A/N: I am so obsessed with the expanded universe created by madame_alexanda in her must-read AU fic, The Naberries. If you haven't read that, HIGHLY RECOMMEND. Because of my love for her writing, I have taken some of the details, in reverence, and incorporated them here. I adore the idea of details from various fanfics weaving their way into other stories. Padmé's nickname and some things to come are all her original creation as far as I know. She has kindly consented to let me borrow them for the purposes of this fic. :D
I started this story several holiday seasons ago and it grew into something far larger than I was ever anticipating. It took me several other stories (in progress) and some recent inspiration to realize there was a common thread working through all of them, though each can be read as stand alone if multi-work sagas are not your cup of tea. Hopefully, my vision for this holds up!
The premise for this potentially could read a bit AU but I don't think it flouts anything overtly canon either. *shrugs* I'll let you decide.
Festival
Part I
Padmé usually loved the holiday season. On Naboo, the end of the year was a time to celebrate family and friends, a chance to reflect on the past planet cycle, and a promise of hope for the coming future. Decorated by Naboo's venerated artisans, Theed always looked particularly magical around Festival. Her eyes took in the bright awnings of the various merchant stalls and the brilliant lights adorning the central square. Familiar smells of warming candied fignuts and sharp poplar spice filled the crisp wintry air. The press of the crowd wasn't oppressive like the densely populated airwalks of Coruscant where Padmé, who normally wasn't claustrophobic, thought that she might have begun to understand the beings who despised confinement.
Laughing boisterously at something his companion said, a young man stepped back suddenly into Padmé's path. Unable to slow her momentum, she collided with him, some of his warm beverage sloshing and staining her thick woolen overcoat.
"I am so sorry!" he exclaimed, fumbling over himself to help. "Here, Mya, angel, take this!"
At the term of endearment, Padmé's eyes whirled up into the face of the young man. His eyes were all wrong, his hair almost black, but Padmé stared anyway as if she had seen a ghost.
Mistaking her unwavering attention for anger, the young man continued to stammer as he tried to mop up the spill.
"I really am very sorry, Miss," he apologized. "I am happy to replace your cloak…"
"No, no," Padmé replied, shaking her head to clear the fog from her mind. "It's really quite all right. I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going."
The man compressed his lips and a pained expression crossed his face. He fixed her with a look like he didn't quite believe her absolution, but felt he had to accept it anyway.
"Please don't trouble yourself about it any further. Have a great Festival!" Padmé said. She offered the couple a smile, hoping it didn't appear like the grimace it felt like, before turning and continuing on her way.
The moment her back was turned, Padmé didn't even attempt to hide her sour expression. She wasn't mad about the spill; the stain was already fading as it dried, and she really doubted that it would show up at all on the dark green velvet. Dormé would have it pressed and straightened out in no time once she returned to Coruscant.
No, what really turned her mood, was her complete and total failure to curtail her reaction to the man's pet name for his significant other.
Angel.
Anakin called her that.
Though recently, he had started using the Amatakkan word, preferring it over the Basic term. She supposed it was partly for privacy – practically no one knew Amatakkan fluently on the Mid and Core planets if they knew the Tatooinian slave language existed at all – and partly from familiarity. He also had a tendency to lapse into his native tongue during other intimate moments and…
Padmé shivered and shook her head.
No, this line of thought was not going to be helpful dragging her out of her deepening gloom. She really didn't want to dwell on her heartache and let it darken her much needed respite with her family. She'd need all of her wits about her if she was to hide her heart's deepest desire.
Padmé looked up at the stone façade of her parent's townhome. The doorway and banister were adorned with green garland and the bright red berries of Naboo's native holly. The front door had been lined in glow lights that even dimmed for the day still held the promise of festivity. She climbed the steps and keyed the access panel.
If the outside of the home was quaintly decorated, the inside was an extravagance. Everywhere Padmé looked there were ribbons and lights, candles, and twines of poplar and fir. Over the din of her nieces' giggles, she heard the incessant beeping of a timer, the smell of a freshly baked treat wafting its way down the hall. Following the enticing scent, she set down her luggage in the dining room and made her way towards the kitchen. She strongly suspected she would know what awaited her there.
When she rounded the corner, she wasn't disappointed.
Covered all over in flour and dough, Pooja and Ryoo chased each other around the central island counter while Sola unsuccessfully attempted to contain their playful exuberance. In the middle of it all, Jobal Naberrie continued to calmly roll out dough, trying to suppress her amusement at her granddaughters' antics.
Taking in the chaos of the kitchen, something loosened in Padmé's chest, and she felt a small smile finally tug at the corners of her mouth.
Pooja was the first to notice her aunt's arrival. She came to a dead halt, creating a domino effect, as her sister collided with her back. Sola managed to stop her forward momentum, balancing precariously on her tip toes before settling back on her feet.
"Child! What in…" Sola began, exasperated.
"Aunt Mé-Mé!" Pooja shrieked, pointing her small finger before running full tilt for Padmé.
Padmé bent low to scoop up her youngest niece, spinning her around in the air before settling her on her hip. "Oh you've gotten bigger since I last saw you!"
Ryoo grasped her waist, bouncing up and down with happiness. "And I'm taller!"
"You most definitely are!" Padmé agreed, reaching down with her free hand to pat Ryoo's hair.
"Where's Artoo?" Pooja asked, peering over Padmé's shoulder as if the astromech was lurking just out of sight.
"Artoo is helping… the Jedi," Padmé said. She hoped no one heard the slight hesitation in her reply. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it also wasn't specifically forthcoming either.
Pooja frowned, considering this unwelcome bit of information. Then, she shrugged her small shoulders and said, "That's because Artoo is a good helper," and without further comment, turned her attention back to the counter where Jobal was pressing cutout shapes into the dough.
"Easily distracted still. Some things don't change," Sola smiled, approaching to envelop her sister in a warm embrace. "It's good to see you, Padmé." She pulled back, her hands still gripping her sister's elbows, and surveyed her with an impish grin. "No bodyguard this trip?"
Padmé stifled a sigh. Her nieces may accept simple answers, but their mother wasn't going to be as easily deflected.
"There haven't been any credible threats in some time," Padmé said, a more formal tone slipping into her voice for emphasis. "And all the Jedi are currently engaged in more pressing matters on the war front."
Sola narrowed her eyes, recognizing Padmé's slip into her politician voice, but before she could continue her questioning, Jobal took over the conversation.
"So, they let you travel without any security?" Jobal's brow was knit with worry.
"No, Mom. Captain Typho accompanied me on the journey home. His family is just a block away," Padmé explained. "I only had to cross the plaza by myself. Though I did suffer this stain on my cloak for my troubles." She gestured to the emerald cloak, now covered in a light smattering of flour in addition to the aforementioned stain.
Jobal came closer to inspect the garment, though Padmé suspected it a ruse to more closely inspect her person. Her mother's brown eyes were skeptical, her lips pressed together in firm disapproval.
"Before I left Coruscant, I did request additional security," Padmé felt compelled to continue. "But as I said, the Jedi cannot spare anyone…"
"Not even a Padawan?" Sola asked, with a sly smirk.
Padmé just shook her head, not trusting her voice.
"It's a damn shame."
All three women turned towards the far end of the room.
"Young men like him being exposed to war." Ruwee shook his head. "The most damaging scars from war are often not physical ones."
Padmé swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat, and forced herself to smile at her father.
"Hi Papa," she said, moving towards him in greeting.
"Hi, starlight. How long will you be home?" her father asked, relinquishing her after a tight hug.
"The week," Padmé said. "Then I have to be back. The Senate does not recess this time of year so I had to take personal leave. Bail Organa was kind enough to stand in as my proxy and keep me apprised of any developments."
Ruwee nodded, his attention only pulled away when Ryoo tugged his shirt to show him the cookies that had been finished so far.
"Come on, no more talk of work and war," Sola said, ushering Pooja back to the counter. "Besides, these cookies won't bake themselves."
"I'll take your bags up," Ruwee offered. "Then I have to get back to the garage to help Darred with the speeder."
"What's wrong with the speeder now?" Padmé asked. She pulled up the sleeves of her dress and patted her hands with flour.
"Darred says it's the power coupling," Sola answered. "Papa thinks it's the carbon scoring on the engine." Grinning, she raised the back of her hand to cover her mouth in a not-so-subtle manner. "Mom and I think it's time for a new one."
Padmé laughed, though she had to bite back a sudden suggestion. She wasn't particularly mechanically inclined, but she knew someone who could fix even the most decrepit of machines. But if she volunteered Anakin's services, especially when he wasn't even present, she was sure she would raise more than just a few eyebrows.
Instead, she contented herself to listening to her mother and Sola chatter about the most recent happenings on Naboo, the conversation only pausing to refocus a wayward child or to sample some of their hard work. In almost no time at all, Padmé felt all the troubles and stresses of the past few months disappear, not to be spared a further thought.
The rest of the afternoon passed by uneventfully.
After the cookies were baked and iced, Ryoo and Pooja had been banished from the kitchen so the elder women could more efficiently and effectively clean. Padmé also suspected part of the banishment was meant to prevent the girls from sneaking more sweet treats and spoiling their appetites prior to dinner. Secretively, she handed them each one more sugar cookie as they retreated to the living room, whispering "Shhh, don't tell." They grinned at her conspiratorial wink and scurried off before Sola was any wiser.
Sola and Padmé hung around then, trying and failing to help Jobal as she fussed about making dinner arrangements, and eventually settling for discussing additional shopping for the upcoming Festival.
"Did the gifts I bought for everyone arrive?" Padmé asked, making a note on her datapad.
"Yes, they came last week," Sola said. She shook her head in bemusement at Padmé. "It's too much, Mé-Mé."
Padmé frowned quizzically, and then misunderstanding, protested, "Sola! You weren't supposed to open them!"
Sola laughed at her sister's dismay, then said, "I didn't have to open them. It was apparent you overdid it when I signed for the eighth shipment! Is there even anything left on Coruscant to buy?"
"Ha, ha," Padmé replied, sardonically. "I just had them all sent separately so you thought I bought a lot."
Sola grinned cheekily, before turning toward the matron of the family, who was fastidiously putting the final touches on dinner. "Mom, is there anything else you need when Padmé and I venture into town tomorrow?"
"The shaak roast…"
"Yes, I have that on the list."
"Can you get some candied fignuts for your father?" Jobal wrapped the casserole dish and slipped it into the oven. "He's been so good about sticking to his diet, I think he'll appreciate a little cheat."
"Oh, good idea, Mom!" Padmé said, keying it into her datapad. "I'll get some for the girls too!"
"Padmé!" Sola started, exasperated. "Did you hear anything I just got done saying to you?"
"I heard you. I am just abiding by the code of younger sisters and am choosing to ignore you," she replied.
Sola sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her mother begin brewing some spiced ale for later. "Better double the fire whisky Mom. Stars know I'll need a stiff drink after dealing with three children all day."
"Girls," Jobal warned mildly.
Sola and Padmé exchanged amused grins.
Before they could turn their sibling banter on their mother, Darred and Ruwee blew in from the backyard.
"We decided to call it quits when it really started coming down," Ruwee said, brushing snow from his hair. Despite his best efforts, not all the white could be banished from his dark brown hair, but Padmé thought he was wearing the newer streaks of gray well.
"So much for a light dusting," Darred said. He leaned around Sola's chair to greet his wife with a quick kiss. Padmé politely averted her gaze.
"Any luck on the speeder?" Sola asked.
Both of the dejected frowns on the mens' faces were answer enough.
"No, we replaced the power coupling and spent half the day scrubbing that engine – it's shinier than the royal fleet – but still won't turn over," Darred scowled. "I think I'm going to admit defeat and take it in somewhere after Festival."
"Or just get a new one," Sola mouthed silently.
"Well, don't take it back to those crooks on the east side," Ruwee said. "They messed up more than they fixed."
"Ruwee, you don't know that," Jobal admonished gently.
"Jo, it started and ran before I took it over," Ruwee said. "And now it won't even start!"
Jobal shot her husband an exasperated look but didn't argue any further.
"I'll take it somewhere else after Festival," Darred said.
Padmé once again found herself wishing for Anakin. He would love this, she thought wistfully. To be surrounded by family, the familiar chatter, the warmth of the home, and a mechanical problem to fix to boot. She was certain that whatever was wrong with the landspeeder in her father's garage wouldn't remain broken for long if Anakin had the chance to get his hands on it.
Regretfully, she looked out the window at the rapidly falling snow and sighed. She hoped wherever he was, he was safe.
"Padmé?"
Startled out of her morose thoughts, Padmé blinked owlishly at her sister.
"You all right?"
"Uh, yeah… yes," she stammered. "Yep, all good."
Sola considered her for a moment, her blue eyes wary with concern and bemusement. Unnerved, Padmé dropped her sister's gaze, searching for a distraction. Her mother had joined them at the table just a second before, when she sighed as a kitchen timer sounded loudly. "Mom, let me get that," Padmé said, jumping up before Jobal could. Grateful for the chance to squirrel herself out from her sister's scrutiny, she silenced the oven's thermostat and busied herself with the simmering ale until she was sure Sola had moved on to someone else of more interest.
Looking up from the stove top, Padmé sighed, her thoughts once again returning to Anakin as she continued to watch the snow fall.
The first evening on Naboo had been a balm to her troubled soul. While thoughts of Anakin did cross her mind from time to time, Padmé was able to focus on her immediate surroundings and enjoy the much missed company of her closest family. It felt good to be home. She busied herself with the final preparations for Festival. Her mother had made enough food that they had to store the overflow in the auxiliary cooler in the cellar. Her nieces were tumbling and squealing with excitement for the coming celebrations in Theed's central square. Her father and her brother-in-law attempted one more self-fix of the stubbornly immobile speeder before declaring themselves utterly defeated. And Sola… well Sola continued to ask after well-being, but eventually her words weren't as provoking and became gentler.
Even so, as the activity of the household wound down for the second evening, Padmé found herself once again, staring out the front window, watching the snow fall. The streetlights glowed warmly, the snow covering the stones tinted in golden hues. Padmé cast her gaze upward, mesmerized by the backdrop of the starlit skies and Naboo's twin moons, wondering what night skies Anakin was looking at right now. Was it even night wherever he was?
Suddenly a shadow caught her eye. A hooded figure walked the lonely street. Stopping in front of the Naberrie home, the figure flipped back his hood with one gloved hand. Padmé felt her breath catch. It couldn't be!
The figure turned away from her, and she couldn't make out more than a silhouette, but its owner was climbing the short staircase to their front door.
Padmé's ears perked eagerly, waiting for the door chime she knew was coming.
"Who in the galaxy…?" Ruwee sat up.
Sola jumped up from her chair. "I'll get it."
Jobal exchanged a confused look with Padmé, but Padmé sat on the edge of her seat, frozen with disbelief and devastating hope.
"Padmé!" came her sister's voice from the foyer. "It's for you."
Trying to contain herself, Padmé stood, careful to not meet her parents' eyes as she exited the living room. By the time she rounded the corner of the dining room into the modest entrance way, her heart was hammering away in her chest. It had to be him. Who else could possibly be calling at this hour of not…?
And suddenly, there was Anakin. Standing before her, his hair was damp and his long black robes were speckled with snow. As he crossed the threshold, he nodded his head politely at Sola but his eyes did not waver from Padmé's. The weight of his blue gaze was everything.
"I'm sorry for the late hour," Anakin said. Try as he might, he couldn't keep the smile off of his face. "I hope your offer still stands, milady." He inclined his head respectfully, professionally.
"Of course," she said, her voice lower and breathier than she would have liked. Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch him, but she settled for the subtle brush of his gloved hand against hers as she relieved him of his outer robe. "Come on in," she said, acutely aware of her sister's watchful gaze. Gesturing for him to follow, Padmé turned and led the way back to the sitting room.
Anakin's eyes instantly lit up at the sight of the room, decorated so festively for the holiday. Her heart warming at his fascination, Padmé let him take it all in for a moment, before she introduced the arrival of her guest.
"Mom, Papa, you remember Anakin," Padmé beamed.
Her parents rose. Jobal, ever the doting mother-type, enveloped Anakin in the warm hug Padmé wished she could have given him at the front door, while Ruwee offered an outstretched hand and a welcoming smile.
"We are so glad you could join us again, Anakin," Jobal said. "Are you hungry? What can I fix for you?"
"I'm good, Mrs. Naberrie," Anakin replied, "but thank you."
"It's Jobal, dear," she remonstrated kindly. "Mrs. Naberrie is my mother-in-law." Her eyes sparkled mischievously at her own joke. "I'll just put on some spiced ale… Oh it's no trouble." She waved a dismissive hand as Anakin opened his mouth to protest. "I imagine you could use a little warming after your journey."
As Jobal bustled off towards the kitchen, Anakin smiled helplessly at Padmé, his eyes suggesting he might be entertaining a different sort of warming up than spiced ale. Feeling the color rise in her cheeks, Padmé ducked her head and cleared her throat softly when she noticed Sola's widening grin.
"Let me show you to the guest room," Padmé said, an invitation Anakin dove into willingly.
"Do you need any help with your bag?" Sola queried. "I can ask Darred to take it up for you. He's just putting the girls to bed."
"Ah, no thank you, I travel light," Anakin said, raising the small satchel that was standard-issue to the Jedi in explanation.
Padmé pretended to ignore the way Sola moved to watch them as they disappeared up the stairs. She wound her way down the hall, steering him towards her old bedroom. He was barely through the heavy wooden door before she threw herself into his waiting arms, kissing him with an intensity that made him grunt and stumble back against the wall. Briefly, Padmé wondered if she had inadvertently aggravated some unseen war wound, but then Anakin was kissing her back like a drowning man searching for his last breath, and all she could think about was the heat of his mouth against hers.
Eventually, Padmé stepped back in his embrace, lingering close enough to feel his nose against her own. His skin was still cold from the night's frigid air.
"Hi," she breathed, the air flowing a little unsteadily from her lungs.
"Hi," he whispered back. "I thought you said you were going to show me to the guest room." Pointedly, Anakin's eyes wandered their surroundings before returning to Padmé. The brilliant blue darkened a few tantalizing shades.
She laughed softly, smoothing the unruly hair at his forehead affectionately. "I wasn't going to make you stay in the guest room. Where would be the fun in that?"
She stepped away from him to let the atmosphere settle back to tepid, taking and tucking his bag neatly into the corner by his usual side of the bed.
"Aren't you afraid they'll catch us?" Anakin asked, frowning.
"Ani," she said, coming to stand before him again and taking his hands in hers. "I want you to be at home here. I want you to be my husband here." He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips. "And with your permission, I want to tell my family about us." She bit her lip, eyeing him somewhat shyly. "I wanted to surprise you during the gift exchange in two days, but I wasn't sure if you would be comfortable revealing our marriage without discussing it first."
Anakin's frown deepened.
"Not comfortable?" He brought his hands to her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks gently. "Padmé, I don't want to hide any of this. Especially not from your family. Although…" he trailed off, a thought running through his head. He smiled down at her, a gleam in his eye. "I am a little frightened that your father might run me through with my own lightsaber when he hears."
They both laughed, somewhat nervously, at the mental image his words conjured, stopping when Padmé pulled him down for another kiss. Instinctively, her hands came up to twist in his Padawan braid, but her fingers only met the warm skin of his neck. Startled, Padmé pulled back.
"Anakin? What happened?"
Now it was Anakin's turn to grin shyly.
"Speaking of gifts…"
He let go of her to retrieve something from the pouch attached to his utility belt, and presented her with a small parcel.
"I didn't have time to get it wrapped properly," he grimaced. "But this is for you."
"Anakin, you didn't have to get me anything…" Padmé said, carefully opening the brown bag. She reached in and pulled out an intricately woven thin braid of hair threaded with strings of deep blue and maroon. The top of the braid was taped delicately to prevent fraying, the ends of the hair charred as if they had been burned.
As if from a lightsaber?
Padmé looked up at her husband, her eyes widening in sudden understanding.
"Ani!" she shrieked. "You've been Knighted?!"
Nodding, he beamed at her in confirmation.
Padmé crushed her to him in an enthusiastic hug, peppering the side of his face with ecstatic kisses. Her eyes were wet with happy tears, her smile giddy. But then a thought darkened her face, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Wait, are you on furlough, or did you sneak off with the freedom of your new Knighthood?"
Anakin gave her a mock wounded look, raising his hands to his chest, reeling backward as if her words had physically struck him. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, waiting for his denial.
"Anakin Skywalker!"
"I'm on a two week furlough," Anakin said, crossing his heart dramatically. "You really think I would abuse my new position as Jedi Knight to sneak away to come see you?"
"Yes, because I know you!" she said, waving his braid at him in exasperation.
He caught her hand between his own.
"I'm on official leave, I promise," he said, kissing her knuckles reverently. "Do you like your gift?"
"I love it," she whispered. "I'm so proud of you." She leaned in for a long kiss, only pulling away when the contact threatened to consume them.
"Come on," she said, replacing his braid in the small bag. "We better go downstairs before they send up a search party."
Anakin pretended to suppress a shudder and followed her from the room.
"Are you even twenty-one, Anakin?" Sola asked, standing at the stove and doling out drinks. She poured him a mug, but did not hand it over immediately, her eyes narrowed, considering him thoughtfully.
"Oh, for the sake of the Force," Padmé said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I drank alcohol throughout my reign, even though I wasn't of age." She stood, taking the drink from Sola and setting it down in front of Anakin. Despite her diminutive height compared to her sister, Padmé's authority was unquestioningly final. "If Anakin can oversee and command an entire battalion of the GAR at twenty, I think he can handle one spiced ale."
"So does that mean I can't have another when I finish this one?" he quipped, his eyes finding Padmé mischievously over the rim of his mug. "If I recall correctly, milady, you didn't seem to enforce a limit during our last stay on Naboo."
Padmé pursed her lips at him in the slightest warning. To everyone else present, his comment was assuredly in reference to his assignment as bodyguard before the outbreak of the war; they had no way of knowing that, in fact, Anakin was speaking of their honeymoon, an idyllic stay where he and his new wife had consumed several bottles of blesswine without any concerns for prohibitive laws or scrutinizing judgements.
Sola laughed heartily at Anakin's teasing tone, while Jobal fixed her youngest daughter with a look of consternation.
"Plying an underage Padawan with copious amounts of alcohol, Sis?" Sola asked, raising her eyebrows in feigned horror. "Whatever would his Master think?"
Wisely, Anakin held his tongue, but the lascivious smirk he threw at Padmé seemed to say that his alcoholic indulgences would be the least of the Jedi Council's concerns given what other transgressions the esteemed Senator from Naboo had been plying him with.
Somehow, Padmé managed not to blush. Instead, she primly sipped her ale as if she had heard none of their antics, refusing to rise to either Sola's or Anakin's bait.
"In my defense, I would not have pressed the matter if you had refused," Padmé spoke, her words directed at him pointedly, though she could not bring herself to look at him as she said this. Anakin grinned wickedly, feeling a familiar stirring of desire in her Force signature, knowing full well that she was definitely no longer talking about beverages. As if he would have ever refused that offering… "And you never came even close to intoxication in my estimation, so the point is moot."
Anakin almost snorted in amusement, her choice of words echoing his own to Obi-Wan from a conversation held in the dark of a Coruscanti night.
"Well, I suppose we can bend the rules a little bit," Ruwee said, clapping Anakin's shoulder, "Just don't drive anywhere until morning."
They all laughed at the horrible joke, Anakin raising his glass to Padmé's mother.
"Thank you, Mrs.. er, Jobal," he corrected quickly. "It smells delicious." He took a sip, and winced when the steaming drink hit his tongue. "It's also very hot."
Padmé quickly settled into a chair beside him, her hand automatically coming to rest of his forearm. She ducked her head to catch his eye as he grimaced against the burn. "You ok?" she asked.
"Do you need Padmé to blow on it for you?" Sola teased.
Anakin shook his head, a bit embarrassed. Padmé glared at her sister, but leaned away from Anakin and folded her hand back into her lap.
"Sola," Jobal warned softly. It was one thing for her daughters to tease each other in front of family, but doing so in front of company, especially respected company like Anakin Skywalker… Well, Jobal wouldn't have it. And the poor boy didn't understand enough to know to defend himself against Sola's suggestive remarks anyway.
A comfortable silence fell around the gathering. Even though she had been home for two days, Padmé finally felt truly content. She had still been carrying a considerable amount of tension – wondering about Anakin, feeling incredibly hollow in the face of his absence – but she could feel the stress sliding off of her shoulders, almost as if she were shedding a heavy outer shawl.
"Are you still up for the marketplace tomorrow, Mé-Mé?" Sola asked, after a time.
"Oh yes, definitely," Padmé said. "And I want to help with the food preparations tomorrow. That is, if you would like some help with the chee-chee berry bread."
"Of course!" Sola smiled, an almost carbon copy of her sister's winning expression. Once again, Anakin was struck by their undeniable similarities. "That is, if you don't sleep until midday again," she added cheekily.
"I'll set an alarm this time," Padmé laughed.
Sola really had tried to wait patiently for Padmé to wake. After all, Padmé had made her promise to let her help with the baking. She knew her younger sister worked hard and that adjusting to Nabooian time after a long interstellar flight could leave one with nasty hyper-lag, but if she hadn't taken it upon herself to start the dough, it wouldn't have time to rest and rise. Sola suspected no one wanted to eat flat chee-chee berry bread for their Festival breakfast. That and she really did need to finish some last minute shopping in Theed's central market today.
Checking over the list on her datapad, Sola glanced at the chrono, her fingers drumming on the kitchen counter. 0917. It ticked over to 0918.
That's it.
"I'm going to see if Padmé's awake," Sola announced.
"She said she would set an alarm," Jobal said evenly.
"She probably slept through it," Sola replied, flipping her hand airily. "You remember how hard she crashed during her recesses here throughout her reign."
Her mother gave her a pointed look over the tubers she was peeling at the sink, one that suggested she did indeed remember, and that she also remembered how her eldest used to wake her youngest and that she wouldn't play peacekeeper if a disagreement arose.
Sola rolled her eyes. "It's for her own good, Mom."
She didn't wait to hear her mother's response and departed the kitchen with purpose. As she climbed the stairs, her daughters' giggles sounded down the hall from the living room, and for a moment, Sola thought of sending them in to wake their beloved aunt instead. But knowing them as she did, she imagined excited shrieks and squeals, loud enough to probably wake their guest across the hall. While Sola was okay with disrupting her sister, she didn't want to disturb Anakin's probably much-needed rest.
The wooden door to Padmé's bedroom was still closed, so Sola rapped her knuckles lightly, hoping the sound wouldn't echo too loudly in the upstairs corridor.
There was no answer or sound of movement from within.
Sola tried again, calling softly, "Padmé?"
Still no answer.
Well, Sola shrugged, can't say she didn't try the civil way first. Turning the faceted metal knob and pushing firmly past the pop of the old door in its frame, Sola let herself into the room, fully intending to chastise Naboo's senator for such sloth. But all words of admonishment died instantly on the tip of her tongue when she saw her baby sister curled up against a certain young Jedi, both of them locked in the oblivion of sleep.
Sola's smile spread deliriously and she clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a gleeful giggle. Slowly, she backed out of the room on tip toe, closing the door behind her carefully.
So, her suspicions had been correct! Or at least, her intuition regarding Padmé's as-of-then-unacknowledged feelings. She had never seen her sister so serene and easy-going, so carefree as she had during her brief visit with her Jedi bodyguard the previous spring. Anakin and his obvious interest in Padmé had been all too easy for Sola to read – the young man was practically an open datapad. But Sola had thought that her sister's unencumbered emotions were somewhat unexpected given her mandatory leave of absence from her senatorial duties, and in the face of multiple assassination attempts no less.
Apparently, the heart-to-heart she had had with Padmé right before their departure had resonated with her little sister somewhat.
Sola allowed herself a quiet clap of her hands and an excited squeal.
Oh, this holiday was going to be most joyous, she thought, retreating softly down the hall.