32.5 BBY — equivalent to 13,967.5 Galactic Republic Standard Years (GRS) [ months later]
At the heart of the luminous Palace of Naboo, sunlight poured through the massive stained glass windows, painting brilliant patterns across the polished marble floor.
The grand hall was filled with the soft hum of murmuring nobles, officials, and delegates—all gathered to witness a pivotal moment in their planet's history.
At the center of it all stood Padmé Naberrie.
Barely fourteen years old, she stood with a calm dignity far beyond her years, clad in ornate ceremonial robes that shimmered like the lakes of Naboo themselves.
Today, she would ascend—not merely as Padmé—but as Queen Amidala, ruler and protector of Naboo.
Before her stood the High Priest of Naboo, an elder with solemn eyes, dressed in traditional white and gold vestments.
He held out a small ceremonial data tablet, the ancient Oath of Ascension encrypted within, adapted from generations past.
The High Priest's voice resonated clearly through the hall.
"Please repeat after me," he intoned with reverence.
Padmé straightened her posture, her voice ready.
The High Priest began the sacred words:
"I, Padmé Naberrie, do solemnly swear..."
Padmé echoed firmly.
"I, Padmé Naberrie, do solemnly swear..."
"...that I will faithfully execute the office of Queen of Naboo..." [The High Priest]
"...that I will faithfully execute the office of Queen of Naboo..." [Padmé]
"...and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the sovereignty of Naboo..." [ The High Priest ]
"...and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the sovereignty of Naboo..." [Padmé]
"...uphold the freedom of our people, the prosperity of our world, and the peace of our star." [The High Priest]
"...uphold the freedom of our people, the prosperity of our world, and the peace of our star." [Padmé]
The hall fell utterly silent as Padmé finished the last words.
The High Priest lowered his tablet and stepped back respectfully.
"By the will of the people," he declared, . "and by the ancient traditions of Naboo,
I hereby declare you: Queen Amidala of Naboo."
The grand hall erupted into polite, controlled applause—the Naboo way.
No shouting. No wild cheers. Just refined, deliberate clapping filled with unspoken reverence.
Among those applauding, Senator Palpatine stood gracefully near the front, clapping his hands like a polite gentleman, his smile calm and calculated.
Beside him, Sio Bibble, one of Padmé's most loyal supporters, clapped firmly as well, his face full of genuine pride for the young queen.
Padmé, now officially Queen Amidala, descended the ceremonial steps with slow, measured grace.
As she reached the floor, Palpatine stepped forward, his hands folding neatly behind his back.
"We meet again, Queen Amidala," he said smoothly.
Padmé offered a polite bow of her head.
"We rarely meet, Senator," she said with formality. "But I am grateful for your help and guidance."
She hesitated for a moment, then glanced around the large chamber, her voice dropping slightly.
"By the way... where are my parents?"
Palpatine's face remained composed as he answered without hesitation.
"They could not attend today," he said. "I'm sure you understand...
There is a division between the lower nobility and the higher houses.
Attendance at the coronation was... restricted."
Padmé's heart sank a little, though she kept her face neutral for the public eye.
So even here... even now... class divides everything.
She forced a small smile, even as a hollow ache opened inside her chest.
At least... maybe one familiar face would come to greet me, she thought sadly.
Even those strange but kind individuals—the male and female who gave me the cake.
As if summoned by her longing, Padmé noticed something odd.
Just beside the table near the steps—on a pristine white cloth—sat a new Theed Cream Cake, carefully placed, untouched.
Frosted carefully on top were the simple words:
"Follow the cake outside."
Padmé blinked in confusion, then turned toward Senator Palpatine, her voice low and cautious.
"Senator... did you know who put this here?"
Palpatine, following her gaze, frowned slightly.
"Wait—why is there a cake here?" he said, his tone measured but uneasy.
Before either could investigate further, Captain Panaka's voice suddenly barked across the chamber, sharp and alert.
"Perimeter breach!" Panaka shouted. "Someone is attempting to assassinate the new Queen!"
Immediately, Naboo Royal Guards drew their weapons, forming a tight protective wall around Padmé .
Tension rippled through the entire hall.
As the guards tightened their circle, the cake itself shimmered and new words appeared across its surface, written as if by invisible hands:
"Just like months ago, you have a choice. You can make the crowds go away... or not.
Now it's the same. Follow the cake outside. If not, this will be our last conversation."
Padmé stared at the cake, her heart pounding. Her mind raced—yet instinctively, another thought slid quietly into place.
Morgan... is it you? she wondered.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
Beside her, Sio Bibble stepped forward, bowing his head urgently.
"My Queen," he said in a low voice, "I suggest you do not allow yourself to be provoked.
Your safety must remain our first priority."
The guards nodded silently in agreement, awaiting her order.
But Padmé's eyes never left the cake.
"If the intruder truly wanted to kill me," Padmé said calmly, her voice strong, "they would have already done it."
She took a deep breath. "I'm stepping outside."
Immediately, Captain Panaka stepped forward, his posture rigid and protective.
"I will allow it, Your Majesty," Panaka said firmly, "but only if I accompany you."
Senator Palpatine smiled tightly, ever the politician, stepping forward as well.
"I, too, must insist on accompanying you," he said smoothly. "I support your cause, and your safety is of the utmost importance."
Yet behind that composed smile, Palpatine's mind raced furiously.
This is not part of the plan at all... And why do I have the feeling... that once again... I'm about to be played? .Just like those years ago... by the hand of the Shadow Monarch... and Yogumunt.
The memory of the masked Monarch's mocking taunt at Malachor still lingered, buried deep within him.
Beside them, Sio Bibble bowed his head respectfully.
"I shall accompany you as well, My Queen," he said gravely. "We must ensure your safety at all costs."
Padmé simply nodded once, her expression calm but resolute.
With her protectors in tow, Padmé stepped outside into the open streets of Naboo.
The sun shone brightly.
At first, there was only one cake sitting quietly at the entrance—a simple, pristine Theed Cream Cake.
But as Padmé moved closer, something strange happened.
The cake shimmered briefly... and another cake appeared a few meters ahead, forming a clear, deliberate path.
Each time she stepped forward, another cake materialized, leading her further and further away from the palace.
A trail of Theed Cream Cakes...
Silent. Mysterious. Beckoning.
Palpatine, walking briskly beside her, narrowed his eyes in clear suspicion.
"It's a trap, Your Majesty," Palpatine warned smoothly. "Don't bother with it."
Padmé glanced at him, her voice unwavering.
"I am the Queen, am I not?" she said calmly. "It is my duty to understand every threat—including this one."
Palpatine hesitated, bowing slightly.
"...Yes, my Queen," he said tightly.
Beside them, Captain Panaka was already raising his wrist communicator.
"I need a squad," Panaka ordered crisply into the device. "Now."
Additional Naboo Guards began to mobilize, falling into formation, weapons ready as they cautiously advanced with the Queen.
Unfazed by the rising tension around her, Padmé continued forward, her steps steady, following the strange trail of cakes through the winding streets.
Finally, the path ended.
It led them to a familiar sight—a small open-air restaurant, tucked neatly along the polished streets of Theed.
The same place, Padmé realized, where she had met those two mysterious individuals months ago... the ones who had given her the Theed Cream Cake when she needed it most.
And there they were again. Sitting calmly at a table beneath the restaurant's shaded awning, Morgan and the mysterious male she still didn't know by name.
Morgan, now dressed elegantly in businesswoman attire, crossed one leg over the other, her expression amused and relaxed.
The man—still in his usual casual, but slightly imposing clothing—sat beside her, seemingly indifferent to the attention.
Seeing them, Captain Panaka immediately stepped forward, his hand reaching toward his weapon.
"By the authority of Naboo's justice and for the safety of our citizens," Panaka declared sharply, "you are under—"
Before he could finish, Sio Bibble abruptly raised his hand, cutting him off.
"Stop! Stop!" Sio Bibble barked.
"Put that away, Captain."
Panaka froze, confusion clear across his face.
Sio Bibble stepped forward, his voice firm but respectful.
"Captain, these two are not criminals," Sio Bibble said.
"They are the leaders of the Purple England Company—the group that traded with us months ago when the sudden winter struck Naboo."
He turned , addressing the entire entourage.
"They supplied us with rare ores, food, and medicine... at prices far lower than anyone else.
Without them, many of our citizens would have suffered during the cold season."
Sio Bibble turned back toward the two seated figures, giving a small, respectful bow.
"Sir Jin-Woo. Miss Morgan. It is an honor."
Jin-Woo simply leaned back in his chair, his voice smooth and detached.
"What do you think, Governor?" Jin-Woo said lazily. "Can you give me a review about my merchandise?"
Sio Bibble smiled faintly, nodding with genuine respect.
"It's been very helpful," he said. "Many of the supplies you provided were of the highest quality. They saved countless lives during the winter months."
Before any more could be said,
Padmé stepped forward, her face a careful mask of formality.
"I could still put you both under arrest," she said, her voice stern.
Jin-Woo tilted his head lazily.
"But somehow," he said, amused, "you're the one who kept following the cake trail without hesitation. Shouldn't more questions be asked of you... not us?"
Morgan smirked, resting her elbow lightly on the table.
"You're still the same crybaby girl who just wanted cake," Morgan said casually.
For a moment, the tension cracked.
Padmé couldn't help it—she let out a small, stifled laugh. "Hehe..."
And before anyone could stop her, she rushed forward and hugged them both tightly.
"I missed you both," Padmé said warmly. "My troublemakers."
Jin-Woo glanced down awkwardly, arms slightly raised at his sides.
"Umm... this is a little awkward," he muttered. "You're the Queen now... and your army is watching you hug like a toddler."
The Naboo guards stood stiffly nearby, pretending not to notice, though a few were clearly struggling to maintain straight faces.
The warm moment, however, did not last long.
Senator Palpatine stepped forward smoothly, his voice slicing into the scene like a knife.
"If I may ask," Palpatine said with his usual false politeness, "how exactly did you make those cakes appear out of thin air?"
Padmé, realizing the atmosphere had shifted, quickly stepped back and let them go.
Morgan, without missing a beat, tapped her finger lightly on the table, flashing a fake polite smile toward Palpatine.
But inside her mind, darker thoughts stirred coldly.
Should I roast you alive first... or Plagueis first?I'm very tempted.
Jin-Woo leaned back lazily, then finally spoke.
"Opera workshop, Senator," he said casually.
He activated his holo-device with a small flick of his hand.
The projector displayed a screen for everyone to see: it showed how a simple optical cloaking device had been masking the cakes, making them invisible to the naked eye.
The cakes had always been there—hidden in plain sight.
"I have to admit," Jin-Woo added lazily, "it took me some time to plant the device properly."
Before anyone could react further, Padmé, unable to resist herself, grabbed one of the nearby cream cakes and threw it straight at Jin-Woo's face.
Jin-Woo, unfazed, casually tilted his head to the side, letting the cake fly past harmlessly.
Padmé huffed in mock frustration.
"Why is Morgan allowed to throw things at you but I'm not?" she demanded.
Jin-Woo simply smirked, answering without hesitation.
"Because you're not one of my wives."
Padmé , mouth slightly open, stunned.
For a few seconds, she simply stood there, unable to respond.
This Handsome candidate... has already been taken...
A small, unexpected pang of sadness pricked at her heart.
Meanwhile, Palpatine, seizing the slight tension, stepped forward smoothly.
Palpatine said , "I would like to speak to one of you gentlemen privately... particularly the one named Morgan."
"As a Senator, I wish to inquire about purchasing more merchandise from your group."
Jin-Woo, without outward reaction, simply kept his arms crossed.
Inside, however, his mind sharpened instantly.
He's desperate. He wants to know if she's connected to Yogumunt... or the Shadow Monarch.
Morgan, still seated calmly, gave a slight, knowing smile—a smile just a little too sharp to be fully polite. "Sure , Senator," .
Morgan stood gracefully and walked with Palpatine toward another table, not far, but distant enough that their conversation could not be overheard.
Padmé, meanwhile, moved and sat gracefully opposite of Jin-Woo, slipping naturally into her regal posture.
Her expression shifted into her full Queen Amidala persona—calm, composed, mature beyond her years.
"Thank you," Padmé said formally, "for helping our citizens during the repressive times."
Jin-Woo simply leaned back slightly, his tone casual.
"You're welcome."