C228 Child of Thanos

C228 Child of Thanos

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——————

Padmé’s Quarters...

Padmé stood frozen, her heart pounding as her gaze locked onto the man sitting casually on the edge of her bed. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of Atlas’s engines, muffled through the thick walls.

Peter smirked, his hands resting loosely on his knees. “What? You don’t recognize me without the mask?”

Padmé blinked, stunned, her mind struggling to reconcile the figure before her. The Star-Lord she knew—the cocky warrior in the glowing red-eyed mask—was gone. In his place stood Peter, unmasked and unmistakably... human. And handsome.

“Star-Lord...” she murmured, her voice soft, disbelieving. Then, as if testing the sound, she added almost to herself, “Peter.”

Peter tilted his head slightly, a small, lopsided smile pulling at his lips. “That’s me.”

Padmé straightened, her arms folding tightly across her chest, an attempt to shield herself from the confusing rush of emotions swirling inside her—anger, betrayal, longing. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Why keep hiding your face—your real name?”

Peter stood, his movements unhurried as he closed the distance between them. He stopped a respectful step away, his voice calm, genuine. “I wasn’t hiding from you, Padmé. I was hiding from the Jedi.” His gaze softened. “But it looks like I can’t hide much longer.”

Her brow furrowed. “The Jedi? Why?”

Peter exhaled deeply, as if preparing himself for what he was about to admit. “Because I am one. A Jedi Knight, technically. And let’s just say... the Jedi Council wouldn’t exactly approve of some of the choices Star-Lord makes.”

Padmé’s eyes widened, disbelief written across her face. “You’re a Jedi?”

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly, the weight of truth in his tone. “But secrets have a funny way of catching up to you. You can’t bury them forever.”

Her arms tightened across her chest. “And what about Natasha and Mikaela?” she snapped, the edge returning to her voice. “Why did they get to know the real you, but I didn’t?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “They met me as Peter. I didn’t have the mask on.” He took another step forward, his expression serious. “This isn’t about me favoring them over you, Padmé. Or them being more important. I care about you. I care about all of you.”

“You care about us,” Padmé repeated, her voice trembling slightly as she turned to face the window, her back to him. “You made me feel like I was special. Like it was you and me against the galaxy.” She shook her head, her tone heavy with hurt. “But now...”

Peter’s voice softened. “You are special, Padmé.” He stepped closer, the sincerity in his words breaking through her walls. “You think I came all this way, fought an entire war, just because I thought it was fun? I did it because I love you.”

Padmé turned sharply, her dark eyes locking onto his. “Then why didn’t you tell me the truth!?”

Peter met her gaze head-on, no flippant remarks this time. “Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted with a quiet chuckle, self-deprecating and raw. “I didn’t plan for any of this. I thought I could keep things simple, and that everything would just work out. That was stupid of me.”

For a moment, Padmé said nothing. The anger in her eyes faltered as a storm of emotions swirled within her—confusion, longing, and hurt. “Peter...” she whispered, his name slipping from her lips before she could stop herself.

Peter lifted a hand slightly, as if to brush a lock of hair from her face, but he let it drop before it reached her. “I know it’s messy, and I know it’s not what you wanted,” he said softly. “But I promise you, I’m serious about us.”

“But you’re also serious about them,” Padmé said, her voice quieter now—more resigned.

Peter didn’t flinch. “Yes,” he answered simply, honestly.

Her shoulders tensed, and she turned away again, staring out the window as if the stars held the answers. Silence stretched between them like a chasm. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can share you.”

Peter’s expression softened, and he nodded, understanding. “I’m not asking you to decide right now.” He took a step back, giving her space. “Just... don’t shut me out. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Padmé didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the stars beyond the glass. But the silence felt softer now, less sharp than before.

Peter lingered a moment longer, watching her, before quietly turning and heading for the door. It slid open with a soft hiss, and he stepped out, leaving her alone in the room.

As the door closed behind him, Padmé finally let out a long, shuddering breath. Her fingers brushed the edge of the window, her thoughts a tangled storm of emotions.

And for the first time, she truly didn’t know what to do.

————

In one of Atlas’s spacious common areas, Natasha and Mikaela sat on a sleek, metallic couch, each nursing a glass of alcohol. The air between them was heavy, the earlier confrontation with Padmé still hanging over their heads like a storm cloud.

“She’s got fire, I’ll give her that,” Natasha said at last, breaking the silence. Her tone was calm but carried a sharp edge of irritation.

Mikaela snorted, swirling the liquid in her glass. “More like arrogance. She walks in here, acting like she owns the place. Who does she think she is?”

Natasha smirked faintly, her lips curling. “The Queen of Naboo, apparently...”

————

In one of Atlas’s cavernous hangars, young Anakin fidgeted anxiously as he worked on his droid, C-3PO—a familiar habit whenever his thoughts were running wild. His hopeful, wide-eyed gaze kept darting toward the open space where his mother, Shmi Skywalker, quietly stood.

She looked small amid the towering machinery and sleek, alien technology, but there was an undeniable strength in the way she held herself—straight-backed, composed. It was a strength Anakin had always admired.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin stood, clenching his fists at his sides. ‘This is it. I have to convince her.’ His boots clanged softly against the hangar floor as he hurried over to her.

Shmi turned as he approached, her face lighting up with a gentle smile that could soften the hardest edges of the galaxy. “There you are,” she said, reaching out to cup his face with her warm, calloused hands. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

Anakin leaned into her touch briefly, comforted as always by her presence. But then he stepped back, his face serious. “Mom, I need to talk to you about something important.”

Shmi’s smile faltered just slightly, concern flickering across her eyes. “Of course, Ani. What is it?”

“I want to join Star-Lord’s crew,” he blurted out.

Shmi froze. “What?”

Anakin pressed forward before she could object, his voice rising with emotion. “I want to go with Star-Lord and travel the galaxy. He’s my hero, Mom! You know that.”

Shmi’s face softened with understanding, but her eyes clouded with worry. “Anakin...”

“Please, Mom!” he pleaded, stepping closer, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You’ve always told me to dream big, to believe I could be more than just a slave. This is my chance! I can do something important—I will do something important.”

Shmi looked down, her hands clasping tightly in front of her as if trying to steady herself. “Anakin... I know how much Star-Lord inspires you. I was just as surprised as you were when I found out who he is. But this life... the life he leads is not safe. It’s not what I want for you.”

“I don’t care!” Anakin argued, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not afraid. I’ve seen worse on Tatooine—what’s out there can’t be any worse than slavery!”

Shmi closed her eyes, holding back tears. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, heavy with emotion. “You’re still just a boy, Anakin. You have so much ahead of you. I want you to be happy and safe—not running headlong into war and violence.”

“I’m not just a boy,” Anakin said stubbornly, his fists tightening. “You’ve said it yourself—I’m special. I know it. Star-Lord will see it too. I can help him. I can be something.”

Shmi knelt down in front of him, placing her hands gently on his small shoulders, forcing him to look into her eyes. “You are special, my son. I have always known that. But this...” She shook her head faintly. “I don’t know if this is the right path.”

“It is the right path!” Anakin insisted, his voice cracking. “This is what I want—what we both deserve. Freedom. You can come with us!” He looked at her hopefully. “Star-Lord’s ship is huge, Mom. You’d be safe here. We could still be together.”

Shmi gave a faint, bittersweet smile. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Because I want this,” Anakin said, his voice low and earnest. “I want us to be free. Really free.”

Shmi’s heart ached as she gazed at her son—her brave, brilliant boy with dreams far too big for the life they’d been forced to live. She knew he was destined for greatness, but the thought of letting him go... it felt like losing a piece of her soul.

“You are my everything, Anakin,” she whispered, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her voice trembled as she added, “And I am so, so proud of you.”

Anakin wrapped his arms around her, blinking back tears. “I love you, Mom,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” Shmi whispered. She held him for a long moment before gently pulling back, cupping his face once more. “If this is truly what you want—if this is the path you believe you must take—then I won’t stand in your way.”

Anakin’s face lit up, his heart leaping in his chest. “You mean it?”

Shmi nodded, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “But promise me something, Anakin.”

“Anything,” he said immediately.

“Promise me you’ll be careful—that you’ll take care of yourself. Promise me you’ll live a long, happy life.”

Anakin nodded fiercely. “I promise.”

Shmi pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering as if trying to hold onto him for just a little longer. “Then go,” she whispered. “Be the great man I know you can be. I’ll be here, watching as you make your dreams come true...”

Anakin grinned, excitement and hope flooding his heart. “I’ll make you proud, Mom. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Peter replied dryly, supporting her as they shuffled toward the door. Natasha stumbled up behind them, grumbling something incomprehensible under her breath.

Peter carried Mikaela to her quarters first, setting her carefully on the bed. She squirmed under the blanket, her voice soft now, almost vulnerable. “You know... I hate you sometimes...”

“Only sometimes?” Peter teased, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Mikaela blinked up at him, her expression unguarded. “Just... don’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t care how many women there are... just don’t leave me, Peter. Please.”

Peter’s chest tightened. He leaned in closer, his voice low and gentle. “I’m not going anywhere, Mikaela. I promise.”

She gave him a faint, content smile before her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing slowing as she drifted into sleep. Peter tucked the blanket around her, lingering for a moment before stepping back.

Natasha was waiting in the hallway, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Lightweight,” she muttered, though there was no venom in her voice.

Peter smirked, slipping an arm around her shoulders as he guided her toward her room next. “Says the woman who can barely stand.”

“I can walk,” Natasha replied, though her steps were sluggish.

Once inside, Peter settled Natasha into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chest. Her eyes opened just slightly, her gaze hazy but steady as she looked at him. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Peter said softly, smoothing a stray lock of red hair away from her face.

Natasha’s lips curved faintly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I hate sharing you... I hate it. But... I’d rather have this than lose you.”

Peter froze, the raw honesty in her words cutting deeper than he expected. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his voice quiet but firm. “You’re not going to lose me, Nat. I promise.”

Her expression softened as she let her eyes close, murmuring faintly, “You’d better not... or I’ll haunt you.”

Peter chuckled softly, standing and making his way to the door. “Goodnight, Nat,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth as he stepped out and let the door slide shut behind him.

The soft hiss of the door echoed in the quiet room, and Natasha’s eyes snapped open, clear and sharp.

For a long moment, she lay still, listening to the faint sound of Peter’s footsteps fading down the hall. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips as she turned her head slightly, staring at the ceiling.

“Idiot,” she whispered, the earlier drunken slur nowhere to be found.

Her smile lingered as she exhaled softly, the whispered confession replaying in her mind. “I hate sharing you... but I’ll do it if it means I can keep you.” Her gaze grew distant as her voice dropped even lower, a sly edge creeping in.

“Just don’t expect me to fight fair...”

With that, Natasha finally let her eyes close, the faintest smirk still on her lips as sleep overtook her.

————

Naboo...

The palace halls had finally quieted, save for the occasional sound of workers repairing the damage and distant murmurs of guards finishing their rounds.

Here, Jar Jar Binks wandered through one of the palace corridors, his oversized feet clapping loudly against the polished stone floor with every awkward step.

“Oh no, oh no!” Jar Jar wailed dramatically, flailing his arms like a windmill. “Why’s dis palace gotta be soooo big? Mesa feet’sies are killin’ me!”

As if on cue, he turned a corner and crashed directly into a pair of Naboo guards patrolling the corridor. The impact sent him sprawling to the floor, his limbs knocking into a precarious stack of crates. Tools tumbled everywhere, the clatter echoing loudly down the hall.

“Gungan!” one guard barked, his patience clearly strained. “Watch where you’re going!”

Jar Jar scrambled to his feet, his movements a chaotic mess of limbs. “Uh-oh! Oopsie! Mesa so, so sorry!” he stammered, tripping over a fallen wrench and nearly taking out a lantern on a nearby shelf. The guards flinched as it wobbled dangerously before clanging to the floor with a metallic crash.

The second guard groaned, rubbing his temples. “Why are you even here, Gungan? Just go. Before you bring the whole palace down.”

Jar Jar nodded enthusiastically, backing away with his typical wide, goofy grin. “Y-yes, yessir! Mesa goin’ now! Real quick-quick!” He bent awkwardly to pick up a tool, only to knock another crate sideways. “Ohhh noooo!”

The guards both jumped in exasperation. “Go!”

“Goin’, goin’, mesa already gone!” Jar Jar practically skipped backward, waving his hands in exaggerated apology before turning and shuffling clumsily down the hall. His footsteps scuffed the floor noisily, but he kept moving until he was well out of sight.

The instant he rounded a bend and ensured the guards were far behind, his posture shifted. The grin vanished. His shoulders straightened, his steps grew smooth and deliberate, and his expression darkened into one of chilling focus.

“Idiots,” Jar Jar muttered under his breath, his voice now deep, calm, and eerily precise—entirely unrecognizable from the bumbling fool he pretended to be.

With practiced efficiency, he made his way deeper into the palace. His sharp eyes scanned the walls and corners, ensuring he was alone. Finding a narrow doorway hidden behind a forgotten tapestry, he slipped inside.

The room was small, dusty, and long-abandoned—a forgotten storage space. It was dark, save for a faint glow as Jar Jar activated the holo-communicator set up on the floor. The device hummed to life, its pale light illuminating his focused, sharp features.

Moments later, a massive, looming figure flickered into view—Thanos, the Mad Titan. His violet skin gleamed faintly in the projection, his cruel gaze piercing even through the holo-image.

“Father.” Jar Jar greeted.

“Report,” Thanos rumbled, his deep voice rolling through the space like distant thunder.

Jar Jar lowered his head in a slight bow, all traces of his prior foolishness gone. His words came smooth, deliberate, and calm. “The mission progresses as planned, my lord.”

Thanos’ narrowed his gaze slightly. “The Trade Federation?”

“Wiped out,” Jar Jar replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “The Queen of Naboo and her forces, with Star-Lord’s backing, have reclaimed the planet.”

For a moment, Thanos said nothing. His eyes narrowed, his massive arms folding across his chest. “Star-Lord.”

Jar Jar’s expression darkened. “Yes. I met him, as you ordered. He’s strong. Smarter than anticipated. His army of machines and... allies... eliminated the Trade Federation’s droids in less than a week.”

He paused, letting his next words hang for weight. “But it’s worse than that. Star-Lord can use the Force.”

Thanos’ gaze sharpened, his interest piqued. “The Force?”

Jar Jar inclined his head, his voice dropping even lower. “He force-choked the Viceroy.”

Thanos stared at the Gungan for a moment, considering this revelation. The hologram crackled faintly, but the menace in his voice was undiminished. “And have you embedded yourself as instructed?”

Jar Jar’s smirk was faint, predatory. “Yes, my lord. The Jedi have been ordered to observe him. I follow the Jedi.”

Thanos narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I see.”

Jar Jar straightened slightly, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “He is everything the rumors claimed—strong, resourceful, a natural leader. But... he’s emotional. Attached to those around him.”

Thanos’ lips curled faintly at that. “Attachments are good. They are weaknesses waiting to be exploited.”

Jar Jar’s smirk deepened. “Exactly. The women around him are his greatest vulnerability. All it takes is one crack to bring the structure down.”

Thanos considered this, his cold, calculating stare seeming to pierce through the distance between them. “And his loyalty?”

Jar Jar hesitated only briefly. “Unclear. The Queen trusts him. The Jedi are cautious.”

Thanos’ voice turned ominous, the air heavy with his words. “He will either become a part of my army... or an obstacle.” He paused meaningfully, his gaze locking onto Jar Jar. “If he is an obstacle...”

Jar Jar’s voice came without hesitation, filled with a predator’s promise. “Then I will deal with him.”

The Mad Titan regarded him for a long moment, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction crossing his face. “Good. Continue to watch him closely. Do not fail me.”

Jar Jar bowed his head once more. “As you command, my lord.”

The hologram flickered once, then disappeared entirely, leaving the room plunged into darkness and silence. For a moment, Jar Jar stood motionless, his sharp gaze lingering on the spot where Thanos’ image had been. Then, his lips curled into a faint smile—cold and predatory.

“Soon,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “Very soon.”

With that, he turned sharply on his heel and stepped back into the dim corridors of the palace. As the shadows swallowed him, his posture shifted once more. His steps grew exaggerated and bumbling, his grin wide and vacant as he slouched forward.

“Uh-oh! Mesa gotta hurry! Mesa gonna miss dinner!” he chirped loudly, his voice back to its annoyingly cheerful pitch.

He stumbled down the hall, his clumsy footsteps echoing off the walls.

No one would ever suspect. No one ever did.

A/N: 5008 words :)