Naberrie crack (?)
So, partly inspired by this conversation on tumblr and partly by being tired of Piers Plowman, a very short Naberrie fic. (I think this may be the only thing I've ever written that didn't star any of the Skywalkers. But it's all about them, so it's okay.)
title: all these todays alone
verse: canon-compliant/QOM
“You are not digging up your aunt's body!”
“I don't want to exhume Aunt Padmé,” said Ryoo Naberrie, scowling at her grandfather. “Not that we'd need to dig to do it. I'm just saying that we know her wedding was secret, we know she was pregnant before she died, and we know there was something suspicious about the way she died. I've seen the medical report they gave you. It doesn't even list a cause of death!”
“She was pregnant when she died, Ryoo,” said Sola. “It's a nice idea, but-”
Ryoo scoffed. “The bump? Anybody could fake that. Mom, I was just a little girl, but I was there. I remember Aunt Padmé and I remember her husband, and what they were like together. None of us were surprised when the marriage lines turned up in her things.” She crossed her arms. “If those two Rebels are his children, we all know who the mother was.”
Sola swallowed. “Ryoo-”
“They're too old,” Ruwee muttered. “The funeral can't be much more than twenty years back.”
The funeral always meant Padmé's.
“It was twenty-three years ago,” said Ryoo. “And it would explain everything. Why the wedding was secret, and she never dropped a hint to any of you over the next however many years. Why someone would have wanted to pretend the baby, or babies, died with her. I bet they had his powers, and-”
“It wouldn't explain what killed her. Or why we weren't told.” Ruwee took a deep breath, then let it out on a thready sigh. “You're used to spinning wild tales, Ryoo, but this isn't one of your holobooks. You're just bringing it all back.”
“Back?” she said incredulously. Sola shifted a little, tracing the twisted stem of her goblet, and Ryoo's eyes instantly went to her. “Mom. They could very well be your nephew and niece. If Aunt Padmé were in your place, d'you think-”
“Ryoo!” snapped Ruwee. “Pooja, talk some sense into your sister, will you? I don't have time for this nonsense.” He stepped towards the door.
Pooja's eyes went from grandfather to mother to sister, and then to her own wine glass. Then, in her usual deliberate way, she said, “Leia Organa was born on Empire Day. ”
title: all these todays alone
verse: canon-compliant/QOM
“You are not digging up your aunt's body!”
“I don't want to exhume Aunt Padmé,” said Ryoo Naberrie, scowling at her grandfather. “Not that we'd need to dig to do it. I'm just saying that we know her wedding was secret, we know she was pregnant before she died, and we know there was something suspicious about the way she died. I've seen the medical report they gave you. It doesn't even list a cause of death!”
“She was pregnant when she died, Ryoo,” said Sola. “It's a nice idea, but-”
Ryoo scoffed. “The bump? Anybody could fake that. Mom, I was just a little girl, but I was there. I remember Aunt Padmé and I remember her husband, and what they were like together. None of us were surprised when the marriage lines turned up in her things.” She crossed her arms. “If those two Rebels are his children, we all know who the mother was.”
Sola swallowed. “Ryoo-”
“They're too old,” Ruwee muttered. “The funeral can't be much more than twenty years back.”
The funeral always meant Padmé's.
“It was twenty-three years ago,” said Ryoo. “And it would explain everything. Why the wedding was secret, and she never dropped a hint to any of you over the next however many years. Why someone would have wanted to pretend the baby, or babies, died with her. I bet they had his powers, and-”
“It wouldn't explain what killed her. Or why we weren't told.” Ruwee took a deep breath, then let it out on a thready sigh. “You're used to spinning wild tales, Ryoo, but this isn't one of your holobooks. You're just bringing it all back.”
“Back?” she said incredulously. Sola shifted a little, tracing the twisted stem of her goblet, and Ryoo's eyes instantly went to her. “Mom. They could very well be your nephew and niece. If Aunt Padmé were in your place, d'you think-”
“Ryoo!” snapped Ruwee. “Pooja, talk some sense into your sister, will you? I don't have time for this nonsense.” He stepped towards the door.
Pooja's eyes went from grandfather to mother to sister, and then to her own wine glass. Then, in her usual deliberate way, she said, “Leia Organa was born on Empire Day. ”