"So. You're a mother."

Padmé nodded, that word still feeling a little strange to her when it came from anyone else other than Luke. By the end of the day, however, that was precisely what she was.

She gazed at the twins idly talking to each other by the balcony of her fancy apartment. At the end of the week, she had decided they all should come spend the weekend there, to get away from the military ranks that would so often crush them. It had been a nice idea, as it gave them all the freedom and the privacy to be themselves away from foreign eyes.

Luke, too excited with the idea, had packed his bag the moment she had suggested it. Han and Ameera were simply content to be somewhere other than the closed headquarters where people would obnoxiously stare at them just because they were acquainted with the legendary twins. Leia had been hesitant, although she caved in after being promised she'd get a secluded office to work for as long as she wanted without being interrupted.

Padmé's eyes lingered on her children for a brief period, watching them laughing and bickering outside under the golden rays of twilight, then she returned her attention to Ahsoka.

"I'm a mother."

Sometimes, it still felt so weird to say it aloud, but she embraced those words to her core.

Ahsoka leaned back on the lounge, her feet thrown over the coffee table — she hadn't been here at Padmé's apartment in so long that she was truly appreciating the faint sensation of being home again when she had been homeless for the past two decades. She tried not to stare at her old Master's offsprings, but, occasionally, her eyes would divert towards them.

"How's that been like?"

Padmé took a long sip from her glass of wine as if to corroborate what she was about to say, "The hardest thing I've ever done in my life."

Ahsoka snorted at that.

"I doubt that," she quipped, "Coming from the woman who was queen at the age of fourteen and who was one of the most proficient politicians at the Galactic Senate."

"All so incredibly easier than being a mother to brooding teenagers."

Ahsoka looked at her through her lashes, "They're not teenagers anymore. They're what, in their mid-twenties by now?"

"They're twenty-three," Padmé said. "I mean, thank the heavens I missed on their teenage years. I wouldn't have survived all the hormones and emotional mood swings of two Force sensitive kids, nonetheless."

Ahsoka chuckled. "I wasn't so bad, was I?"

"No," she smiled fondly, "Well, unless you were with Anakin. I swear the two of you had competitions on who would drive the Jedi — especially Obi-wan — insane first."

"Oh, we surely did," Ahsoka confirmed, delighted at the memories. "Anakin really shaped me into the person I've become, you know. He was — one of the greatest men I've ever had the honor of meeting."

Padmé couldn't bring herself to smile at that, and she found herself again staring at Luke and Leia.

"There are days that that's all I can think about when I look at them, at the extraordinary people they grew up to be," she said in a small voice, "How could he just throw all of this away?"

Ahsoka's cheerful expression disappeared; she couldn't answer that, so she said nothing.

"He was so happy when he learned I was pregnant, we both were," Padmé continued. "And he loved you so much, Ahsoka, you were like a daughter to him. Speaking of you lifted his spirits, and he was so heartbroken when you left the Jedi. I can't understand why he would discard the chance of becoming a father to his own children when he loved them from the day they were conceived."

A selfish part of Ahsoka prided from learning that Anakin considered her as much as she did him.

"Did you know that one of his first deeds as Vader was murdering all the younglings in the temple?"

All that pride dissipated into thin air.

"No," Ahsoka replied hoarsely. "I didn't know that."

Padmé listened with a heavy heart to all the emotions pining on her voice.

"How could he have done that?" Padmé questioned, outraged, "I was still alive and pregnant. I was still carrying his children — children that were very likely to be Force sensitive as well. How could he?"

Ahsoka wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn't answer that.

"That no longer was Anakin, Padmé."

"Nope," Padmé agreed. "Discerning them apart doesn't make me any less angry, though."

Ahsoka looked down, bringing one of her knees up to her chest.

"It shouldn't. Anakin — ruined everything for you."

She refrained from saying he had ruined the galaxy for everybody else; that much didn't need saying anymore.

"He did," Padmé sighed tiredly, resting her head on the cushion behind her. "You asked me what's motherhood been like — I said it before and I'll say it again: it's been the hardest thing I've ever done."

"They seem like good kids, though," Ahsoka mended. "Good people. And I know they were the key players in defeating the Empire, but — that doesn't necessarily imply goodness from one's hearts. People are complicated, and they're often driven by their ulterior motives, but when I look at them, I don't see anything other than their innate selflessness."

"There's more to people than it meets the eyes."

Ahsoka gave her a look. "Yeah. I'm Force sensitive, remember?! Or have all those years in asylum started to deteriorate your memory?"

Padmé laughed freely at her.

"Besides — I'd hardly believe you're implying they aren't good."

"No, not that," Padmé said in a small voice. "They're exceptional people, but… They're also so hurt. Both of them."

Impulsively, Ahsoka turned her head outside just in time to see Luke throwing his head back in a burst of authentic laughter, probably at something Leia had said to him. To any outsider, they seemed — happy.

"They fought in a war, Padmé," Ahsoka spoke seriously; she was well aware of the consequences of war, she had lived through every one of them. "Expecting them to come out of battle unscathed is, if anything, unrealistic."

"Of course, I'd never underestimate the horrors they faced to bring peace back to the galaxy," Padmé clarified. "That's not where the hurt comes from, though."

Ahsoka dropped her gaze again.

"Vader."

Padmé huffed ironically.

"I have to admit I was a little surprised at how eager Luke seems at the mere mention of Anakin, considering he only ever met Vader," Ahsoka admitted, now looking at her friend. "I would have expected him to be more like — like her."

Although she gestured slightly with her head, it was implied she was referring to Leia.

"Luke idolizes his father," Padmé spoke in a low voice. "From what I've come to understand about him, he's venerated this image of an exceptional father that was stolen from him ever since he was just a boy. I'd assume this comes from an emotional distance that existed between his guardians and him, especially his uncle Owen, that forced him to seek out a parent that unconditionally cared for him, loved him, even though they were no longer there with him. He relied on the image of this hero to survive, he needed the sensation of this love, as fictitious as it was. So, when he learned the truth about his father, that his father was Darth Vader and was very much still alive, having forsaken him at his birth to rule over the galaxy — it crushed his soul. It destroyed his every innocent conception that he had ever been loved, rather than just tossed and discarded at a desert with a family that never truly cared, or wanted him. At the end, when Vader chose to abandon the darkness and save him, bringing back to life the great Jedi that he once was and offering his son one final deed of paternal love, it restored all the faith and admiration that Luke had for Anakin all along. I can't steal him from that, Ahsoka, not when I wasn't there to tug him into bed every night, kiss his forehead, and promise, just promise him that he was loved ever since the day he was born."

Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably on the couch; she knew Padmé was just talking and not throwing any accusations that Ahsoka had been responsible for mother and son to have been separated, therefore causing this sense of neglect on an innocent child, but her guilt was there nonetheless. She would live with that burden for the rest of her life, just like they all carried the weight of Vader's existence.

"Vader traumatized him," Padmé carried on, her eyes lost on the bright boy just outside, looking at his sister with a blank face as she had her hands on her shoulder. "He hurt him. He cut off his hand and he allowed Palpatine to torture him, electrocute him almost to death before he finally interfered on his behalf. Despite all those memories, all that internalized trauma that lingers there, Luke still chooses to cling to Anakin. His happiest memory is Darth Vader saving him, even though he was willing to let him die, but it comforts him because with this salvation came the love and acceptance he always sought. And that's so messed up, and I can't steal his father away from him. Luke isn't naïve, he's seen and faced all too much deception and mischief to be naïve, yet when it comes to Vader, he will always, always choose to see the best in him. I don't know if that's beautiful, or if that's foolish, but it's the way it is."

Ahsoka pulled her leg under her. "That seems like an awfully sad way to live."

Padmé sighed in surrender. "Maybe it is."

"It's funny, though, that your return didn't encourage him to find a parental sort of love on you instead," Ahsoka commented. "I mean, you're here, you're alive, and you're good. Padmé, you're a good person, you've never done anyone harm. Why wouldn't he find solace on you, instead holding so tight to this — this unhealthy obsession with Anakin?"

Padmé wrinkled her nose. "It's not necessarily unhealthy. Anakin was a good person, you know."

"I know that," Ahsoka grumbled, "You know that. He?" she obnoxiously pointed her finger at Luke, "He doesn't know that. He never met Anakin, not our Anakin. He's only ever met — a ghost of the person that Anakin used to be."

Padmé looked at her through her lashes, curious. "He told you about his encounters with Anakin's Force ghost?"

Ahsoka gazed at her with stretched eyes. "Anakin's Force what now?"

She made a face. "I'll take that as a no."

Ahsoka eyed her suspiciously, "Do I wanna know?"

"I'll leave Luke to that," she dismissed the subject with a gesture, deciding to address their previous conversation instead. "No, Luke never met our Anakin. However, growing up, he had his Aunt Beru, a nice loving woman that cared for him and did her best to give him all she could. Even though having an aunt differs from having a mother, she stepped into the role as much as she could. The same couldn't be said about his uncle, who mistreated him and mishandled him at every chance he could. He was his uncle in name, but most days, he wasn't even that. He chose to overwork a child instead of offering him any sense of protection or caring, so that void, that fatherly void, has always haunted him. It's always going to be there because he will never truly have Anakin, but if the stories we tell him, and the great Jedi we depict for him, help him, then that's what we have to do. That's what I'll do."

Ahsoka sadly nodded.

"That Uncle — he sounds like a jerk."

Padmé let out a hollow chuckle. "He probably was."

"What happened to them?" Ahsoka asked, "His foster family, I mean."

"Dead," she said emotionlessly, "The Empire killed them, burned them to death. Luke found their bodies."

"That's awful," she replied. "Sith's sake, the boy's faced deception after deception. Losing your family like that, no matter how much bad blood there was between them — I can't begin to imagine the horror."

"Yeah," Padmé agreed sourly. "Somehow, despite all that pain, there's only light in him."

Ahsoka smiled fondly at that. "I know. I can feel it. Whenever I'm in his presence, I only sense benevolence. It's appeasing, actually, to be in the presence of so much light when I've been hiding in darkness for so many years now."

"Light has always followed you, too," Padmé said, "You've never succumbed to darkness."

"Yes, but…" she cleared her throat, "More often than not, I had to completely ignore my powers so I wouldn't be perceived by those wanting to kill me and every still standing Force sensitive being. Living shut off to whom I truly am — that's almost as living in darkness."

Padmé nodded; she wasn't Force sensitive, but — she knew exactly how that felt.

"The Emperor is dead," the politician stated what was already known, "The Empire is rapidly crumbling all over the galaxy. Soon enough, you won't have to hide anymore. You'll get to step back into the light."

"Hopefully," she tried to remain optimistic, but after so many years of deceit, it felt reckless to so blindly grasp that expectation. "There's still so much to be done."

Padmé hummed.

"There's still so much I need to do," Ahsoka reiterated, "Just because Palpatine is dead it doesn't mean that all evil is defeated."

She hummed again.

"That's what I've done, anyway, for the past years," she announced. "I helped defeat evil where I could, be it the Empire or something else. That's my calling, as a — not — Jedi. That's what I'll carry on doing."

"You won't stay," Padmé inferred.

"I can't," Ahsoka said. "Not for as long as there are people out there that need my help."

Padmé fixated her big brown eyes on her.

"What about the people here that need your help?"

"What are you talking about?" Ahsoka frowned, "Coruscant is — is as safe as it can be."

"I'm not talking about Coruscant."

"Then are you talking about?"

"Them."

Ahsoka's neck abruptly twirled towards the balcony; she saw the twins leaning on the railing, looking away at the horizon. His hand on her back in a comforting gesture.

Ahsoka carefully built up the walls against her emotions again.

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, I'm not a Jedi," she stated the obvious. "There's hardly anything I can enrich them with."

Padmé shook her head negatively.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, annoyed. "If you think there's anything I can bring them, please feel welcome to pitch in."

"Peace."

Ahsoka tilted her head. "Padmé—"

"You can bring them peace, Ahsoka," Padmé instigated. "You're Force sensitive, you're very strong in the Force, you've had years of experience and wisdom. Above all, you were a friend of Anakin's. They don't know who they are, Ashoka, not as two children of the Force and not as two children of Anakin's. Only you can guide them towards a better understanding of themselves."

Ahsoka stared at her with a grave expression. "That's a lot of responsibility you're placing on me, Padmé."

"Why's that?" Padmé provoked, "Isn't that essentially a Jedi's duty to their Padawans? Isn't that exactly what Anakin taught you?"

Ahsoka's expression didn't shift, but she stayed silent.

Padmé sighed, dropping her imposing act.

"Evil isn't hereditary, Ahsoka," she said in a calmer tone. "Their blood isn't tainted."

She crossed her arms. "And how do you know that?"

"Well," Padmé looked outside for the zillionth time; Luke had his head laying over Leia's shoulder, which proved to be ridiculously comical considering their height difference. "If it were, they would have turned a long time ago. Yet, only light prevailed."

"It's never too late to turn, Padmé."

"I'm certain of that," she insisted, "But if you've been through half the things they survived and yet you chose to remain good — they're children of Anakin's, yes, but most importantly, they're children of the light. That's all they'll ever be."

Ahsoka shivered; it all sounded too poetic when talking about the crudest darkness that life had to offer.

"Have you talked to her?"

"Who, Leia?" Ahsoka perked up one eye, and Padmé nodded. "No, not really. She is — very vigilant, I'd say. She shuts herself off whenever I come in, and… Honestly, Padmé, I don't think she likes me very much."

To Ahsoka's confusion, Padmé laughed loudly at that.

"She probably doesn't."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," she snorted, and there was no animosity towards hers and Leia's troubled relationship there; not anymore. "To Leia, we are very faulty in character for the same reason."

"What is that?"

"We both love Anakin," Padmé offered her a pointed look.

Ahsoka scoffed lightly. "Love?"

"Love," she said again, "To say that we don't love Anakin anymore because of what Vader became — we'd be lying to ourselves. That would be the greatest flaw in our characters."

Ahsoka accepted that gracefully; even after all these years, she couldn't deny the fondness she had for her old Master.

"She's not wrong, you know," Ahsoka prompted, "To mistrust us for that."

"Oh, I know," Padmé concurred in a shy voice, but there was nothing she could do; she couldn't deny her love for Anakin. "Did you watch the press conference?"

"I did," she said hesitantly, "But mind you, I was paying more attention to a certain somebody lurking behind than on what was actually being said."

Padmé huffed; Ahsoka seemed ready to tease Padmé for going against the one thing that Ahsoka had ever ordered her to do — to stay behind, hiding in the shadows — for the rest of their lives.

"It was a very beautiful speech," she reminisced, still getting chills from it. Then, her proud expression dropped. "Ahsoka?"

"Hm?"

"They made her watch," Padmé whispered, dreading that Leia would suddenly develop super hearing and eavesdrop on their conversation. She didn't think she was going against the princess' trust, not when Leia had told the entire galaxy of what precisely had happened on the Death Star, but she had confided in Padmé first, so Padmé felt slightly odd to be mentioning it to anybody else.

"Made her watch what?" Ahsoka asked, confused.

"They made her watch as they blew up Alderaan," Padmé lamented, that same familiar twinge back on her heart. "He made her watch. No, he tortured her, and then he forced her to watch."

A sick expression took over Ahsoka's traits.

"That's fucked up."

There was no point in sugarcoating what had happened with milder words; no, trying to soften it would only be a disservice to the visceral pain that Leia had resisted when questioned for information.

"It is," Padmé said, "And then, she learns that he's her biological father? It crushed her spirits, Ahsoka. Her bloodline haunts her every day, and there's nothing that can erase the trauma of knowing that your father spared your brother in the end but couldn't have spared you, or your homeworld, back then."

"She's hurt," Ahsoka surmised, going back to the start of their conversation. "I'm surprised I didn't sense anything from her. I mean, I've felt both their mind shields when I arrived, but Luke more often than not lowers his defense and lets his emotions all over the place. Leia, however, is perfectly composed whenever I approach her. I don't sense anything, and it's almost like—"

"—Like nothing bad happened at all?" Padmé incited, furrowing her brows, and Ahsoka nodded. "Yeah. I thought that too, I hoped that that would be true, for a long time as well. Sometimes, it's like she's even convinced herself—"

Padmé let out a tired exhale.

"It's better, now. I mean, she's better at recognizing the things that she went through, even talking about them. To us, anyway," Padmé said, waving a hand, "To strangers, to an unfamiliar face that just happened to have been under Anakin's care once — that's a whole other story."

"If she can't open up to me, Padmé, not even empirically, how am I supposed to help her?" Ahsoka genuinely asked. "I can't just — override her past."

"I'm not asking you to do that, that would be a dishonor to all her sacrifices towards the greater good," she argued. "Her past is who she is, happiness and pain altogether."

"Then how do you want me to help her?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "You'll figure it out. You're a clever girl."

"Girl?!" Ahsoka mocked, "I'm closer to your age than I am to theirs, you know."

Padmé shrugged.

"You'll always be the young girl that gave Anakin hell until you two decided to team up and bring hell to everybody else instead," Padmé commented, amused.

Ahsoka chuckled. "We did make a good pair, I'll give you that."

"The best."

Luke Skywalker had only one aim in life: to beat his twin sister on a verbal sparring.

Today, however, was not that day.

He was starting to think that day would never actually come.

He didn't even remember what precisely they were arguing about, or the many turns it took whenever he tried to debunk her; his jaw had simply fallen over at her last go at disparaging him with some very big fancy word which meaning he didn't know and therefore was left uncertain whether she was praising him or belittling him — probably the latter.

After that, he just gave up, forcing himself to accept the insulting smirk on her face.

"I was trained in the art of rhetoric ever since I was a child, you know," Leia said, well aware of the game he was playing. "You can't beat me."

Luke stubbornly crossed his arms. "You could let me beat you, though."

Leia ridiculed him with her eyes. "Now, why would I do that?"

"...Pity?"

Leia scoffed at him.

He sighed in defeat once more.

"Maybe I should ask Padmé for help. I've seen her talk, she's quite good at this — rhetorical art," he stumbled on his words, unintentionally, which just corroborated his point. "She could give me some lessons."

"I'm afraid it'll take you more than 'some lessons' to even come close to winning a verbal sparring against me," she made quotation marks to further mock him.

Luke good-heartedly rolled his eyes. "How is it fair that you've had lessons on how to properly talk whereas I struggled to even receive a basic education?"

Leia shot her shoulders up and down. "I'd assume they just looked at me and could tell that I was the prodigal twin."

He shook his head, but his amusement was still there.

Leia looked away into the horizon, wrapping her arms around herself as a chill breeze danced around her.

"Luke?"

"Yes, Leia?" he answered her calling, still looking at her.

"Do you ever… resent me?"

He frowned, completely at loss at where that question had come from.

"What do I even have to resent you for?"

Leia smiled coyly; it was sweet that he couldn't see it.

"I had everything," she spoke quietly, "While you had nothing."

Luke shivered. "Come on. All because I pestered you about your fancy lessons?"

"But you're right, Luke," she said. "I had all the privilege in the world, I was raised in wealth and power and — and freedom, even if my freedom was an illusion. Meanwhile—"

"Meanwhile I had a lowlife's life?" he arched a brow at her.

Leia grimaced. "I wouldn't use that word."

Luke lightly scoffed. "Once again proving my misfortune of being dropped at a desert after birth?"

She resisted the urge to make an impolite gesture at him. "I'm serious, Luke."

"I can see," he offered her a firm nod. "If I remember correctly — which by itself is a statement you should take with a grain of salt since I don't remember anything from that specific time of our lives — you didn't get to weigh in your royal opinions when they decided to separate us."

"Royal opinion? I think you've been spending too much time with Han," she teased, entertained with his comment, even if her amusement dissipated all too fast. "It wasn't really fair, was it."

It was a statement, rather than a question, to which Luke again shrugged.

"It was the way it had to be," he put it simply.

"Of course not, Luke," Leia rebuked sourly. "Just because something was, it doesn't mean it had to be that way. Aren't you the one always mumbling that the future is always in motion? It's the same logic."

"The past isn't in motion, Leia," he fluttered his lashes at her.

"I know that, Luke," she grunted. "Alderaan didn't have to be destroyed for us to win the fight against the Empire. I didn't have to be—" she paused briefly, never bringing herself to say the word, "—for us to rescue Han from Jabba. You didn't have to be thrown into the desert and suffer all the hardships of life to become a great Jedi. Saying that some things have to happen in a certain way for a better outcome isn't poetic — it's just callous."

"And you think that'd resolve itself if I instead started resenting you?"

"Yes!" Leia announced impetuously, then made a face when she heard herself. "No. I don't want you to resent me. I'm just saying — it would be understandable. If you did."

"I hate to bring you bad news then."

"You don't resent me?" Leia asked what she already knew.

"Not in the slightest."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you…?"

She squinted her eyes at him, "Is that a question mark I hear there?"

"Probably," Luke answered deadpan. "All my resentment towards you originates in that very specific question mark."

This time, she couldn't stop the eye roll from coming.

"You're impossible," she accused.

"I'm impossible?"

"Yes!"

He threw his head back in a loud laugh, belittling her interpretation of their characters. She crossed her arms in a pout and waited until he was done.

"I'm happy to see I can still amuse you," Leia moaned.

"Like you wouldn't believe," he conceded, a gentle smile on his face. "I don't resent you for having a better childhood than I did, Leia. If anything, I begrudge those responsible for taking me away — from her."

Leia indiscreetly turned to face inside the apartment, where Padmé and Ahsoka sat comfortably on the couch and talked between themselves.

"Ahsoka?"

A pained expression took over his face. "Not… necessarily. Ahsoka didn't have any malice in her heart when she separated us. Honestly, I don't think she would have done it if she knew we were still alive. Ben, however… He knew what was happening, the Force told him as much, and he still chose to make a tactical decision rather than a human one. That's what I resent the most."

Leia nodded sadly, understanding how hard it was for her brother, even though she couldn't relate to his heartbreak. She wouldn't trade her life, or her parents, for anything. No matter how much she came to love Padmé.

Caught in a haze of his sorrow, Luke walked towards the railing and leaned there, gazing at the Coruscanti sun starting to lower. Leia stood next to him, allowing him to have a moment of sadness, but not letting it last too long.

"What do you think of her?"

"Who?"

"Ahsoka," Leia named.

"Oh," he muttered, somehow surprised even though Leia couldn't be speaking of anybody else. "What do you think of her?"

Leia shot her shoulders up and down. "I don't think anything of her."

"Lies," Luke teasingly accused. "You're one of the most judgemental people I know. There's no way you haven't formed an opinion of her."

Leia pouted her lips, feigning offense.

"Let's just say… I'm keeping my distance."

He huffed. "Of course you are."

"I know that my father trusted her, I know that he made her a vital agent for the rebellion, but," she paused, sorting her thoughts.

"But she still cared for Anakin," Luke said on her behalf, and Leia hesitantly nodded. "I understand, Leia."

She smiled gratefully at him, relieved that she didn't have to explain herself.

"If I recall correctly," Leia said, "I asked you first."

Luke beamed brightly, and he didn't fear that his sister would reprimand him.

"To risk sounding a little too forward — I'm pretty much in love with her."

Leia gasped in mock surprise, "Luke, you naughty little boy."

Which was all it took for color to paint his cheeks.

"No! Not like that," he tried to defend himself, despite knowing his sister to be pestering him. "It's just — Leia, she lived with them. She was a Jedi, she was part of the Order. I'd even dare to say she still is one, even if she's forsaken her Jedi title. That sort of culture — you can't just break free, it follows you everywhere."

Leia hummed quietly. She agreed with his assessment to an extent; there were days she embraced every bit of her Alderaanian heritage to honor her origins, there were days she turned her back to all of them because the heartbreak was unbearable. She'd assume it was the same for Ahsoka, especially when the Jedi were no more.

"Did she tell you why she left the Order?"

"She didn't," he replied. "I wanted to ask, but… It seems too sore of a topic."

"It probably is," Leia conceded, resting both her arms over the rail. "Walking away from your entire life like that — I can't imagine the heartbreak she must have gone through to willingly choose to leave."

"Yeah," he sighed. "She and Padmé are rather close, don't you think?"

Leia made a face at that. She didn't know why his statement bothered her so much, but it did. Ever since Ahsoka had appeared a few days ago, she and Padmé had been attached to the hip; it was nearly impossible to find Padmé on her own, and given Leia's own reticence towards the Togruta, she had barely had the chance of talking to her mother. Their little getaway to Padmé's apartment had done little to change that.

She knew that Luke was perfectly at ease at being with the both of them and confiding on them and overall just enjoying the presence of the two most important women of his father's life — however, she didn't share her brother's easy familiarity.

"They are," Leia said hesitantly, and left it there.

"I don't think it was very common for Jedi to befriend outsiders, politicians nonetheless," he prompted, "But considering Anakin and Padmé's — clandestine — marriage, Ahsoka and she seemed to have become quite good friends. From the stories I've been hearing, they went on their fair share of adventures together."

Leia politely nodded.

"I've been bothering Ahsoka a lot, I confess, with all my questions about the Jedi," Luke huffed, slightly embarrassed. "She doesn't seem to mind, so I just keep asking them. It's amazing — well, I wouldn't say amazing, on the contrary."

"Umbraging?" she provided.

"Well, there's no need to show off," he lightly complained. "But yes. It's umbraging how far Palpatine went to erase all the records of the Jedi. Thousands of years of the Jedi — and then, it was like they never existed at all. I understand the political power that comes with obliterating a whole culture from existence, but it doesn't make it any less — heartbreaking, to have nothing left."

"I'm aware."

He grimaced, only then making the connection between his words and her reaction. "Er, sorry."

She shook her head elegantly. "You don't have to tiptoe around me thinking you're going to make me sad whenever something reminds me of Alderaan."

"But I did make you sad."

"Luke — it takes more than a circumstantial comment of yours to make me sad about Alderaan."

He was well aware she was being ambiguous on purpose, and, for her sake, he chose not to dwell on it.

"So yeah, I've been learning a lot," Luke swiftly focused on his ramblings again. "I've been learning the things that I need to know if I'm going to reestablish the Jedi Order again."

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, "Is that what you're going to do? Restart the Jedi Order?"

"Well," he considered her for a moment, "I think that's the next logical step, wouldn't you say so? There are Force sensitive beings so long as there is life, and if we can make something good come from it again, shouldn't we give our best to do it?"

Pressing her lips, Leia hummed.

Luke rolled his eyes, "There's the judgment again. You see, Leia, you make it very clear with your composure when you disagree with something."

"I don't disagree with you," she mended.

"You disagree with the Jedi," he guessed, "You think that having Jedi is just another path to having Sith again."

"Not at all," she said, meaning it this time. Then, she tilted her head, "But — The old Jedi order had its many flaws. Otherwise, they wouldn't have allowed a Sith to rise to power right under their watch."

"I think that's oversimplifying it—"

"I'm not done," she raised her index in the air to silence him. "Palpatine was incredibly clever, and his intelligence added to his powers made him strong enough to deceive the Jedi and everybody else who was watching. Still, you can't turn a blind eye to the defects in the Order. The Jedi were too held down to their customs and traditions, they had become arrogant because of their status quo. Society is always evolving and progressing, so as the peacemakers of the Republic, the Jedi needed to adapt as well. Luke, if you want to settle the Jedi Order again, you'll have my full blessing and support. But you can't reestablish it. You need to start over."

He pondered in silence for a long time, considering everything she had said. Leia didn't mind the silence.

"So you think I should just ignore all the Jedi's learnings and wisdom?"

"Not ignore. Adapt, learn how to be better, how to actually serve the needs of the galaxy," she corrected. "Besides, that shouldn't be too hard. It's not like you have any records on their way of life."

He rolled his eyes at her sisterly harassment.

"Some things that Ahsoka has told me — they do seem a little odd," Luke confessed. "Did you know that children were taken to the Temple at a very young age? Ahsoka told me herself, she has no recollection of her parents, safe that they loved her."

"I didn't know that," she said in a low voice.

"It's a bit ironic in the end, wouldn't you think?" he started, "I've spent my entire life longing for my parents, only to learn that the doctrine I'm dedicated to following wouldn't allow me to have parents at all."

Leia chuckled quietly. It did seem a little absurd.

"Had the Empire not risen, we probably would have been taken from Padmé — and Anakin," he digressed. "Well, not taken. Ahsoka made it clear to me that the Jedi didn't take children away from their parents without their consent, but it's a sad thought nonetheless. In any universe out there, Padmé was still destined to lose us at a young age. She was only lucky enough that, in this reality, she could find her way back to us again."

"I'm sure the Jedi had their best intentions, but, yes," she concurred. "A child's greatest bond is with their parent. It must be traumatizing, to say the least, for a child to feel the loss of the only protectors they've ever known, no matter prominent the future promises to be."

She lowered her gaze from the golden horizon.

"I was traumatized enough to be taken from my parents at the age of 19, I can't imagine how hard it would have been to lose them at a young age and not have them to guide me through my childhood and teen years."

Luke placed his hand on the small of her back. He didn't think the scenarios were necessarily comparable, but he would never defame her anguishes.

"I think the Jedi intended to teach that only the Jedi Order would be their true family," he suggested, "When a youngling reached a certain age, they became a Padawan, and a Jedi Master would instruct them. From what Ahsoka told me, the bond between Master and Apprentice was — was almost unbreakable. Maybe it was unbreakable after all. They acted as one, they… They were a family. The Jedi Masters became the parental figure in their lives, to guide them through their teen years when they also needed guidance in the ways of the Force. It would seem that it's a very unique but very beautiful bond."

Leia looked at her brother curiously, sensing something else there.

"And Ahsoka was Anakin's padawan?"

"Yes, she was," Luke confirmed.

"And this is a father and daughter bond, you could say?"

"Yes," he innocently affirmed. "Obi-wan was Anakin's Master, and the strength of their bond remained long after Anakin had passed his trials and become a Jedi Knight, so they were often in battles together in the Clone Wars, Ahsoka following them close behind. She told me that she saw both of them as her father figures."

Leia nodded at every word that poured out of his mouth. "So Ahsoka was, by all means, Anakin's daughter?"

"Essentially, yes!"

She looked at him dead in the eyes and placed her hands condescendingly on his shoulders.

"Luke, you're jealous."

His jaw fell in astonishment, and he looked at her in pure horror. Then, his lips opened and closed several times as he tried to say something eloquent, and yet the only thing that escaped his mouth—

"Am not!"

She squinted a funny face to warrant her claim. "I'm afraid you are, little brother."

"I'm not—How many times do I have to remind you that I'm the older sibling?"

"As many times as you feel necessary," she shrugged, "You'll still be my little brother."

At that, his eyes found solace at the back of his skull.

"Anyway—I'm not jealous, Leia," he argued, trying to sound matter-of-factly and failing miserably — just not to knowledge. "I confess there's a funny feeling inside my chest whenever I think of Ahsoka calling Anakin dad, but I'm not jealous."

"That funny feeling is called jealousy," she derided him. "Hey—at least you figured out what your funny feeling was!"

She referred to their bantering of when Ahsoka first came into the picture, and he didn't appreciate it in the slightest.

"Have you maybe realized that your annoying feeling is coming from yourself?"

"Semantically, that doesn't make any sense."

"Pragmatically?"

"Pragmatically — you're still the one annoying me."

He crossed his arms in offense, and Leia's lips gently turned up.

Sighing to himself, he leaned against the railing again. "I'm not jealous, Leia, I swear."

"Nobody would you blame you if you were."

"I'm not. I'm happy that Ahsoka had the chance of knowing Anakin at his prime, of seeing the father figure on him that I always dreamed of. I just wish — I could have had that chance, too."

Leia placed her hand over his, leaving it there. They were both looking out at the horizon again.

"I asked you if you resented me for having a good childhood," she announced quietly, "Luke — I will never begrudge you for seeking a father figure on him."

Luke simpered discreetly, turning up his hand so he could properly hold hers.

"I wouldn't fault you if you did."

Leia shook her head sadly.

"You know, you might have had a poor background, you might even have lacked a basic education," she said faintly, "You've still become a damn wise Jedi. Stoic, even. Don't think for a second that I haven't noticed your growth ever since I met that naïve farm boy all those years ago. You've grown for the best, and I'm incredibly proud of the Jedi you've become."

He was taken by surprise by her sudden show of affection, and he took her words to his heart. Sometimes, the young child in him still seeking for his Uncle and Aunt's approval spoke out, and hearing those words — hearing that someone was proud of him — brought sentimental tears to his eyes.

He laid his head on her shoulder; she beamed brightly trying to picture how much he had bent his body to do that.

"Thank you for being my sister, Leia."

She furrowed her brows. "I don't think I have much choice in that."

Her comeback made him laugh, and his laugh allowed a single melancholic teardrop to escape.

"Will you for once forgo your moral high ground and let me appreciate you?"

"I don't think that'll be viable, no."

"I'll guess I'll have to rephrase that so you won't be able to rebuke me."

"Can you even do that?"

"Yes…!" he cried. "Thank you for being the best sister I could ask for."

She chuckled to herself, proud that, for once, she didn't have the means or the desire to dismantle his words.

"You're very welcome, Luke."

She laid her head over his.

"Do you ever fight each other on which of you had the better deal?"

Ahsoka's voice broke through and forced them to turn away from the Coruscanti skies to look at the Togruta. When she stepped into the balcony, she waited in silence for them to notice her presence there — after all, those were the children of Anakin Skywalker, she'd expect them to be powerful enough to simply feel her lingering there. And perhaps they were, but not when they were so immersed in their — twin thing.

She called it their twin thing because she had no means of assessing what they had, other than that, whenever they were together, she felt a strong fortification within the Force — like they were one.

And what did she know; perhaps, they were.

Luke beamed happily at her, while Leia didn't seem altogether too pleased to have their privacy disrupted by her, but she held her composure.

"It's not a fight," Luke said, amused that Ahsoka had brought up their same discussion of earlier. "It's more like a mutual concordance."

"Yeah," Leia replied deadpan, "Luke was led by the Force into the desert to be tempted by the devil. If he could last the starvation and the thirst without turning into Vader Junior, then the Force would trust him enough to reinsert him into society and have him become a Jedi."

Luke gazed at her with mild irritation, but it soon disappeared when he noticed Ahsoka laughing at his sister's dry humor. In return, Leia's lips barely turned up at Ahsoka's delight.

"Never mind her, she's just jealous," Luke provoked, "Her parents never let her play on the sand. It's against royal protocol."

"I'm glad they didn't," Leia returned, "Otherwise, I might have ended up eating sand."

He made a face, "I never ate sand."

"You didn't?" she looked at him warily, "How else would you explain the missing neurons?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but she wasn't done—

"I know it doesn't concern nature because I turned out alright," she said, "Certainly this is a matter of nurture."

He crossed his arms. "You take the fun out of everything."

She simply shrugged.

Ahsoka softly cleared her throat to remind them she was still there. Then, both sets of eyes were back on her.

"Are you like this all the time?" she asked without malice.

"She is," Luke grunted, receiving a glare from his sister.

Ahsoka chuckled softly. "Forgive my intrusion. I only ask because Anakin and I were bickering each other's heads off all the time."

"Do you need anything, Ahsoka?" Leia asked cordially while still standing her ground, resolute that he wasn't a subject of conversation while she was around.

"No, I just came for some fresh air," she answered simply, amiable, despite receiving Leia's message loud and clear.

"Fresh air on Coruscant?" Luke snorted, "I'm afraid you've come to the wrong planet."

Ahsoka huffed, walking past and in between them towards the balcony. "I guess you're right. Still, I always loved Coruscant. It was the place where I grew up, it was home."

She sighed, appreciating the view.

"You don't get that sensation, that nostalgia, anywhere else."

For some reason she couldn't explain, Leia walked towards the edge as well. Her muscles rigid, her eyes on the scenery.

"No," she whispered to herself, "You don't."

Puzzled, Ahsoka turned slightly around to face the princess and try to decipher her concealed change in mood.

"How often do you talk about Alderaan?" Ahsoka indecorously asked; behind them, Luke grimaced, already predicting Leia's explosive reaction.

"I think that's none of your business," Leia replied sourly.

Ahsoka smiled sadly. "Anakin didn't like to talk about his past either."

By then, Luke was nearly pulling his hair off. If Ahsoka was looking to establish some bond with his sister, she clearly wasn't helping herself.

Leia clenched her fists tightly. "My father was Bail Organa."

Ahsoka clicked her tongue, turning around to rest her back against the railing. "Okay. Let's talk about him, then."

"Ahsoka," she gave her a friendly warning, although there was nothing amicable in her voice.

"What?" Ahsoka asked, feigning innocence. "You don't expect to avoid me until I go away again, do you?"

"It was working fine so far," she snapped.

"It's rather impolite, if you ask me," Ahsoka continued, carelessly. "I know that your father raised you better than that."

"Er," Luke took a step ahead, determined to meddle before someone — namely, his sister — said something she would regret later. "I think we should all stop talking now. Listen to the silence, isn't the sound of silence pleasant?!"

Leia rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Luke," Ahsoka answered honestly.

"What do you want, Ahsoka?" Leia asked again; this time, there was only animosity in her voice.

"I want to talk about Bail."

Leia didn't respond; if she wanted to talk about Bail Organa, then she would be talking to herself.

Instead — Ahsoka took Leia's silence as an invitation to come closer.

"I still can't believe your father willingly chose to make Vader's biological daughter the heir of the Alderaanian crowd, while raising you right under his nose," Ahsoka commented, amused. "I've always known that Bail was a brave man, but damn — that was something else."

Leia breathed out loudly and obnoxiously. By then, their elbows on the railing were nearly touching.

"I knew him from the Clone Wars, but we only became close after he recruited me to the Rebellion," she continued. "I've been trying these past few days to remember if he ever hinted at me of your origins, checking if I knew of Anakin and Padmé's fate as much as he did. Then I remembered this one specific time — I had just walked into him ending a call with you, and I asked if he wasn't worried that his work in the rebellion would endanger you. Which, of course, was a silly question. How couldn't he be worried? But he still did it, because he was doing it for you. However, what he said to me after caught my attention the most."

Leia faked apathy, although she was listening closely.

"He told me — she's a lot like her mother."

Ahsoka let it linger in the air for a while before speaking again.

"He was testing me, inspecting if I knew who you were. Back then, I couldn't interpret it. Today, I know exactly what he meant."

"Yeah?" she tried to sound indifferent, but her hoarse voice went against her. "And what is that?"

"That there was no clipping your wings once you learned how to fly," she said poetically. "You would worry him until his hair turned grey, but you would still be out there trying to make a difference, and it wasn't his place to stop your calling. You're too much like your mother."

Leia remained silent again, frowning when Ahsoka laughed to herself.

"He did keep an aquarium in his office to distract you while he tried to work on the rebellion, though," she said. "Maybe, if he tried hard enough, you'd be more interested in swimming instead."

Failing her composure, a chuckle dared to escape Leia's lips.

"That's the worst metaphor I've ever heard."

"Really?" Ahsoka prompted, "You made it seem like you might have heard worse from him," she pointed behind herself.

"He doesn't have the intellect to come up with metaphors."

"Hey," Luke loudly announced himself, "I understand my silence is bliss, but I'm still here."

Ahsoka waved her arm to silence him, and Luke at last understood — Ahsoka and Leia would easily start to gang on him as well.

He choked a laugh to himself, realizing he wouldn't mind that.

"I'm just saying, Leia, I'm not your enemy," she continued, "I'm just somebody who knew and deeply cared for your father — both of them."

Leia's face was grave again. "I don't think you're my enemy."

Ahsoka pretended to be surprised. "Really, Your Highness, you might want to let us all in the memo next time."

Leia rolled her eyes. Ahsoka smiled, knowing them to be in a better place.

"You know, in a different timeline, we would have been best friends," she suggested. "Hadn't it all gone to hell — I would have spoiled you rotten."

"Would you have spoiled me rotten too, Ahsoka?" Luke asked, eagerly.

"This is a girls only club, Luke," Leia severed his happiness, and she could just see the smile dropping from his face, even on her back to him. "You wouldn't be invited in the first place."

"Good thing your name isn't Ahsoka," he pointed out.

Ahsoka giggled loudly, far too entertained with their bickering.

"Sorry, Luke," she shifted slightly to look at him, and the sudden sadness in his face was eminent. "I'm quite certain you would team up with Obi-wan, though."

Luke dramatically sighed. "I guess I'll take it."

Amusedly shaking her head, Ahsoka looked ahead again.

"You and I are more alike than you think, you know."

"How's that?" Leia genuinely asked.

"You see," she incited, "We're both the last standing relics of our homes. We're children of lost words, carrying the burden of guiding the future generations in our principles without not truly knowing where we stand."

Leia pondered on her words for a moment; taking them in.

Then, at last, she looked at Ahsoka, but her eyes digressed towards her brother as she whispered, "I don't think you have anything to worry about. Your future generations are safe with him."

Beaming proudly, Ahsoka looked at him as well. "I think so too."

Luke, unable to hear what they were whispering about, suddenly felt quite uncomfortable under their piercing eyes. "You're talking about me?"

"You're not interesting enough," Leia accused, Ahsoka making a face to ratify her statement.

Luke threw his arms up in redemption. "I wouldn't have to put up with this if I hadn't left Tatooine."

"We can drop you off again, Luke. Just say the word."

"I'm going inside now."

"You're rushing towards mom, to tell her that I was being mean to you so she'll ground me?"

"Exactly."

The girls smirked as he turned to leave.

"I take it back," Ahsoka announced, "We would have ended up great friends in every reality we found each other."

Leia smiled silently at that, just in time to see Ameera almost swing the door open at Luke's face.

Luke stumbled back at the force she was coming at him. "What's the matter? Did someone die?"

"Yes," Ameera concurred, almost out of breath. "Dinner did."

Luke looked down on his stomach like it had magically started groaning. "Oh no, Ameera."

"Oh no indeed," Ameera spoke flatly, leaning against the doorway. "Han burned the rice. And the meat."

"Han?" Leia asked, incredulous. "I've known Han for years and never once in his life did he ever ruin any meal. Ever."

"Fine. Is that what you want from me, Leia? I burned the dinner. Will you throw all my sins at my face now?!"

Leia ignored everything that came out of her mouth before and after her admission of guilt. "I'll go help him out."

Luke's face was suddenly written in panic at her assertion just as Ameera hastily placed her arm from one side of the doorframe to the other to impede her passage.

"Actually—" Ameera started with a grim, "The one thing that Han said to me before he kicked me out of his kitchen was so that, if you expressed you would come in to 'help' him, I'd have his full permission to deck you."

Leia gasped, offended. Luke put his hands together and looked at the sky, sending prayers of thanks. Leia smacked the back of his head.

Ahsoka crossed her arms, unable to get rid of the grin on her face — those really were Padmé and Anakin's children in flesh and soul.

A/N: honestly, just a breezy chapter so ahsoka will catch up on everything. i did love building their dynamics, though.

feedback appreciated!