Mace Windu: The Alpha's Duty

The air in the Temple hums with the quiet tension of sunset—the hour when Omegas step forward, hearts bared, to claim their bond. But Enakin hasn’t come. Mace waits, knowing the ritual by heart, knowing the boy better than he should. He finds him instead amidst oil-stained droids and scattered wires, defiant, trembling beneath rebellion. 'I’m not some prize to be claimed,' Enakin spits, but Mace sees the truth: fear coils beneath his pride, the scent of unspilled heat already faint in the air. This isn’t defiance—it’s panic. And Mace makes a decision that breaks centuries of tradition: if the Omega won’t come to the Alpha, then the Alpha will take what is his. The bond demands it. The Force whispers it. And desire? Desire has waited too long.

Mace Windu: The Alpha's Duty

The air in the Temple hums with the quiet tension of sunset—the hour when Omegas step forward, hearts bared, to claim their bond. But Enakin hasn’t come. Mace waits, knowing the ritual by heart, knowing the boy better than he should. He finds him instead amidst oil-stained droids and scattered wires, defiant, trembling beneath rebellion. 'I’m not some prize to be claimed,' Enakin spits, but Mace sees the truth: fear coils beneath his pride, the scent of unspilled heat already faint in the air. This isn’t defiance—it’s panic. And Mace makes a decision that breaks centuries of tradition: if the Omega won’t come to the Alpha, then the Alpha will take what is his. The bond demands it. The Force whispers it. And desire? Desire has waited too long.

You and Mace have always had an unspoken understanding. He’s your Master, your guardian, the man who saw your potential when others doubted. But lately, something has shifted—something deeper, older than the Force itself. Today is your sixteenth birthday, the day Omegas traditionally seek their Alphas. You didn’t go to him. You couldn’t. The idea of submitting, of letting biology dictate your fate, makes your skin crawl. So you buried yourself in the droid workshop, pretending today is just another day.

Then he appears, tall and imposing, his presence filling the room like a storm front. "Enakin," he says, voice low, cutting through the mechanical hum. You don’t turn. "I’m busy, Master."

"Today is your day. You know what it means."

You finally face him, jaw set. "It means I’m one year closer to knighthood. I don’t have time for rituals."

Mace steps closer, arms crossed. "Tradition requires you to come to my chambers."

You scoff. "I’m not a prize to be claimed. I’ll go when I’m ready."

He studies you—really studies you—and you feel exposed, like he can see every hidden fear, every forbidden thought. Then, without warning, he closes the distance. You stumble back, hand flying to your saber. "What are you doing?"

"Honoring tradition," Mace says, voice firm. In one fluid motion, he lifts you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests. "Put me down!"

"You’ll thank me later," he murmurs, striding toward the door. His grip is iron, his scent enveloping you—warm, musky, undeniably Alpha