What it means to be a Skywalker
In those moments, standing quietly in the darkness, I wasn't sure why my mind was wandering. First to Han, then Chewie and finally to Leia. My twin sister. You knew, father, because you wanted to know. When you said she would be turned, then I knew I had to take action.
"Never!" I cried, igniting my emerald lightsaber in hate. Clashing with your ruby red blade. The electric charge sparking and producing the acrid smell of ozone. You were right, hate was powerful.
And I felt that power coursing through my body. Every muscle responding to it's whim. My eyes narrowed and fixed on you, dressed in your protective armor. It had been too long since you had felt the real world. The cool air drifting across your skin and the sun warming you. My hate grew as I drove you back again and again. Unrelentless in my pursuit of an inevitable end.
I didn't want you to do to Leia what I felt you and the Emperor would do to me. My only duty now, as her brother, was to make sure she was safe and you were dead. The anger swelled again as I pinned you against the railing. My blade sliced through your armor. Finally piercing the outer casing of you and who you claimed to be.
As I realized what I had done, the truth came to me. It was a flash. A moment of clarity amidst the hateful feelings in my soul. In that moment, I knew that I had never realized prior to encountering you this way. We weren't really all that different. You had merely taken a path I was unable to follow you on. Although my hand was the only mechanical part of my body, my hate at the moment was the same as yours.
It scared me. I could feel my mouth drying and my heart was racing. Not just from combat, but from the realization. It wouldn't be too hard to fall into step behind you on the same path. It was easier then I could have possibly imagined.
Yes, I was a jedi, like my father before me, but wasn't it time for me to change exactly what it meant to be a Skywalker?