C227 Heroines Clash

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Anakin's bright, eager eyes fixed on Peter as he stood in the doorway, his excitement palpable. "Is it true?" he repeated, his voice almost trembling.

Peter leaned back in his chair, his eyebrow raised. "Is what true?"

Anakin took a step closer, practically bouncing on his toes. "Are you… Star-Lord?!"

Peter blinked, caught off guard by the boy's enthusiasm. 'I guess everyone knows now…' he thought, a certain loud-mouthed raccoon and idiot, playboy, genius, philanthropist coming to mind.

"Yeah, kid," Peter said, a small, resigned smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm Star-Lord."

Anakin's face lit up, his grin stretching ear to ear as he practically shouted, "I knew it! I don't know how, but I had a feeling it was you! I've heard so many stories about you! You're amazing!"

Peter chuckled, the boy's energy was contagious. "Stories, huh? What kind of stories are we talking about here?"

Anakin launched into an animated explanation, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement. "Stories about how you defeated the Hutt Clans in Knowhere! How you freed all those slaves! You're a hero—my hero! I've looked up to you ever since I first heard your name!"

Peter's smirk softened into a more genuine smile. He hadn't realized just how far his reputation as Star-Lord had spread—or how much it meant to someone like Anakin. It was humbling, in a way, to know that his actions had made a difference to someone.

"Well," Peter said, leaning forward with a wink, "glad to know I've got a fan."

"Let me join your crew!" Anakin blurted out.

"Huh?" Peter grunted, caught off guard by the sudden request.

Seeing that Peter didn't respond how he hoped, Anakin suddenly dropped to his knees. "Please, let me join your crew!"

Peter blinked, unsure how to handle a pleading child. "Whoa, whoa, hold on a second, okay? Get up. Get up."

Anakin refused to budge, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "It's my dream to fight alongside you! To travel the galaxy and make a difference! I want to be someone great, like you!"

Peter sighed, trying to find a way to gently turn the kid down. "Look, Anakin, I get it. But you're what—four? Five? I admit, you're mature for your age. Slavery will do that to you, but you're still a little young to be traveling the galaxy with me. It's dangerous out there."

"I'm not too young!" Anakin insisted, his voice rising with desperation. "I'm smart! I know machines better than anyone! I'm a good pilot, and I learn quickly! I can help you!"

Peter shook his head, though his tone was gentle. "I'm sure you're great at all those things, Anakin. But this isn't just about you—it's about your mom, too. Are you just going to leave her behind? And how do you think she'd feel about her son running off to join a dangerous stranger who she barely knows?"

Anakin faltered, his gaze dropping. "She'd understand," he said quietly. "She'd want me to fulfill my dream. Besides, she can come with us. This ship is big enough, right?"

Peter looked down at the boy, his expression growing thoughtful as he studied Anakin, weighing his next words carefully.

Anakin Skywalker. The Chosen One. A boy with incredible potential in the Force. Peter knew everything from his past life, the tragic rise and fall of Anakin. He could feel the boy's immense power in the force even now, barely restrained, like a dam waiting to burst.

Anakin wasn't wrong about his abilities—Peter could sense the raw potential, the intelligence, and the hunger for something greater. But he also sensed the danger. The boy's desperation, his intense emotions, the longing to prove himself… it was all there, just like the movies.

'He's got everything he needs to become great,' Peter thought. 'But he's also got everything he needs to become terrible as well...' An image of Darth Vader surfaced in his mind, menacing and filled with hate.

Peter felt a pang of responsibility. If he took Anakin under his wing, he might be able to guide him—to help him avoid the mistakes that led to the dark path he followed in the movies. But if Peter failed…

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was a choice he couldn't take lightly. "Look, I'm not saying no, okay? But if we're gonna even consider this, I need to talk to your mom first. This is a big decision, and I can't make it without her input."

Anakin's face fell, and he looked like he was about to protest, but Peter cut him off with a raised hand. "I'm not saying no," Peter repeated firmly. "I'm just saying we need to do this the right way. Got it?"

Anakin hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly before he nodded. "Okay… I understand."

Peter reached out, placing a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hey, chin up, kid. We'll figure it out."

Anakin managed a small smile, though the disappointment lingered in his eyes. "Thanks, Star-Lord."

Peter watched as Anakin turned and left the room, his excitement tempered but not extinguished. Once the door closed, Peter let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Great," he muttered to himself. "As if my life wasn't complicated enough."

He sat back down for a moment, letting the weight of the past few days settle over him. Between the war, the Jedi, and now Anakin's request, he felt like he was juggling a dozen different crises.

But he knew he couldn't sit around forever. He still had a mess to deal with—namely, the three women in his life who were all undoubtedly furious with him.

Pushing himself to his feet, Peter headed for the door, muttering under his breath, "Time to face the music…"

He strode down the hallway, his destination clear in his mind: Padmé's living quarters.

————

Meanwhile…

Padmé strode through the gleaming halls of Atlas, her steps quick and purposeful. Her mind raced, fueled by frustration, hurt, and determination. The Trade Federation had been eradicated, and her planet was free once more. But with the war behind her, a more personal battle had come into focus—her feelings for Peter and the revelation that she wasn't the only one vying for his heart.

She found Natasha and Mikaela in one of the ship's common areas, seated together on a sleek couch. They appeared to be deep in discussion, their voices low and their expressions serious. The sight only stoked Padmé's anger further.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped into the room. "We need to talk," she announced, her tone sharp and commanding.

Natasha and Mikaela turned toward her, their eyes narrowing slightly. Natasha leaned back, her arms crossing over her chest in a casual but guarded posture. Mikaela raised an eyebrow, her expression already brimming with irritation.

"Do we?" Natasha asked coolly, tilting her head slightly. "Because I don't think there's much to say."

"Oh, I think there is," Padmé retorted, her voice steady but laced with anger. "I want to know how you can possibly justify sharing Star-Lord."

Natasha's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "That's none of your business," she said calmly. "Especially since, from what I can tell, you don't even know his real name. Or what he looks like under that mask."

Mikaela, never one to hold back, snorted. "Yeah. Come talk to us when you actually know who he is. Until then, maybe keep your distance."

Padmé's cheeks flushed with anger at their words, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "I may not know everything about him yet," she shot back, her tone heated, "but that doesn't change the fact that I love him. And I refuse to share him with anyone—especially the two of you."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her expression calm but with an edge of steel. "You can refuse all you want, Queenie. It doesn't change the fact that we're not going anywhere."

"Yeah," Mikaela added, her voice blunt and cutting. "We're not exactly thrilled that he hid you from us, but we've already begrudgingly accepted each other. And we're not stepping aside just because you decided to show up out of nowhere."

Padmé glared at them, her composure slipping as her frustration bubbled over. "You speak as if you own him," she said, her voice rising slightly. "He doesn't belong to you."

'He belongs to me…' She wanted to say.

Natasha's smirk returned, though her eyes remained sharp. "He has the freedom to make his own choices, and nothing you say or do will drive him away from us. Or us from him."

Padmé faltered slightly at Natasha's words, but she quickly recovered. "I don't care," she snapped. "I won't share him. I—"

"You don't have a choice," Mikaela interrupted, her tone cutting. "If you think you can just waltz in here and make us leave, you're dreaming. We've been with him longer than you have, and we're not going anywhere."

Padmé clenched her jaw, struggling to maintain her queenly authority. "I may be new to this, but my feelings for Peter are just as valid as yours. He deserves someone who loves him completely, not two women who are content to split his attention."

Natasha's expression hardened slightly, her voice growing colder. "You think this is easy for us? You think we don't want him all to ourselves? Trust me, sharing isn't exactly my favorite thing. But it's the price we pay to be with him."

Mikaela nodded, her tone more serious now. "If you can't handle that, then maybe you should step aside. Because we're not going to."

Padmé opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. Despite her anger, their united front left her feeling flustered and vulnerable in a way she wasn't used to. She prided herself on her composure and strength, but this confrontation had shaken her.

Natasha delivered the final blow, her voice calm but firm. "Peter loves all of us, Padmé. And as much as it pains me to admit, that includes you. But this isn't going to work if you can't accept that. So, you need to decide—are you willing to share him, or are you going to lose him altogether?"

Padmé's chest tightened at Natasha's words, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Without another word, she turned and strode out of the room, her steps quick and unsteady.

As she walked away, their words echoed in her mind. She hated how right they were—how much their confidence and unity had thrown her off balance. She wanted to hate them, to see them as her enemies. But the truth was more complicated.

Deep down, she knew they were right. Peter had already made his choice. The question now was whether she could accept it.

Her hands tightened into fists as she walked down the corridor, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She loved Peter, but was her love strong enough to endure sharing him?

For the first time in a long time, Padmé didn't know the answer.

…

Storming into her quarters aboard Atlas, Padmé's emotions swirled in a storm of frustration, anger, and confusion. The argument with Natasha and Mikaela still echoed in her mind, their words cutting deep despite her best efforts to brush them off. She felt torn between her love for Peter and the painful reality of the situation.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as the urge to release her emotions overtook her. Her gaze darted to the nearby table, and for a moment, she considered grabbing the nearest object and hurling it against the wall. Anything to vent the turmoil she felt inside.

But before she could act, a voice spoke softly behind her, carrying a familiar mix of warmth and humor. "You know, breaking my stuff isn't going to solve anything."

Padmé froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned toward the sound of the voice, her eyes narrowing in confusion. Sitting casually on the edge of her bed was a man she didn't recognize, his posture relaxed and his arms resting on his knees.

Her eyes widened slightly as she took him in. He was dressed in his usual gear—leather jacket and casual attire—but the face was unfamiliar. Yet, there was something about him. Something familiar in the way he sat, in the tone of his voice.

The man smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he watched her expression shift between confusion and recognition. "What?" he teased. "You don't recognize me without the mask?"

Padmé's heart skipped a beat as realization struck her like a lightning bolt. "Star-Lord?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned back slightly, his smirk widening. "Actually, it's Peter. Peter Quill."

A/N: 2154 words :) also, just saying, the next chapter is over 5000 words. So, tomorrows chapter should be good!

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