Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.
Uncle
You never thought you'd be a father.
Life on Tatooine was hard enough and while you loved your life, you admitted its difficulties and sometimes worried you would make enough to secure your future and Beru's. A child's welfare was something else entirely. Visitors came irregularly, trips to town special occasions. How would they make friends? Where would a child go to school? You knew nothing of these matters, you worried about the distance to a decent doctor should one of you fall ill, there were many dangers present.
But when Obi-Wan Kenobi brought you the baby, you took him into your home without hesitation. And though you held him through his sleepless nights, read him stories, gave him piggyback rides when you should have been working, something inside you knew you were not a father.
You cared for the boy, you loved him deeply, but children mystified you. When Luke would ask if some fantasy could be real, you were honest with him, whatever the answer was. Sometimes you disappointed him, his vast imagination overshadowed yours, and you could not keep up. You saw Luke's friends and allowed them to stay at times, but while Beru enjoyed their company, when they left, you felt relief. Your failures to be everything Luke needed wedged you further apart.
You made sure he knew that you were not his father because you felt he deserved better. Yet you felt he did not deserve Anakin as a father either. Or more accurately, Anakin did not deserve to be Luke's father. Anakin had failed him too, even more so than you did. You played with Luke, you tried to encourage him but still keep him grounded. Anakin had left Luke. So you gave him the ghost of the father figure he should have had. It might have been a lie, but truly, the fantasy was better than the reality.
Life on Tatooine was hard enough.
You were not a father.
When the Stormtroopers arrived and questioned you, questioned Beru, beat you both, your first thought was of Luke.
You had been annoyed at him in the morning. He had work to do. You had not raised him to skip off like this.
But oh, oh were you glad at that moment that you were not his father, that Beru was not his mother. His father had given him enough restlessness; enough impulsivity that whatever whim had drawn him out in the morning had spared him. Though he would mourn and cry for you, he would live. And that was all you needed to stand up to the Empire. For Luke's life, you would give anything.
And as your flesh burned, as you died, as you breathed your last, you were happy you were not Luke Skywalker's father. You were someone better.
You were Luke Skywalker's uncle.