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In the quiet hours of the early morning, Peter Quill found himself lying awake in the lavish guest room assigned to him within the regal confines of the palace.
Despite the plush comfort surrounding him, his mind was far from restful. The events of the night replayed in his mind, each moment casting a longer shadow as the sun began to rise, coloring the horizon with streaks of pink and orange.
As he lay there, the gentle warmth where Padmé's lips had brushed his cheek seemed to burn hotter with each passing second.
It wasn't just a kiss; it was a revelation, an unplanned twist in a story that he knew too well from the movies—the grand, tragic love story of Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala. Except, in this universe, it was Peter who had stepped into the scene, an unforeseen variable in the equation of fate.
The night's escapade—a spontaneous adventure under the stars with Padmé—had felt like just another one of his impulsive acts. But as he replayed the events in his mind, a surprising realization dawned on him.
They had wandered through the marketplace, shared secrets, ate, and enjoyed music together. It hadn't just been a casual evening out; it had been a date. And only now was he putting the pieces together.
Peter turned on his side, gazing out the window. The beauty of the Naboo sunrise did little to ease the turmoil within. He had inadvertently seduced Padmé, a woman destined for another, a woman whose love story was supposed to be epic, transformative, and, ultimately, tragic.
The weight of what he had done began to press down on him. Anakin and Padmé were meant to have a romance that would be remembered by fans across the world, even if it was destined to end in heartbreak and darkness.
By entering that narrative, Peter had altered their future, potentially separating them forever. However, as he lay there, a new thought began to take shape. 'What if this change wasn't a mistake but a correction?'
Anakin's path to the dark side was paved with his fears and obsessions over Padmé's safety and their future together. Their love, while deep and true, was also the catalyst for Anakin's downfall and his transformation into Darth Vader, not to mention Padmé's death…
If that love never blossomed, if those fears never took root, could the galaxy be spared the rise of a very dangerous Sith Lord?
This thought brought Peter a strange comfort. The guilt that had started to gnaw at him slowly receded as he considered the broader implications of his actions.
Perhaps, in this altered universe, he could prevent some of the horrors that were supposed to unfold. Maybe the galaxy would be safer, freer from the shadow of the Sith, if Anakin and Padmé never fell in love.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Peter sat up, his resolve hardening. He knew he couldn't undo the kiss or the feelings it may have sparked, but he could influence what came next.
As he stared out of the window, Peter muttered to himself, a plan forming in his mind. "Just gotta make it clear to Padmé that I'm not planning on dating anyone until we're both older…"
After all, Peter has always had a preference for older, curvier women, not teenagers—even if she was beautiful and the Queen of an entire planet.
And because he had inadvertently become a rival in love, perhaps even stealing Anakin's girl, Peter resolved to help Anakin if and when they ever met.'Maybe I should save his mother? Or possibly set them both free early?"
This wouldn't just be to assuage his conscience but to hopefully steer the course of history towards a less tragic end.
As the first light of dawn filled the room, Peter decided to catch a few hours of sleep. He closed his eyes and quickly drifted off into unconsciousness, no longer bothered by what happened.
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Hours later, the midday sunlight slowly spread across the room, caressing Peter's face as he slept. It nudged him awake. With a groan, Peter swung his legs off the bed, stood up, and stretched, reaching his arms high above his head.
Today was the day he'd leave Naboo. He had two possible coordinates that could lead him back to Earth, but there was one critical task he had to accomplish before he could depart.
Getting ready and donning his mask, Peter found Captain Panaka in the palace courtyard, overseeing the morning drills of the royal guards.
The captain's expression turned sour upon seeing Peter walk toward him. Their relationship had been nothing short of hostile, making his approach all the more unexpected.
"Captain Panaka," Peter began, his voice steady despite the chill in the morning air.
"If you're looking for the queen, she's still asleep," Panaka interjected quickly, mistaking Peter's intentions.
"I'm not here about Padmé. I have some questions about another matter," Peter clarified, his focus unwavering.
Panaka's brow furrowed in confusion, but he signaled for his men to take a brief pause. "What is it then?" he asked, arms folded across his chest.
"I need to know about a man named Sheeve Palpatine. Is he still here on Naboo?" Peter asked, not beating around the bush.
The question seemed to take Panaka by surprise. "Palpatine?" he echoed, his suspicion evident. "Why do you ask?"
"Just tying up some loose ends," Peter answered cryptically, recalling the anonymous notes he had left warning the Jedi of Palpatine, or Sidious as he knew him.
Since then, there had been nothing but silence, and the uncertainty gnawed at him, which is why he was here, speaking to Panaka about it.
Panaka hesitated, his gaze assessing. "Palpatine was a prominent figure here, from a high-standing political family. He became senator for little more than a day or two, but vanished shortly after the Jedi started asking questions about him. All that's left is his burned family mansion."
"So, he's not on Naboo anymore?" Peter pressed, a hint of relief in his voice.
"No," Panaka confirmed, shaking his head. "He isn't."
Peter exhaled slowly, his relief palpable. He hadn't wanted to face Darth Sidious, but the uncertainty of not knowing Sidious' whereabouts or plans was most certainly unsettling. 'At least he isn't in the Senate. That's a victory.'
"One last thing," Peter added as he turned to leave. "Any idea where Palpatine might have gone?"
Panaka shrugged, a trace of frustration in his voice. "Your guess is as good as mine."
As Peter nodded and began to walk away, Panaka called out to him. "Wait, why are you so interested in Palpatine? Does this have to do with why the Jedi were asking about him?"
Stopping in his tracks, Peter pondered for a moment. The truth might make a difference, might save lives. Turning back, he met Panaka's gaze with a serious expression hidden under his mask. "I believe Sheeve Palpatine is a Sith Lord. That's probably why he fled when he heard the Jedi were investigating him."
Panaka stared at Peter, his initial skepticism shifting into contemplation. As Peter walked away, leaving the captain amid his thoughts, he felt a flicker of hope.
Perhaps his actions back then had altered the course of events, sparing the galaxy from a dark fate—or, he acknowledged, it could have also made things worse; he'd just have to wait and find out…
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A couple of hours later, Peter paced back and forth, waiting for the Queen to wake up so that he could say goodbye and leave. After all, he would feel bad if he left without a word after she kissed him, even if it was just on the cheek.
Around him, his crew of intergalactic misfits lounged in various states of rest and readiness. Groot, sprouting small green buds to occupy himself, nestled comfortably in a sunlit corner. Howard, flipping through his datapad, occasionally laughing at whatever he was watching, while Cosmo lay nearby, her eyes closed.
"I am Groot," mumbled the tree creature, his voice low and soothing, a stark contrast to Peter's restless energy.
"Yeah, buddy, I know," Peter replied absently, running a hand through his hair. "Just gotta say goodbye to Padme first, okay?"
Despite asking Captain Panaka to inform him when Padmé awoke, the silence from the captain's end was deafening. Peter's frustration grew as the afternoon ebbed away.
It wasn't until the distant sounds of preparation and hurried whispers reached his ears that Peter learned of Padmé's awakening—not from Panaka, but through the grapevine that something significant was stirring.
With a hurried motion to his crew, they moved towards the throne room, the heart of the palace. And as they entered the grand hall, Peter's gaze immediately found Padmé. Dressed in her regal attire once again, she was a picture of poised authority.
Yet, the moment her eyes met his, a blush crept over her features, a silent acknowledgment of her brave move last night.
Before either of them could say anything, a holo-cam hovered near Padmé, ready to broadcast her to every corner of Naboo. The queen composed herself, her expression firm yet kind, her voice resonating with a somber gravity as she began to speak.
"Citizens of Naboo," she started, her voice echoing around the ornate walls, "today I bring news of justice. The man responsible for the heinous crimes against our former queen, Stakar Ogord, has been apprehended."
A murmur ran through the world as everyone in Naboo saw the broadcast. Peter watched, his expression calm, as Padmé continued, her voice steady despite the emotion behind her words.
Padmé took a deep breath, her resolve palpable as she faced her people. "And after careful consideration, I have decided that Stakar Ogord will be executed for his crimes against our planet and its leadership." The weight of her decision seemed to momentarily anchor her to her regal throne as she continued, "This is not a decision we make lightly. Naboo values life, and the act of taking one, even in justice, is a heavy burden."
The citizens of Naboo reacted with a mix of shock and solemn nodding. Gasps and whispers swirled among the gathered crowds, a turbulent sea of emotions; some spoke out in hushed tones, agreeing that justice, however severe, was necessary, while others trembled at the reintroduction of such an ancient and final form of punishment.
"Many might question the severity of the justice I am about to dispense. Naboo has not seen an execution in generations, but these are not ordinary circumstances. This was no mere murder; it was an atrocity against a queen, her handmaidens, and her loyal guards."
Padmé paused, her eyes glistening. Peter's heart ached, seeing the toll this took on her. After all, she had only been queen for a month and had never taken a life before.
"Furthermore," Padmé's voice cracked slightly, breaking the heavy silence, "this criminal did not only take lives; he committed acts of unspeakable violations against Queen Ameé and her handmaidens. I reveal this not to mar her memory but to clarify the necessity of the sentence I impose."
Tears now streamed down her cheeks, each one a shimmering testament to the burden of leadership and the pain of her decision. The citizens of Naboo were shocked to hear this, sharing in her sorrow, many with tears of their own.
"Stakar Ogord will face execution within the hour," she announced, her voice a whisper of resolve. "This will not be broadcast. It is not a spectacle but a somber duty. I pray no future ruler of Naboo will face such a decision again."
With that, Padmé ended the broadcast. The holo-cam dimmed, and the queen, once regal and composed, slumped slightly, the façade of strength giving way to vulnerable humanity.
As the crowd dispersed, intent on giving their queen some privacy, Peter approached the throne, his steps measured.
Padmé remained seated, her regal composure shadowed by the burdens now placed upon her. Her eyes, red-rimmed and distant, barely registered Peter's presence until he stood before her.
"Padmé," Peter began softly, reaching out to lift her chin gently. His touch, unlike the casual familiarity of their previous encounters, carried an intimate feeling.
As he pulled her to her feet, her resistance crumbled, and she fell into his embrace, her body racked with sobs. The vulnerability of the moment tore at Peter's heart.
The sound of blasters being drawn snapped through the air, pulling Peter's attention to Captain Panaka and the guards, their weapons aimed with protective precision. Their faces, etched with conflict, softened as they witnessed their queen's grief.
One by one, they lowered their weapons, allowing Peter to do as he pleases, at least for now…
Peter held Padmé close, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to face this part. Let me handle the execution. You've done enough."
Shaking her head, Padmé pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting his through her tears. "No. I must be there. It's my duty, as much as I wish it weren't."
Accepting her resolve, Peter nodded. He turned to Panaka, his voice firm. "Captain, can we have some guards bring Stakar here? It's best we do this quickly."
Panaka, though clearly reluctant to take orders from Peter, nodded curtly and signaled to his men. Within minutes, they returned, dragging a defiant yet resigned prisoner before the throne.
Stakar's eyes darted from Padmé to Peter, a snarky retort dying on his lips, his body shaking in fear at the sight of his torturer.
Padmé, steadying herself, addressed him. "Stakar Ogord, you have been sentenced to death for your crimes against Naboo and its people."
Before Stakar could respond, Peter spoke, catching Padmé's attention. "Hey, Padmé, is that what I think it is?" he pointed vaguely behind her.
The oldest trick indeed, and as Padmé turned her head, falling for it, Peter waved his hand toward Stakar. Suddenly, the air tensed, a sickening crack resounding as Stakar's neck snapped, his body collapsing limply to the floor.
Padmé spun back, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the scene—Stakar Ogord, motionless at the foot of her throne. Realization dawned, and her gaze met Peter's, gratitude and horror swirling in the depths of her eyes.
Though Peter had shielded her from the act as much as he could, the weight of command, of sentencing a man to death, clung to her. She stared down at Stakar, the gruesome scene etching itself into her memory.
A/N: 2425 words :)
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