Disclaimer:
Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, etc.; blah, blah, blah…
This is obviously a complete figment of my imagination, springing from the interesting detail that when Padmé Amidala's sister Sola called her "baby sister"—exasperated, Padmé snapped that she was "not [her] baby sister!"… Why did Padmé get upset if there were only two of them and she was the younger of the two? Was there someone she never told Anakin about? If so, why did she never tell him; nor anyone else, for that matter? From Padmé's character, she'd probably felt guilty. Why would she feel guilty? What would make her feel that way?
(Just showing where this came from.)
Hello, Luke.
You play with your son right now. I've never seen a father play with his son. I had no brothers; and your father never played with you, except to try to seduce you to the Dark Side. My grandfather was dead by the time I was born, though my sisters had gotten to meet him.
You named your son Ben—after Obi-Wan, you say. Do you know that Kenobi got the name from your mother screaming for "Ben" in the middle her nightmares? Do you know who those nightmares were really about?
I don't think you do. You've never looked for him; not even when on Dathomir. You've never noticed those slight ripples in the Force that flow directly to you and your sister… Because the ones between you twins are so strong, perhaps? Is that it?
Or maybe it's something else. You never met Benji's presence—you spent months in the same womb as your sister, though. Maybe that makes the difference.
It doesn't matter. You're content, if sometimes sadly reminiscent that you'll never know who your mother was. The thought that another Skywalker child might be out there doesn't even enter your thoughts, and I can't put it there. I wonder what you'd do if you knew that Fallanassi, Akanah, had been closer to the truth than she'd known—that Wialu, from my perspective, lied to you about Nashira. Akanah had meant it as a lie, but Nashira was your mother.
Na-shira, "forlorn mother of twins". I wonder why she let them call her that.
More so, I wonder why Akanah never guessed. I mean, wasn't it obvious? She'd never seen "Nashira" with the White Circle while on Lucazec; yet they trusted her enough to bear a message. The Circle's excessively keen on keeping the religion quiet—more so about the species. I don't think Akanah knows there is a Fallanassi species. She's so ignorant. I know more than her.
Artoo-Detoo beeps behind you, Luke. Why are you getting Threepio to translate? Haven't you learned Droidspeak by now? Your mother did, and she owned him a lot less time than you.
"The Chief of State's at the door," the astrodroid beeps and whistles, with a snickering sound to it. Threepio makes it sound pleasant—but it's not what Artoo said, anymore. Threepio never translates what Artoo says; that protocol droid interprets it.
I liked him a lot better before his memory wipe, but my poor sister couldn't handle him constantly asking after "Master Anakin"; couldn't have him asking your sister that.
"Your sister" she is to me, Luke. I'm sorry, but I can't think of her as anyone else. It's strange, though, because ever since she was born, I haven't really been anyone, either.
I'm kind of glad I'm dead; that I've had to grow up by watching your parents; you. At least I don't have the bothersome problems I had while alive—ones that would've made life miserable for me, once the Empire killed my father and my sister. I wouldn't have been able to wait for Jacen, and even if I had followed Pooja to Dathomir, what would have happened once the Nightsisters found out my fatal weakness? What would've happened if we'd ever gotten separated?
Rhetorical question. I know what would've happened. You wouldn't believe how I died, Luke. I know none of the Old Order Jedi would have, especially since they'd known my grandmother.
So that, and my lack of identity are spared by my remaining dead. I probably could come back if I tried… if someone showed me how. My sister might have been the most Fallanassi of the three of us—in the last possible generation for it to show, the grandchild—but I was in-between. That's where the problem that killed me comes from—Human and Fallanassi genes, joining in a way so as not to complement, as my sister's did, giving her all sorts of strengths to battle her one flaw; but to hinder, making me clumsier than someone with no Force connection, weaker, slower…
So it's good I'm dead. I think. I wish I could talk to you, at least; but supposing I could you'd ask who I am. I'm not anybody, Luke; my identity has been taken from me, and given to another. I was somebody, once. I am something. But neither of these I can tell you, Luke, for no matter how I try, I cannot get you to hear me.
Nephew.
Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, etc.; blah, blah, blah…
This is obviously a complete figment of my imagination, springing from the interesting detail that when Padmé Amidala's sister Sola called her "baby sister"—exasperated, Padmé snapped that she was "not [her] baby sister!"… Why did Padmé get upset if there were only two of them and she was the younger of the two? Was there someone she never told Anakin about? If so, why did she never tell him; nor anyone else, for that matter? From Padmé's character, she'd probably felt guilty. Why would she feel guilty? What would make her feel that way?
(Just showing where this came from.)
LUKE
Hello, Luke.
You play with your son right now. I've never seen a father play with his son. I had no brothers; and your father never played with you, except to try to seduce you to the Dark Side. My grandfather was dead by the time I was born, though my sisters had gotten to meet him.
You named your son Ben—after Obi-Wan, you say. Do you know that Kenobi got the name from your mother screaming for "Ben" in the middle her nightmares? Do you know who those nightmares were really about?
I don't think you do. You've never looked for him; not even when on Dathomir. You've never noticed those slight ripples in the Force that flow directly to you and your sister… Because the ones between you twins are so strong, perhaps? Is that it?
Or maybe it's something else. You never met Benji's presence—you spent months in the same womb as your sister, though. Maybe that makes the difference.
It doesn't matter. You're content, if sometimes sadly reminiscent that you'll never know who your mother was. The thought that another Skywalker child might be out there doesn't even enter your thoughts, and I can't put it there. I wonder what you'd do if you knew that Fallanassi, Akanah, had been closer to the truth than she'd known—that Wialu, from my perspective, lied to you about Nashira. Akanah had meant it as a lie, but Nashira was your mother.
Na-shira, "forlorn mother of twins". I wonder why she let them call her that.
More so, I wonder why Akanah never guessed. I mean, wasn't it obvious? She'd never seen "Nashira" with the White Circle while on Lucazec; yet they trusted her enough to bear a message. The Circle's excessively keen on keeping the religion quiet—more so about the species. I don't think Akanah knows there is a Fallanassi species. She's so ignorant. I know more than her.
Artoo-Detoo beeps behind you, Luke. Why are you getting Threepio to translate? Haven't you learned Droidspeak by now? Your mother did, and she owned him a lot less time than you.
"The Chief of State's at the door," the astrodroid beeps and whistles, with a snickering sound to it. Threepio makes it sound pleasant—but it's not what Artoo said, anymore. Threepio never translates what Artoo says; that protocol droid interprets it.
I liked him a lot better before his memory wipe, but my poor sister couldn't handle him constantly asking after "Master Anakin"; couldn't have him asking your sister that.
"Your sister" she is to me, Luke. I'm sorry, but I can't think of her as anyone else. It's strange, though, because ever since she was born, I haven't really been anyone, either.
I'm kind of glad I'm dead; that I've had to grow up by watching your parents; you. At least I don't have the bothersome problems I had while alive—ones that would've made life miserable for me, once the Empire killed my father and my sister. I wouldn't have been able to wait for Jacen, and even if I had followed Pooja to Dathomir, what would have happened once the Nightsisters found out my fatal weakness? What would've happened if we'd ever gotten separated?
Rhetorical question. I know what would've happened. You wouldn't believe how I died, Luke. I know none of the Old Order Jedi would have, especially since they'd known my grandmother.
So that, and my lack of identity are spared by my remaining dead. I probably could come back if I tried… if someone showed me how. My sister might have been the most Fallanassi of the three of us—in the last possible generation for it to show, the grandchild—but I was in-between. That's where the problem that killed me comes from—Human and Fallanassi genes, joining in a way so as not to complement, as my sister's did, giving her all sorts of strengths to battle her one flaw; but to hinder, making me clumsier than someone with no Force connection, weaker, slower…
So it's good I'm dead. I think. I wish I could talk to you, at least; but supposing I could you'd ask who I am. I'm not anybody, Luke; my identity has been taken from me, and given to another. I was somebody, once. I am something. But neither of these I can tell you, Luke, for no matter how I try, I cannot get you to hear me.
Nephew.