In a bigger plot twist than Disney could ever manage, I'm back with a new story. Au where the events of A New Hope occur when Luke and Leia are 14 instead of 18-20. No one would have an easy time coping, let alone a set of kids, with disastrous results.

Trigger warning for heavy themes of depression in early chapters. Hope you enjoy

Onto the show!

It was late. The Crono on the bedside table flashed 4:10 am. The Yavin base was quiet, running solely on a skeleton crew full of half-awake rebels, desperate to protect the short peace offered after the latest victory against the Empire. The majority of them were packing; the Empire knew where they were, it was time to move. High Command had decided on a base on the ice planet Hoth, although that was currently classified information.
14-year-old Luke Skywalker was the only non-skeleton crew member awake throughout the base. Sleep was eluding him, as it had for the last few nights. It had been four days after the destruction of the Death Star, the deaths of his family, the end of his best friend, the loss of his mentor. There was nothing left for Luke in this world, no one to care for, no one to worry, no one no one no one-

NO, bad thoughts, bad thoughts. Luke squeezed his eyes shut, pushing himself to think of something, anything else. He turned over in his bunk, forcing himself to focus on the lights illuminating the corridor outside of his assigned barracks.

He took a deep breath. Another night of no sleep. But then again, isn't that what he deserved? He was the one who did it, wasn't he? They said at the memorial that there were over 2 million people on board the Death Star. And he killed every single one of them. They were dead because of the 'impossible shot' he made. All because he'd spent so much time in Beggar's Canyon learning how to pin womp rats. They were dead because he lied to the Rebels about his age, told them he was 17 and yes, of course, he was happy to help with their attack because why not? There wasn't anything left for him in this galaxy, aside from an old lightsaber and a story of a heroic father that contradicted everything he'd learned. He had been so excited to learn that truth, that his father, his family, was something more than just navigators, just farmers, just no-bodies with no prospect, no hopes, no futures. But that link to his father was gone, with an old relic from the past only remaining.

Stars, in the battle, he swore he heard old Ben in his mind, but that was all in his head wasn't it? Just another side effect from someone losing his marbles. Just another symptom, just another new reality. That was the worst part, wasn't it? A whole new reality to adjust to, but there was nothing left from before. He complained so much, so often to his aunt and uncle about how terrible his life was, how much he loathed the planet, the sand, the farming, everything. He hated himself for that alone, how much negativity he brought to the household, never realizing how painful it all could be, how much worse everything could get. He'd been annoyed with his uncle when he left to get the droids back, annoyed that he couldn't go see his friends, annoyed at more chores to complete, annoyed that he wasn't understood.

He hadn't said goodbye. He hadn't said he loved them. Hadn't said thank you.

He was terrible.

Was there anyone else as horrible of a nephew as him? As horrible as a person? A hysterical thought crossed his mind, 'Despite all I've done, despite everything that's happened, Vader is still worse.'

His father's killer, the Emperor's executioner, the terror of the galaxy. Just the stories he heard from his childhood were enough to petrify him, let alone seeing him strike down old Ben, or even hearing what he'd done to Leia…

By the Force, what Leia had endured over the last few days. She'd lost her entire planet, everyone she'd ever known and loved, there was nothing, no returning for her. He could at least visit the graves of his aunt and uncle, but Leia didn't even have that. She had been tortured, for star's sake. Despite the pain, despite the threats, she didn't break even then. She endured and held out for the Rebels. Leia was the real hero, not a sick, ungrateful, murdering, monster like him-

Luke threw the blankets off of him, there would be no peace for him tonight, or any night for that matter. And he deserved it. No, no, time to do something else.

Luke moved quietly thought the barracks, dressing and grabbing his father's lightsaber. He glanced at the Crono, 5:05 am. Soon everyone would wake up, he could tell them he got up early for some lightsaber practice. That sounds like something a Jedi would do right? When he showed up with the saber they all made some assumptions, asked if he was Ben's apprentice. He nodded, told them he was barely trained but yes. He was lying about his age, why not that too? Everyone seemed excited to have a real Jedi around, why bother taking that away? Maybe if he practiced really hard with the lightsaber, got really good maybe he could be a real asset to the Rebels. Maybe he'll become strong, just like his father, and maybe he'll help end the conflicts in the galaxy, like in one of Leia's speeches. Maybe he'll escape the suffering, make it all go away.

Just maybe.

It's time to go practice.

…..

Leia had woken up early. There was so much work to do, so much to organize, so much to prep for. Sometimes she felt so overwhelmed with these responsibilities, sometimes she felt the other leaders had decided she was perfectly ready to take over the position her father held, despite being 14 standard years old.

But none of that mattered.

Age or not, mourning or not, unbearable, relentless pain or not, there was a rebellion to run. Her father's, her planets, sacrifice would not end with her. She has responsibilities. She had expectations. And by the Force, she would meet every single one of them, no matter what the price. She walked through the base, passing the med center. She made a mental note to request an increase in dosage for her sleeping pills. They were only allowing for about four hours a night currently.

Walking through the base, she glanced at the Crono on the wall, 5:40 am. Still early, the majority of the skeleton crew shifted off at 7 am. On her way to her papa's-no her now-office, she heard the sound of blasters coming from one of the storage rooms. Glancing inside, she saw Luke wielding a lightsaber, trying (and failing) to deflect stun bolts from a hovering droid. She watched, fascinated for a moment. Luke had said he was an apprentice to General Kenobi but...He seemed rather inexperienced. Papa had told her stories about the Jedi, being the mightiest warriors, trained from childhood to be incredible in both battle and diplomacy. This...wasn't exactly what she expected.

She knew Luke had lied when he arrived.

She knew he wasn't 17. Han had mentioned to her that when he called Luke kid the first time, he got indignant, responding in a whine that he was 14, and no he isn't a kid anymore thank you. The thought gave her a smile, he was such a sweet kid, and yes he was just a kid. A kid who's already seen battle, who's already killed almost 2 million people, a kid who was a farmer on a backwater planet not 2 weeks ago. Who lost his family, friends, mentor, everything. It didn't escape her how similar their situation was, but she had training for star's sake. She was raised for this, raised to hold leadership in even the darkest of moments. Her heart ached a bit for him, maybe after she finishes her work today she could find time to talk to him? Maybe she could ask Han to check up on him as well. Yes, that would work. But not now, now she had work to do.

She had expectations, after all.

…..

Han had slept in. The Rebels were a punctual bunch, and demands were high with performance. Easy to understand when the galactic government had ordered every single Rebel dead, with a few select leaders ordered for capture with plans for public execution. Kind of disturbing that the two newest names on that list, the Rebel Alderaan Princess and Pilot responsible for the destruction of the Death Star, were both 14-year-old kids, but that wasn't any of his business really.

He had no intention of sticking around for long, once he helped them with their transport to the new base (at Chewie's insistence) he was out of here. Sure, he liked the kid and the princess, but neither of them were worth dying over. He had a debt to pay back, and places to be in the galaxy, not part of a bunch of freedom fighters trying to 'restore peace, prosperity, and democracy to a war-torn galaxy.'

Whatever that meant.

Regardless, Han had learned long ago that no matter who's flag was flying overhead, near everyone in this galaxy was out for themselves. Sure, there were some idealists, like the ones in this base, but they were vastly outnumbered by the selfish, greedy, and uncaring. Han was happy to get in on that action, and he was more than happy to collect the reward offered by the Rebels before he blasted off for good.

Han had agreed to help out with transport for their new base, and despite the looks he received for his punctuality, he set to work with the rest of the Rebels loading up the Falcon. Chewie was working on something inside, some wiring had gotten fried during his rescue operation in the trenches of the Death Star. Despite the damage, Han was glad he saved the kid. That stupid space station was dusted, the Rebels saved, that spitfire princess still around, his award given, the kid still kicking, and best of all the Empire humiliated completely with the destruction of their glorious weapon after only one true shot.

Overall, an excellent week for Han Solo.

Speaking of the Princess, her small frame made an appearance in the hanger, barking orders out to a bunch of Rebels slacking off. Stars, how could she be 14? What was he doing at that age? Probably trying to get someone to buy him whiskey from a corner store on his home planet Corellia. Probably running favor for whoever would pay, begging on the streets when needed, pickpocketing when that inevitably failed. Living for the moment, throwing himself into the next stupid get rich quick plan with no care for the consequences.

Hehe, good times.

The princess redirected her attention to Han, eyes zeroing in on him. Young or not, there was something strangely ancient in her gaze.

"Yes, princess?" Han asked.

"Solo," right to the point then, "I need you to talk to Luke sometime today, I'm worried he isn't coping well."

Han's eyebrows shot up, "Can you blame the kid? He's had one hell of a week, what with the old man dying and losing his family. Give him some space, he'll adjust fine."

The princess put her hands on her hips, "Yes, I'm absolutely positive Luke will be fine eventually with plenty of time to process all that has transpired, maybe with the help of a therapist. But we don't have time, and the last licensed counselor in the Rebellion died last month in an Empire rade. He needs intervention now. From you, preferably."

"Why me?! Why can't her worship go and have happy feeling times with her little pal?"

"Well Solo, two main reasons. First, for some strange reason, Luke looks up to you. Why is a mystery only the Force could ever know. I'm confident he'll open up faster to you. Second, I HAVE A REBELLION TO RUN. And unlike some individuals who oversleep and casually lounges while he waits for his ship to be loaded, I have actual responsibilities."

Han frowned. He'd been screamed at by the best of women, but this tiny 14-year-old has to take the cake. He rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion. Bossed around by an 8th-year student, how humiliating.

"Fine Princess, I'll check on the farm boy and give him a hug or something. No need to scream about it."

Leia raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"I'll make time to catch up with him later tonight. I just want you to try and get him to open up."

"Yeah, yeah," Han waved her off, "I'm on it."

This shouldn't be too hard.