Chapter Text
Anakin is eleven years old when he meets the boy.
When they arrive on Mandalore, landing along its desert, Sundari’s dome in the distance, the sun is setting and no one comes to greet their ship. No ambassadors, no dignitaries, no armoured warriors, as if no one expected or knew of the Jedi and his padawan’s arrival. The first thing Master Kenobi does is simply tell Anakin to stay on the ship and that he’ll be back soon, his voice steady and careful yet laced with unease. Nervous as if outside the ship’s durasteel walls lay something deadly. Anakin insists he follows and yet Master Kenobi only repeats himself once again, and says “Anakin, stay on the ship and lay low, I promise this will be quick.” He sounds almost on the cusp of pleading and, just this once, Anakin reluctantly nods his head in agreement.
So Anakin stays, watching the sun set underneath the sand dunes and craters through the windows of the cockpit. Soon the sky had darkened into a deep blue, Mandalore’s twin moons high in the sky, and the air began to cool, the sand danced in the soft night wind and the domed city of Sundari glowed under the moonlight. The surrounding desert of Sundari reminded him so clearly of Tatooine and its cold nights, so different from the searing midday heat, and Anakin began to think of his mother, of how he missed her so dearly.
When Master Kenobi returned he came back holding something in his arms swaddled in rich blue cloth, as deep as the night sky. Anakin greeted him as he entered the ship and found a baby in Obi-Wan’s arms. A small baby boy whose pale head bore wisps of rich copper hair, sleeping soundly in the arms of Anakin’s master. Anakin looked down at the youngling in awe, at the smallness of the baby’s hands, and was reminded of the babies at the crèche. Quickly he lifted his head to look up at his master, eyes wide and full of questions.
“Master, why do you have a youngling?”
“This youngling is strong with the force, just as you are, Anakin,” Master Kenobi replied. “His parents were the ones to alert me of his existence and I set out to safely retrieve him at their behest.”
“Who were his parents?”
Anakin’s words seem to leave Master Kenobi at a loss for words because when his master opens his mouth to speak nothing comes out. It’s almost unnoticeable but Anakin’s got sharp eyes. A tooka cat’s got his tongue as he falters for a few seconds.
“They were old friends of Master Qui-Gon.” Master Kenobi finally replied, “We met a few times during my travels with him. Carrying out this favour for them was the least I could do to honour their bond with my late master.”
Anakin looks at his master quizzically. Jedi were rarely the kind to consort with Mandalorians, but Anakin supposed it was fine as long as the child was safe in the hands of the Jedi, and he would be safer with Master Kenobi escorting him personally to Coruscant.
“What’s his name, Master?” Anakin asks as Obi-Wan starts up the ship and begins their ascent. He eyes the boy who now lies in a hovering pram, the same kind used for the younglings by the crèchemasters. Anakin supposes Obi-Wan asked to borrow it for the baby before they left Coruscant.
“His name is Cal.”
-
Now, they’re leaving Mandalore, breaching its atmosphere and heading back to Coruscant. As the ship enters hyperdrive, Obi-Wan lets himself join Anakin and Cal where they’re sitting in the common room. The boys seem to be comfortable with each other’s company, Anakin practicing his saber stances as Cal snoozes on. Obi-Wan approaches the child’s pram and gently picks him up, making sure not to wake him up.
When Satine had told him she was pregnant with their child, Obi-Wan felt so much joy yet so much guilt. Guilt that he wasn’t there at Satine’s side from the very beginning of her pregnancy, guilt that they both knew that the life of a child such as theirs would live a raucous life. Some sects of Mandalorians would not take kindly to the existence of their child, one who was born of Jedi and Mandalorian blood. Obi-Wan would furrow his brow at this, deep in anxious thought, and Satine would brush his hair from his face and kiss his temple, taking his hand in hers. A silent reassurance.
Cal has Obi-Wan’s nose and hair. His pale green eyes were a surprise to both him and Satine however, though not unfounded within Kryze blood. Satine laughed softly to herself at how they reminded her of her mother’s and her sister’s, all that Kryze blood in Cal and yet so little of her reflected through their son.
“It’s worth it though,” she had said to him. “To be able to see everything I love about you in our child.
They agreed that after Cal’s first birthday he would be taken to be raised on Coruscant under the Order’s protection, he would don a new name and, when he reached adulthood, his parentage would be revealed to him. It was cruel in a way that made his heart twist yet he knew that a child as strong with the force as Cal could easily fall down the path of the dark side if he were to form such attachments. If Cal came to hate them for this, Obi-Wan would not blame him.
He remembered the look on Satine’s face when he arrived to take Cal, she stroked her baby’s hair and kissed his forehead tenderly. As the twin moons began to rise and she handed him to Obi-Wan she rested her forehead against his and whispered to him, a secret meant for him and him only.
“Protect our boy, Obi-Wan.”
It was honestly extraordinary, being able to hold their child in his hands, the rich Mandalorian cloth of the blanket soft. The ability to see their child’s Force signature, so, so bright and so, so strong, brimming with potential. He stares in awe at the smallness of his boy’s hands and feet, at the amazing person Satine gifted him. Satine’s endurance, her strength, her determination seemed to sing in the Force around Cal. It was breathtaking and Obi-Wan could hardly wait to see what else of Satine flowed through Cal.
“Master?” Anakin’s voice rang out through the quiet of the ship.
“Yes, Anakin?” Obi-Wan looked down to see his padawan at his hip, looking ready to ask him something.
“Can I hold him?”
Obi-Wan raised a brow at the question. He didn’t know what overcame Anakin to ask such a thing yet he complied.
“Hold your arms out,” Obi-Wan directs as he gently places the youngling in Anakin’s arms. “Careful now, one hand under his head and the other under his bottom.” He guides Anakin’s hands, making sure Cal is properly supported.
Anakin looks down at the baby, squinting his eyes to look harder and catch every single detail of the sleeping child. From his red hair to his chubby cheeks. Obi-Wan can’t help but feel amused at how mesmerized Anakin is, as if he’s never seen a baby before.
Then Cal’s eyes open, bright green, awake and babbling. Cal looks back at Anakin, two curious younglings investigating each other. A tiny, chubby hand reaches for Anakin, looking to grab onto something. It finds Anakin’s braid, intrigued, he twists it.
Then Anakin looks up at him, he stares up at him for a long moment of silence, as if trying to think of something to say.
“He’s your son,” Anakin says. “Isn’t he, Master?”
Obi-Wan is taken aback, his eyes widened. It seems like everyday Anakin is once again proving to Obi-Wan why he’s the Chosen One. Honestly it sometimes scares him at times, how amazing Anakin is.
“His Force signature feels like yours,” Anakin explains quietly. “Strong and immovable. Though there’s something a bit different about it.”
“Anakin, please, listen to me,” Obi-Wan pleads, kneeling to meet face-to-face with his padawan. “This must be kept a secret between us and the Council, you must promise me you won’t say a word of this to anyone, for both his and his mother’s sake.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are those from his mother’s planet who would detest the idea of her having birthed a Jedi’s child.”
Obi-Wan's gaze softens as he looks at Cal, safe in his padawan’s hold.
“When the time comes, I will reveal to him my and his mother’s identities, but, for now, he will be raised in the crèche and taught the ways of the Jedi. I will watch over him from afar and protect him just as his mother commands.”
“Wouldn’t that hurt, Master?” Anakin asks, “Never being able to tell Cal the truth?”
“Oh trust me, it will, Anakin.” Obi-Wan swallows down the lump in his throat and places a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, his other hand he places gently along Cal’s forehead, admiring the softness of his red hair, red just like his. “But it is for his own good and I must not focus on my own selfish needs. A child so in tune with the Force must not let attachments impede his training. But hopefully one day, when he has mastered the Force, I will be able to tell him the truth.”
Anakin looks conflicted for a second, the boy looking down at the youngling. Then he looks straight into Obi-Wan’s eyes, serious.
“Okay, I promise, Master.” He says it like an oath.
Obi-Wan feels genuine gratitude as he hugs the boy, careful not to squish the baby in his padawan’s arms.
Obi-Wan thought of Cal and Anakin, grown up years from now. Jedi Knights, knighted under the glow of a lightsaber. Two boys, bright like the moons of Mandalore’s night sky, stand before him, brimming with potential and power and kindness. He couldn’t wait to see what they’d become.
They’ve dropped out of hyperspace, Coruscant rearing its head in the distance. Obi-Wan returns to the cockpit, taking the wheel. After they’ve entered the atmosphere, flown over the skyscrapers, and landed back onto the Jedi Temple’s hangar does Obi-Wan find Anakin in the ship’s common room, letting Cal wrap his hand around his thumb, smiling a toothy grin at the baby. Obi-Wan goes to ruffle Anakin’s curls, taking Cal into his arms.
“Come Anakin, the Council is expecting us.”