There are days Mace loves sitting on the council, making the important, necessary decisions. There are days he doesn’t mind mission reports and philosophy and subtle banter. This… is not one of those days.
Mace takes his responsibilities seriously but quite frankly, he isn’t sure why they haven’t just tabled this discussion for another day.
Yes, deciding on the location of their new Temple is important.
Yes, there are plenty of things to consider.
Yes, one of those things is considering the cultural implications of choosing the offered location near the center of Keldabe versus the one on the edge of the city.
No, they don’t know how either one would be taken by the populous at large.
No, the Mand’alor did not express a preference aside from the practical list of pros and cons for each location they all have in front of them.
No, they don’t think this is all some elaborate test.
Mace is fairly certain that if they just invited Jaster Mereel to consult on the issue they would have a very long and fascinating summary of all the different ways each location might be interpreted based on historical precedent and current political trends. In fact, they probably will ask, eventually, after they’ve worn themselves out.
Stars, Mace is tired of this debate.
He’s not alone apparently, because nearly the whole council perks up at the urgent tone from one of the Temple Guards.
Yoda studies it out first and smiles, one of those innocent grins no Jedi should trust.
“Visitors, we have.” Mace glances up, Yoda looks him in the eye, oh no. “Important, good relations with the Mandalorians are, Council Member, we should send.”
The Master nods decisively to himself. “Busy, I am. Other urgent business you have Master Windu?”
Mace just sighs, is this hazing? It feels a little like hazing.
“I do not, I’ll greet our visitors.” He stands and stretches slightly.
Yoda nods again, pleased and far too smug.
The Council starts the process of calling a recess and Mace goes to save whichever poor Temple Guard is feeling too seen this afternoon.
Apparently, one of the Temple Guards, whichever one joined the wayward padawan hunt, had an interaction that left them uncomfortable. Not that anyone had done anything untoward, thank the Force. It was just that, apparently, armour often naturally involves some very specific body language and they were very uncomfortable with apparent Force nulls reading them like a children’s holopad.
According to the few Jedi in the know, the Temple Guard as a whole was not taking this revelation with as much grace as might have been expected.
He arrives on the scene and braces for whatever nonsense or banal issue he faces.
Mace doesn’t even need the Force to know that whoever it is, they’ve left the Temple Guard utterly baffled.
There is… for lack of a better term, a small gaggle of children wandering around the speeder they apparently rode to the Temple and staring innocently at the two thoroughly cowed Temple Guards on duty.
A teenager in Mandalorian armour makes themself known by climbing out of the speeder and snapping at one of the toddlers who has, in the time they weren’t watching, wandered away and started stuffing their mouth with sand.
“Nayc! Url’ika! Gev!”
Predictably, at least in Mace’s opinion, the child’s lip begins to wobble and the sobbing at the harsh reprimand follows only a moment after.
The teenager startles, armour failing to hide a flinch as the sobbing escalates to screaming.
“Myl’ika! Gaa'tayl!”
“Lek, lek.”
Mace, assessing the teenager’s ability and finding it wanting, decides it’s about time to interfere.
“Greetings, little one.” He kneels and reaches out in the Force, the child isn’t hurt so he withdraws and offers a small smile instead.
“‘reetings,” they sniff and take his hand. He helps them up and they take the opportunity to cling to his robe and hide behind him, leaving just enough of their face visible to send a truly vicious glare to the now sheepish teenager.
A second teenager makes themself known, carrying an actual genuine human baby in a sling.
“Oh, Su cuy’gar!”
“Su cuy’gar,” Mace hasn’t gotten the pronunciation down quite yet but the teen perks up nonetheless.
The teen shuffles the baby enough to take their helmet off, revealing a young Pantoran, and kicks their companion into doing the same.
“Right, I’m Myles, Clan Eldar and House Mereel! This is Jango!” They grin and nudge Jango with an elbow.
“Clan Fett and House Mereel.” He sighs.
Ah, the Mand’alor’s son and his friend. Mace does remember meeting the two of them briefly, if his memory serves there was some youngling scolding involved.
“Jedi Master Mace Windu.”
They stare blankly for a moment before seeming to remember their several companions.
“Right!” Myles refocuses. “These are the kids we called about, um, sorry we didn’t wait for a response but uh, the kids were getting anxious.” He gestures and three Tholothian children step forward and stare, unblinkingly, up at him.
“Uh…” Myles places a hand on one of their heads and gently tips their head back so he can see their face better. “This one’s Haat…” He mutters something suspiciously close to probably under his breath and moves to the next child. “Ijaat and… that makes you… Haa’it.” Haa’it sticks their tongue out at him and he sighs.
“Traditionalists, honestly.” Ijaat kicks him in the shin, Haat says something probably meant to be insulting by the snarl on Jango’s face. Myles just rolls his eyes. “Knock that off, you wanted to come. Anyways, Clan Wren, House Vizsla for the lot of ‘em.”
Mace gives the younglings a nod and they nod back, seemingly pleased at being taken seriously by an adult.
“Behind you’s Urla,” he tips his chin out in the direction of the little one still hiding in Mace’s robes and sniffling. “She’s my little cousin, Clan Eldar and House Mereel.”
He readjusts his grip on the sleeping baby and reaches over to pull a Twi’lek girl with deep violet skin to his side.
“And finally! More cousins! Shakka and Solan! Clan Eldar and House Mereel! I think that’s everyone.” He glances at his companion for confirmation.
“That’s all of ‘em.”
“Great!”
Mace really hopes he isn’t expected to remember all that. He suspects the Clan and House affiliations are supposed to mean something but he has no real basis for any of the information he’s getting.
He takes a very deep breath. One thing at a time.
“You said something about a call?”
Mace didn’t hear about any calls, he discreetly glances back. The Temple Guards send an impression of honest confusion back.
“Yeah, tell ‘em Jango.”
Jango’s expression has grown rather uncomfortable, which is not a great sign.
“Jango… tell me you remembered to call ahead.”
“I remembered to call ahead.” He parrots.
“I can’t believe this! Jango! You promised you’d do it if I handled Sol’ika.” The baby in question stirs but doesn’t wake.
Mace sighs, teenagers. “What were you going to call about?” The little ones are growing impatient, Mace is honestly impressed they’ve held on this long.
“They wanted to see Ob’ika, if that’s okay?” He gestures to the gaggle of children, most of whom are staring suspiciously up at Mace.
Mace blinks, honestly a little surprised.
He takes a moment to think his answer through. He suspects that Ijaat is already planning their attack strategy if he answers wrong.
This is… not unprecedented per se.
Well, no, actually it is pretty unprecedented.
Families requesting to visit relatives is not unheard of, although not as common as the worst rumors about the Jedi like to imply.
It’s just, usually that’s parents, sometimes with a sibling in tow. There are policies in place, lines to fall back on.
Perhaps they should have realized Initiate Kenobi made an impression.
And friends, apparently, tiny little Mandalorian friends.
Tiny little Mandalorian friends gearing up to fight him over visitation rights.
He sighs, mourning the lovely tea he had planned with his padawan.
“I’m sure something can be arranged.”
Jango is so glad Windu is letting them in to see Obi-Wan.
If only for his own safety. He wouldn’t put it past the horrible little Wren triplets to try to murder him on the way back if the Jedi didn’t let them in. Little monsters.
Not to mention Urla, that one has lungs.
Why did he agree to babysit again?
Right, he wanted to see the little Jedi again.
He is not so proud as to claim that Obi-Wan didn’t steadily worm their way into his heart during their stay.
He’s also… maybe a little curious.
The Jedi remain a mystery to most of Mandalore, attempts to reach out are still in their early stages.
Jango has heard plenty from Obi-Wan but… Obi-Wan is a child.
A child who tilts their head and closes their eyes and says the Force feels nice today, as if that’s supposed to mean anything.
A child who cries in a silent room and complains of the Force being loud and itchy, unable to explain further.
Feemor could have explained, but there was a lot going on.
So, yeah, he might not want to admit it but the children aren’t the only ones interested to see more of the Jedi.
The Jedi explains that the crèche is in the center of the construct, Jango approves. It is important for the little ones to be protected, especially in a dome that might be attacked from any side.
He counts his charges and offers to pick Urla up so she doesn’t have to walk with her short little legs.
“Nayc!” She shrieks.
That’s… probably his fault.
The Wrens scowl at him from afar, as if he’d offer. He knows better than to touch that with a pole of any length.
Shakka is tall for her age and happy to skip along behind their guide, which is spectacular because Jango isn’t sure he’s equipped to handle any more trouble.
Myles and Jango take up the rear with Solan, still sleeping, thank the stars.
There are more plants than Jango was expecting, even with the knowledge that the building was repurposed from an Agricorps dome.
He’s never seen so many different plants in one place before, some green, some orange and red and every other color imaginable.
He almost wants to pause, stop and stare at each one. Jaster would love this place.
Jango doesn’t stop, following along and only pausing when Windu does. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to get rid of them, despite the fact they basically forced themselves in without warning, not that they meant to.
The Jedi pauses often, pointing out details and plants the kids might find interesting. He even tailors it to his audience, gesturing to plants from the kids home planets and explaining little points of interest.
“This one, Shakka, is a baby whiptree from Ryloth. Have you ever been?”
She shrugs, “long time ago.”
Windu nods knowingly and moves on. “It’s small now but someday, if it remains healthy and strong, it will tower far above both of us. Whiptrees are remarkable trees, much like their homeland.”
They walk a bit further and Jango suspects they aren’t going straight to their destination. Windu stops again and gestures the Wren triplets over to a small fungus carefully encased in a clear container.
“Have you ever seen one of these?”
“Nayc.”
“They come from Tholoth and only Tholoth as far as we know. Do you know what is truly unique about this fungus in particular?”
“Nayc.” Haat scowls, unhappy to be kept in suspense.
“It’s so small and yet, there is enough poison in this little thing to kill all of us and more. It disguises itself and preys on one of Tholoth’s large prey animals.”
“Kandosii…” Haa’it breathes and the three of them crowd around in awe. It figures the little nightmares would love a murderous fungus.
Windu steps back and takes Urla’s hand, subtly checking his comm.
“Now, I believe Initiate Kenobi’s crèche is spending some time in the central garden at the moment. Shall we join them?”
He waits for the excited nods and turns to guide them back the way they came. Jango knew they weren’t going the right way.
Myles gives him a warning look and Jango rolls his eyes, he wasn’t going to complain or anything! He’s not incompetent.
Myles apparently doesn’t believe him because he gets that stupid grin that means nothing but trouble.
“Jan’ika… My arms are getting tired.” He complains.
“Alright?” What does he want Jango to do about it? He has a baby carrier and everything.
“Are you going to make me hold Sol’ika all day?”
“You said you would handle the baby,” Jango hisses quietly.
“Yeah… about that…” Myles’s tone remains deceptively light and Jango has to work not to tense instinctively. “I said that I would handle Sol’ika if you called the Jedi and… as I recall…” He blinks stupidly and Jango scowls. “You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain…”
He grins, evil. Why does Jango put up with him?
“I don’t-”
“Where’s your honor Jango Fett?”
Jango flits his gaze around, the last thing he needs is a Wren brat’s attention attracted by their basic name.
“Fine.” He hisses in defeat.
Myles perks up immediately, drama forgotten, and extracts the baby from their sling. A few muffled curses later and Jango has a tiny human strapped to his chest. He isn’t sure where to put his hands and glares when Myles lightly knocks their shoulders together.
“You got this, don’t worry.” He smiles widely. “Even if you don’t, they cried all night, they’re not going to wake up.”
Jango takes Myles by the hand and drags him along, belatedly realizing the Jedi’s waiting patiently for them up ahead. The kids are distracted by some plant and oblivious to Jango’s humiliation.
“I’m going to kill you.”
Myles just laughs.
When he got up this morning Mace was not expecting his day would include playing tour guide for a small gaggle of Mandalorian children, but needs must.
They are not so different from the children he knows.
Younglings are much the same, no matter their origins.
He can only be grateful for all the Agricorps members he’s been listening to lately. They really are a passionate group and filled with good distractions for little guests.
He smiles at the gasps of excitement as the younglings spot each other.
“Ob’ika!” Urla shrieks and toddles forward.
Obi-Wan’s smile grows as he accepts a hug that better resembles a tackle.
“What are you guys doing here!?” He can’t quite stifle the excited giggle.
Mace calmly moves to join the Knight on crèche duty at the moment.
“Knight Feemor.” He nods.
“Master Windu, I see you’ve brought us some guests.” He smiles.
“Yes, well, I’d like to see you deny them.” Mace grumbles playfully.
“I’ve tried, believe me.” Feemor chuckles.
They watch as the triplets, so determined to act mature and old up to now, fidget shyly and edge closer.
“Haat! Ijaat! Haa’it! I’m so happy you came!”
They nod as one, blushing. Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to notice and moves to hug Shakka. Feemor stifles a laugh and Mace gives him a look.
“Shakka!” He gasps. “You even brought Solan!”
Jango crouches so the Initiate can see the small sleeping form.
“It’s nice to meet you Solan!” He whispers to the baby and turns to smile up at Jango and Myles. “Thanks for bringing them.”
“Oh!” He gasps again. “I have to introduce you! This is my crèche clan!” He starts tugging little initiates over, some more uncertain about meeting little Mandalorians than others.
Mace isn’t worried, he may not know them very well but they aren’t radiating anything worse than wariness and the discomfort that comes with meeting new people.
“Are you Bruck?” Little Shakka demands.
Mace and Feemor both straighten up and prepare to intervene.
Myles takes a step forward with a strained smile.
“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Bruck Chun puffs up in an attempt to look taller, Shakka is still head and shoulders over him.
“Fight me.”
Oh dear.
Mace and Feemor take a step forward as one, ready to head things off before the punching starts.
Bruck puts on a sneer but it’s obvious to Mace that he’s feeling nothing but lost and intimidated and scared. The other Jedi younglings start to fidget, the distress is getting to them. The Wren triplet’s obvious glee over the prospect of violence certainly isn’t helping.
Before either Jedi can intervene, Myles places a hand on her head and smiles, still a little strained.
“Shakka, what has your buir said about challenging people to fights?”
“Not to do it outside of combat classes.” She dully recites.
“Are you in combat class, Sha’ika?”
“No.” She grumbles. “It’s not fair! We’re never going to have classes together and Ob’ika said he’s really good and I wanna see!”
Myles looks sheepish and Jango rolls his eyes. Mace wants to take a nap, just a small one, or even just go back to his quarters and call Depa to share some tea. He’s been finding the experience of listening to his padawan narrate her day very calming recently.
“Obi-Wan said I was good?” It’s said so quietly Mace isn’t sure anyone was meant to hear it.
Obi-Wan whirls around and nods with an earnestness only found in younglings his age.
“Of course! You’re so good at katas.”
“But-” Bruck shoots the adults a guilty look and Mace does not know what childhood drama has gone down but obviously something has. “You don’t-, I’m not-,” he finishes lamely.
Obi-Wan understands, apparently and nods solemnly. “I know we don't really get along and everything, but you’re really good at saber forms. I wish I was that good.”
Adorable, Mace should see if he can figure out how Yoda manages to spend so much time with the little ones with his council duties.
Bruck looks like he might cry, Shakka looks supremely out of her depth, the Wrens mostly look disappointed there won’t be any fighting, Urla is… kark, where’s Urla?
Something dark catches in the corner of his eye and Mace breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the missing toddler’s hair. He walks over to pull her out of the bush she’s wandered into.
Stars, there are so many younglings.
He’s not sure all the Initiates are still here, he didn’t count them when they arrived.
Feemor probably has it covered.
Urla seems uninterested in any of the youngling activities currently unfolding so Mace just holds her hand and carefully picks leaves out of her hair as she stares blankly at the goings on of the children.
Obi-Wan's managed to finish introductions and has the younglings gathered around in a circle. There are still some nervous looks being exchanged but Mace can feel the excitement overtaking wariness as the discussion goes on.
They seem to have decided to… play a hiding game of some sort? Mace is fairly certain the rules didn’t work like that when he was that age.
Obi-Wan is so excited!
His new friends and his crèchemates all together!
He closes his eyes and counts for what feels like forever.
He giggles and looks around once he’s finished.
They all agreed it wouldn’t be fair if he used the Force to try and find everyone, his Mandalorian friends aren’t very good at running away and finding new hiding spots.
Half of the fun of playing with his crèchemates is the challenge of hiding in the Force and finding new hiding spots to sneak away to but his friends can't feel the seeker coming and they can't hide in the Force.
It’s alright though! Obi-Wan wants them to have fun too.
He races over to a dense clump of bushes. He's pretty sure he can see a bit of purple behind the green foliage.
There! Obi-Wan giggles. He should be quiet, sneaky, but he can’t help it!
Shakka does her best to dodge his hands but the disadvantage of these bushes remains. They’re good for hiding because they’re dense, they’re bad for running for the same reason.
She sighs as his hand lightly hits her arm.
“Got you!” He grins.
“Good job Ob’ika.” She ruffles his hair and he pouts up at her. “You know…” She leans down conspiratorially and whispers. “I think I saw one of the triplets head for those trees over there.” She points and Obi-Wan beams, hair ruffling crimes forgiven.
“Thanks, Shakka!”
He keeps his eyes peeled for the slightest movement and creeps forward towards the trees.
There’s a cutoff sharp gasp and he’s moving.
The bushes part as he dives for his target.
“Oof.”
They both roll over in the foliage and he finds himself lying on Garen’s stomach with leaves in his hair and a stick in his boot.
“Caught you!”
“Ugh, you sure did.” Garen coughs.
Obi-Wan helps him up and they take turns brushing each other off.
As soon as he’s sure Garen’s not hurt he takes off for the trees Shakka indicated.
The triplets are pretty smart, they won’t try for a conventional hiding place.
Obi-Wan examines the grove.
Maybe…
There’s a flash of something vaguely metallic from the canopy.
Haa’it was so proud about getting his first piece of training armour.
Obi-Wan grins.
What a lucky thing he’s an excellent climber.
-
"Uh, are you alright up there?" Myles calls.
"Yes!" Of course he is, why wouldn't he be?
Obi-Wan huffs, now Haa'it definitely knows where he is.
He gives up his best attempts at stealth and scrambles the rest of the way up to the top of the tree. Haa'it is nowhere to be found.
Obi-Wan looks around.
He knows he saw something suspicious up here!
A twig breaks.
His eyes snap over to the location of the sound, a small dip in the landscape beside one of the neighboring trees.
There he is.
Haa'it's eyes grow wide as they make eye contact and Obi-Wan grins.
Technically, they never banned the Force entirely. Obi-Wan was paying close attention and no one ever said anything about jumping, just sensing presences.
He aims.
"Ob'ika?" Myles sounds nervous.
Why would he be nervous? Mandalorians are so weird sometimes.
If they don't want him to jump out of trees they'll have to remember to mention that next time.
Obi-Wan jumps.
He doesn't aim for Haa'it, he's definitely too high up to manage it without hurting his friend but he does land right next to him.
"Ha!" Obi-Wan reaches out, Haa'it doesn't manage to dodge in time.
Myles makes a oddly strangled noise.
"Are you alright?"
Obi-Wan nods, glancing at his robes to make sure he didn't get them dirty, obviously he's fine.
He looks over at Master Windu and Knight Feemor, to see if they get it but they don't look worried.
"I'm never going to get used to that, am I?" Myles mutters.
Obi-Wan isn't sure what he's talking about so he just nods again.
-
“Why did you jump in the pond, Initiate Kenobi?” Master Windu sighs.
Obi-Wan pouts.
“I thought I saw Bant.” He reports.
“Did you double check? Make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light?” Master Windu looks a little tired, Obi-Wan hopes he hasn’t been having trouble sleeping.
“No.” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “She’s really fast, I wanted to surprise her.”
“Well… How about you do some more reconnaissance next time before you go jumping into ponds.” Knight Feemor smiles kindly and Obi-Wan nods.
He does smell kind of gross.
Bant sniffs at his robes and makes a face.
“Can I change?”
“Of course, why don’t you take Haat with you.” Master Windu gestures to the little Wren who grins with dirt covered teeth in response.
That really was an unfortunate place for a mud puddle.
“Alright.”
-
Obi-Wan lets Haat clean up first, one of the many interesting things he’s learned in the last few months is that Mandalorians care a lot more about modesty than Jedi do.
He doesn’t quite understand it but that’s alright!
They make it back in record time, neither of them want to miss out on more fun.
Obi-Wan is delighted to find that Shakka is working her magic on Jango and Myles.
The triplets are far too grown up for it, apparently, which Obi-Wan finds very funny. They’re younger than he is!
“Come on… Please?”
His crèchemates glance back and forth, indecision warring between their eyes.
“Sha’ika…” Jango’s cracking, Obi-Wan can tell.
He’s too far away to help.
Finally, his crèchemates nod decisively to each other and as one turn disappointed sad eyes to the teenagers.
Master Windu sighs and mutters something Obi-Wan can’t make out to Knight Feemor. Knight Feemor just chuckles good naturedly in response.
Good, they aren’t going to put a stop to it.
Obi-Wan grabs for Haat’s hand and tugs him over faster, whatever this is, Obi-Wan wants in.
“Ob’ika! Haat’ika! Don’t you want to see Jango do a flip?” Shakka asks.
Does he? Absolutely!
“You can do a flip!?” Obi-Wan never would have guessed!
“Of course I can do a flip.” Jango grumbles irritably.
“Yeah, right.” Haat scoffs.
Jango glares, it’s a little funny.
“Of course I can.” He adjusts Solan pointedly and turns up his nose. “I’m just busy.”
Obi-Wan pouts, he doesn’t think they’ll let him hold Solan instead and Myles doesn’t look very inclined to help out.
“I can take them, I’m sure you’re getting tired anyway.” Knight Feemor to the rescue!
He strides over, arms all ready to take the baby.
Jango glances around and slumps.
“Fine.” He hands the baby over and shakes his arms out.
It’s an okay flip.
Mace watches attentively from his place next to Knight Feemor.
The teenagers have finally given up pretending to be too old for childish games and have taken to menacing the giggling younglings with relish.
After a while, Mace finds himself in possession of Solan.
The baby hasn’t stirred since the moment they arrived. Mace is, perhaps, starting to get concerned.
Feemor subtly shifts closer, studying the baby with serious eyes.
“They have trouble sleeping, no one’s quite certain why.” He murmurs. “I'm not an expert but I offered to see if I could help, unfortunately we never quite managed a meeting.”
Mace hums.
There are any number of reasons the little one could be having trouble and Mace is no expert himself.
He turns back to the younglings at the sound of an excited cry. Myles seems to be goading Jango into demonstrating some kind of acrobatic move. Mace can tell from a distance it’s not likely going to go well with the extra weight of the armour but, well, he's been wrong before.
Mace shifts back to the baby as they make a sleepy noise.
He holds them out.
“Awake, little one?” He asks.
The baby blinks wide eyes open and smacks their lips together.
A shatterpoint sits just over their heart, waiting patiently for the moment it will splinter into a thousand pieces.
Mace prepares to call a more familiar face over but while the sleepy eyes don’t brighten with recognition they don’t sharpen with fear either.
“Hello Solan.” Feemor offers the grasping little hands a finger.
They yawn and wiggle.
Mace instinctively soothes them in the Force, only realizing the relative pointlessness of the action after he’s already done it.
Solan gurgles, sticking a hand into their mouth.
More than that, Solan reaches back.
“Feemor…” He breathes.
“I felt it too.”
It’s clumsy and nothing but instinct. It’s something any Jedi who’s spent much time with the very young ones would recognize.
Mace looks into dark brown eyes and smiles when the baby tries to bat at his nose.
They don’t say anything more, simply watching the babbling baby.
There are many children, no doubt, who will never be found now.
Children who will find their futures elsewhere.
Children who will never find the crystal that sings in time with their soul.
Children who will never know the significance and joy of a padawan braid.
Children who will never experience the accomplishment of a knighting ceremony.
They could not stay, no matter the number of futures irrevocably changed. It was not an option.
Still, there is a sadness to it.
To know their future sits precarious with uncertainty.
To know there may be members of their family they will never meet now.
Mace gently brushes at Solan’s hair, black and fluffy and growing by the day.
He thinks, maybe, just maybe he’s met a little piece of their future.
There will be controversy, he is certain.
There has not been a Jedi from Mandalore in generations.
It will a difficult choice to make, it often is.
There is still time yet.
They remain young and small.
Their future branches out with countless possibilities.
Still, Mace holds them like they’re something terribly precious and he wonders.
Maybe things aren’t so uncertain after all.
Maybe this future isn’t just the best of an array of terrible choices.