Sarek walked stoically through the halls of the Surak Learning Academy. The path he took was a familiar one, despite the fact that the floor upon which he trod was new as was the planet on which the foundation of the building was set. Those old halls had disappeared along with his homeland and beloved wife. Though his surroundings were new, his reason for walking the halls of the school were familiar.

Makeda sat at the end of the hall, her dark curly head bent in resignation and remorse, her small brown hands folded in her lap as she anxiously awaited her guardian. Upon hearing his footfalls, the curly brown head lifted to reveal the cherubic face of his ko’fu’al. Unlike young Spock so long ago, her brown human eyes rimmed with red swam with tears and her small full lips trembled slightly. However, Sarek knew that Makeda’s loss of composure was not due to fear of punishment, but of relief.

When his ko’fu Nyota had received the call of Makeda’s fight with her classmates, she had been distraught. Her meeting with the council of the Vulcan Science Academy prevented her from leaving her office to tend to her daughter. Sarek had offered to fetch the child without hesitation. The schoolmaster’s communication had seemed to be a confirmation of all of Spock’s arguments against enrolling Makeda in the all Vulcan school. Sarek had ensured his son that Vulcan society had changed since the destruction of their home. It was more open and welcoming to humans. Indeed, a few Vulcan men had taken human wives. However, as Makeda’s little arms wrapped tightly around his legs and her sweet face sought to hide itself in the black folds of his robe, he began to doubt his previous assertion.

“Come now, ko’fu’al. These tears are unnecessary,” Sarek replied as he gently extracted himself from Makeda’s vice like grip.

Tears continued to coarse down the small child’s dark cheeks as he carried her over to the window seat that she had vacated upon his approach.

“Tell me what happened, Makeda.” Sarek asked.

“They called papa a traitor and mama a whore,” Makeda replied, her voice muffled from burying her face against her grandfather’s shoulder.

Sarek blinked, an almost imperceptible frown curving down the corners of his lips.

“I told them that if not for my mama and papa, there would be no New Vulcan. Then Syvek pushed me and said that I was an…an abomination.”

At this pronouncement, Sarek pulled Makeda back and lifted her chin so that she would look at him. His features softened. Her eyes were so like Amanda’s. He remembered her fierce reaction when Spock came home with a bloody lip and downcast shoulders. He had not understood her anger then at his handling of the situation. Spock was a Vulcan, he argued. He had to learn to control his emotions so that they did not rule him. As he looked upon the face of hisko’fu’al, he knew that the same advice applied but that it was woefully inadequate. Spock had faced the ridicule and scorn of his peers throughout his school age years and up until his decision to turn down his admission to the Vulcan Science Academy. At the time Sarek had been angered, indeed, he did not speak with his son for several years following the event. However, he came to understand that Spock’s refusal had not been an act of rebellion so much as it had been an affirmation of his own value and worth in the face of years of illogical Vulcan prejudice. Until that time, Spock had internalized the criticism of his peers and teachers and embraced his Vulcan heritage while rejecting his humanity. As a pure Vulcan, Spock had reasoned, he could win the acceptance of his peers, his elders and his own father. Sarek did not wish for Makeda to conclude that she must make the same choice in order to win his affection.

“Syvek has told you a falsehood, Makeda. You are not an abomination,” Sarek replied as he held his granddaughter’s chin with gentle fingers. “You are a gift.”

Yes, Makeda was a gift for which he was grateful. Her presence in his home along with her mother had been a source of comfort these past three months. Sarek did not realize that he had missed the sound of human female laughter ringing through his home or the sound of light footsteps pounding along the tiled halls as they ran with the wild abandon of a small human child at play.

“Come, let us return home. Your m’aih is no doubt impatient with worry.”

They walked towards the exit of the school, Makeda’s posture tall and proud as she passed her classmates. Sarek noted with approval that all signs of her previous distress were nowhere to be seen. As they made their way down the steps toward their awaiting flitter, Sarek noticed a young Vulcan boy standing by his guard Golan. The boy looked to be a few years Makeda’s elder. He was attired in the high collared black robes that all of the school children wore. His hands were clasped behind his back and his dark brown eyes were fixed upon Makeda. Sarek noticed the small cut above his eye, the wound still green.

Upon seeing the small boy, Makeda’s stoic expression melted into a smile and she quickened her steps as she descended the stairs. Intrigued, Sarek continued his slow progress. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Makeda was pulling the boy towards him, one of her small hands clasped in his.

“Sa’mekh’al,” Makeda called cheerfully. “This is my friend Tuven. He rescued me from Syvek and his friends.”

“I give you greetings, Ambassador Sarek,” Tuven replied as he bowed slightly towards him. As he straightened, his eyes shifted from Sarek to regard his hand clasped in Makeda’s. Sarek noted with something akin to amusement that Tuven made no move to remove his hand from his granddaughter’s grip.

*************

Spock Prime walked with measured steps through the halls of his father’s home. Every Wednesday since Nyota and Makeda had settled on New Vulcan so that Makeda could attend school, Spock and Makeda had an evening tea party. His father had first objected to the ritual calling it highly illogical as no actual tea was served during these parties. However, Nyota had reasoned that the active exercise of a child’s imagination was important for a human child’s development. Spock had reasoned that there was no harm in participating in the ritual and that it had the added benefit of allowing him to develop a relationship with his niece. Nyota also thought the weekly interaction would help to lessen Makeda’s longing for her father who had been unable to arrange for a substantial leave from active duty to join them on the colony. She also argued that it was adorable and insisted on taking holos of the inaugural tea to share with heradun.

Makeda had taken to the tea parties with gusto, banishing her sa’mekh’al from attending the ritual as he had refused to serve her doll Lady Jemison. Spock grinned as he remembered his father’s confusion over the little girl’s anger, all of his arguments about the irrationality of serving non-existent refreshments to an inanimate object falling on deaf ears.

Spock stopped short as he entered Makeda’s playroom to find the little girl seated with a small Vulcan boy. The young boy sat at the table, drinking his imagined tea with great dignity despite the fact that his ebony hair was arranged in a series of pigtails decorated with an assortment of ribbons and brightly colored clips.

“You must be my niece’s friend Tuven,” Spock remarked after greeting the young boy. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Makeda has spoken of you often.”

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance as well, Ambassador Spock.”

Spock folded himself down on one of the many cushions surrounding the low table that was not already occupied by a stuffed creature or invisible friend. The three companions soon fell into a conversation about the events of the past week. Or, to be more accurate, Spock and Tuven listened attentively as Makeda spoke about her week at school, her trip to the capital with her sa’mekh’al and her latest communication with her father and uncles aboard the Enterprise. When Makeda ran off to her bedroom to retrieve a gift she had received from her grandmother in Kenya, Spock turned to Tuven.

“Tuven, while the hairstyle is most becoming, I must inquire why you have arranged your hair in such a fashion.”

Tuven blinked at Spock before setting down his teacup. “Makeda thought that the ribbons and bows would make me look ‘pretty.’ Although I told her that it was illogical and that I had no desire to be pretty, I consented to her ministrations because it pleased her.”

A small smile curved the edges of his lips upward. “You are quite wise for one so young, Tuven. Indeed, when it comes to relationships with women, I have heard it said that it is best to make every effort to keep them happy, especially when the cost to oneself is minimal.”

Tuven cocked his head to the side as he thought. “I thought it was only logical to submit, as it pleases me when Makeda is happy.”

Makeda’s entrance prevented Spock from commenting further.

“Would you like some more tea, Ambassador?”

“Yes, please,” Spock replied as he held out his cup to Tuven.

As he sat sipping his tea and listening to Makeda’s speech about her new toy, Spock observed Tuven closely. The young boy seemed to hang on Makeda’s every word, his dark eyes never leaving her face.

****************

Spock stood beside his aduna, sa’mekh and older self as he watched the bonding ceremony of his daughter Makeda. A series of conflicting emotions ran through him as he observed T’Pau create a bond between Makeda and Tuven. He was proud that his young daughter was taking part in a centuries old tradition of his people and that Tuven’s parent’s had been eager to establish a closer connection to the house of Sarek. He was anxious for his daughter’s future. Would she grow to love Tuven and be happy to return to New Vulcan to complete the union when the Tuven’s time drew near?

Spock’s own bond with T’Pring had been a source of unhappiness from its conception. T’Pring had wanted little to do with him and she was ashamed to be paired with a human-Vulcan hybrid. When he had wept at the news that his human grandmother had died, T’Pring had contacted him, not to give her condolences, but to upbraid him for his lack of emotional control. When his home world was destroyed and T’Pring was taken along with billions of other Vulcans, Spock would have been relieved at the severing of their bond had not his grief over the loss of his mother and home so consumed him.

However, Spock took some comfort in the fact that Tuven had desired to be bound to his daughter Makeda. In fact, when his parents had informed him of their initial choice for him, he presented them with a logical explanation for why Makeda would be a more acceptable choice. Makeda had also desired the match, expressing her desire to be bound to her best and only friend to himself and Nyota when she had overheard them discussing Tuven’s parents’ proposal. Spock also knew that Makeda had the option of declaring kalifee should her childlike love for Tuven fall victim to the passage of time and maturity.

All too soon, the ceremony was completed. Makeda rose from her cushion before the ceremonial fire, her eyes wide with the discovery of her new bond with her good friend.

“I can sense your thoughts, Tuven,” Makeda declared with a wide smile. “You are happy.”

“As I can sense yours, Makeda,” Tuven replied. “I am…happy because you are pleased.”

 ko'fu'al: granddaughter
sa'mekh'al: grandfather
adun/ aduna: husband/ wife
m'aih:  mother