongst themselves again. This time, however, the looks they gave him spoke more of respect than hostility. The man simply grinned and slapped him on the arm before walking away as everyone returned to what they had been doing before.

Letting out a deep breath, Obi-Wan turned back to the Duchess. "That could have gone a lot worse."

With a shake of her head, she quickly retrieved his weapons and continued to walk back to the warehouse, where her guards were waiting. Obi-Wan eyed them as he stepped past and into the busy interior, but remained silent.

The Duchess led him through a door to the side, down a corridor, and into a small room. There was a bed pushed up against the wall, a desk, and a few datapads scattered over its surface, but otherwise it was bare. Before she could say a word, he was gently laying the woman down, placing her safely on the mattress.

As he stood, she held out the blaster and vibro-blade. Obi-Wan simply looked at them, and shook his head.

"I think it would be better if you kept those," he said, his voice soft, yet firm.

The Duchess frowned. "Why?"

"Well, if what I've seen today is any indication of what your guard is like, then you're going to need all the help you can get."

She scoffed in indignation. "You know nothing of my guard. They are the finest men I know."

"Oh really?" he crossed his arms, "Then why didn't they help us earlier? Why haven't they followed you? Are they really so naïve as to trust every bounty hunter that offers them food? And stars, why are there only two of them?"

The Duchess looked back through the open door, finding the corridor empty, and flinched. "The war has been-"

"That is utter druk!" he hissed, "You should be their number one priority, and they're taking a back-seat in the most important job in the whole of the war!" He pointed in the vague direction of the landing sight. "There should have been at least four guards stood with you when I arrived, snipers stationed on the surrounding roofs, and at least a platoon of your most highly trained soldiers standing by. This was a botch job, and you know it." He lowered his arm. "You're lucky it was me who took the job, and not some other low-life who would have taken you for the bounty on your pretty head the moment they saw you."

The Duchess's eyes narrowed, but she remained silent for a few moments, gritting her teeth. With a huff, she tucked the blaster into her belt, though the blade remained in her hand. "You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing, even if your manners are a little lacking."

Obi-Wan relaxed a little, a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his lips. "Protection job, two years back. I wasn't going to get paid if I didn't do my job right, was I?"

"And how much was that job?"

The smirk bloomed as one of his eyebrows rose. "Are you propositioning me?"

The Duchess folded her arms. "What if I was?"

"I would say that I didn't take contracts from people I don't know the names of."

The Duchess pursed her lips, then tucked her hands behind her back, he back straightening and her head rising. Obi-Wan had to admit that she made a proud figure.

"My name, is Satine Kryze, but you would do well never to call me that in public."

Obi-Wan nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Satine, but I'm afraid any business propositions are going to have to wait. I have something more important to attend to." And with that, he hefted the bag on his shoulder and left the room, leaving the Duchess to fume quietly next to an unconscious woman.

* La ganar chakur baar'ur srubiva! – She has stolen the medical supplies!

* Chakaar! – Thief!

* Gedet'ye, la ganar va cuyir kateyita. Temya'r gar besbe'trayce. – Please, she has not been harmed. Stay your weapons.

* Jehaat. Mhi haa'taylir meg ibic gemagolka ganar narir – Lies. We saw what this monster has done.

* Meg cuyir kaysh sirbur? Garay at dajunar at kuryida mhi an? – What is he saying? Does to plot to murder us all?

* Meg mruskr cuyir ibic? – What deception is this?

* Nayc mruskr. Kaysh tid'ica nayc kateyita. La cuyir vahu'lgie, va kyrayc. – No deception. He means no harm. She is unconscious, not dead.

* Ni dinu gar ner miit, asas Dehi'r be Manda'yaim, asas a vod be adate, ibac va'io malyasa'yr cuyir kateyita. – I give you my word, as the Duchess of Mandalore, as a sister of the people, that no one will be harmed.

* La cuyir oyayc? – She is alive?

* La cuyir. – She is.

* Rala ni haa'taylir. – Let me see.

* Ni eparavur takisit, tyra'de. Akaan ganar gotal'ur mhi an aya'ye. – I apologise, stranger. War has made us all wary.

AN: So, first off, a massive thanks to my friend Callum for helping me plan out so much of this story, and ProfDrLachfinger for being my beta for this chapter! You are both amazing.

On another note, I don't know when, or how often, I'll be able to update this in the next month and a half. I'm in my final year of university, and things are really getting hectic now that my deadlines are approaching. Hopefully there will be another update within the next month, but no promises.

For anyone wondering about where I got my translations? I found a 'Coruscant Translator' which can be easily found through a Google search.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!