Please see first chapter for disclaimer
A/N: Not completely happy with this chapter but that's what Anakin made me write. He has a way with words, evidently. We'll be getting to the good stuff soon, I promise, I just need to keep it going. If it makes you giggle or groan, drop me a line :)
Chapter Three: Facing the Beast
Luke was waiting at the reception hall to meet his grandparents, his dashing Skywalker smile in place. Han escorted the Naberries off the Falcon. Due to the fact that the reception would be starting sooner than Anakin would have liked, the Naberries had opted to get changed on the ship, along with Han.
"Oh Luke, look how much you have grown!" gushed Jobal as she hugged her only grandson. "You look exactly like your father!" Anakin smirked and Luke tried to keep a straight face.
"Thank you Grandmother. It is wonderful to see you both again. Mother will be so happy you came," Luke replied, diplomatically. Anakin was sure that skill had come from Padmé. He may have been a Jedi but he happened to be one of those smart-mouthed lightsaber loving Jedi Masters. Not so different from Obi-Wan.
Luke shot Anakin a glare. How are you still not ready?
Han refused to take me back to get changed.
You're both idiots.
Why did people keep speaking to him like this?
"Oh Luke, don't forget to introduce your grandparents to Mara, won't you?" Anakin said, the sweetest smile appearing on his perfect Jedi face.
Luke didn't dare reply either verbally or internally.
"Well, Paps, my Princess awaits," Han said, fixing his bow tie. "I'll see you on the inside!" he added happily and followed Luke and the Naberries inside.
Anakin took a moment to assess the situation. He was still in his training outfit, he had neither transport nor time to go back home and change; but at least he was at the right spot.
A Jedi should face any challenge with confidence, skill and patience.
Kriff that advice.
A Jedi Master should also not be attending high-end events wearing particularly creased and sweat-drenched clothing.
"Anakin!" a familiar voice called. "You're finally here. What are you wearing?"
Just what Anakin needed right now: fashion advice from Obi-Wan Kenobi. He raised an eyebrow in response, fearing any other reaction may just send him into one of those Jedi-forbidden rage cycles that were so frequent when one had twin children.
"And I suppose you are on the Coruscant Best Dressed list this season, Master?" he retorted, wiping some sweat off his forehead. Pollution made for fun times on the City Planet.
"If you had bothered to watch the Holo, Anakin, the Jedi Master style is quite in this season," Obi-Wan replied dryly. "It would work for you too, my young friend, if you had bothered to change into some clean clothes."
She's getting pretty angry, Dad, Luke's voice spoke in his head.
Couldn't anybody give him a moment's peace?
"Ah, young Luke just told me to tell you Anakin, not to ignore him and that the bar is open. I'll be taking my leave now. I wouldn't be staying out here much longer if I were you. I may have never been married but I'm quite sure Padmé will be feeding your limbs to a Rancor should you waste any more of her precious time," Obi-Wan said, trying his hardest not to laugh at his former padawan's misfortune.
As Obi-Wan walked into the reception hall, Anakin felt a tiny, small tremor in the Force. Frowning, Anakin closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to assess the small yet distinct ripple. Just as he thought he had found it, it suddenly went away. Anakin frowned and tried again to no avail.
Age presents no problem to a Jedi—an aging man means a wise and capable Jedi Master whose abilities in the Force will improve over time rather than fade away.
So how was it that the most famous and attractive Jedi in all of history was having issues detecting ripples in the Force? He was the Chosen One—tiny Force tremors didn't just run away from him screaming did they? Apparently so.
Resigning himself to a huge fight with his darling wife, he sighed and began walking up the steps. Anakin felt a flash of panic and hysteria through the Force and this time, the source was more than obvious.
Holoreporters.
Anakin heard them mere seconds after he had felt them and saw them only moments after that.
Anakin didn't know why his superior Jedi reflexes weren't kicking in. Perhaps it was his current line of thought about his inevitable aging, the fact that a severe verbal lashing awaited him inside the reception hall or even that the evening would be filled with boring diplomats trying to discreetly perve on his wife and daughter and Anakin nearly chopping their heads off.
Whatever it was, the Chosen One, Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker was frozen to the spot in his smelly, crinkled Jedi training robes and his training boots with the rip down the side.
"Master Skywalker, has the former Chancellor arrived yet?"
"Master Skywalker, does Yoda intend on being at the event?"
"Master Skywalker, who designed your wife's gown for the evening?"
"Master Skywalker, what do you say to claims that your son has joined a polygamous cult on the Hasati IV?"
"Er, I..." Anakin replied, wondering what kind of idiot would actually believe such a stupid story.
"Master Skywalker, can you comment on claims that your wife is only retiring on your orders?"
Once again, Anakin wondered what kind of idiot thought that Anakin had any control over the soon-to-be former Chancellor of the Republic. Did they even bother checking their facts?
"Master Skywalker, you were recently voted Coruscant Women's' Annual 'Hottest Man of the Year'"...
So maybe some of them had their facts straight after all.
"Do you feel such a title should belong to a Jedi of your age or do you agree with the popular view that perhaps your son Luke or son-in-law Han Solo would have been a more appropriate choice?"
"Now listen here..."
"Master Skywalker, is it true that you were spotted at skin rejuvenation clinic 'Age Be-Gone' last week?"
Anakin was thankful none of these Holoreporters were Force-adept—that one had actually been true.
"No," he said confidently. "Now if you'll excuse me, my wife is expecting me!"
"Excuse me, Master Skywalker, you aren't going to be attending the gala wearing that, are you?" A fat man wielding a Holocamera asked, quickly shoving the camera in front of Anakin's face, capturing the horrid moment.
Anakin turned around, attempting to control his Skywalker temper.
A Jedi will conduct himself in the public eye with grace, ease and above all, respect.
As thousands of other Holocameras snapped happily around him, Anakin indulged in himself and promptly extended his arm.
"Er, Master Skywalker, what are you doing?" the fat man stammered.
Anakin only flashed his wonderful Jedi smile in response and using the Force, crushed the man's camera. Throwing the crushed camera into the howling crowd of Rancors, Anakin quickly ran up the remainder of the stairs and slammed the doors shut behind him.
He took a deep sigh of relief but as soon as he took a moment to revel in the silence, he froze. Fearfully, he took in the sight before him.
Padmé.
"Angel, let me explain..." he began, trying not to trip over either his wonderful Jedi legs or his words.
A Jedi's robes should always be treated with the utmost respect. Clothing represents neither status nor power but that a Jedi is there to serve the greater needs of the Republic. It is for this very reason a Jedi should launder their robes at any possible opportunity and never forget to brush their hair.
"Anakin," Padmé started, quickly moving back as Anakin tried to hug her. "What are you wearing?"
