I shed a tear or two by the end of this chapter.
Leia's Letter
The old man certainly felt the disturbance – the Dark and the Light Side are so inexplicably intertwined – because the next morning, Luke comes to his hut. Ben expects a long proselytism concerning Jedi virtues and personal freedom and his choices and the Dark Side influence, but it's nothing of the sort.
The Jedi just handles him a small piece of folded paper, with a wax seal bearing the crest of the House Organa. She rarely used that seal – finding it too emotional and too painful and too quaint for her to use. She let Ben play with it as a child, knowing how fond he was of their family history and of history of the Old Republic in general.
If she could strike him down with a blaster-shot to the chest from across the galaxy, that death would feel less painful than that blood red wax seal, piercing right through his heart.
"It is your mother, Ben," Luke says, his voice broken. "She is desperate. She is heart-broken. Please, just…"
He lowers the paper on Ben's bed, as he remains in the corner, motionless.
"…just try, Ben."
Luke sighs and leaves.
Left alone, Ben stared at the thing as if it was white-hot and threatened to burn his whole hut down, himself included. Regardless, he made one feeble step toward it – no matter how much pain they both caused him, he was still like a moth to the flame – his arm outstretched, he let his hand hover over the paper for a moment. The burning letters started forming in his mind: his mother's handwriting, exactly like he remembers it, although now it reflected her haste, her confusion and her despair – the pressure of the pen uneven: somewhere threatening to break the resilient structure of the paper, on other places so faint, like a voice lost in the wind. Her unfaltering love and compassion and pain flooded him, without so much as an ounce of reprimand tainting them – it was agonizing. But with her letter, along came the old memories, too.
They were frightened of him. The way they talked of him that night, thinking he was asleep and couldn't hear him – their conspiratorial whispers making their betrayal even more painful, if that was even possible.
They spoke of him, of their own son, like he was nothing more than a monster that should be put down or locked away for good and dispatched to the most remote corner of the galaxy, where other monsters dwell.
And so they got rid of him, sending him away to Luke – a liar, a hypocrite, a conniving Jedi full of disdain and fear and folly.
Feeling the fit of blind rage and pain coming in, he burnt the letter down in one single stroke of his lightsaber, his grandfather's damn lightsaber.
It is too late, mother.
And then he fell back, his face in his hands, and wept like he has never wept before in his entire life – knowing he'll probably never weep like this ever again.
„My son,
By know, you know the secret of my origin. That secret has plagued my years and haunted my dreams like a nightmare. I thought myself to be stronger. I thought I overcame the shadow that loomed over my adult years. I thought I have forgiven the man behind the mask – and in a way, I did. Obi Van told me my mother, and your grandmother, Padme Amidala Naberrie, died with forgiveness on her lips and in her heart. She thought there was still good in him. Remembering this, I beg you, Ben, to find something redeeming about your own mother now. I admit – I was weak. I am weak still. I failed to protect you. I failed to be the mother you deserve. Luke praises you for your intelligence, knowledge, strength and talents and I hate so much that all of this has happened right now, when you seem to finally find some sort of peace with yourself. I know growing up is hard business. You might not believe it, but I probably know all about it better than you think. My own father, at that point reduced to a bionic monster covered with a mask, tortured me. Destroyed the only planet I knew as home. Destroyed only people I ever knew as my parents. Destroyed my own mother's life, sending me and my brother into life of hiding and cover-up. I cannot begin to express how sorry I am that this past came back to haunt us and to haunt you, Ben. Anakin Skywalker is now at peace. Luke claims to have seen his ghost, but ghosts are privileged, Ben. I know it. It is the living who must live though they are haunted by the phantasms of the past.
I remember it now and I will remember it until my dying day, how you appeared as brilliant light that no darkness could extinguish even while you were in my belly. You are that light still, the sort of light no threat can ever darken, no matter how terrible it appears to be. I know that there is a light shining so bright somewhere, no matter how distant or far away in this tormented galaxy, and that is the only truth I know. Everything else, even the Republic – believe it or not – don't matter to me. You are the only thing that ever mattered. Everything I ever did was to make sure you inherit a better world, far better than the one I stepped in. And now, knowing that I have failed miserably on all accounts, I can only hope and pray that one day you'll be able to forgive me. That this anguish will ultimately be our shared sorrow, one we'll overcome together one day. Hope is never lost – we defeated the Empire and the Sith once, we can do it again. And with you by my side, I know I can face every evil this galaxy could ever give birth to – the Amaxine warriors, the surviving Imperialists and all the dark forces that support them from the shadows.
Never forget that, no matter how imperfect and foolish your father and mother are, we love you to our deaths and beyond.
Also, never, ever forget you're the Light, Ben. You're my Light. You made and still make this life worthwhile. When everything crumbles, as it does now, it is not the Resistance or the politics I look up to in hope: it's you and it will always be you.
May the Force Be with you always, my most beloved son.
Please, forgive me.
Your ever loving mother,
Leia."