The time spent at the villa had been well spent. Khan felt it everywhere—in his shoulders, in the way his breaths came easier, in the quiet stillness that no longer frightened him. His worries, once coiled tight, had loosened. His thoughts, once restless, now moved like water across smooth stone. Insight came easier. Presence felt natural. And though the vacation was ending, the warmth of it—the Nebberie family's kindness, the quiet enlightenment he'd stumbled into, and the gentle, confusing peace of his time with Padmé—would remain with him like sunlight held behind the ribs.
He finished packing the last of his belongings. The Naboo garments lay folded neatly on the bed, soft reminders of a different rhythm of life. In their place he wore his Jedi robes, their familiar weight settling over his shoulders like returning to an old path.
Then his hand hovered over the lightsaber resting on the table.
For a long moment he didn't touch it.
The room was silent except for the distant song of water against the lake's edge. Morning light poured through the window, gilding the weapon's metal casing, catching along the grooves worn by training and conflict. The saber seemed at once foreign and familiar, a piece of another world intruding on this peaceful one.
Khan exhaled slowly.
He reached out and lifted it.
The metal was cool against his palm—a clean, undeniable weight. The kind that anchored. The kind that reminded. The kind that said nothing aloud, but carried its own history and obligations.
His thumb brushed the emitter, not activating it, simply feeling the shape of duty beneath his touch.
The peace was nice… but I must always be ready.
He clipped the saber to his belt. The soft click echoed louder in his chest than in the room, final and inevitable. A shift in atmosphere. A calling answered.
A gentle knock tapped against the door.
"Khan? Are you ready?" Padmé's voice, warm and careful.
He opened the door. Padmé stood there dressed for travel, her posture poised, her expression bright—though there was a faint wistfulness around her eyes.
"Yes," he said with a small smile. "Let us go."
She nodded, returning his smile with one of her own, softer than usual. "Okay."
They walked together down the hallways of the villa—now emptier, quieter—toward the speeder that would take them back to Theed. The coronation loomed close. Duty waited for both of them.
But as the villa shrank behind them, their conversation came easy: recollections of lake water sparkling like glass, of Sola's teasing, of the gentle breeze that had carried their boat across the water. Padmé laughed lightly as she remembered one moment, and Khan found himself smiling without effort.
The path back toward responsibility didn't feel as heavy with her beside him.
And yet, the weight on his belt never stopped reminding him where the road would eventually diverge.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
The days that followed after their stay at the villa Varykino were busy—almost overwhelmingly so. The peace of the lake now felt like a distant echo compared to the constant motion of Theed.
Ruwee was immediately flooded with paperwork the moment they returned. His office lights seemed to never turn off, and every time Khan passed by, he saw stacks of datapads rising like miniature towers around him. The coronation ceremony drew closer with every passing hour, and the workload only multiplied.
Jobal returned to her volunteer work, often leaving before dawn and coming home long after sunset. She traveled across Naboo distributing food, medicine, and relief supplies, always speaking kindly to the people she met. Khan admired her spirit—it reminded him of the Jedi ideal of service, but infused with a gentleness only a mother could possess.
Sola began her work at one of Theed's top research labs. Whenever she came home she carried the scent of sterile halls and flower scents. She teased Padme whenever she could, though exhaustion softened her tone in these busy days.
Padme, however, was the busiest of them all. Her lessons filled entire days—political briefings, reports on agricultural output, economic fluctuations, trade negotiations, cultural diplomacy, ceremonial protocol, and more. She handled it with discipline, but Khan could see how heavy the responsibilities weighed on her shoulders.
And through it all, Khan accompanied Padme from place to place.
Ruwee, concerned that the stress would overwhelm his daughter, had requested Khan to serve as her protector and companion until the coronation. Not because he feared danger—but because he knew Padme needed someone steady beside her, someone who balanced her. Khan had agreed without hesitation.
And so, from morning until late evening, Khan walked with her through palace halls, administrative corridors, meeting chambers, and open plazas filled with couriers and aides.
Every day, he watched her work. He watched her learn. He watched her grow.
And he respected her more deeply with each passing hour.
One afternoon, as they crossed a sunlit marble corridor lined with Naboo frescoes, Padme let out a long, slow breath.
"I'm glad to have you here, Khan," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "It really helps me not feel overwhelmed."
Khan glanced sideways at her. She looked tired, but determined—eyes bright with purpose even through the exhaustion.
"If me alone being here helps," he said gently, "then I'm glad."
Padme chuckled lightly, brushing a braid behind her ear.
"Of course it does. I wish you could stay by my side forever."
The words slipped out of her before she fully realized it. She flushed faintly and tried to hide it by looking ahead.
Khan, thoughtful, replied calmly, "Once you become Queen, and your royal handmaidens are assigned to you, I'll be working with Ruwee and your mother for most of my stay."
"Yes," Padme admitted, her lips curling into a small smile, "but I'll still get to see you during important meetings."
"I'll be around," Khan nodded. "I'm sure I'll have to meet with you from time to time."
Padme stopped in the middle of the hallway and stepped in front of him, causing him to halt as well. She turned with a playful but earnest smile—the kind that made Khan feel warmth radiating from her presence.
"I'll make sure we do," she said quietly, the words carrying far more meaning than she intended.
Khan returned her smile, slower, softer—a reflection of the calm steadiness that defined him.
They resumed their walk side by side, their steps echoing lightly against the polished marble floors. Outside, the transport speeder awaited them, glinting under the late afternoon sun.
Together, they boarded the speeder for the ride back to the Naberrie household—another day behind them, and the coronation drawing ever nearer.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
A few days before the coronation, Padme was summoned to a private meeting with Queen Sanandrassa. As her appointed guard, Khan followed her into the chamber. The Queen stood by an expansive window, sunlight outlining her graceful silhouette. She turned at their entrance.
"Welcome, Padme. Khan."
Padme bowed respectfully. "Thank you for seeing us, Your Majesty."
Khan bowed lower, hands behind his back. "Your Majesty."
Queen Sanandrassa smiled with genuine warmth when her eyes settled on him. "It is good to see you again, Khan. I am sorry I could not greet you sooner. Preparations to hand over the throne have consumed nearly all of my time."
"You owe no apology," Khan replied. "Your duty comes first. I understand."
"Thank you," she said softly before turning to Padme with a shift in tone—more solemn, more queenly. "Padme, there is something I must speak to you about."
She gestured to a seat. Padme sat gracefully, and Khan stepped to her side, posture alert yet relaxed.
Queen Sanandrassa began slowly, choosing her words with the precision of someone who understood their weight. "As you know, throughout my reign I sought to make Naboo more independent from the wider galaxy. Less entangled in the politics of the Republic."
Padme nodded. "Yes. While we do not share every viewpoint, I've always admired how strongly you pursued what you believed was best for our people."
The Queen smiled faintly—tired, but appreciative. "Even so, I was never able to achieve true self-sufficiency. Not with the way our economy has grown. Naboo still relies heavily on trade routes controlled by the Trade Federation."
Padme's brows tightened slightly. "Yes… Their influence is considerable."
"Too considerable." Sanandrassa stepped closer. "Before you take the throne, I must warn you. They are greedy. They do not respect youth, and they will see your age as an opportunity. They will send envoys soon after your coronation—I can guarantee it. Do not trust them fully, but know you cannot avoid them."
Padme absorbed every word, her expression serious but calm. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will take your warning seriously. I intend to serve Naboo well."
Queen Sanandrassa's expression softened. "I believe you will. You have the potential to be one of Naboo's great rulers."
Padme's lips parted in a small, humbled smile.
The Queen then exhaled, returning to her formal demeanor. "I must continue preparations, but I am glad we had this moment. It was good to speak with you, Padme." Her eyes shifted to Khan. "And good to see you again."
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty," Khan answered with a respectful incline of his head.
"Thank you again," Padme said warmly. "I will see you on the day of the ceremony."
"Indeed. Take care—both of you. I will see you soon."
With that, the meeting ended.
And the day of Padme's coronation crept closer, each hour carrying with it a quiet tension and the promise of change.