A Week With the Skywalkers
Part Three:
Evening (Chapter One)
"I'm telling you…" Anakin whined to Padme's father over the second course. They had been arguing about it since before the Hors d'œuvres had been cleared away. "Jack Sparrow did it to Elizabeth in Pirates of the Caribbean!"
Padme was still annoyed. She hadn't been displeased to wake up in that manner. The Maker knew she wished it would happen more often. Nay, she was annoyed with the uninvited guests that had come to the door while she was unconscious. She was even more irked that her sister had let them in.
Palpatine had introduced the woman – Scarlet van Something-or-other – as his "lady friend." Of course, "lady friend" couldn't exactly explain the money he had slipped Scarlet. Nor the way Scarlet had accepted the credits with a lewd wink and tucked it down the low-cut front of her red mini-dress that was tight enough to have been painted on. Scarlet was five and a half feet, with crimson stiletto's that would have broken Padme's ankles. She added four inches of teased-up bottle blonde hair that had been dyed so many times it was parched and frazzled. Her dress left nothing to the imagination, and she wore more costume jewelry and make up than Padme had owned, even during her "Queen of the World" gig.
Meanwhile, the Republic's Supreme Chancellor looked unlike anything Padme had ever seen of him. She knew that she herself dressed with almost scandalous casualty around the house. But…to someone else's home? Palpatine was wearing a tattered jersey for his favorite rollerball team, with a grease-stained undershirt beneath. He wore wing-tipped dress shoes, alongside pants that weren't exactly pants. Or even shorts, for that matter. No, these could only be described as breeches. He had made some effort to look presentable, or at least recognizable, by throwing his velvet orating robes on top. And everyone in the Republic recognized that their beloved Chancellor was balding… why was he wearing a wig, let alone one that looked like a mullet?
She was also annoyed by the fact that her Uncle Ken kept taking picture after picture of her husband who Aunt Corona insisted on calling "Nicky." The shady-looking Ken was laying across the table, his elbow in Agatha's soup and the pointed toe of his boot in the breadbasket. The harsh, blinding bulb of his old-fashioned camera hadn't ceased flashing for a moment.
Nor had Padme's Great-Aunt Agatha ceased with her grim predictions of how each of the children present were going to die. Apparently, Padme's six-year-old niece, Ryoo, was going to drown in ten years, while thirteen-year-old Pooja would set the house on fire soon after, having been stricken with grief. Luke and Leia were destined to long, fulfilling lives, thank the Maker. Although, that could have been because they were natural suck-ups, much like their mother.
Padme's eye twitched as she realized that Corona's bulldogs had tracked muddy paw prints across the white carpet. The evening was not going according to plan! This was supposed to be perfect. Her mother was supposed to be charmed with Padme's husband and children. Her father was supposed be… oh, smoking a pipe and telling her how proud he was, while playing chess or bridge or something with Obi-Wan. Aunt Agatha was supposed to be offering to let the kids pet her poor, mangy cat. Her twins should have been getting along famously with their cousins. Corona and Ken shouldn't have even been there – they hadn't even sent an RSVP!
Instead, she had this.
Corona turned to Obi-Wan after she had finished her second bowl of soup. "Say, you look like a pretty decent fellow." She observed.
Anakin opened the Force-bond between him and Padme. /'Scarlet's a slut'/ He reported into her mind.
'What gives you that idea?'
/'One: her name. Two: the fact that she wears red.'/
'I'm wearing red.'
/'Yeah, but you're wearing bitch-red, and not slut-red. You're the lady, and she's the tramp.'/
'Whatever.' Padme pretended to focus on her meal until he finally gave up and disconnected the bond.
The twins stole quietly into the kitchen.
"Where did you get this?" Leia asked, nodding to the small jar of powder in her brother's hand.
"Well," Luke hummed, rather pleased with himself for orchestrating most of the plan. "I found this in the cabinet under the sink in Mom and Dad's bathroom." Standing tip-toed, the twins managed to evenly distribute half the jar among three large glass bowls of punch. They shared a quick, victorious grin before scurrying back to the table.
Their absence had never even been noticed.
They were having punch rather than wine. Padme thought it prudent since their were so many children… and, she thought, glancing to Obi-Wan and Anakin, children masquerading as adults. When everyone – except her twins, who, oddly enough, insisted that they wanted water – was settled, Padme got to her feet, holding up a fluted glass filled with crimson liquid.
"I want to thank you all for coming tonight. It means a lot to me, really. Um…thank you." For the first time, Padme fumbled for words. She knew she should have prepared instead of moisturizing earlier. "Well, I'm very grateful that you all could come out from the middle of nowhere…" She stayed poised and regal as ever, flashing a charming smile, "Anakin, would you like to say a few words?"
"Why not?" Anakin shrugged, getting to his feet, "Except for the fact that each and everyone of you hate me and think you're better than me, I love you guys. Padme, I love you, Angel. Leia, you kick ass, in spite of the fact that you're only five. And, Luke, one day you will be cool. In short, I extend my warmest wishes to the Naberries and...uh, as the Hutts say: Ekande ovine sokutsu!" He said exuberantly, lifting his glass.
"What does that mean?" Padme whispered as he sat down.
"It means…well, it's slang for "may you be licked in the ass by a thousand camels," actually."
To Be Continued...
Author's Note: I would like to thank Miss Naye for reviewing, and I would like to specifically acknowledge my gratitude to elmthesmartypants, whose review was the thing that encouraged me to continue to update this little story...