Anakin arched a brow. "Perhaps my legacy is to blame. Jacen is my kin, after all. Kin of my kin. But then my son was also responsible for the overthrow of the Empire, so not all of my legacy is to blame." Then Anakin frowned. "Oh. The Emperor's reign was quite a profitable time for your race, wasnt it?" He could recall himself the number of contracts he had taken with Mandalor, particularly with Fett. Anakin had never forgotten what face lay under the mask of the clone army, and later the Storm Troopers.
"Still," he went on, with some authority returning to his voice. "You are in my care, Mirta Gev, and you will come to no harm here. But despite my differences with my grandson, I will not stand for any threats of violence against my family. I hope you understand that if you raise a hand against him, you will have made an enemy of me."
He wouldn't, couldn't address her statement about the children. He cared for each one under their care. Kathy, while she had been bad, was taking a turn for the better. Her fever had broken, at least, and she had some more energy. And he coughing was not so... oh, Force.
There was a cloth in his hand, being offered. Cool and damn, one of the baby wipes held in his pocket. Her question rose, catching him at a loss, and Anakin looked at her for a moment, not wanting to see. He had always had that instinct, the ability to see things before they happened. His strength in the Force was legendary, the Chosen One, conceived of midichlorians. But when he looked at her, for just a moment, the answer flashed in his eyes.
Anakin felt the mask slip for a moment and looked away, looking to the tiny girl who had fallen asleep in his arms. "The Force does not give us all the answers," he said, not raising his eyes. "What we see is not necessarily what comes to pass." How accurate was that? The two strongest visions he had ever dreamed had both come true, despite all his attempts to change them. But it was against his nature to accept those things as inevitable.