Ch 1: Master Jetii

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Italics means the word is Mando'a. I will translate here:

Papurgaat=fruit
Haar'chak!=Damn it!
Tihaar=an alcoholic drink, a spirit
Warra'se=warra nuts
Jetii=Jedi [duh]

*if you're wondering about the number just below, that's the year. Did we make our own time scale for this? Absolutely. I'll include the year periodically throughout the story to keep you on track. FGR stands for Foundation of the Galactic Republic which occurred 1000 years before the Battle of Yavin.*

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965 FGR*

I smile as I close the door behind me, adjusting my hold on the squirming brats I call my children. I toss them up, no more than a foot out of my arms, and catch them, effectively silencing their complaints as they descend into giggles.

They're so cute when they're happy. Not so much at other times. No. I really do love my children, but it's hard. They're a year old now but my wife has problems to deal with back home so I've been mostly on my own the last few months.

She comes home every so often, but she's almost always injured. Not to mention the fact that she has to sneak into the house. Our house is away from most others, on an outcropping overlooking a large lake, but that changes very little.

Come to think of it, she's supposed to come home sometime tomorrow, I can use that as leverage to get these two to behave. I smile, putting them down so they can play while I slide off my backpack filled with groceries.

I put things away while they run around and play. I love watching them, even though they're young, I can already see signs of their heritage showing in their features. They both got my skin and hair, but they've got their mother's facial structure.

That could prove problematic depending on how things end up with her problems back home. I just hope we all live to see the end of it. Our races have never gotten along, but this? This is a whole new level of hatred and pain.

We've discussed moving to my mother's home off in the Unknown Regions. It'd be secluded and inconvenient, but safe. We haven't discussed it beyond the initial mentioning of it several weeks ago. I should bring it up with her when she gets back.

The day goes by quietly, just like every other. I read to them in multiple languages and they play with and break every other thing they touch. Like I said, parenting is hard when you're outnumbered. I know that when she gets here, my wife will take over for me and I will finally be able to sleep in.

I wake to the sun in my eyes and my children calling my name while they sit on my ribs and abs. I grin, pulling them close so I can tickle them. They giggle, squirming away from me and my tickling, running out of the room as they ask for food.

I grin, rolling out of bed and following them to the kitchen. I rub their heads and pick them up, placing them in their seats. I grab a few papurgaat from the bowl on the counter and cut them up, placing the sliced fruit on plates in front of them.

They cheer and bite into the soft fruit while I make breakfast. The fruit is hardy and can easily be eaten for long periods of time regardless of how soft it gets, so it's good food for the kids to eat with their tiny baby teeth.

We spend the morning reading and playing. Every time they get antsy or uncooperative, I remind them that mommy is on her way home. This makes them cheer every time I tell them. It's honestly far too adorable to be legal.

I hear a soft, almost firm knock on the front door. The kids cheer, rushing for the door, calling out for their mother, but I scoop them up, carrying them off to the living room. I put them down on the floor and place a few toys among them, getting them to start playing.

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