In the vast expanse of the main landing bay, Queen Amidala stood still as the first breath of silence fell over the assembled reception. Her presence was striking, her crimson royal robes illuminating in elegant layers against the sky, the intricate beadwork of her headdress catching the light. Her painted face, an ivory mask of tradition and resolve, urgency, and the weight of duty. Naboo needed her now more than ever, and she would not falter.
Padmé stepped forward with deliberate grace, her voice clear and controlled despite the tension tightening in her chest.
"Senator Palpatine. We owe our lives to the Jedi... and to the unshakable courage of our people."
Palpatine offered a deep bow, the corners of his mouth turning up in a manner that conveyed both sympathy and calculation.
"Your Highness," he said smoothly, "your return brings great relief to us all. The Senate has watched your struggle with growing concern. I only regret that it has taken so long for help to come."
He turned then to the Jedi who flanked the queen. "Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Kenobi. We are all in your debt."
Qui-Gon bowed his head with calm solemnity. "We did what the moment demanded, Senator. But I fear the true danger has only begun to show itself."
Palpatine's eyes flicked with interest, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze shifted to the two figures standing just behind the Queen, Shmi Skywalker and her son.
His eyes found Anakin's, and for a heartbeat too long, the galaxy seemed to narrow to just the two of them. The senator's stare was steady, intent. There was warmth in his smile, but the boy felt it differently, something cold, like fingers brushing his mind.
"And you must be Anakin Skywalker," Palpatine said at last, his voice suddenly gentler, more sincere. "The boy who won the podrace. I've read the dispatches from Tatooine, and it sounds like a feat of great skill… and extraordinary instinct."
Anakin stepped forward, his posture straight, eyes wide. "Thank you, sir," he said bluntly.
Palpatine's gaze lingered. "You will find Coruscant to be full of infinite doors and opportunities, my young friend. With the right guidance, a boy of your talent could go far."
Shmi moved protectively closer, her hand resting lightly on Anakin's shoulder. Her body was still, but her eyes were wary. She didn't trust the man's meaning, but something about his attention unsettled her.
Palpatine turned to her with a courtly bow. "And you must be his mother. Shmi Skywalker, yes? A most unexpected addition to our guests. Welcome to Coruscant."
She managed a respectful, tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Senator. It's… a great deal to take in."
Padmé stepped forward again, urgency creeping into her voice now. "Senator, we must not linger. The blockade tightens with each passing hour. My people are starving, and I fear violence is escalating. We must address the Senate without delay."
Palpatine gave a solemn nod, though his expression remained unreadable. "Of course, Your Highness. Your courage continues to inspire us all. I will escort you to the Senate chambers personally."
He turned then to the Jedi. "Masters, your presence would be most welcome. The Senate may find comfort in the wisdom of the Jedi Order during these troubling times."
Qui-Gon inclined his head with diplomatic poise. "Regrettably, Senator, we must first confer with the Jedi Council first. There are matters… of great urgency that concern more than just Naboo."
Palpatine's brow lifted subtly, but he said only, "Naturally, I trust the Council will recognize the significance of what you bring."
Obi-Wan bowed politely, sparing a brief glance at Anakin before stepping back beside his Master.
The moment held a quiet tension as the group prepared to separate. Amidala's delegation, including Captain Panaka, Jar Jar, the handmaidens, the droids, Shmi, and Anakin, were guided toward a sleek diplomatic speeder. The Queen paused at the ramp, casting a final look toward the Jedi.
"Master Jinn, Master Kenobi," she said softly with a smile, "may the Force be with you."
They both smiled.
"And with you, Your Highness," Qui-Gon replied.
As the Jedi turned toward their transport, a discreetly armored airspeeder bound for the Jedi Temple, Anakin lingered for a breath, eyes following them. He felt the threads of destiny tugging, unseen but undeniable.
Shmi touched his back. "Come, Ani."
He nodded and followed, but even as the speeder lifted off into Coruscant's skyways, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had just changed, and not for the last time.
Palpatine, watching from the landing pad, folded his hands behind his back, his expression serene. Only his eyes glinted, sharp and predatory in the light of Coruscant's artificial dusk.
The Senate Building was a marvel of light and order. Gleaming walls arched like waves of durasteel and glass, designed to inspire unity and grandeur. Inside, silence fell beneath vaulted ceilings, broken only by the soft shuffle of robes and the click of boots on polished marble.
They entered through a private side entrance, bypassing the usual rush of bureaucrats and petitioners. The Queen's delegation was ushered through a series of secured corridors until they reached a private reception hall.
Padmé turned to Anakin and Shmi.
"You will remain here, just for a little while. This session could become… heated," she said gently.
Shmi nodded, trusting. "We'll be fine."
C-3PO turned to her with polite enthusiasm. "Do not worry, Mistress Padmé. I shall keep the boy perfectly entertained and informed on protocol!"
R2-D2 beeped in agreement, already plugging into a data port to scan Senate updates.
Anakin frowned but obeyed, casting a glance back at Padmé. Something in him itched to help during the hearing. But for now, he stayed.
Once the doors closed behind her, Padmé turned and followed Palpatine into a more secluded antechamber.
"The Chancellor has agreed to hear your petition. But be warned, Your Highness, the Trade Federation has allies, there are factions who would rather bury the matter in procedure," he said, motioning her to sit.
She remained standing.
"We are prepared to speak the truth, I'm sure Chancellor Valorum will act." Padmé said.
Unfazed, Palpatine continued.
"Truth," Palpatine said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "often needs a louder voice than justice. But you are brave Your Highness, and the Senate will see it."
Padmé gave him a look that walked the line between gratitude and suspicion.
"Senator, what exactly are we walking into?"
Palpatine sighed, the weight of long service painted carefully across his features.
"A nest of protocol and posturing. The Senate is... not what it once was. The ideals of the Republic remain, but the strength to uphold them? That has waned."
Padmé studied him. "So they will do nothing."
"Not nothing. But likely too little, and too late. Many systems have grown complacent, their senators more concerned with trade deals than justice. Chancellor Valorum means well, but he is weak, beholden to factions that paralyze any decisive action. Your plea may inspire sympathy, but sympathy does not stop occupation."
Padmé's jaw tightened. "Then what are my options?"
Palpatine leaned in, voice low.
"One exists, though it is drastic. You could call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum. Force the Senate to choose new leadership. A stronger Chancellor could rally the support your world needs."
Padmé's eyes narrowed. "You think I should do this? Chancellor Valorum has been our greatest supporter."
"I think," Palpatine said, his voice soft and firm, "that your people need more than words. The galaxy is watching. If the Republic cannot act now, then it must change. And you, Your Highness, you have the power to begin that change."
She said nothing. But her silence carried the weight of decision.
A signal light blinked. An aide gestured. It was time.
Palpatine straightened, smoothing his robes.
"Stand tall. Speak with clarity. And do not waver."
The Senate chamber was cavernous. A dome of floating platforms and echoing pronouncements, filled with the quiet roar of countless systems represented in miniature governments. Lights tracked Padmé as she stepped onto her platform.
Elsewhere, Anakin sat in the private room, watching the events unfold on a holographic screen. Shmi was beside him, and the droids chattered softly.
Padmé's voice rang out, composed, commanding.
"I come before you under duress. The people of Naboo…my people are dying. The Trade Federation has invaded our world and claimed our sovereignty. I ask for immediate relief and intervention."
Murmurs rose.
A Neimoidian senator objected immediately. "These are baseless claims. The Federation holds legal trade disputes, not war!"
Padmé pressed forward. "They have deployed droid armies, they hold prisoners. Our children starve in occupied cities. This is not a simple dispute, this is a conquest!"
The Chancellor hesitated. "A commission must be formed."
Palpatine stepped forward, his voice cutting through. "With respect, Chancellor Valorum, we do not have time for bureaucratic delay. This is a humanitarian crisis. The Trade Federation has taken military action against a peaceful world."
The Chancellor looked worn, old, and weary. "Due process must be observed."
Padmé stared at the ground, hard in thought.
Padmé turned, voice calm but resolute.
"I'm sorry Chancellor Valorum, but if you won't act on my plea… then I'm afraid you leave me with no choice."
"I move for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum's leadership!"
A hush, then chaos.
Senators shouted, and platforms buzzed with rising arguments. The chamber erupted into a procedural storm.
In the private chamber, Anakin leaned closer to the screen, eyes steady.
Anakin watched it unfold, both understanding and quietly sickened. Power, he realized, didn't look like fire and lightning. It looked like this, polite, gilded, and cold.
And somewhere in the depths of Coruscant, the Force rippled with quiet inevitability.
Inside the Jedi Temple, serenity cloaked the great halls. Pale stone glowed softly beneath sunlit skylights, and ancient murals depicted long-forgotten battles and moments of accomplishment of past Jedi. The hum of the Force was strong here, steady and ancient.
In the circular chamber of the Jedi High Council, twelve Masters sat in silent meditation as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stepped forward. The central skylight poured golden light down upon them, illuminating dust motes that danced in the still air.
In the Council chamber, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stood before the gathered Masters.
Mace Windu broke the silence. "You encountered a Sith?"
"We did," Qui-Gon said. "On Tatooine, as we were preparing to leave. He ambushed us and was a skilled warrior, trained, focused, utterly without mercy. He wielded a double-bladed lightsaber."
Obi-Wan nodded grimly. "His presence in the Force was… distorted. Controlled and practiced hatred, not unnecessary madness."
Plo Koon's mechanical voice cut in. "Impossible. The Sith have been extinct for a millennium."
Yoda's ears twitched as he leaned slightly forward. "Certain, are you, that it was Sith?"
"Certain," Qui-Gon said. "His weapon. His discipline. The way he moved, and his use in the Force, there was no doubt."
Obi-Wan nodded. "He was no mere assassin."
"Then we are in danger we have not seen in a millennium," Ki-Adi-Mundi said grimly.
"But why reveal himself now?" asked Plo Koon.
"To interfere," Qui-Gon said. "To test the edges of our attention. Perhaps to reclaim what they believe is lost."
Ki-Adi-Mundi stroked his beard. "The timing seems too deliberate."
Yoda's ears twitched. "Unsettling, this news is. Investigate further, we must."
Qui-Gon held the moment a beat longer before continuing. "There is more. I discovered a boy on Tatooine. His potential in the Force is unlike anything I have encountered."
Murmurs. The Council shifted slightly. Yoda tilted his head.
"How strong?"
Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, who nodded gravely.
He paused. The words weighed heavily.
"His midichlorian count exceeds twenty-seven thousand."
A ripple of disbelief passed among the Masters.
"That is impossible," Mace said flatly.
Mace's voice was calm, but edged with concern. "That is... higher than any Jedi in recorded history."
"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "Higher than even Grandmaster Yoda, but I saw the Force flows through him. It was very natural, almost instinctive. It's unlike anything I have ever seen."
Obi-Wan spoke, his tone slower, uncertain. "Master believes he may be the Chosen One… the one prophesied… the one who will bring balance."
The room fell silent.
"A prophecy, that is," Yoda murmured. "But misunderstood, it may be."
"I do not claim certainty," Qui-Gon said. "But the Force led me to him, I ask that the Council see the boy. Test him and judge for yourselves."
Mace studied him. "You wish to train him?"
"Yes."
"But you already have a Padawan," Ki-Adi-Mundi reminded. "Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon looked briefly at his apprentice, then back to the Council. "He is already wise, disciplined, and strong beyond his age with the Living Force. I assured you he is ready for the Trials. He is prepared."
Obi-Wan stiffened. The moment hung between him, unspoken tension.
"I am ready for the Trials. Master Qui-Gon has taught me all he can." Obi-Wan stepped forward and spoke confidently.
The chamber grew still again.
Mace's tone sharpened. "Even so, the Council must decide if the boy is to be trained. It is not your decision alone."
Qui-Gon straightened, voice firm. "If the Council refuses to train him, I will take Anakin as my Padawan, regardless."
The Council exchanged glances. Yoda and Mace shared a look.
Yoda's eyes narrowed back at Qui-Gon. "Defy the Council and the Jedi Code, you would?"
"I will do what I must," Qui-Gon said. "This is bigger than protocol. The Force chose this boy… I will not ignore that."
Yoda sat silently for a long while, his small fingers steepled. The weight of millennia passed across his face.
"Much fear I sense in you," he said at last, not to Qui-Gon, but Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Only concern for my Master. And for the boy."
Yoda closed his eyes. "Tested, the boy shall be. Decided then, it will be."
Qui-Gon exhaled, just slightly. Obi-Wan glanced toward his Master, expression unreadable.
The Council chamber fell once more into deep silence, but the air crackled with tension. The fate of the galaxy, unseen and unspoken, had just shifted.