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“I do not understand core worlder’s preoccupation with age and birthdays,” Vader grumbled as he watched Ahsoka make the Naboo Birthday Pastry that she made for the twins every year.
Mé, a few months from turning two years old, sat on the counter in front of him, playing with the leftover confetti from one of the confetti canons Luke and Leia tested earlier. Ever since, she’d been diligently trying to recreate the effects, periodically tossing handfuls of it in the air and then pouting in dissatisfaction that it wasn’t what she wanted. Vader figured they had about ten more minutes before she gave up and threw a tantrum.
“Well, in general, people all over the galaxy like to keep up with their age. You know. To mark growing up.”
“There are plenty of other ways to mark growing up. But that’s not what the preoccupation with it in the core is. Every year. Down to the exact date. And that exact date determines when you can drink alcohol and when you can drive and who and when you can date. Who and when you can marry. It’s stupid.”
“Vader,” Ahsoka said without looking up from what she was doing. “I’m begging you. Please don’t ever say that in public. It took months to get the public to believe that you weren’t a predator who took advantage of my apprenticeship to groom me into your perfect obedient wife and ruler. And that you didn’t get me pregnant at seventeen while you were twenty-two.”
Vader rolled his eyes at the sheer conjecture and fallacy of that entire statement.
“You and I both know it was stupid. In what universe could anyone ever look at us and think that I groomed you. We are constantly arguing about something. In public. Even when I was practically insane, you’ve never been afraid to say exactly what you wanted to me.”
He looked down at Mé, who was insistently tapping his arm with one hand and a handful of confetti in the other while saying, “Daddy. ‘Fetti.”
“Yes. Confetti,” Vader answered, not even trying to shield his annoyance. The stuff was nearly as bad as sand. They were probably going to be finding it around the apartment for weeks.
“So you’re admitting that you were actually insane at some point?” Ahsoka said with feigned shock. “Let me make sure to record the time and date for future evidence.”
Vader glared at Ahsoka, unimpressed, before continuing, “Even if we had been dating back then, even if you were the twins' first mother, so what? That was pretty common on Tatooine.”
Ahsoka did look at him this time, looking like she wasn’t sure whether or not to respond to something he said. Finally, she shook her head and said, “Not every seventeen-year-old or species-specific equivalent age fought in a war and was practically a career soldier, Vader. So again, I know what you mean. I know you’re trying to say age limits and stuff like that should be a loose guideline and not such a strict rule because every person is different, but we both know how out of hand the media can get. So please don’t ever say that in public.”
“You’re the one who wanted a free press,” Vader muttered, grabbing Mé’s hand before she could put confetti in her mouth. “No, little one.”
She tilted her head backward to look up at him with bright blue eyes and a scowl. Vader patted her blue streaked white hair. This seemed to keep her from crying as she went back to simply hitting at the confetti to try to make the light pieces of paper move around.
“Either way, it makes no sense.”
“Everyone isn’t a Jedi or a Sith.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about age being such a public and open thing.”
“So it wasn’t on Tatooine?”
“Are you insane? Of course, it wasn’t.”
Ahsoka looked back up at him with her head tilted. “I’m not following…”
“Children could be sold from their mothers at five. Standard years that is. And since no one really kept up with when someone gave birth, it could take longer than normal for a child to reach five. As long as everyone believed it,” Vader explained.
Realization dawned in Ahsoka’s eyes. “Oh. This is a slave culture thing. I get it.” She paused. “So wait a minute. You might actually be a couple of years older than we think you are?”
Vader shrugged. “Probably.”
“So wait. You might have actually been eleven or twelve when you got to the temple? In standard years?”
“Maybe. I do know I was actually at least ten. Being a little older than that would explain why my voice cracked and I got my growth spurt so early. Based on human standards.”
“So it’s very possible that you’re actually seven or eight years older than me?”
“What does it matter?” Vader asked, not trying to hold back his irritation with the line of questioning.
Ahsoka shook her head. “It doesn’t. Not right now. But I’m glad the media didn’t know this during that debacle with whether I was the twins’ first mother or not. That would have been even more ammunition.”
“No. It still would have been just as ridiculous and—”
“But back to your original point,” Ahsoka cut in. “You don’t have to understand it. We’re not anyone’s slaves. The twins spent the first ten years of their lives hiding or on the run and the last birthday keeping a low profile. Now they’re not on the run, and for the first time, they’ve had a chance to make friends their own age because they can actually go to school. If they want a birthday party and want to make a big deal out of their age, then we’re going to let them. And you are going to be on your best behavior tomorrow. No being a straight-up ass to any of the parents.”
Vader rolled his eyes.
“I mean it, Skyguy.”
“I mean it, Skyguy,” Mé repeated and then fell into giggles.
“Traitor,” Vader grumbled to Mé.
“Not when mommy gave birth all by herself in a ship in the lower levels while a battle was happening on the surface,” Ahsoka playfully tapping Mé with the spatula in her hands.
Mé giggled again, and the next moment, the confetti began to swirl in a pretty Force-induced whirlwind around her and Vader before settling down.
“Sorry, Daddy,” Mé said when she was done, directing a bright, toothy grin up at Vader.
As she passed them on her way to the oven, Ahsoka laughed and planted a kiss on his cheek before teasing directly in his ear, “Stop being such a grouch.”
And even if he’d actually wanted to, how could he stay annoyed? At least with these two.
He still thought that the whole birthday thing was ridiculous.