Chapter Text
Seven years ago...
“Padme! Hurry up or we’re going to be late!” Sola called out from the bottom stairs, carefully hopping down to catch up with their parents—Jobal and Ruwee Naberrie—towards the door.
Ruwee grabbed his car keys from the bowl on top of a shoe cabinet, turning towards Sola who was adjusting the strap of her yellow sandal.
“What could she be doing up there?” he asked with an enquiring look on his face. “She knows we need to reach the church at 12!” He grumbled.
Jobal let out a sigh. If there is one thing about her husband she would find upsetting, is how impatient he is. Especially when it comes to mass. Acting like it would be the end of the world if they were late by merely a second.
Jobal placed her assuring hand on his tense shoulder. “She’ll be down in a minute, dear,” Jobal tried calming him down.
Ruwee gave his wife a sharp look—one that give away the incoming tirade of his long-listed aversions. He huffed an exasperated exhale of breath.
“I reminded her—two times—that Father Qui Gon will have his last worship service today! Did I not make myself clear?” He narrowed his eyes at his wife who were clearly looking uneasy.
“I’ll go get her.” Jobal offered.
“And make it quick. We’ll wait in the car.”
Jobal went up the stairs to the second floor and turn to the right heading towards Padme’s bedroom. Right at the corner, is a closed mahogany door, the occupant behind it being too quiet than customary. Jobal knocked a few times before Padme relented with a solemn voice.
“Come in, mother.”
Jobal turned the copper knob and peered in, finding Padme idling on her bed. Her little Padme, the younger daughter who just turned thirteen a few months ago. Already, her childlike features are transitioning into that of an adolescent teen.
Her long, wavy chestnut hair cascading down her petite form like a brown Chapel veil framing her dewy, picturesque face, gving her an impression of an angel. A proud smile took shape on Jobal’s lips.
Sola, their eldest daughter, has a willowy beauty about her that had captured many adoring eyes, one of which belonged to Darred Janren, who is now her fiancé.
But something about Padme’s that is yet to unveil its full glory, had already display the potential to ensnare attachment towards her like a spider’s web.
However, there are that look in her eyes that expressed an emotion on her youthful face, and it hinted on worry. Or perhaps, apprehension? Jobal can’t quite put her finger on it, but something is bothering Padme.
Jobal entered her room and walked towards the bed. “I see that you’re already dressed but why are you still in bed? Your father is waiting in the car now, and if we make him wait longer, I’m afraid he’ll be fuming the whole ride to church,” Jobal said as she sat on the bed next to her daughter.
Still quiet, Jobal placed her arm around her daughter’s bony shoulders. Pulling her close and tilted her head sideways to leaned it against Padme’s, Jobal exhaled a breath through her nose, prepared to listen to whatever it was that had Padme feeling troubled.
“What’s bothering you?” she asked.
“Can I not go? I mean… do I have to be there?” Padme asked in her gentle voice.
Jobal could hear a slight pitch of unease. Her brows furrowed. Something was wrong.
“Whatever’s the matter? If there is something that’s truly upsetting you, you can tell me.” Jobal assured her.
The exuberance of hope lit up on Padme’s eyes as she could see that her mother was willing to listen—and expectantly would believe her.
Her deepest secret.
An undisclosed incident she kept to herself for fear of being accused as a liar. But before she could utter her truth, the sound of a car that was being honked hastily, disrupted her.
“Ah, there he goes. We will be hearing a lot of ramblings from him now. But you can still tell it to me in the car. Okay?”
Padme simply nodded. A halfhearted notion that implied not a word shall be spoken. Especially in the presence of her father. A man who revered the high-power figures of the church more than anything else.
“A man of God can do no wrong.”
Padme shuddered recalling the sermon that dripped from the devil’s lips. Her personal devil. The one who placed her in an abode of ruination.
A dark, desolated hole she cowers herself in, always wondering to herself; ‘was it my fault?’ At times she would find herself standing in front of the full-length mirror and evaluate herself.
From her face and then to her four limbs. Her slender frame that she has yet to grow into, giving her an adolescent contour that make her seem fragile and graceless.
And yet…her absence of sensuality did not deter a certain attention from coming her way. A pair of eager hands—predatory in its intent—reaching for her with fingers clawing out like talons determined to snatch her of her innocence. Her body to claim. To be his. Him. Her personal devil. With his serpent-like green eyes.
A pull of her hand snapped her out of her rumination, and she looked up to see Jobal already standing up, her face expectant of Padme to follow suit.
“Come along now. You know your father hates waiting.”
Reluctantly, Padme ease from her sitting position and get off the bed. Each step she took felt heavier the closer she is to the door. In her mind, she wished he won’t be there, but wishful thinking is certain, for today will be marked as a remembrance of Father Qui-Gon last sermon to the peoples of Coruscant.
As they reached the car, Ruwee gave her a stern look before grumpily start the engine. Taking a deep breath before she opens the car door, Padme make it a plan to always stick with Jobal and Sola. Never be alone. Don’t let anyone get her alone. She can do this. Can she?
Upon their arrival, dread envelope Padme like gossamer bent on cocooning her in a web of fear. For there he is… Pastor Rush Clovis.
A figure who commands authority, respect and reverence simply by donning a black cassock with a pectoral cross gracing his chest.
An air of quietude exudes his welcoming smile and churchly servitude, but for someone like Padme who’s in the know of who he truly was, it was nothing but a mockery of veracity.
If only she was someone who wasn’t helpless. Someone who could fight back. Someone who could…protect herself. Maybe then—and only then—she wouldn’t blame herself too much. It really didn’t feel like a year ago that tragedy happened.
That one, distasteful opportunity he managed to get her alone. Misusing his influence. His charm. His pleasantness. Her trust. How could someone this vile be in a position of power?
Maybe there was indeed a higher power greater than the feeble hands of man. For when he reached out about to touch her chest, a boy came running towards him and attacked.
Padme had used that opportunity to run away. Trembling scared and confused child who ran as fast as she can without looking back.
Clovis’ screams of pain did not make her look back. She didn’t even commit to memory the imagery of her savior. All she can think of is run as far away from him. The predator.
She had never spoken of that incident. For who would believe a twelve-year-old child over an authoritative figure like Pastor Clovis?
And now here she is, a year later, standing in front of the man who scarred her. His face, in her nightmare, free of the mask he wore. Tormenting her endlessly in her sleep.
She never could forget it. She stood still behind Jobal, her eyes wavering. She pleaded in her head, ‘anywhere! Anywhere but here!’.
But only she herself can hear her internal screaming. Her body language, the fear in her eyes, her apprehension towards this adult remains warped in obliviousness to everyone around her. But not Jobal.
Her mother could sense it in her bones. Padme did not like this man in front of them. She clutched Padme’s hand and was distraught it felt cold to her touch. Jobal leaned down and gave Padme a warm, reassuring smile.
“Just stay close to me, Padme. Sola, make sure your sister never leaves your sight.” She instructed.
Sola frowned at her mother’s sudden order. She was about to argue but the look on Jobal’s face meant she would not entertain any protests. Sola relented, standing closer to Padme who seem more meek in her posture.
Ruwee doesn’t seem to notice the tumultuous tension within his family. Awestruck by the presence of Pastor Clovis, most likely. He held out his hand, extending for a handshake.
“It’s a huge honor for having you welcome us like this, Pastor Clovis.” The glee in his voice was unmistakably devoted.
Pastor Clovis smiled a sheepish grin, running a hand tentatively atop his slick back brown hair, gelled and combed to perfection. Complimentary with his crisp cassock, with not a crease in sight.
A very put together individual. Who could ever think that he could be a bad person? Such is the worldly deception of humankind.
“Nothing could bring me much joy than having you here, Mr. Naberrie. Jobal, beautiful as ever. Sola, congratulations for the news of your engagement. Aaaaaand…sweet little Padme. My, my. How you’ve grown,” Padme couldn’t help but notice the lecherous twinkling in his eyes.
If she had the courage to gouge his eyes out, she would.
As scared as she was, there is that rage boiling up within her. She hated how he had reduced her to such a state. Scared, vulnerable and repulsed herself for existing.
Why should she be made to bear the blame for his weaknesses? For his detrimental psyche? No one should be responsible for others’ shortcomings. But would such perception change overnight?
“Yes. It has been… what? A year since you last saw her?” Ruwee mused.
“Indeed. A year too long, it seems. How are you, Padme?” He asked, and his gaze sharp yet curious.
Sweet hell… how beautiful she’d grown within a year. Bet she must be sweet tasting as well, he thought lecherously.
He almost had her, but that stupid boy who saw him. He would never forget the punches that boy gave him in that shed. If only that boy did not belong to an influential family ruling an Empire. He would have that boy’s head and serve it to the dogs. If only he wasn’t a bloody Skywalker.
Before Padme could respond out of politeness, even though he deserves none from her, Ruwee’s eyes caught a Rolls-Royce Phantom parked on the private parking spot of Coruscant Church.
He let out a low whistle, amazed that someone from the church could afford something like that.
“Whose car is that? You don’t see that car on the road so often. Is that Priest Qui-Gon’s farewell present?” He guffawed.
Pastor Clovis let out a hearty laugh. “If that is what that will await me upon retirement from priesthood, I would love to retire immediately!” he joked. “No. Revan Skywalker himself offered to attend today’s mass in order to honor Priest Qui-Gon’s last worship service.” He explained.
Ruwee and Jobal’s jaw dropped. Sola merely raised her eyebrows. All three of them could not believe their ears. Padme was puzzled as the name Revan Skywalker did not register in her mind as relevant.
“You mean, the Revan Skywalker? As in, the richest and most powerful man in Coruscant? He’s here?” Sola almost squealed.
She had seen Revan Skywalker, the sixty-year-old mogul on the news. The Skywalker family are known all over the world as one of the most influentially famous conglomerates spanning their empire in the world. They could pan out to the galaxies if it were physically possible.
Not much were acknowledged for public consumption about the person who runs the Skywalker empire, but it was widely known that after the death of his wife, Bastila Shan, he never remarries. And from their marriage they had two descendants.
Vaner and Shmi Skywalker. It was the talk in Coruscant when Vaner decided to walk away from the Skywalker line and adopted his mother’s last name. He left the empire and lived with the name Vaner Shan and made a modest living of opening his own business of real estate and got married to Emess Shan.
It was speculations that Revan never approved of Emess being from lower background, so Vaner chose love. It has always been dream-talk among the Coruscanti ladies about Vaner’s sacrifice to be with his love.
And now, it’s only Shmi who continued the bloodline in the family, but that too aroused suspicions and vicious gossip regarding who the man she bore a child with.
It has never been disclosed who the father was, and the mystery surrounding the origin of Shmi’s only son had the world talking endlessly.
As there was no announcement of an engagement, no introduction about the man who had won Shmi’s heart and there was no grand wedding to be benefitted and glamorized as Wedding of The Year and yet, an heir was born a year later.
When the news broke out, it astounded as well as it enthused the masses. More so when the grandson of Revan made his first appearance on his fifteenth birthday, paparazzies and journalists could smell the trouble that will start to brew in more years to come. The tabloids could feel they will be in for a ride.
The elitists and one of the glitterati could not wait for the day he comes of legal age, although hearsay of him already hitting the nightlife have been making its rounds. And the people of Coruscant, both women and men, would rue the day they set their eyes on him.
On Vader Skywalker.
“Yes, and if all of you go in right now you might get lucky sitting on the same or nearest pew!” Clovis encouraged, his smile widening even more.
He ushered them inside, and his eyes locked on Padme for a few minutes, following her every move until another churchgoer demand his attention. As they entered the church, they were welcomed by the calm atmosphere of this place of worship.
Padme looked up; her breath taken away by the sight above her. She has always loved the alfresco painting depicting a fallen angel as he fell from grace and spirit. Damning himself to the darkness of his own making.
A year has passed, and she had forgotten how tragically beautiful it was. And upon gazing at it again, open-mouthed and dazed, she was not aware of the presence of another person in front of her.
She walked right onto the person’s back, and she caught herself in for a surprise when he turned. And her mouth opens slightly wider. She had never seen anyone so beautiful! She can’t decide which is more beautiful now. Him, or the alfresco painting of the fallen angel.
She was still dumbstruck by the beauty of the boy in front of her. He’s tall with perfect tanned skin, dreamy and broody blue eyes crowned with furrowed brow that makes him shoots off an intense gaze she could get lost in, perfect angular nose and luscious full lips. She blushed catching herself wondering if they feel just a soft on her lips.
‘Stop that! This is so unlike you! And in a place of worship, no less!' she inwardly scolded herself.
Finally, her eyes briefly landed on his hair. Unruly set of dark blonde, fuller hair on top with a slight buzz on the sides and back, styled to a messy perfection that framed his face attractively.
He wore no expression on his handsome face, save for the still intense look he’s giving her. Padme wanted to say something. Anything! But it seems like this perfect, handsome stranger took a hold of her throat to prevent her from speaking.
The intensity that was radiating from him had somehow laced itself around her neck like an invisible choker. Tight, asphyxiating-like sensation that bordered on discomfort,
Padme wanted nothing more than to get away from him. She hated how he was making her feel. Luckily, Ruwee’s distressed voice reached her ears, and like breaking out of a spell, she could at last looked away.
She looked up at her father who was apologizing profusely to the man standing next to the boy. This time, Padme took a good look at an elderly man who merely displayed an amused face.
He doesn’t look angry so she couldn’t understand why Ruwee was being so contrite like she did the most blasphemous of offence.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Skywalker! My daughter wasn’t looking where she was going,” he explained.
Padme’s eyes widened in surprise. Just outside the church a Skywalker name was mentioned. Revan Skywalker. So, this must be him. He exudes an air of authority, with surprising full set of dark brown hair and greying on the sides. The wrinkles on his skin marked the years he lived and survived to date.
Now that Padme’s paying attention, she noticed now that they were both wearing black suits. But unlike her father’s, theirs look well cut and clung perfectly to their majestic form. Padme can’t help but admire the boy more now as she assessed him fully.
“No foul play has been committed so I don’t see why we should press charges,” he joked. Revan gave the Naberries a scanning look before his intrigued eyes landed on Padme. “You have a beautiful family, Mr…?”
Jobal, Sola and Padme had never seen Ruwee this ecstatic in public, apart from behaving this way while watching his favorite baseball team on TV.
“Ruwee! Ruwee Naberrie! This is my wife, Jobal…my oldest daughter, Sola and my youngest. Padme.” He introduced. Jobal simply gave a polite smile, honored after her existence has been willed into the Skywalkers.
After all, it’s not common for mid income citizens such as themselves to be in the same presence with the rich. Sola gave an elated smile, as she could not believe her luck running into Coruscant’s elite family. The backbone of the state’s economy.
“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Skywalker,” she almost squealed.
Revan smile just as warmly. “And I don’t think his face is all too familiar to the public. This is my one and only grandson. Sole heir of mine. Vader.”
Vader bowed slightly, his eyes committing the Naberries to memory before it landed again on Padme.
“Hello.” He greeted to them, but it sounded to Padme that he greeted her only. Pfft… must be my delusional mind, she thought.
“Hi,” she replied simply. What else could she say? Besides the kindling want of asking him an array of questions that would mortify her.
'Are you single? Am I too young for you? Do you think we could work? And I could have sworn I’ve seen you before.’
Yes. She could ask him, and then be the recipient of Ruwee’s belt at home. Horrifying, yes. That such method of discipline is still being used in their household in this time and age.
“We came here with my daughter, Shmi. But she excused herself to go to the ladies. And I believe the sermon is about to start. We should take our seats now, yes?” Revan suggested, looking around to see if Shmi had returned from her refreshment break.
Right on cue, a woman dressed impeccably in a black asymmetrical dress donned with a thin white belt cinched around her waist paired with a black bolero cardigan, walked in from the entrance Padme believed lead to the basement.
She gave an inquisitive smile as she stepped closer to where Revan and Vader were, clearly curious about the company that she was sure her father had no connections with.
The wholesome, neighborly next-door vision they portrayed are not the usual acquaintance Revan associated with on the daily.
She stood next to Revan, standing just as regal with her own brand of poise. Her stance so befitting of a lady who held herself high yet not arrogantly composed, its easy not to feel intimidated by her. Unlike Vader, who seem to make it a mission to keep Padme in restless mode.
“Well, hello. I believe we’ve never met. I’m Shmi Skywalker,” she said and held out her hand to Jobal for a shake.
Jobal took it eagerly, her own brown eyes met another’s.
“Jobal Naberrie. This is my husband, Ruwee.”
Sola stepped forward and took Shmi’s extended hand. “I’m Sola. I love your dress! And you look so much more beautiful in person,” she exclaimed, not bothering to tone down her voice.
The conversations that go on began to pan out and became low murmurs in Padme’s ears as she kept her eyes glued to Vader.
It was when she assessed him a little bit more that something about him had intrigue her. The familiarity he presented to her out of the blue and suddenly she felt at ease.
Moments ago, she was tense, determined to endure the sermon till its over with bated breaths, hands clutching to the seat nosing not caring if a few small cracks formed out of sheer force of her agony.
Maybe it’s his blue eyes that reminded her of Lake Varykino, a place she seeks solitude weeks after that bad event happened. One that she begged her father to take her to. To Ryoo Thule, her grandmother. Whom she’s very close to.
The woman who’s arms she felt complete solace in, besides her mother. She really needed to get out of Coruscant at that time, even for just a little while. And when she spends her time with Ryoo at the lake house, tranquility was finally within her grasp.
And that same emotion, he managed to elicit out of her simply by just staring at her. Almost as if he’s looking out for her like her guardian angel.
But with a slight smug grin and the mischievousness in those eyes, it gives him the impression of a handsome devil. It was both unsettling and soothing.
Before she knew what was going on, her family and his are already on their way to the front pew to take their seats. It was just her and Vader, merely two feet apart now as he stepped closer to her.
Padme had to looked up, for he was taller. She never realized how tall he was until he stood so close.
Vader grinned wider and crossed his arms across his chest, his eyes assessing her now. Up and down his gaze went and Padme wished, deep in her innermost conscious, that he would think good of her. And it boggled her how she cared. Why should she even?
“Are you planning on staring at me the whole time or do you want to say your next word to me?” He asked with an amused tone she can’t figure out if he was teasing or taunting her.
Padme held her head up high with her chest out. There was no way she would let another male of her species to make her feel small, especially when he was just being…friendly.
“Only when you stop staring at me first,” she pointed out.
Vader seems more amused if anything else. Doesn’t matter that she called him out on his rudeness from earlier. But he couldn’t help it. “Can you blame me, though? You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Point. Blank.
Now that is a shocker. “You’re too old to say something like that to me!” She hissed.
Vader gave her a puzzled look. Clearly, he was taken aback by her assumption of his age base on his appearance.
“How old do you think I am?”
“Eighteen?”
“I’m fifteen.”
“You don’t look fifteen.”
“And you don’t look like someone who’s not very smart, but you’ve proven yourself.”
“Well, quit staring at me like that!”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me uncomfortable.” End of argument.
She walked down the aisle and take her seat on the pew her family had taken, right behind the Skywalkers. Just great. And Vader decided it’s a good idea to sit in front of her, blocking her view.
Padme glared at the back of his head, hoping that by some miracle her peevish stare could drill a hole there.
Sola leaned closer and whispered, “So what did you and Vader talked about back there?” Curiosity took its hold on Sola, but it’s not something Padme wish to divulge.
“Nothing important.”
“Is it? Well, you both sure do have intense staring competition going on over something ‘unimportant’. And did you notice the way he looked at you? And I don’t mean just now but way before that-” her quipping was cut short by Padme’s silent outburst.
“Sola, stop it!” Padme whispered sharply.
For the love of Shiraya, she really wished Sola would just drop it already. Yielding to Padme’s clear struggle with abashment, she looked straight ahead towards the altar, with a knowing smile still pasted on her lips.
Padme, grateful for Sola’s cooperation to not make her way more gauche than she could help it, was unaware of Vader who had tuned-in on their little conversation.
Throughout the whole sermon of Priest Qui-Gon, instead of immersing himself in the spirit of devotion, he entertained himself with the thought of Padme seated behind him, clueless to the ideas he has of her.
Long, wavy chestnut hair. Skin the color of fine porcelain. Almond-shaped brown eyes. Luscious lips. And two beauty marks on her face. One on her left cheek and the other on her right closer to the said luscious lips. She is divine incarnate.
If things were different. If circumstances have been kinder. If only he is not the way he’s molded to be… He did not count on the fact that he would see her again a year later.
And not surprising she didn’t recognize him as the boy from the shed who beat the hell out of Pastor Clovis. She didn’t take a good look and just ran.
And a whole lot of good it did for him, though. He was unhinged at the time. Would be a very bad idea if her first impression of him is akin to that of a wild animal.
But even so, he can’t foresee if he would ever see her again after today, but one thing is certain, destiny seems to be at play and all in his favor…
This is where the fun begins.