A/N: Someone asked me if we could have some chapters of PEACE, so I'm here to announce that the next couple of chapters coincidentally are all about peace and bonding and fluff and cuteness and all those things lmao
Secondly, somebody else also pointed out that Luke's cussing in the previous chapter was a little weird and ooc, so I've decided to bring my insight into it: yes, Luke emwas/em supposed to be out of character, he wasn't himself, because he had just learned the unbearable truth that Ben Kenobi had betrayed him. Luke was mad, Luke was heartbroken, Luke didn't know how to express himself properly without a cuss word here and there. Then again, if you have your own opinion on this, then do let me know!
When Padmé once again woke up in the middle of the night to merciless knocks against her door, her immediate thought was — not again.
Then, a frown took over her face. If her short stay at the rebel headquarters had proved her anything — rebellion fighters valued their sleep above anything. If someone was knocking on her door during the dawn, then it could only mean bad things.
It reminded her of the Clone Wars.
She quickly jumped to her feet and grabbed her robe, pulling it tight over her nightgown. The door hissed open and, like a deja vu, Padmé saw one of her children standing in front of her.
Luke. With his arms wrapped around himself and his cheeks red, as if he had been crying. Her heart ached at the image of him there, so small and vulnerable.
"Luke?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go. What to do," Luke said, his voice lower than a whisper — hoarse and tired. Like he had just lost a battle to himself.
"You don't have to apologize," Padmé quickly assured, stepping aside, "Come on in."
Still, he looked a little uncertain. "Is Ameera there? I don't want to bother even more than I already am."
"You're not a bother, Luke," she said in her usual sweet tone. "Ameera's off-planet. You can come in."
Although he seemed to struggle with the idea a little more, he caved in — after all, he had gone to her. Turning back wasn't an option anymore. He came in, feeling a little awkward to be there until Padmé placed her hand on the small of his back and his tension escaped him.
"What's troubling you, Luke? I'm here."
He shook his head relentlessly; it was silly, it was stupid, it was ludicrous—
It was how he felt.
"My whole life has been a lie, Padmé," he confessed, his words shaking. "I… I don't think I know who I am anymore."
Padmé stepped in front of him; he was looking down, but, considering how small she was next to him, it didn't matter. "Your trajectory in life doesn't dictate the person that you are. You make the choices for yourself — and you've chosen to be this kind, selfless, beautiful young man. Nobody gets to steal that from you."
Once again, the young Jedi felt tears cornering in his eyes. "They already stole everything else."
Looking at him a little funny, Padmé instructed that he should sit down on her bed. It was warm and cluttered, and Luke wondered if that was how a mother's bed should feel like when a young child rushed into their parents' bedroom in the middle of the night for frivolous issues that naturally scared children.
He wondered if his issue was also frivolous. He hoped that Padmé, his mother, would help him with that.
"I just saw Ben Kenobi," he said, anxiously keeping his arms to himself. "For the last time, I think."
Padmé simply gazed at him. She wasn't aware of the phenomenon that allowed Force Ghosts to be, and she knew better than to comment on things she didn't know about.
"I thought I would be sadder that I'm never seeing my mentor again," he rambled, a little guiltily. "I can't. Not after the things he told me. I have no empathy for him anymore."
"I don't think that's true, Luke," Padmé inferred, gently rubbing his forearm up and down. "I think you still care deeply for Obi-wan, and that makes it hurt even more than it should."
Luke looked at her again, his eyes somehow bluer than the usual. "Is that how you feel about Anakin? Knowing that he became Vader, and did all those terrible things?"
"Y-yes," she replied, a little hesitant because — nothing ever was that simple. She hated Vader as much as she loved Anakin. "Obi-wan never fell to the Darkside, Luke. Whatever he's done… I'm certain it is justified."
"It's not," Luke imposed, strongly, unlike his entire composure so far. "Nothing would ever justify someone willingly robbing a mother of their children."
Padmé all but stopped breathing. She could no longer move, and her fingers rigidly held to Luke's arm. Her heart pounded inside of her; no, that couldn't be true, Obi-wan was her friend…! He wouldn't—
"I'm sorry, mother," he said, softer than before, although it was unclear whether he said it because he sensed the sudden shift in her emotions or for his reasons. "I—I didn't want to believe it either."
When she didn't respond, Luke turned around towards her and threw himself towards her, in a tight embrace. Comforting her as much as her presence comforted him. Startled as she was — Padmé held him back.
"It isn't fair, mother," he spoke against her hair, unsure of how much more he would be able to keep himself together. "I could have had you my entire life. They stole that from me. From us."
"We have each other now," she replied, her voice betraying her. Trying to convince him as much as she tried to convince herself. "That should be enough."
He did his best not to shook his head — it wasn't. It might have been before either of them learned that they had been purposefully been kept about, but the realization hurt. It made them weep for all the things they could but would never have.
"I needed so badly to believe that Ben, nor Yoda, wouldn't do this. Wouldn't be so heartless," he choked on his words. "I wanted to believe in the good in people. Once again, I've suffered the consequences."
"Oh, Luke," Padmé cried, pulling apart just enough to cup his face and kiss his forehead tenderly, with several little pecks of love. "That's who you are. Nobody can steal you of your capability for love, for forgiveness, for good. Not even those who have hurt you the most."
"I don't like being like this," he confessed, tightly. "People take advantage."
With her thumbs, she wept his first tears away. "They do. They will, so long as you breathe. But that shouldn't be a reason for you to change the essence of your being. Because of this essence of yours… It makes you better than all those that have abused their power towards you."
She thought of her tragedies, and how nobody had even bothered to tell her that her children were alive, although she would never see them again. She would have much rather that knowledge — she would willingly give them up if she thought it would keep them safer. Instead, nobody had given her the benefit.
"It's so hard. I'm tired of being hurt," Luke said, struggling to look at her for more than a few seconds at a time. "My heart breaks at the notion that so many lives were shattered, destroyed, all because a few individuals decided they could orchestrate fate."
Padmé felt shivers running down her body; her face became white. "What did Obi-wan tell you, Luke?"
Bravingly, Luke removed her hands from his face and brought them to his chest, close to his heart. Assuring both of them that they were alive.
"That the medical droid told him that you were dead, but he felt you alive. He saw it as a sign of the Force and chose to believe you were dead. He didn't care about you, or Leia and I. We saw a chance to turn us into his pawns — pawns of the Force — and for that, I will never forgive him."
Padmé looked at him with her kind and gentle eyes. "I think, Luke, that you're struggling so much because you already have."
"Not at all," he was astonished at her assertion, "I was an infant, and he took away everything that I needed. A mother, love and care—"
"You forgave Vader," she interrupted. "Despite all the evil he did, you forgave him. Why wouldn't you forgive the man that you looked up to, that committed one crime only in his life?"
Luke shook his head. "Ben hadn't fallen to the dark side. He did it in the name of the light."
Padmé sighed.
"Would you?" Luke asked, "Forgive him? Forgive Vader?"
"I will never forgive Vader," she confessed in a whisper. "Vader took you away from me as much as Obi-wan did."
Nodding, he felt good with her answer. Some things weren't meant to be forgiven — not even if they had been done in the name of the better good.
"I'm so mad, Padmé," he said, his eyes burning with the rage of his tears. "You were there, alive and healthy, and they killed you in your life and threw me in the middle of the desert with a man who didn't even want me! And then, I find myself jealous of Leia, because she was given to a family who wanted her, who loved and cared for her without an ounce of selfishness. They gave her everything, and I barely had any water to drink. And I hate myself for feeling like that because Leia is my sister, she's—she's my best friend, and it's not her fault! But couldn't they have kept at least one of us with you? Would that be too much to ask?"
Unprepared for the flow of his emotions so rapidly coming at her, Padmé found it hard to keep her composure. Because he was right — it wasn't fair.
"Beru loved you, Luke," Padmé reminded him, although — she couldn't speak for the dead woman. She only reiterated Luke's words to her, hoping they meant something to make a difference. "She gave you everything she could."
"But she wasn't my mother!" he yelled and flushed as soon as he heard himself. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I love Aunt Beru, and I'm thankful for everything that she did for me, but—"
"She wasn't your mother," Padmé smiled sadly.
"No," he conceded with an exhale. "Maybe because Uncle Owen never allowed her to be, but… She was my Aunt, and he was my Uncle. I was their foster child. I wasn't even entitled to their name."
She heard the pain in his voice, and it broke her heart. She wanted to free him of his sorrows, and the notion that she couldn't hurt more than a physical wound. "I'm sorry, Luke."
"The blame is not yours to take," he all but snapped, and the ruthlessness of it illustrated the depth of his rage. "You're the victim here. You were the one who suffered the most. You were left completely alone, without your children, without your husband. You were forgotten as you'd never mattered."
Padmé swallowed hard with this description; he was feeling everything that she forbade herself to feel.
"I'm sure Obi-wan offered you his reasons. An explanation."
"Yeah," Luke rolled his eyes. "All crap."
His statement caught her so by surprise that she — laughed. Snorted, and he was obliged to do the same.
"Try me."
With an exaggerated gasp, Luke threw his hands in the air. To encourage him, Padmé gestured for him to lie down — and he did, with his head on her lap, with little to no decor. They rarely ever expressed a physical relationship, in which they would be completely comfortable with it, but, being there, seeking his mother's comfort even at a grown age — it felt personal, it felt good, it felt right. It was everything that Luke ever dreamed of.
"He said he did it to keep us safe," he said with a mocking tone, "But I don't believe that. I was placed under my biological uncle's care, baring my father's name…! And Leia—Leia was adopted into the heart of the Empire, with Bail Organa inserted in the middle of Palpatine's political games…! We were never safe. Not like that."
"Weren't you?" Padmé instigated. "Nothing ever happened to you."
"I—" he stuttered. "Leia lost her entire world because of who she is."
"Yet, she lives," she said, a little selfishly. "Leia lost her homeworld because she refused to stand down to oppression. Alderaan is gone because of who Leia is — a fierce girl with too much fire inside of her. Not because, by blood, she's a Skywalker."
Luke remained silent.
"Sometimes, the greatest covers that exist are the ones that stare at you right in the face," she elaborated. "I say that because, many years ago, I deceived the Jedi with the simplest trick. I made fools out of them because they never glanced further than the obvious."
This time, Luke's eyes brightened with interest. "Do tell me, mother."
Padmé laughed at his enthusiasm, proceeding to tell him the story, while gently running her fingers through his golden hair.
"It happened a long time ago, back when I had just been appointed as the Queen of Naboo. The Trade Federation had sieged my home planet, and their leader wanted me to sign a treaty that would legitimize the invasion in the eyes of the Republic — well, politics, and I know how much you dislike politics, so I'll try to be brief."
"I don't dislike politics—I'd just rather leave them to the people who understand them," he said with a shrug. "Like you and Leia."
Padmé chuckled lightly at his assertion. "You always seem a little distant whenever your sister and I talk politics."
"That's because I fear for my life," he said with exaggeration. "You don't talk politics—you argue politics. I'm not crazy enough to get between you two, with my obtuse point of view nonetheless!"
This time, she laughed louder and freely.
"Well, then," she carried on, "Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-wan Kenobi came down to Naboo, to try to negotiate with the Trade Federation — and, much like myself, they weren't kindly received. They helped me escape, but our ship was badly damaged and we had to stop for repairs in Tatooine."
The sparks in his eyes went in a different direction. "Is there where you met my father?!"
"Indeed," she conceded with a nod, "You see, as a Nabooian Queen, I would always wear the most beautifully crafted dresses, the most exquisite hairstyles, and the most extravagant makeup. My face was painted in white, and I wore these hair apparatuses that were meant to the public eye, so they would stare at this unreachable image of me, instead of my face. It's meant so people that merely looking at appearances wouldn't be able to see past my appearance. It was impossible to lose me in a crowd, and, therefore, I was never unaccompanied. Part of my safety relied on my handmaidens, who were always by my side. My decoys, with whom I would offer trade places, so I would be able to gather information without being handed down like a Queen. Just a normal person, who would do everything in the name of the Queen — such as, for example, going off to explore Tatooine with Master Qui-gon while my decoy stayed behind, perfectly safe, pretending to be me."
He was smiling brightly like a fool, impressed. "And he fell for it?"
Padmé made a face. "Well—Qui-gon didn't, he sensed something was off when I kept asking too many questions, in the name of the Queen. But he went along with my story, which allowed me to fool everyone else — including Obi-wan Kenobi. You should have seen the look on his face when I revealed my true identity."
Luke felt warm at her story. Learning of his mother's history, and — he couldn't wait to tease Ben Kenobi about it. Until he remembered, and everything was cold again.
"That was really clever of you, mother."
Her expression, although still kind, fell in the slightest. "People—friends of mine died because of it. Protecting me, by pretending to be me. That's not something I take pride in."
"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely.
"Not your fault to take," she quipped, making his words from earlier hers. "What I'm trying to say is, Vader would never go looking for an heir in Tatooine because Anakin hated Tatooine. It was also universally known that Queen Breha couldn't conceive, so it didn't come as a shook that Bail Organa, who had been so deeply involved in the war, would rescue an orphan and bring them home, especially when the Organas had little to no connections to Anakin Skywalker. It was too obvious, and it saved both of you."
"Do you honestly believe it's that simple?" he provoked, staring up at her. "Do you think it makes up for what they did to you?"
"Nothing will ever make up for it," she confessed with a tight heart. "Learning that I could have at least known of you — it makes me sad, it makes me mad. But if there's one thing that I've learned ever since I arrived here is that no amount of begging or wishing will allow time to be rewritten. I want to be bitter about it, I want to grieve for it, I want to shout and cry. But you know what I've realized?"
Innocently, he asked, "What?"
"That dwelling on the mistakes of the past robs me of my time with you," she replied widely. "I'm not going to live forever, Luke, I don't know how much time I have left. I've already missed twenty-three years of you, I refuse to get so caught up in things that could have been so that I miss what I have now."
He tried to smile; instead, what he got was eyes full to the brim.
"You're not going to die."
Padmé made a face. "Luke, I know that you're almost 23, but do I need to give you the death talk?"
Her remark had been so sharp that it scared his tears away, making him laugh.
She beamed at him brightly, knowing that she could have cheered his spirits after he had come to her looking like he had lost the war. Her thumb caressed the skin of his forehead lovingly, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat from the vein throbbing against his temples.
It reminded her of life.
"I love you, Luke," she said hoarsely. "Don't ever forget that, even once I'm gone. You're the little boy that visited me in my dreams every right."
He smiled shyly. "I love you too, mother."
"You came here tonight saying that you didn't know who you were anymore," she said, "Bear in mind that knowing who you are doesn't come from finding where you come from. It comes from finding yourself. And I think you have, Luke. You found a place to make your stand, and you found people willing to stand with you. You don't do it for yourself, you do it because it's right, and you're willing to fall where you stand, if it comes to it. You don't need me, or Obi-wan, or Yoda, to remind you of who you are."
He was silent, shivering under her words.
"You already know."
His breathing was loud as he struggled to accept the words that had been given to him. In his self-consciousness, he turned to his side, evading looking at her in his discomfort while still under the safety of her gaze.
Although he stared at the blank wall, his eyes didn't focus there as he confessed, "I was going to turn myself in. For my war crimes."
Unlike his expectation, she didn't lose her posture. Luke sensed her tense in the Force, he felt the muscles of her legs rigid under his head, and her motions of tenderness froze mid-air. Yet, as much as she struggled with her emotions, her voice was calm and didn't betray her.
"What changed your mind?"
"I realized that I was running away. That I was backing from my responsibilities with this galaxy," he said, his thumb tracing invisible lines in the fabric over her knees.
And just like that — she could breathe again. If Luke had come to her and said that he was indeed going to turn himself in, she didn't think she'd react properly. She would have gone insane at the knowledge that she had just gotten him back to see him going away again. It was selfish, she knew as much, but she wasn't ready to let go of him. Not now, not ever.
"It takes a lot of courage to evade the easier path," she beamed, quietly.
"I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did," he replied sincerely, "I still think that I owe the galaxy for all the harm that I've brought to it, justified or not. But the only way I'll ever pay my debt is by staying here and fighting. Assuring the galaxy of the safety that we all gave our lives for, so long as I live."
In relief, her hand soothed his skin again.
"Leia helped me see that, anyway," Luke scoffed to himself. "She said the same thing that you just did. That I need to find a place to make a stand, my stand, instead of hiding behind my mistakes. Of course, It's Leia—she was a lot meaner and harsher than you, but I guess I needed to hear that, in her tone."
Padmé chuckled ruthlessly — yeah, sounded exactly like Leia.
"Your sister cares deeply for you, Luke," she said, "Don't ever forget that, either."
"I won't. I promise."
"Speaking of Leia," Padmé's tone changed all of sudden; from its warmth, it became distant. "Did Bail—When you talked to Obi-wan about the kidnapping, did you learn if Bail Organa knew of it as well?"
"He didn't," Luke was quick to provide. "Ben was quite clear about that. Bail never knew that you were still alive. Is that a good thing?"
"It is," Padmé smiled sadly. "You need to go tell Leia. She needs to know about this as well."
Although they had never mentioned it again, after their quarrel back that dinner night, Padmé knew very well that the idea still haunted Leia. From what she had gathered, both from the young princess and from little excerpts exchanged with Mon Mothma, Leia Organa worshipped her father in her adolescence — and her adolescence had barely ended when Bail Organa died. The wound was still fresh, and Padmé didn't doubt that the possibility of Leia's father having all but kidnapped an infant only hurt her more.
"Okay," he conceded, although he didn't move a muscle. "Do I need to go now?"
Padmé tilted her head, considering. Were she in the princess' shoes, she would have liked to know immediately, regardless of the inconvenience of the hours. Then again, it was the middle of the night, and they were all overdue to some extra hours of peaceful slumber after the events of the previous night.
"No, let her sleep," she came to a serene conclusion. "You can tell her in the morning."
"Alright," he replied, burying his head deeper into her lap — like a child ready to go to sleep. "Can I stay here for a little longer, though? I just—I don't really want to be alone right now."
She rested the palm of her hand against the curve of his neck, feeling his heartbeat pulsating. "Stay for as long as you need, Luke."
Smiling broadly to himself, Luke closed his eyes.
When morning came, Luke found himself entering the Millennium Falcon with coy steps.
He wasn't proud to say that he had fallen asleep on his mother's bed the previous night — well, maybe he was a little. He hadn't intended to, but the calming sound of her breathing and her gentle fingers muffling through his hair provided him a sensation of peace he couldn't quite explain. It was like everything he had dreamed of in his childhood, during those countless nights of poor sleep because he couldn't shake off the earning of having a mother and a father to look after him, like all his playmates.
Stop that, he scolded himself. There was no point dwelling in the past. He needed to learn to look only to the future.
He left Padmé asleep in Ameera's cot, considering he had stolen her bed. He didn't want to disturb her more than he already had, although he knew she didn't mind. She was as desperate as him to reconnect.
Still, it was too early when he sneaked out of her bunk, the first rays of sunshine just flicking through the dark halls of the rebel base. She could use a few extra hours of slumber; besides — she looked so peaceful that he wouldn't dare to disturb her.
It was early, and Luke couldn't have any material evidence that his sister was awake as well. Empirically, however — he tried to reach her with the Force and was met immediately with her shoving him out, demanding him to stick up his nose in affairs that belonged to him only. Empirically, she was very much awake.
Which was why he found himself pestering the privacy of the Falcon, looking for her. Or looking for Han, who could pinpoint where Leia was, in case she had already been up and running. Or looking for Chewie, who would tell him whether Leia and Han had spent the night aboard or not.
The being that first saw him, though, was so startled to see Luke there, unexpectedly, that they jumped high enough to have drops of the kaff on the cup in their hands fall to the ground.
"Sith, kid, a little warning next time," Han Solo scolded, looking down at the new stains in the ground and deciding to clear them away with his barefoot — which only ended with him slightly cursing under his breath when its steam burned the sole of his feet.
Luke gave him a look that said, "Very clever, Han," and then proceeded to ask for his sister's whereabouts.
"Yeah, she's here," Han agreed. "I wouldn't go to her just now, though. She's in a mood."
Luke frowned, then — that'd explain why she had so abruptly shut her mind from him, and he made a face of passive understanding.
"Did you have a fight?" he ingenuously asked, forgotten that couples didn't exactly enjoy others prying in their private relationship. By then, it was too late.
A little bit annoyed, Han crossed one of his arms across his chest, over his loose shirt, while the other hung the cup of kaff in the air. "No, we didn't."
"Okay," he conceded, with a small pout. "I'll just ask her, then."
Han rolled his eyes, "I just told you. She's in a mood, it's better to leave her alone."
With half a smirk, Luke pointed to his head, "It's okay. I'll just ask her here," and closed his eyes to fulfill his threat.
The smack that Han gave to his upper arm was all it took to bring him back. Han dared, "Don't do that. It's creepy."
Luke merely scoffed. "Come on, Han. Is Leia really moody or did you do something that made her angry at you?"
The glare of the smuggler said that he could never do anything wrong in his life. When Luke scoffed again, Han was obliged to give in. "We didn't—fight per se. She's just—Leia learned that I told Padmé that she wasn't fine and apparently that's the betrayal of the century."
Luke grimaced, "Well, did you?"
"I… Sorta? I don't know," Han stuttered, keeping his voice low so Leia wouldn't overhear him. "Remember, that catastrophic dinner happened and she brought Padmé to meet me, and when Leia was away making tea, we talked about Leia's refusal to talk. Something like that."
Suspiciously, Luke shot both his eyebrows up, "That was weeks ago."
Wrinkling his nose, Han nodded. "Yeah. Apparently, Padmé told Leia that I told her that, and Leia didn't exactly appreciate it."
"But you didn't fight 'per se'" he quoted those words with his fingers in the air.
"No. Not really," Han admitted. "It's just—a little tense, as of now. With everything happening."
"Everything?" Luke wondered, receiving a glance from Han's that meant everything, everything. From the political state of the galaxy to the smothering mother trying to mother her. Shrugging, Luke decided it was best to talk to her herself, and gave Han a pat in the shoulder as he passed by.
"Where are you going?" Han nearly shouted, not appreciative of the Jedi simply owing up to his ship. "I just told her, she's in a mood—"
"Yeah. With you," Luke replied, not bothering himself to turn around to face him again. "So long as you don't disturb our conversation, I believe we'll be fine."
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, Han went to find something broken to mend in the meantime — or something mended to break.
Luke found Leia sitting by herself at the hologame table. Distracted, lost within her own thoughts, that she only noticed his presence there when he sat next to her.
Rather than meeting him with tenderness, she only offered him a glare. "What are you doing here?"
He pretended to be hurt at her question. "Do I need a reason to visit my sister?"
"Yes," she merciless replied, her glare insistent. "I can't remember the last time you woke up so early. Not even when you're on duty you wake up this early."
Luke shot his shoulders up and down. "I was rested enough."
Which was true — he couldn't remember the last time he had slept so well, despite getting fewer hours of slumber than usual. Thanks to Padmé, he figured.
Not bothered enough to argue his assessment, Leia simply let it go, choosing to better spend her time by slowly sipping the cup of tea in her hand.
Unable to let her sit there in peace, Luke carried on, "How are you?"
"I'm good, Luke. How are you?"
Which, of course, was far from what he meant. His question had been genuine, and she met him with mocking and disdain. Lucky, her rebuke only brought an annoyed, brotherly grin to his face.
"I'm good, actually," he replied honestly, leaving all the sarcasm to his sister. "I wasn't feeling so well yesterday, but today… I am happy again."
"Good," she quipped quietly, the mug still warming her hands. "Sadness doesn't suit you. It paints your aura ignoble."
Luke looked at her with curiosity, although she still refused to meet his eyes. "I have an aura?"
Sighing to herself, Leia brought the mug back to the table. "Everybody has an aura, Luke."
"And you judge people based on their auras, for good or for worse."
"Worked so far," she visibly shrugged. "My mother always told me to trust my instincts."
He beamed broadly at that, realizing one second too late that — she wasn't talking about their mother. Only hers. That notion brought him to ask, "What is Padmé's aura like?"
She shouldn't have been surprised that the question would come from him; yet, she was. Leia didn't know how to answer him, to give him the satisfaction of the answer he wanted to hear, but because Padmé Naberrie remained the one person whose impression remained clouded under Leia's judgment. Not because she was a bad person — fair from that — but Leia's own aura endured conflict.
"Padmé is a good person, Luke," was all she managed to reply to in that regard. "You know that already."
He did. "I ask on your behalf. Because you were so quick to dismiss her when she first came into our lives, so I wondered if your reasons were founded on something you perceived from her aura."
"I have my own personal reasons," she referred to it in the present tense, because — she still had so much to overcome. "Do we need to talk about this again?"
"I guess not," he gave in, quickly throwing another matter into the table. "I heard you had a fight with Han."
She turned her eyes to him so abruptly that it startled him.
"Is that what he told you?!"
Luke cleared his throat; by now, he should have taken a hint to let Leia and Han deal with their issues on their own. "No—he was quite adamant that you didn't have a fight. Only that, hm, he did some stuff and you felt betrayed by it."
She looked at him so intensively that he felt naked under her eyes. "He didn't betray me. He broke my trust, and I forgave him."
He arched one of his brows, "How is that any different?"
"Han didn't betray me, because his intentions were good. Han, as always, did what he thought would be best for me. That's his only concern, my eudaimonia," she confessed with a tight heart, "But when I confide in Han, I expect him to respect our relationship, to respect me, and keep my sorrows to ourselves. I need to know that I can unconditionally trust Han, without having him run away to another person to rat out my issues the moment things get — rough."
He stared at her in discomfort, wondering what she had truly meant with that last sentence.
"But I forgave him. I told him, with dull words, that I forgave him," Leia made a gesture with her hand. "I don't know why he's running away from me, though."
In a small act of benevolence, Luke gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. Whether she appreciated his effort, he couldn't tell, but she didn't pull away. "Han is just trying to be helpful. I understand where your restraints come from, but all Han ever does is to look out for you. In the best way he can, even if it means doing something against your will."
He felt her shivering under his touch due to his last choice of words, and couldn't comprehend why.
Her voice became lower than before, "Han needs to understand that helping me doesn't mean he needs to fix me. All he needs to do to help me is to hold my hand when I need it the most."
Luke conceded with a small bow. "Well, have you told him that?"
Indecorously, Leia buried her chin on her hand. "No. I don't think I have."
"Do it, then," he brought his hand back to himself at last, "You can't expect something from Han that he isn't aware he's supposed to give."
"I guess," another deep exhale, and she concluded the focus of the conversation had rested on her for far too long. "You said you weren't having a good day yesterday."
"Yeah, about that," Luke became a little rigid on his seat and reminded himself to breathe. "That's why I'm here."
Leia gazed at him with suspicion, "You're not here to discuss another great idea of yours again, are you?"
He didn't need to be a genius to understand she was referring to his previous desire of turning himself in. "No, I've come to peace with that. You, and Padmé, helped me understand that I am bound to the galaxy by my duty."
Leia nodded, relieved to know as much.
"I came here because — Ben Kenobi visited me last night."
Her eyes widened at the prospect, but she remained composed. "Well, it was about time."
Luke scoffed lightly at it. "Yeah, well. We needed to talk, and—he gave me the answers to the questions that have been haunting me—us!—for a while now."
She didn't ask, only waited for him to find the peace within himself to recount the events of the previous night on his tempo.
"Leia, I come here bringing you this information hoping that it will make a difference. That it'll help you cope with whatever you need to," he started and noticed she stopped breathing next to him. "Ben Kenobi told me — he assured me — that Bail Organa didn't know that Padmé was still alive when he took you in. Your father—he didn't kidnap you, for a political cause. He chose to love you, and give you a home, and that was his only intention."
Her response was so unlike her usual demeanor that it caught him off guard. Leia took both her hands to her face, and hid herself completely. Trying to keep her emotions from him, he knew, but when her body started to slightly tremble, and when she choked a desperate sob — he understood the matter hurt her much more than she let on.
In his silence, the only comfort he could offer was the gentle touch of the Force.
"I'm sorry," she said after a while, regaining enough control of herself again to lower her hands. He saw her red eyes, and the single teardrop descending her cheek, and he didn't comment on it. "I'm sorry — Luke, I don't think you understand how much this means to me."
Luke reached out to touch her hand. "I understand more than you think."
She nodded vigorously. "Luke, I… My parents were everything to me. Growing up as a princess is lonely, and they were all I had. They were my world. The mere concept of being under their care, their comfort, because of acts of tyranny and mischief… I would never be able to forgive them."
For a moment, all they could hear was her loud breathing.
"I don't think I would have the strength to hate both my fathers."
A tight feeling came to his chest. Still, despite his discomfort, he didn't let go of her hand. "I'm relieved for you, Leia. The memories you have of them, of your childhood, can never be corrupted."
She smiled gratefully at him — a thin, sad smile, only enough for him to see the appreciation there.
"Sith, I'm sorry," she apologized again, rubbing the back of her free hand against her cheek and weeping her last teardrop away from existence. She sniffed, "What aren't you telling me?"
For a brief interlude, he wondered if he were an open book, or if she were so strong in the Force she had no issue reading him. "I'm afraid I can't say the same for me."
Leia glanced at him sideways, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he paused, gathering his thoughts. After talking to Padmé the previous night, he had accepted his past, but it didn't mean it was easy to acknowledge it. "Ben Kenobi knew that Padmé was alive, as he had felt her alive in the Force, and he chose to steal us from her anyway. In the name of the greater good."
He told her everything. Everything.
"That's fucked up," was all Leia managed to reply, her throat a little constricted. She felt bad because she couldn't share Luke and Padmé's pain. She had been blessed, she was given to parents who adored her, who gave her everything — she wouldn't trade that for anything.
He chuckled lightly, surprised at her sudden lack of eloquence. "Yeah. I can't tell what's harder, the struggle of not knowing or the pain of finally knowing the truth."
She opened her mouth to say that knowledge was always for the best, that knowledge made way for the upper hand. Then, she thought of Vader, and how she wished she had never learned she was his daughter and chose to remain silent.
"Did you know Ferus Olin?"
"What—" Leia frowned, confused at his abrupt change of subject. His coping mechanism, she figured. "Ferus who?!"
"Ferus Olin," he repeated, a little slower to make sure she got the name right.
Leia stared at him blankly, "Never heard that name before."
He made a face. "Are you sure? His name was Ferus Olin."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Luke, I'm sure. I am diplomatically conditioned never to forget a name or a face."
"You might have encountered Ferus Olin in your childhood," he insisted, "Before your diplomatic conditioning training whatever was completed."
Sometimes, she swore she could punch him. "Repeating his name won't make me suddenly remember him."
"It might," he tilted his head, and, to spite her, he said it again. "Ferus Olin."
"You can take Ferus Olin and shove him—"
Luke assumed she stopped herself before she said something obscene, something unworthy of a princess, but understood that wasn't the question when he saw the perplexed look across her face."
"Fess Ilee," she said in a whisper. Of course, it all made sense when she said Ferus Olin's name aloud and heard it for herself.
This time, it was Luke's turn to be clueless. "No, Leia. Ferus Olin."
"Fess Ilee," she said it again, to prove her point. "They're the same name."
"Is there any spice in your coffee?!" he jokingly accused. "They're different names."
"No, they're not—" she shifted in her seat to properly face him and enunciate pedagogically, "Fess Ilee."
"Repeating his name won't make me suddenly hear it," he mocked her by making her word his.
Rather than paying him any attention, she said it once again, "Fess Ilee. Ferus Olin. They're homonyms."
His eyes were big and startled, "Now you're just speaking Huttese."
Leia buffed impatiently. "They sound the same. Can't you hear it?!"
He bit down on his lip, "Well, when you threaten me like that…"
"Oh, Luke, you have yet to see me threatening you," she warned, and he only laughed in return. "They're the same person."
"I guess," he shrugged, still a little unconvinced. "Where do you know Fess Ilee from?"
"From the Palace," she said naturally, not even needing to think. "My home, the Palace in Aldera. He was always around. Why?"
Instead of replying to her, he asked another question, "What did he do?"
This time, she froze in her place. She actually had no idea. "I… don't know? He was sort of a buffoon, I remember that he was always making me laugh. I guess I had grown so used to seeing him there, ever since I was a toddler, that I never considered asking him, or anyone else, of his purpose in the palace. Why?"
Once again, he evaded her question. "What happened to him?"
"He died," she said mournfully. "When I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. Under mysterious circumstances, if I recall correctly. He was buried in the royal cemetery for his duty to Alderaan, and… I always assumed that the Empire killed him. My parents were so desperate after his death like I had never seen them before, so I concluded that they were afraid that the Empire would come for another Alderaanian."
Luke nodded his head slowly, considering.
"Out with it, flyboy."
He sighed heavily. "I understand your parents' concern."
Leia glared at him, uneasy, but decided to let him say whatever he needed before she interrupted.
"Leia… Ferus Olin was an undercover Jedi. Hired by your parents, he was there as bait, ready to take the blame for you, if you ever showed signs of being Force sensitive. I believe he died protecting you from the Empire. Your parents were indeed desperate after his death — because there was no one else left to protect you."
Suddenly, it became hard to breathe. She looked down on the table, focused on the invisible lines her fingertip was drawing, and she was as cold and straightforward as she knew how to be. "He died for me, then."
Luke wanted to interfere, to say that it wasn't like that, except — it was. "Yeah. I believe you somehow exhibited your strength in the Force, and when word got back to the Empire and they came after you, he took the blame. Sacrificed himself for you."
"Great," she mumbled. She was sick of people dying for her, dying because of her. She had never asked for that.
To an extent, Luke couldn't understand her reaction. She was a princess, had been raised as a princess — he would have assumed she had always been surrounded by people ready to give their lives for her, and, under an empire of evil and hatred, that it had happened more often than not.
"Alderaan was a peaceful world, Luke," she said quietly, like she could read his mind. "We valued beauty and art and peace above everything," behind her words, she was screaming, why would the Empire obliterate Alderaan, Alderaan of all places?!, and her mind screamed back — exactly because of that; the Empire shivered under the sight of harmony. "The lives of those that protected me were never worth less than mine. We were all the same. The only difference is that I had a duty to guide and protect them. A duty that I couldn't fulfill."
"What you need to understand, Leia," he threaded carefully, "Is that — it didn't matter if you broke and revealed all the secrets about the rebellion. Right then, right there, it would have still been Alderaan. They would have destroyed it no matter what, because they needed to make a statement to the galaxy. And there was no better statement than to kill all that is beautiful, so only ugliness would prevail."
She swallowed hard, her emotions once again threatening to betray her. "That doesn't make it any easier, though."
"No," he agreed sadly. "I suppose it never will. But I hope it helps you understand that it was never your fault."
Leia closed her eyes briefly — she hoped so too.
From the distance, there was a sound of something crashing to the ground, then a male human screaming in pain, then that same human cursing loudly at no one in particular. The image of Han losing a battle to his ship was enough to alleviate their tension.
"Should we go to him?" Luke asked, beaming, but a little concerned.
"No, he's in a mood," Leia considered. "It's best to leave him to brood in peace."
Luke couldn't help himself — he laughed carelessly at her. "He's in a mood?"
Leia grimaced, unsure of what was so funny. "Yes, Luke."
"I'm sorry, it's just—" he had to hide his smirk behind his hands, "Han told me the same thing about you."
"He what?!"
"Yeah, yeah," he conceded, "He warned me to go away, because you were in a mood. Mad at him, apparently."
Her eyes twitched, and she accused, "The only person I'm mad at is you."
"Me?!" he shouted, high pitched. He had not seen that coming. "Whatever did I do?!"
"You disappeared in the middle of the night and threw away weeks of careful planning to take back the Jedi Temple, and now the High Council has put me on babysit duty!"
"Babysit duty—" he frowned until the realization crept in. "You mean—babysit me?!"
"No, I'm supposed to babysit Han, and teach him some manners on how to address the Council in my absence," she snarled, deadpan. "Yes, you, you idiot."
Luke pulled on the collar of his shirt, loosening its grip around his neck. "I'm… I'm sorry…?"
"You think you're sorry?!" Leia snapped, "Well, Luke, then as my first deed as your 'babysitter': you're grounded."
He choked on his snort, being forced to hide his amusement with his hands in front of mouth given the death glare she shot him.
"This isn't funny, Luke," she lectured him, her eyes as dead as the night. "There are consequences to your actions, and you should know better than that. I understand you're a pilot, that your job is to simply wait around while the higher rankings give you orders. But, Luke, there had been weeks of tactical discussion, of heated arguments and strategizing. We were finally coming up with a plan, one that served for nothing as we had to rush in to rescue you. Sure, we were lucky to succeed, but there was also every chance that we wouldn't. And it'd all have been for nothing."
Luke swallowed roughly, constrained.
"As if that hadn't been enough, I had to sit still as my peers, the people that I've worked so hard to respect me, berated me and reprimanded me for your misdoings," her tone was hoarse, "All because I was the one to give the order. Because I put you above the rebellion."
In the end, that bothered her the most. That she had put her personal needs above her duty. Four years ago, that wouldn't have happened; she would have gladly let Luke, or Han, or herself die if it meant the rebellion would thrive. One year ago, that wouldn't have happened, so immersed in her grief she had been, that her only reason to go on was bringing the Emperor to his knees. Now — she was changed. She had found people that she loved more than the cause for that she had given her life and the life of her people. She wasn't so sure how to feel about that.
"You've already done so much for the rebellion, Leia," Luke considered carefully, "The High Council shouldn't crucify you for the one time you thought of yourself first."
"Yes, they should," Leia replied coldly.
Luke took a deep breath. "Have I ever told you what happened when I faced Vader and the Emperor?"
Leia eyed him suspiciously, "Do I want to know?"
"I don't know," he shot his shoulders up and down. "You can tell me afterward."
Reluctantly, Leia agreed.
"Palpatine brought me to the throne room, where I was supposed to duel with Vader. I would either kill Vader and take his place next to Palpatine, or Vader would kill me. Either way — I couldn't win. The Emperor had seen it for himself; he had carefully crafted fate so he wouldn't lose. And I was ready to die, Leia. I wouldn't fight Vader, because I saw that there was still good in him. He was conflicted, and I couldn't end his life when he could willingly come back to me."
Leia stared at his profile as he told her the story, waiting for whatever moral he was trying to reach.
"But…?"
"But," he paused again, "My thoughts betrayed me. I was thinking of you, and — and Vader sensed it. He sensed your presence in my mind, and he took pride in it. He thought that, if I couldn't be turned to the dark side, then, perhaps, my twin sister would. He, alongside the Emperor, was ready to take you under his wing."
There was a funny taste in Leia's mouth, and she had already decided that that wasn't a story she would have liked to know.
"I couldn't allow that. I would never let him turn you, so long as I stood," Luke confessed tightly, "Because of that, I allowed my hatred to take over me, in your name, and I lashed out at Vader. But it's okay, Leia. I would always protect you from our father's grip, even if that meant I would descend into darkness in your place."
Very rarely, in her life, Leia found it hard to sustain eye contact. At that precise moment, it was nearly impossible. "You shouldn't."
"Yes, I should," he said strongly. "As you did, I chose my twin sister over myself, over the cause that I dedicated myself to. My love for you is my weakness, yes, but it also makes me strong. Because, Leia, that's the only way we're going to win the war. By saving what we love."
Leia smiled sadly, a tight smile — one that repressed all the other emotions she couldn't allow herself to feel in public. "That's beautiful."
A little snobbishly, Luke understood her concession as acceptance. "You're not the only one good with words, you know."
Shaking her head in reprimand, her expression was carefree.
"I do love you, Luke."
He waved his hand in return. "You don't have to tell me that, Leia. I already know."
"But I do," she said, "I need you to understand that I will always put you above my duty."
"I wouldn't ask that of you, Leia."
"I know," she conceded. "That's why I'd do it."
He smiled at her, appreciating it.
"Oh, before I forget," he changed the subject again, before it became more emotional than they had previously signed up for. "I have something else to tell you, and I'm afraid you won't take it well."
Leia crooked her brows, waiting.
"Leia…" he used his sweetest tone, "I hate to break this to you, but… I'm the older brother."
Leia's chin immediately dropped, and she gave him a shove in the shoulder. "Bullshit."
He laughed, loudly, so loud he was certain Han had heard it as well. "I fear it's the truth. Ben told me himself."
"No," she was fierce in her convictions. "You're mistaken."
"How so?!"
"Nothing about you screams big brother," she accused, "You only exude little brother energy."
Luke snorted, "Is that what my aura tells you?!"
"Yes," she replied, "As well as everything else about you."
"Enlighten me, little sister."
She gave him a very sisterly gaze of death. "For starters, I'm the brains of this kinship."
He made a face, "And your proof for that is…?"
"Well," she clasped her hands together, "Would you like me to start with how I had to save our asses on the Death Star? Or would you rather I remind you of recent events, such as you storming into the Jedi Temple unprotected and getting busted by Imperials?"
Luke gave her a look, "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
Leia showed her inner lips, shooting her shoulders up and down.
"Well," he carried on, "If I'm the younger brother, then how are you going to explain that I'm incredibly taller than you?!"
She choked a laugh, "Of course you're taller than me. Have you forgotten how tall Vader was? And have you failed to notice how small Padmé is?"
"That doesn't mean anything," he wrinkled his nose, "I've simply had more time to grow than you."
Buffing, Leia accused, "That, Luke, is peak little brother behavior."
He feigned being hurt and started laughing again.
"I'm sorry, Leia. I just don't think you can't work this one out your genius."
"Fine. I just refuse to accept it."
"Really?!" he shook his head in admonition. "I don't know, Leia, that stubbornness of your stinks of little sibling obstinacy."
"The smell is coming from yourself."
Smiling to himself, he simply reprimanded her with his eyes, thinking to himself how lucky he was to have found her.
She smiled as well.
"Alright, then. I think I'm going to go, now. Leave you to brood in peace."
With her lips pursed in a thin line, she rolled her eyes. "Will you tell Han to stop whining and come to me?"
Grinning, he stood up and kissed the top of her head. "Of course, little sis."
"You call me that again and I'll smack you so hard you won't have any teeth left."
He threw his hands up in redemption, thinking to himself — he finally had enough ammunition to get under her nerves.
It was about time he started making up for all those missing years.
A/N: it takes me over fifteen hours to write one chapter.
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