Chapter Text
Mace felt Averross’ shock, and though he didn’t fully understand what Kenobi had done, he still caught the moment Averross’ ire cleared, his shields strengthened, and his expression took on that same incredulous, awestruck gawk Mace has already seen too many Jedi direct at Kenobi.
The padawan, however, only patted Averross on the arm absently and stepped forward, his movements not at all inhibited by the wriggling youngling on his hip swivelling her head around the Council chambers with both awe and apprehension in her eyes.
“This is padawan Asajj Ventress.” Kenobi introduced, directing a reassuring smile at the girl when she tensed in his arms. “Knight Narec’s student. Asajj, this is the Jedi Council.”
The girl settled somewhat, either at the smile, or at being directly addressed, and Mace barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
‘Credit for your thoughts, my friend?’ Plo’s voice rang out in his mind, and the amused note to it let Mace know he needed to be a touch more mindful of his reactions.
'One of these days, we’ll find something he’s bad at.’ He shot back by means of explanaiton, not bothering to hide the grumpiness in his mental voice. ‘And it will be something stupidly, pathetically easy.’
Plo’s fond, indulgent laughter rang through his mind, and it was precisely the opposite reaction to what Mace should be getting for his less than serene moments, yet he wouldn’t pretend that it didn’t encourage him to continue sharing his true thoughts with the Kel Dor.
“Welcome, young one.” Sifo-Dyas greeted, the words pulling Mace’s attention to the matter at hand and making him frown when he realised that although the Seer smiled warmly at the youngling, his gaze skipped oddly over Kenobi as he added; “We are glad to see you safe.”
The girl only stared, not responding, her gaze flickering between Sifo-Dyas and Dooku before she turned back to Kenobi and wordlessly hid her face in his neck, clearly overwhelmed.
“Does she speak?” Yarael asked Kenobi dryly, and Mace had to bite the inside of his cheek when the girl immediately pulled away from Kenobi and glared at the Quermian, indignation in her eyes.
“I do!” She nearly shrieked, baring her teeth at Yarael in the same way Averross had before, her earlier shyness seemingly forgotten at the perceived slight.
But the bared teeth, beyond a potential attitude problem, revealed sharp canines that Agen and Eeth most definitely did not share with the youngling.
‘She’s not Rattataki. Or Iridonian.’ Mace noted woodenly to Plo, hoping against hope that his instinct was wrong and the youngling’s pallid, almost translucent skin and the sharp, throat-tearing canines were not an indicator of-
“Were you born on Rattatak, little one?” Plo asked, posing the question Mace had thought but did not dare voice, and he wasn’t quite sure whether what he was feeling was gratitude or resentment towards the Kel Dor.
The youngling shook her head.
“Do you remember where, then?” Jor pushed, gentling her voice from what it had been when she’d been speaking to Averross, a rarely-seen softness in her eyes as she regarded the girl.
“It’s okay if you don’t.” Kenobi was quick to murmur, squeezing the girl’s knee reassuringly where he was carefully supporting her cast-covered leg.
“The slavers said Zabrak.” The youngling replied, addressing Kenobi more than Jor or Plo, her voice small. “B-but Ky said- um, ‘Da-tho-mir’?”
Shock rippled through the Council like a discordant note and Mace closed his eyes briefly, wishing, not for the first time, that his pessimism wouldn’t always turn out to be justified.
“’Zabrak’ is a species class, my dear.” Kenobi corrected gently, voice kind and patient, yet firm like a crechemaster’s. “Like I am a human, Teacher Koon is a Kel Dor, or Teacher Poof is a Quermian.”
But the youngling wasn’t paying attention to the padawan- instead, her gaze flickered between the Council members as if she could see the currents of the Force that betrayed the furious debate happening between two-thirds of their members, the concept of a Nightsister among their ranks a contentious one.
Yet Mace was determined to ignore the debate, lest he give in to the urge to remind some of the Masters that the Temple was supposed to be a haven for all Force-sensitives, regardless of where in the galaxy they happened to have been born.
“What are they doing?” She asked Kenobi, interrupting the teen’s lecture on Zabrak history and divergent evolution, and shooting the padawan a sheepish smile when he levelled her with an exasperated look at the shameless proof that she hadn’t been listening to a word that had come out of his mouth.
“They’re talking amongst themselves.” He explained patiently, fond exasperation in his voice when the youngling laid her head on his shoulder and smiled innocently. “Do you remember when you told me you could sometimes feel that Ky was proud of you? If you meditate some more, you’ll be able to form mental bonds with other beings and use them to talk telepathically.”
‘Or the Force will bestow one upon you like an unexpected gift.’ Plo offered faux-idly, and Mace felt a warmth settle in his chest at the words.
“I’ll have to meditate?” The youngling whined, looking so betrayed that Mace felt amusement ripple through those of the Council who were paying more attention to her and Kenobi than the still-going debate between Ki-Adi, Yan, and Yoda.
“Meditation helps with inner peace and balance, and you need both to form a mental bond.” The padawan replied, and Mace wondered if he was copying Yan’s diction intentionally, or whether Depa had been right when she’d humorously summarised Kenobi as ‘sixteen going on sixty’.
“Ky didn’t want a bond with me.” The youngling sighed in response, the words resigned and forlorn, and she almost seemed to wilt in Kenobi’s arms.
“You don’t know that.” Kenobi chided immediately, lifting his hand from the girl’s knee to lightly flick her nose. “You were both in a precarious situation. If either of you had let your guard down while meditating, you could have been in danger. Ky was only looking out for you.”
“You don’t know that.” The youngling accused, some life returning to her expression as she narrowed her eyes at the padawan, but Kenobi only smiled.
“Don’t I?” He challenged, offering the girl a wink when she scowled at him, clearly not actually certain.
“I don’t like your riddles.” She huffed after a beat, going boneless in Kenobi’s arms and dropping her head onto his shoulder with enough force to make the teen wince.
“Mm,” Kenobi hummed, glancing briefly at Yan before he refocused on the girl, apparently having also noticed the rather abrupt end to the debate between the Masters, “you don’t like my riddles, you don’t like meditating, you don’t like rations- we have to find something you like, now.”
“For balance?” The youngling inquired dryly, and Mace had a front-row seat to the way the corner of Kenobi’s lips ticked up.
“For balance.” He confirmed, his voice admirably sage and steady considering the way his Force-signature trembled with mirth at the back-and-forth, not that the girl could tell.
“I like Ky.” She began, thoughtless and childish and innocent in a way that Mace wished would last for as long as possible.
“And?” Kenobi prompted, shifting the girl into a more comfortable position as she began to swing her legs back and forth where she was still perched astride his hip.
“And his sword.” She continued, her head now pillowed on Kenobi’s shoulder, obligingly elaborating when the padawan hummed curiously with a quiet- “It sings.”
“...And?” Kenobi pressed, the pause miniscule but noticeable, and Mace wondered whether Kenobi realised the significance of what the youngling had just revealed.
“And y-”
“-Padawan Kenobi?” Yarael interrupted, and Mace winced as the girl jumped in Kenobi’s arms, clearly having forgotten about their audience, though Kenobi didn’t so much as twitch.
"Yes, Teacher Poof?” He asked, squeezing the youngling’s knee comfortingly as Averross came up to them and lightly patted the girl’s head in a clear attempt at distraction.
“Healer Che tells us that Knight Narec nearly became one of the Lost.” Yarael said, regret and something almost like guilt in his voice, though it was gone a moment later as he continued: “Given that it’s difficult to judge how long he will take to recover, I was wondering whether you have given any thought to padawan Ventress’ future.”
“I was planning to stop by the Quartermaster once I am dismissed, and register her in the crèche.” Kenobi replied evenly, absently smacking Averross’ hand away when the Knight tried to ruffle his hair as well. “Given her upbringing, Asajj needs to be socialised, so taking classes with her age-mates will go a long way to fixing that. Additionally, while I am sure Knight Narec would have spoken with her about the Jedi and explained some of our key tenets, having a better idea of our values and principles will allow her to make an informed decision as to whether she even wishes to be a Jedi.”
‘...He’s going to be insufferable once Yan is done with him, isn’t he?’ Mace mused resignedly, drawing another burst of amusement from Plo.
‘I thought you planned on retiring before then, anyway?’ Plo shot back challengingly, throwing Mace’s grouching from earlier in the day back in his face.
‘At this rate, I might just take a long-term, off-world mission, too.’
“The child is eight.” Jor pointed out, voice aghast, and a glance at her lap revealed her data-pad open on the brief medical file Vokara had shared with them all once Kenobi had taken the youngling from the Halls.
“I am not saying she needs to make that decision immediately.” Kenobi soothed, though his eyes were hard. “But she ought to be aware that it is a decision she can make.”
“Does she even know what she is?” Ki-Adi demanded, and Mace, Kenobi, and Averross tensed as one, though it was Plo who spoke.
“She is, and she will be, whoever she wants to be.” The Kel Dor replied deceptively softly, his Force-presence heavy and rolling like the air before a storm. “That is something she can do now, as a Free being: choose.”
Mace got a second-hand flash of the warm wave of surprise-respect-gratitude Averross directed at Plo, the Knight’s expression contemplative as he considered the Kel Dor, though Mace did not miss the white-knuckled grip Kenobi now had on Averross’ wrist.
“I wanna be with Ky.” The youngling piped up, her curious gaze flickering between Plo and Ki-Adi, even though her voice was resolute. “If he’s a Jedi, I’ll be one too.”
“That’s a-!”
“-A reasonable sentiment to hear from a distressed youngling.” Yan cut Ki-Adi off mercilessly, though they all still knew what the Cerean had been about to say. Then, Yan narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room, the still-active mental link between the Council members letting them all feel his mounting displeasure. “Now, does this Council have any more productive and relevant questions to ask, or can my students finally get some rest?”
“Some patience from your padawans, learn you should.” Yoda huffed, levelling Yan with a look that Mace could only describe as exasperated. Then, before Yan could give voice to the indignantion painted on his face, or Averross could try to muffle his incredulous guffaw, Yoda turned to Kenobi, transitioning from Grand Master Yoda to Grandmaster Yoda in less time than it took Mace to blink.
“Right you were, that instruments of the Force, Jedi are.” Yoda announced, a non-sequitur, if Mace had ever heard one. “Use the Force to defend and protect, Jedi should. Use the Force to sustain themselves, a Jedi should not.”
Mace froze, but Kenobi only smiled, a wry, close-lipped thing.
"The Force provides." He demurred, and it wasn't quite impudent, the words were far too softly-spoken for that, but it was the most outwardly confrontational Mace has ever seen him be with the Grand Master.
Yoda harrumphed.
"Food, you will get, or feed you my stew, I will." He threatened, seeming a step away from reinforcing the words with a whack from his walking stick.
And Mace- Mace has seen Kenobi shrug off a vision about the extinction of the Jedi; he's seen him react to facing the Master of Makashi with laughter and teasing; he's seen him voluntarily return to a war-ravaged planet, but it was only here, now, in the face of an idle, almost familial threat, that Kenobi paled.
"Yes, Grandmaster. My apologies." He agreed quickly, using the grip he still had on Averross' wrist to tug the Knight towards the door as he began walking backwards, inclining his head to the other Masters in lieu of a proper bow given the youngling still clinging to his side. "Thank you, honoured Council. We shall be on our way."
Struck speechless with incredulous disbelief, Mace could only watch as Kenobi and Averross disappeared through the Council doors, though not before Averross' wheezing cackles reached Mace's ears, the Knight's composure seemingly breaking the moment they were out of the Council's sight.
Mace glanced around the room, noting similar levels of incredulity, bemusement, and reluctant amusement as he himself was feeling, then gave in to the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.
‘This kriffing lineage…’
This time, Plo’s laughter punctuated the thought.