Chapter Seventeen
Mira

The corridor stretches before you, its polished floors reflecting the dim light as you walk away from Anakin. Each step feels heavier than the last, your heart weighed down by the gravity of your decision. The echoes of your footsteps seem to mirror the conflicting emotions within you - duty versus desire, responsibility versus passion.

As you approach the ornate doors of the throne room, you pause for a moment, steeling yourself for what lies ahead. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of the handle, and with a deep breath, you push it open.

The sight that greets you is unexpected, causing you to falter mid-step. The expansive chamber, with its soaring ceilings and intricate tapestries, seems to shrink around the two figures engaged in hushed conversation near the far end.

Padmé stands there, her regal posture unmistakable even from a distance. Her elaborate gown catches the light filtering through the high windows, creating an almost ethereal glow around her. But it's her companion that truly captures your attention.

Jango Fett, the man you remember from your coronation, cuts an imposing figure in his gleaming silver armor. His brown hair falls in loose waves, a stark contrast to the hard lines of his battle-worn face. The way he leans in slightly as he speaks to Padmé suggests an intensity to their discussion.

Your entrance doesn't go unnoticed. Both heads turn in your direction, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. A myriad of emotions crashes over you like a tidal wave - surprise at finding them here, curiosity about the nature of their meeting, and an undercurrent of something deeper, more primal.

Your eyes lock with Jango's, and a jolt of recognition passes between you. In that instant, memories of your coronation flood back - the weight of the crown, the sea of faces, and his piercing gaze from among the crowd. Now, seeing him here, in this unexpected context, stirs something within you.

Anger bubbles up, its source not entirely clear. Is it directed at Jango, at the situation, or perhaps at yourself? It mingles with a spark of anticipation, creating a confusing whirlpool of feelings in your chest. Your heart races, pounding so loudly you wonder if they can hear it across the room.

As you step fully into the throne room, the door closing behind you with a soft thud, you're acutely aware that this moment marks a turning point. Whatever transpires in the next few minutes will undoubtedly shape the course of events to come.

The air feels charged with tension as you gather yourself, preparing to address the unexpected pair before you. Questions swirl in your mind: What brings Padmé here? What is Jango's involvement? And how will this encounter affect your plans for Lothal?

With each step forward, you feel the weight of your responsibilities pressing down upon you. The code you've chosen to follow, the path you've decided to walk - it all seems to crystallize in this moment of confrontation and revelation.

Padmé's warm smile cuts through the tension in the room like a ray of sunlight. Her voice, melodious and filled with barely contained excitement, echoes off the high ceilings of the throne room.

"Ah, Your Highness, there you are!"

Her use of your formal title reminds you of the weight of your position, even as her friendly demeanor suggests a more personal connection. You notice how she stands slightly straighter, her body language shifting subtly to address you with the respect your station demands.

"Mr. Fett and I were just discussing how he is providing us with some reinforcements," Padmé continues, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. The way she says "Mr. Fett" so casually, as if he were any ordinary contractor, strikes you as oddly incongruous with the man's reputation.

You feel a flutter of surprise and curiosity at this revelation. Reinforcements? From Jango Fett? Your mind races with questions and implications, but you maintain your composure, years of royal training kicking in instinctively.

As Padmé beams at you, you're struck by the contrast between her open excitement and the gravity of involving someone like Jango Fett in your affairs. Her smile seems to ask for your approval, her posture leaning slightly forward as if eager to share more details.

You turn your attention to Jango, carefully schooling your features into a mask of polite interest. You dip your head in a measured, regal nod - just enough to acknowledge his presence without betraying any familiarity. Inside, your heart races as you wonder if he remembers you from the coronation as vividly as you recall him.

Jango's response is a study in controlled professionalism. His nod mirrors yours, precise and restrained. "Your Highness," he says, his voice as cool and unyielding as his armor. The two simple words carry a wealth of meaning - respect for your position, but no warmth or personal connection.

His expression remains neutral, giving away nothing of his thoughts or feelings. You find yourself searching his face for any hint of recognition, any flicker of the intensity you remember from your coronation, but his features might as well be carved from stone.

The contrast between Padmé's enthusiasm and Jango's cool demeanor creates an almost palpable tension in the air. You stand at the vertex of this triangle, acutely aware of the delicate balance you must maintain.

As the silence stretches for a moment, you feel the weight of expectation. Both Padmé and Jango seem to be waiting for your response, your approval or questions. The decision of how to proceed rests squarely on your shoulders, each potential word or action laden with consequences.

Your mind races, considering the implications of Jango Fett providing reinforcements. What kind of force is he offering? How will this affect your plans for Lothal? And perhaps most pressingly, can you trust the infamous bounty hunter?

The throne room, once a symbol of your power and authority, now feels like a stage set for a complex political drama. As you prepare to speak, you're keenly aware that your next words could shape the future of your reign and the fate of Lothal itself.