Chapter Text
When Mace had first settled in his Council seat that day, it had seemed like it was going to be a perfectly normal day.
After three hours of going back-and-forth on the most mundane issues that Mace was certain they’d already reached consensus on, he was forced to revaluate his earlier optimism.
Even Master Ti, called to the Council following Droom’s departure, was starting to show signs of frustration, and Mace was well-aware how difficult that feat usually was.
Perhaps it was to be expected that some of the Councilmembers had mentally checked-out of the discussions; Poof appeared to be sleeping with his eyes open, his Force-signature far too calm for him to be awake, Dooku was deeply engrossed in whatever he was reading on his data-pad, and even Plo seemed to be humming something to himself, if the occasional melodic snippets Mace was catching over their bond were any indication.
Still, Mace wasn’t expecting the sudden snort that came from Dooku, both for the blatant confirmation that the man wasn’t paying attention to the Council’s discussion, and for how uncharacteristic the sound was coming from the usually regal man.
“...Something to share, Master Dooku?” Ki-Adi asked, the first to seemingly recover from the bizarre interruption, but Dooku waved him off.
“Hardly.” He declined, then gestured at his data-pad. “I merely decided that reviewing my padawan’s essay was a much more productive use of my time than watching this Council go around in circles.”
To Dooku’s left, Sifo-Dyas sighed quietly, his expression a mix of disbelief and fond exasperation before he stuffed it back behind his patented mask of Jedi serenity.
“You set your padawan essays outside of his classwork?” Jor asked incredulously, though Mace privately reasoned that that was actually the least shocking part of the whole exchange.
“But of course.” Dooku confirmed evenly, turning away from Ki-Adi to shoot Jor a curious look. “This one, for example, was his punishment for the Rattatak mission.”
Mace stilled.
“What was the rest of the punishment?” Master Ti inquired, curious more than judgemental, and Mace was privately grateful to Droom for nominating the Togruta in his stead.
“Staying Temple-bound until I say otherwise.” Dooku replied in that same even tone as he glanced briefly over at Master Ti before turning his attention back to the data-pad, seemingly deciding the conversation to be over.
Mace sighed, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable-
“That’s it?”
-and for once, he couldn’t fault either Poof or Ki-Adi for their incredulity, finding himself similarly baffled at Dooku’s oddly lenient punishment.
“I don’t actually disagree with his decisions.” Dooku replied flatly, switching off his data-pad and setting it aside, and though his expression was still perfectly placid, his voice was cold. “I merely asked him to write the essay to ensure he remembers that there are others he can turn to for help the next time this Council dismisses him.”
Mace flinched.
He knew Dooku was not one to mince his words, but to hear that the man had so little faith in his fellow Councilmembers that he was actively preparing his padawan to seek help outside of them was-
‘-harsh, but not unwise.’ Plo mused, his interruption letting Mace know that his reaction wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped.
‘I think you might be one of the few to see it as such.’ He shot back, glancing around the rest of the Masters to try and gauge how Dooku’s words had landed. ‘He could’ve at least pretended to disapprove of Kenobi’s methods.’
‘Mm, perhaps.’ Plo hummed, and there was laughter in his mental voice. ‘But where do you think the boy learned his methods, hm?’
Mace paled.
He forgot, sometimes, that Dooku had been a padawan too, once. Just as he sometimes forgot that Plo was over two centuries old.
To think that Dooku was so indulgent of his padawan’s antics because he could somehow see it from his own perspective as a padawan was-
'I was a happier man two minutes ago.'
Plo’s fond laughter in his mind was just about worth the dread that seized his heart once the Council session finally resumed.
After another fruitless hour, things were finally beginning to draw to a close, and Mace was looking forward to getting out of his seat and hitting the training salles, having promised Depa a spar once he was free from his duties.
Of course, that was precisely when Ki-Adi cleared his throat.
“I would like to propose a motion to this Council.” The Cerean began formally, and Mace stilled, able to guess from the other Master’s serious mien that this wasn’t about to be a pleasant conversation.
“Proceed.” Yoda bid, ears twitching curiously, and Mace barely withheld a groan; a curious Grand Master rarely boded well for his headaches.
“Despite padawan Kenobi’s success, his continued disregard of the Council’s orders is concerning.” Ki-Adi began evenly, studiously ignoring the way Dooku sat up in affront. “Additionally, given the fact that the boy’s Master doesn’t seem to see the problem with his behaviour, and is, in fact, actively encouraging it, I propose a period of separation.”
Mace’s breath caught as his temple pulsed.
“Since when do we separate padawans from their Masters?” Master Ti inquired, and Mace was too dazed from the sudden pain to be grateful for the Togruta’s question.
“Since the Master cannot be relied upon to appropriately punish misbehaviour.” Ki-Adi replied primly, getting a considering nod from Poof and Seasee, while Plo and Tera looked incredulous.
Dooku, meanwhile, simply stared at Ki-Adi with a clenched jaw and cold anger in his eyes.
“I find myself questioning your ability to be objective in this matter.” Sifo-Dyas pointed out evenly, his expression perfectly polite if not for the slight pinch between his brows, a counterbalance to Dooku’s anger.
“And I, yours.” Ki-Adi returned, sweeping an arm at the gathered Council. “Let us not forget that it was your ship and your access codes that the boy used.”
“While I was unconscious.” Sifo-Dyas stressed, disbelief heavy in his voice, and Mace didn’t miss the brief, concerned glance he shot Dooku when the other man took a shuddering breath, as if grappling for calm.
“And yet you never brought it up as something he should apologise for.” Ki-Adi shot back, and Mace wondered briefly at the Cerean’s odd investment into the matter, before his attention was once more stolen by Dooku, who squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his shields down, cutting off the rest of the Council as he fell into himself.
“He apologised before he even left the Temple.” Sifo-Dyas replied through gritted teeth, his own temper flaring briefly before he wrestled it down and visibly fought for calm.
“Gentlemen.” Master Ti interrupted, glancing between Ki-Adi and Sifo-Dyas concernedly, then shooting a look at the still and silent Dooku. “Ki-Adi, I can understand your concern, but Sifo-Dyas is right; short of assigning Yan a solo mission, it would be difficult to enforce the separation.”
Stars, Mace had missed hearing reasonable arguments in these meetings.
“I believe Yan should remain in the Temple for the foreseeable future, especially as it was his absence that caused this situation in the first place.” Ki-Adi explained, and Mace was glad Dooku seemed to have fallen into a meditative state, for he wasn’t certain how the other Master would react to that assertion. “Should we decide to separate the two, I was actually planning on taking padawan Kenobi along with me on my next mission.”
Mace stilled.
“Where will you go?” Jor asked, her gaze darting between Dooku, Sifo-Dyas, and Ki-Adi, as if waiting for one of them to explode.
“I have received concerning reports about someone on Ord Mantell matching my old Master’s description.” Ki-Adi elaborated, and Mace frowned, not having known that the Cerean had had another Master prior to Yoda. “As some on this Council may be aware, Master An’ya Kuro leads a rather…nomadic lifestyle, and updates the Order on her activities only when her path brings her to Coruscant, which is rarely.”
To his left, Plo tensed.
“You wish to investigate those reports?” The Kel Dor asked, somehow managing to affect his usual steady mien despite the fact that Mace could tell he was anything but.
“I do.” Ki-Adi confirmed. “If they prove true, I believe the Order’s intervention might be needed.”
“And how does padawan Kenobi factor into this?” Master Ti pressed, and Mace found himself sending a silent prayer of thanks to Droom for his choice of successor.
“The travel time will give me the opportunity to observe the boy without outside influence.” Ki-Adi explained evenly, and Mace hated the fact that he couldn’t deny that the Cerean had thought this through. “And the need to tread carefully once on Ord Mantell will test his ability to follow orders from someone other than Yan or Sifo-Dyas.”
“You want to put a boy whose mission experience was shaped by slavery and war into a hostile environment where he might have to confront someone even you don't dare cross, and then judge him for his reaction?” Sifo-Dyas demanded sharply, his voice shaking with anger and indignation, his eyes narrowed as he glared at Ki-Adi who was growing redder by the second.
“Sy.” Dooku interrupted, speaking for the first time since Ki-Adi had proposed the motion, and though the call of his name was hardly a reprimand, Sifo-Dyas took a shuddering breath of his own and sat back against his seat, visibly backing down.
Dooku turned to the rest of the Council, that cold, flat gaze sweeping over the gathered Masters briefly before he announced: “I believe that we should pose this matter directly to my padawan. I think you’ll find that he’s startlingly rational.”
‘I wonder why.’ Mace huffed inwardly, but his head hurt too much to infuse the words with his usual sarcasm, and Plo, it seemed, was also too out-of-sorts to reply.
“Send a summon, we shall.” Yoda agreed, but Dooku shook his head.
“No need.” He denied coldly, getting to his feet. “He’s just outside.”
Mace didn’t know whether to be indignant or impressed by Dooku’s manoeuvring, but as the door opened and the padawan came in, Mace certainly wasn’t expecting Dooku to reach out and pull the boy into a hug with a hand on the back of his neck, some of the tension in Dooku’s shoulders easing at the contact.
Then, Dooku stepped back from the embrace and moved closer towards the door, stopping only briefly to glance over his shoulder and announce:
“As you all already know what I think of this proposal, I see no point to my continued attendance.” Then, to Kenobi, his gaze only marginally warmer, added; “I trust your judgement.”
And with those words, he swept out the Council chambers, the door shutting behind him with a soft thud.
“Hello, honoured Masters.” The padawan greeted once he recovered, turning to face the Council with an admirably composed expression, for all that Mace could still detect a hint of bafflement in the quirk of his brow. “How may I be of assistance?”
Bringing Kenobi up to speed on Ki-Adi’s proposal took far less time than Mace had expected, the padawan almost uncharacteristically cooperative.
At least until they got to the name of Ki-Adi’s Master.
“An’ya Kuro?” The padawan echoed, a frown pulling at his brows as he glanced between the Councilmembers. “Is there any more information you might be able to give me?”
“She’s what happens when one takes the Jedi lessons on humility to the extreme.” Seasee explained on a huff, cutting Ki-Adi a pitying look. “Believes Jedi shouldn’t have any possessions, not even a name.”
“She doesn’t go by her name?” Kenobi repeated, an odd weight behind his words, his frown deepening.
“She calls herself the ‘Dark Woman’.” Ki-Adi added after a beat, as if he had been hoping to keep that particular piece of information to himself.
And with good reason, Mace reckoned, sensing the wave of concern that flared from Master Ti, Jor, and Plo at the prospect of sending a padawan to meet someone who voluntarily called themselves dark.
Sifo-Dyas, meanwhile, grimaced and sagged in his seat with a sigh, as if already aware of how the discussion would end.
“The Dark Woman?” Kenobi breathed, eyes widening in what Mace had no doubt was recognition, though he had no idea how it could’ve gotten there.
“You’re familiar?” He asked sharply, then frowned at the telltale thrum between Kenobi and Sifo-Dyas before the boy turned to address him.
“Not...personally.” He replied, and the smile he shot Mace did not reach his eyes. Then, before Mace could press, the padawan turned to Ki-Adi and inclined his head. “I accept your motion, Master Mundi. When do we leave?”
“Sifo-Dyas!” Mace called some quarter of an hour later, not wanting to jog to catch up to the Seer who had been up and out of the room as soon as Yoda had dismissed them, but neither wanting to let the Master run off before he could get confirmation.
“Ah- yes, Mace?” Sifo-Dyas replied over his shoulder, then reluctantly stopped to let Mace catch up to him at whatever he saw on Mace’s face.
Mace sensed Plo a few steps behind him and felt his friend’s curiosity in the back of his mind, but he could explain properly later. “What did Kenobi tell you before he accepted the mission?”
Sifo-Dyas blinked at him. “How long have you known about the bond?”
Mace sent him an incredulous look, feeling Plo come to a stop a few inches to his left, the Kel Dor’s steady calm grounding him enough to reconsider his approach.
“Long enough.” He ground out, not particularly wanting to delve into the details of how long he’d known and kept silent, nor why he’d kept silent. Especially since he didn’t exactly know himself. “Please.”
Sifo-Dyas sighed.
“He said to warn the crèchemasters about a potential Code Yellow.” He revealed quietly, and Mace’s breath caught in his throat.
Code Yellow.
The very same code assigned to the Dathomirian Kenobi had brought back from Rattatak. Or the Twi’lek that was already bonded to Vos.
The code used to mean ‘youngling from a difficult background’, that almost always also meant ‘shitstorm of a mission’ to bring that youngling to the Temple.
And Sifo-Dyas, rather than scared, sounded tired and resigned, as if he had known this would-
Mace stilled.
-he had known.
And Kenobi- kriffing Kenobi had said ‘not personally’ when asked if he knew the Dark Woman.
Mace barely stifled the urge to let out the hysterical laugh he could feel rising up his throat.
Kriffing Seers.
“If your hair isn’t completely grey by the time that kid is Knighted, I will eat a full bowl of Yoda’s swamp stew.” He told Sifo-Dyas curtly, then turned on his heel, deciding that he’d had enough dramatics from Yoda’s stars-damned lineage to last him a lifetime. “Good day.”
And with that decisive farewell, he stormed off towards the training salles, leaving a guffawing Plo and a stunned-speechless Sifo-Dyas behind.