**Chapter 680: Shadows in the Senate**
**Scene 1**
**Coruscant, Senate Apartments**
**Padmé Amidala POV**
It had been another long, exhausting day in the Senate. Hours of debates on war funding, relief efforts for devastated Outer Rim worlds, and the fragile hope of peace talks that felt more like theater than genuine diplomacy. Padmé Amidala stepped into her private apartment, the weight of the galaxy pressing on her shoulders. The familiar scent of Nabooian flowers from the small balcony garden did little to ease the ache in her chest.
She missed Anakin terribly.
Since two weeks before the scheduled peace conference — when the Jedi Temple had gone into total lockdown — he had ceased all personal communication. Even seeing him was impossible now. He was stationed on Kamino, overseeing clone operations, and all contact was restricted to official military channels only. Padmé hadn't realized how much their secret marriage sustained her until it was forced into silence.
"Threepio, ready dinner. I'll freshen up," she called softly, slipping off her senatorial robes and heading toward the refresher.
A calm, deep voice answered from the shadows instead. "Your dinner is already made. Hope you don't mind I made myself comfortable."
Padmé froze. Before she could react, a wave of Force energy locked her in stasis. Her body went rigid, heart hammering as Dagon Marek stepped out of the darkened corner, his white hair catching the low light, crimson-black eyes glowing faintly.
"Now, now, don't panic," Dagon said calmly, his voice smooth but commanding. "Lest you forget our agreement… I now own you. Understand?"
He moved closer, his fingers brushing her wrist and neck with surprising gentleness as he removed a small tracking device and a hidden communicator — both so discreet she hadn't even known they were there. Likely planted by her handmaidens for "protection."
"Where is Threepio?" Padmé managed to whisper once the stasis loosened enough for speech.
"Oh, that droid? I didn't like him, so I sent him to the scrap pile," Dagon said with a small, teasing smile.
"No…" Padmé whispered, horror flashing across her face.
"Just kidding," Dagon chuckled softly. "He's powered off in the corner. Really, come and eat. I prepared it especially for you."
**Scene 2**
**Coruscant, Senate Apartments**
**Padmé Amidala POV**
As much as Padmé wanted to hate Dagon Marek, she couldn't deny one thing: the man was an incredible cook.
The meal he had prepared was exquisite — a perfectly seared steak with a rich Nabooian herb sauce, a warm soup infused with subtle spices, and a flaky pie that tasted like heaven. Each bite melted on her tongue, flavors dancing in ways she had rarely experienced even in the finest Senate banquets. She had never met anyone with such a gift for cooking.
"I assume you're wondering how a person like me could be so gifted at cooking," Dagon said, sitting across from her with his own plate, watching her with those intense eyes.
"Yes," Padmé admitted, setting down her fork. "And more importantly, why you broke into my apartment. I get what happened during the peace negotiations, but I didn't expect such a… reaction. And you being a hero — saving Coruscant, which I recall is the second time. Anakin told me about the bomb under the Temple."
Dagon leaned back, his expression softening slightly. "Look, I get it. You hate me because I represent the exact opposite of your ideals. But I'm doing everything you never could — ending corruption, liberating worlds, achieving in months what you, as a senator for years, could never have done without a war."
It frustrated Padmé deeply. She wanted to argue, to defend her beliefs in diplomacy and peace, but the words caught in her throat. Dagon wasn't wrong about the results, even if his methods terrified her.
"You're still in the peace faction, it seems," Dagon continued. "I thought that wasn't in our agreement. You were supposed to leave and join the Chancellor's side."
Padmé looked down at her plate, frustration and conflict warring inside her. "What could I do? And what would you do? I can't abandon my friends after so much… even though I know what you will do."
Dagon's gaze softened. "Relax. I'm not going to do anything drastic. I've got Corellia with me, and soon I'll have Kuat. But I might need Naboo itself — probably a shipyard. Anyway, the main reason I'm here is you need to contact a certain former friend. Rush Clovis is conspiring with the Separatists through the normal hidden methods. Basically, between the Banking Clan on Scipio and the Mygeeto Muun Banking Clan to fund new factories on Geonosis."
Padmé's eyes widened. Rush Clovis… her old friend from Scipio. They had been close once — very close. Shared dinners, late-night discussions on economics and reform. There had even been a brief romantic spark before Anakin entered her life. The idea that he was working with the Separatists hurt more than she expected.
"I… I'll do it," Padmé said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'll contact Rush. If he's truly involved, I need to know why. And if I can stop this before it escalates…"
Dagon nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Good. I knew you'd agree. Just be careful. Clovis is playing a dangerous game."
Padmé met his gaze, conflicted emotions swirling — anger at his methods, reluctant respect for his results, and the strange pull of his presence. "You really believe the ends justify the means, don't you?"
Dagon's crimson-black eyes held hers. "When the galaxy is burning, sometimes the only way to save it is to become the fire."