Luke skidded into the kitchen, where Padmé was attempting to both cook dinner, entertain a one-year-old, and continuously reject calls from people who wanted her political assistance immediately. Mostly for things that weren't her job as chancellor. They were Bail's as the new galactic president. Most of her duties were gone now that the Senate was in a several-month recess. And besides, a day off meant a day off. She had a vice chancellor for a reason. But some people couldn't take a hint.

Padmé gladly turned her attention off of the bowl of dough she had her hands hovering over and onto her eleven-year-old oldest son. Luke was rosy-cheeked and panting, his hair wildly sticking up, his robes mussed, and his tiny Jedi braid caught on his chin. According to Anakin, it wasn't technically a Padawan braid until it had a yellow bead on it, indicating the initiate had been taken as a padawan by a master.

Luke swiped the braid off of his chin. "Mom! Mom! Did you hear? Dad asked me to be his padawan! I'm gonna be Dad's padawan! Did you hear?"

Padmé smiled. "I didn't, but I'm glad to hear it now." She moved around the counter, stepping over tiny Anakin Ruwee Skywalker, who laughed and began to bang two pots together. "Congratulations, sweetheart." She wrapped her arms around Luke, careful to keep her doughy hands off of him. Luke returned the hug warmly, squeezing a bit too tight in his enthusiasm.

He darted away and crouched in the middle of the floor, holding his hands out to Junior. "Ani, did you hear? I'm gonna be a padawan!"

Junior held up one of the pots in his hand. "Pah!"

"Yeah, that's a pot!" Luke scooped up Junior and held him close. "Mom, can I take him up to the pool in the rooftop garden? I promise I'll be careful."

"Of course, honey. Take a comm and Threepio or Artoo with you," Padmé said. Her heart melted at the sight of her two blond boys together. Luke was so good with his younger siblings. And the garden on the roof of the skyscraper their newer apartment was in had been heavily childproofed for all the senators' children. "Be careful."

"Thanks, Mom." Luke carried Junior through the kitchen. He gently took the pots from his hand and set them on the counter near one of the doors. "No, Junior, let's leave those here. Bye, Mom! Love you!"

Junior let out an annoyed cry as Luke carried him out of the room.

"Love you too, sweetie. Congratulations!" Padmé called.

Anakin walked into the kitchen. "Hey, angel."

"Hey, Ani." Padmé curled her doughy hands into fists to protect Anakin from them as her handsome husband made his way around the counter. He was slightly flushed and his curly brown hair was all mussed up. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. He smelled and tasted of the outside and engine oil.

Padmé smiled as he drew back. "You were flying in the open-air speeder again, weren't you?"

Anakin nodded, pulling her close to him. "I love the feel of the air against my face. And I love you."

Padmé wanted to lean into him forever, but she didn't want to get dough on his robes. "I love you too." She pulled back and dug her hands into the dough in the bowl. "What are you and Luke doing home so early?"

Anakin heaved a dramatic sigh, probably due to her pulling away from him, and turned to dig in the cabinets. "I asked Luke to be my padawan today, so we need to make it official. I have the bead to put on his braid—do we have any blumfruits?"

"Why do you need to eat right now? It's only a couple hours before dinner. And they'd be in the conservator, not the cabinets," Padmé said. Honestly, one would think she never fed him with the amount of time Anakin spent snacking.

Anakin opened the conservator and bent over, examining the shelves. "I ate a light lunch. Anyway, because Luke's a padawan now, he needs the padawan haircut. They wanted to do it at the Temple, but I told them you could do it just fine. You've been cutting the kids' hair since forever, so I figured you'd want to do it now, too."

Padmé's hands froze on the dough ball. "Say that again?"

Anakin straightened. "I figured you'd want to do it now, too?"

"No, about the haircut."

"Luke needs a padawan haircut," Anakin said, furrowing his brow.

Padmé dug her fingers into the dough ball. He'd better not be saying what she thought he was saying. "Is the padawan haircut how you had your hair when you married me?"

"Yeah, why?" Anakin asked. He reached into the conservator and pulled out a carton of blumfruits.

"He is not getting a padawan haircut." Durasteel filled Padmé's voice. She had tended Luke's hair ever since he had hair, and she'd always made sure his haircut was flattering on him. The padawan haircut wasn't flattering on anyone, and she wasn't going to ruin her baby boy's looks until he reached nineteen or twenty—or older—just on the Jedi's say so.

"But it's tradition!" Anakin popped the carton open and dropped several blumfruits at once into his mouth. "Every male padawan with hair gets the haircut," he continued with his mouth full.

"I don't care," Padmé said. "He is not getting the haircut."

"He has to," Anakin protested. "It's the rules."

"You're on the Council, change the rules!"

"I can't just…" Anakin waved his hand. "Change the rules. It would take a Council meeting."

"Then call a Council meeting!" Padmé exclaimed. Anakin had never cared about the rules before, why was he sticking to the rules now? It was just a haircut. The Order wouldn't collapse if one padawan didn't get it.

"I can't do it right now, I'm eating," Anakin deflected.

If he wouldn't take care of this, then she would. Padmé swiped Anakin's comm off his belt and dialed up the Council members. She waited until all of them answered, Anakin staring at her with an open mouth and a fistful of blumfruits halfway to his face.

"I am calling a Council meeting at six o'clock sharp tomorrow morning," Padmé said. "I have some business to address with the Council."

Obi-Wan was the quickest to recover. "Of course, Madame Chancellor. Six o'clock tomorrow. Sharp."

"I'll see you there." Padmé hung up the comm and slapped it down into Anakin's hand.

"You don't have the authority to call a Council meeting!" Anakin exclaimed.

"I don't care," Padmé said. "I just did." She glared at Anakin as she walked over to the sink. "No haircut."

Blinking and bewildered, Anakin wandered off, the carton of blumfruits still in his hand. "Whatever you say, dear," he said in a daze as he left the room.

Padmé smirked. One Council member down, eleven to go.


Luke picked up his Padawan braid, admiring the yellow bead at the end of it. His chest swelled. Dad had asked him to be his padawan. He was going to be a Jedi Knight, and Dad was going to teach him how! He showed the braid to Ezra, Corran, and Mara. "Look! I'm officially a Padawan!"

"Hey! Congratulations, stinker!" senior Padawan Lune Divinian called as he walked by. He raised his hand for a high five.

Luke grinned and slapped it. "Thanks!"

"When are you going to get the haircut?" Corran asked.

Luke ran his hand over his hair, flushing. "I'm not sure."

"Is that your mom?" Ezra asked.

Luke spun. His face burned. His mother was storming down the Temple hallways, headed in the direction of the Council chambers, Dad frantically running to catch up with her. "Yeah."

"What's she doing here?" Corran asked.

"It doesn't matter." Luke pushed past the group and started down the hallway. "Come on, we'll be late to class."

"Just think about this for a minute, sweetie!" Dad called. "There's nothing wrong with a simple haircut!"

"There is with that haircut!" Mom called back.

"Uh…" Ezra began to snicker. "Are they talking about you?"

Luke wanted to melt into the floor. He curled his hands into fists. "Absolutely not. Come on." He took off running down the hall, not daring to look back.


The stares of the twelve Council members intimidated Padmé for some reason. She swallowed. Was this how Anakin had felt for years facing the Council, why he had complained to her about it all the time?

She gritted her teeth. She shouldn't let them get to her. She knew some of these people. They were her friends. Her family. She locked eyes with Obi-Wan, the new Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, who had a smile tugging at the edge of his lips, as if he were mildly amused. Mace Windu, who had somehow bonded with Leia, with a flat mouth and glaring at Padmé. Plo Koon, hands laced together, eyes hidden behind goggles. She'd helped him adopt several Clone boys, encouraged him that he could handle one of the babies. Ki-Adi-Mundi, who just recently found out his family hadn't been killed in the Clone Wars after all. Kit Fisto who almost died fighting Palpatine. Depa Billaba, who Anakin claimed was "such a Mom, she just doesn't know it." And of course, her beloved husband, hunched in his seat, half-facing the window, head down, eyes intently trained on his seat armrest, as if he was pretending he didn't know her and wasn't connected to her at all.

"Why did you wish to see us at such an early hour, Madame Chancellor?" Obi-Wan asked, his smile still playing about his lips.

"The chancellor does not have the authority to call a Council meeting," Mace said drily. He was far from amused. "The Senate does not have that kind of authority over the Jedi."

Oh, get over yourself, Padmé wanted to snap. "I am nothing like Chancellor Palpatine. You know I never would have requested this if I didn't have a good reason."

Mace raised an eyebrow, stroking his fingers, as if to say, And what is that "good reason?" "That does not negate the fact that this meeting should have gone through the proper channels. You cannot give the impression that the chancellor has the ability to order the Jedi around. You should have gone through the proper channels to request this meeting."

What, so they could have a meeting about whether to have a meeting? And Anakin said the Jedi didn't like to get involved in politics.

Anakin mumbled something.

"What did you say?" Plo Koon asked.

Anakin pushed himself up a bit. "I said, the two of us became one flesh. So it's all right. I have the authority to call a Council meeting, so she does too. Technically. Under Naboo marriage vows."

"That's not how that works," Mace said.

"How would you know? You've never been married," Anakin muttered.

"What was that?" Mace asked.

"Nothing." Anakin returned to his slump, hiding his face from Padmé again.

"Regardless of the reason, we are here now, so shall we see what Chancellor Amidala needs?" Obi-Wan asked.

Padmé breathed a sigh of relief. Thank you, Obi-Wan. She didn't want to interfere in an argument with Mace Windu if she didn't have to, but she was right on the edge of breaking even more into Jedi protocol. She nodded at Obi-Wan. "I'm here today about haircuts."

"Haircuts?" Mace repeated, raising both eyebrows.

"Yes, Master Windu, haircuts," Padmé said. "Specifically, the Padawan haircut."

Anakin groaned and leaned back dramatically onto the back of his seat, then slumped down, rubbing a hand down his face.

"I take it you're not a fan of this request then?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin slid down further, his face turning bright red.

Padmé glared at her husband—he should be supporting her, not acting like she embarrassed him—then turned a sweet smile on the rest of the Council. "The Padawan haircut is an obsolete tradition that is discriminatory towards human and near-human males. They are the only ones required to get a haircut that is neither flattering nor a universal tradition. This is a ridiculous requirement to make of our Jedi youth and I, for one, won't stand for it."

Mace Windu laughed. Actually laughed. "I concur, Madame Chancellor. I agree. We should let the students sport the styles they feel best fits them. I had quite the great hair back in the day."

"You mean that hideous man bun you claimed was incredibly fashionable?" Plo Koon asked.

"That term is incredibly offensive to the male topknot community," Mace said.

"That haircut was far from flattering," Ki-Adi-Mundi said.

"Neither is the Padawan haircut, which is why we shouldn't force it on the male padawans," Padmé pressed.

"Oh, I agree completely," Obi-Wan said. "Discrimination."

"But the tradition!" Oppo Rancisis protested.

"Is useless if it's only for one part of the community," Padmé said. "You have the padawan braid. That's a great tradition. The haircut? Not so much. My son is not getting the haircut."

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked. "He's your son, too."

Anakin's response was reluctant and half-mumbled, but it was the right response. "Whatever Padmé says, I support."

"Thank you, Madame Chancellor," Obi-Wan said. "Now, if you could excuse us while we deliberate."

Padmé drew in a deep breath. She had expected far more debate than that, but hopefully the short argument meant a decision in her favor. She nodded. "Of course." She sent a pointed look at Anakin—he better vote on her side—and strode out.


By the time lunchtime came along, the entire Temple was talking about Luke's mom storming the Temple to protest Luke getting a haircut. Everyone was looking at him, and some were laughing. Kids kept coming up and teasing him, saying he had to be a "pretty boy" and had "Mommy fighting his fashion battles" and even a master saying something about how "so much concern about appearance was unhealthy for a Jedi."

Luke clasped his arms tight around his hair and slumped down on the table. He hadn't been able to eat anything with all the talk and attention. Ezra and Corran had needled him, Ezra lightly, Corran more heavily, until the other clans started teasing him. Then they quieted and now the clan was sending glares to anyone laughing.

Dad's presence approached in the sea of people, but Luke didn't move until a warm hand clapped down on his shoulder. He turned and peered up at his dad. "Am I going to get that haircut now?"

Dad shook his head. "No haircut."

Luke's face dropped. He didn't really want the haircut, but he would never live this down. Never.

Dad smiled ruefully. "Why don't you and me go flying today? Our first activity together as master and padawan."

Luke drew in a deep breath and nodded. Flying with Dad was always the best. "Okay." It didn't quite make up for the haircut thing, but it came close.

Dad ruffled Luke's hair. "All right, then. Come on, sport."

Luke hopped up and followed his dad out the door.