The Senate chamber was hushed as Senator Leia Organa stood at her podium, her spine straight and proud as ever. But her world was crumbling around her as Ransolm Casterfo's voice echoed through the vast chamber.
"The truth must be known," he declared, activating a holorecording. "Princess Leia Organa is the daughter of Darth Vader."
The chamber erupted. Senators leapt to their feet, their voices a cacophony of shock and outrage. But Leia remained still, her face a mask of composure even as her hands gripped the podium's edge.
Through the Force, even untrained as she was, she felt the wave of fear and betrayal sweep through the chamber. Colleagues who had smiled at her that morning now recoiled as if she carried a contagion.
"Senator Organa," the presiding chair spoke, voice trembling slightly. "Do you deny these claims?"
Leia lifted her chin, meeting the accusation with the same strength she'd shown on the Death Star decades ago. "I do not deny that Anakin Skywalker was my birth father. I am proud to be the daughter of Bail and Breha Organa, who raised me to serve the galaxy with honor."
But her words were lost in the growing storm. She could see it in their eyes—every victory she'd won, every alliance she'd built, every piece of legislation she'd championed, all of it was being rewritten in their minds through the lens of fear.
If only you knew, she thought, her heart aching. If only you knew how I've fought against that darkness every day of my life.
But she couldn't tell them about Ben, about how she'd recognized the shadows gathering around her son, about how she'd sent him to Luke hoping to prevent history from repeating itself. That was one secret she still had to keep.
As the Senate dissolved into chaos around her, Leia stood tall, her mother's lessons echoing in her mind: "You are more than your blood, Leia. You are what you choose to be."
Today, those choices were being erased by a truth she'd never asked for, a legacy she'd spent a lifetime trying to redeem.
The following days were a slow execution of everything Leia had built. The Senate chambers, once her battlefield of choice, became a gauntlet of whispers and averted eyes. Former allies suddenly had urgent meetings when she approached. Aides requested transfers. Even her own staff looked at her with new uncertainty in their eyes.
Leia sat in her office, staring at the empty screen of her datapad. For the first time in her political career, she was alone.
But she refused to let this defeat break her. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
Rising to her feet, Leia straightened her shoulders and walked purposefully out of her office. She needed to be seen, needed to show them all that their fear would not stop her from fighting for what was right.
She made her way down the corridors of the Senate building, past the whispers and hushed conversations that seemed to follow wherever she went. But she didn't stop or acknowledge them. Instead, she headed straight for the Senate chambers.
As she entered the chamber, all eyes turned towards her. The murmurs died down as everyone waited for what she would do next.
Leia walked up to the podium where she had stood just days before as a respected leader of the galaxy. This time, there would be no holorecordings or official speeches. No carefully crafted words meant to sway opinions and win votes.
Instead, Leia spoke from her heart. She spoke of hope and redemption, of how every person has a choice and can rise above their past mistakes. She spoke of how Anakin Skywalker may have been Darth Vader, but he also became a Jedi once again in his final moments.
Her words were met with silence at first, but gradually some faces softened while others remained cold and unmoved.
But as Leia continued speaking, something unexpected happened. Senators who had previously backed away from her now stepped forward. They offered words of support and encouragement, standing beside their colleague when it seemed like everyone else was against her.
In that moment, Leia realized that even though some may see only Vader's daughter when they looked at her now, others saw a strong leader who fought for what was right.
Today would be her last appearance before the Senate.
"I've watched many of you grow from junior representatives into leaders," she began, her voice steady despite the cold silence that greeted her. "Together, we've rebuilt from the ashes of the Empire. We've created laws to protect the weak, established trade routes to feed the hungry, fostered peace where there was war."
The emptiness of the seats around her podium spoke volumes. Senators who once crowded close to show their allegiance now kept their distance, as if darkness might be contagious.
"And now you would undo all of that," she continued, "because of a truth I never chose. Because of a father I never knew."
"You lied to us!" someone called out. "How can we trust anything you've done?"
"Every vote I've cast, every bill I've proposed—it's all public record." Leia's voice took on the steel that had once commanded rebel troops. "Judge me by my actions, not my blood."
Lady Carise Sindian rose, her elegant robes rustling. "The Senate cannot risk being associated with... such heritage. The daughter of Darth Vader cannot be allowed to—"
"I am the daughter of Bail and Breha Organa!" The force of Leia's declaration made the chambers ring. "I watched Alderaan die! I fought the Empire! I helped build this New Republic while some of you were still hiding in your family compounds!"
But she could feel it was useless. The fear was too deep, too primal. Vader had become myth, a darkness greater than the man had ever been, and now that shadow fell across everything she touched.
"The chair recognizes Senator Organa's... resignation," the presiding speaker announced, unable to meet her eyes.
Leia stood straight, channeling every lesson in dignity her mother had taught her. "Very well. I resign my seat. But remember this—the galaxy doesn't care about bloodlines. The problems we face won't disappear because you've cast out the daughter of Vader. They'll only grow stronger while you cower from shadows."
She turned to leave, then stopped. One last truth needed speaking.
"My father was Anakin Skywalker before he was Darth Vader. He returned to the light in the end, gave his life to save others. But you don't want to hear that, do you? It's easier to believe in monsters than redemption."
The silence that followed her down the chamber's long aisle was deafening. Decades of service, erased by fear of a name. A lifetime of fighting darkness, undone by its mere association.
As she reached the doors, a young aide—one of the few who hadn't abandoned her—rushed up with tears in her eyes.
"Senator, I'm so sorry. What will you do now?"
Leia managed a small smile, though her heart was breaking. "What I've always done. Fight for what's right, with or without their blessing."
But as she walked away from everything she'd built, her thoughts turned to Ben. Would this news reach him? Would it push him further from the light, knowing how quickly the galaxy turned on those touched by darkness?
Oh Ben, she thought. Don't let this be one more weight on your shoulders. Don't let their fear define you like they've tried to define me.
Behind her, the Senate continued its session, already beginning to erase her legacy from their records. But they couldn't erase the truth she carried—that redemption was possible, that blood wasn't destiny.
She just prayed Ben would remember that too, when the darkness came calling with its own version of the truth.
The office that had been her second home for years now felt foreign. Leia Organa—no longer a Senator, no longer even a Princess to many—methodically packed away decades of service into a single box. Holos of diplomatic victories, medals of valor, treaties she'd helped forge... all of it tainted now by a truth she'd never chosen.
Her aides had already been reassigned. All except Amilyn Holdo, who stood by her door with characteristic poise, her elegant bearing a quiet rebellion against the day's indignities.
"The reporters are gathering outside," Holdo reported, her voice carrying the same calm strength it had since their teenage years in the Apprentice Legislature. "Security suggests using the diplomatic exit."
"No," Leia's voice was firm. "I won't skulk out the back door like a criminal. I've done nothing wrong."
She placed one last item in her box—a small holo of Ben at age ten, serious-faced even then, standing beside her at a Senate function. Her heart ached thinking of how this news would affect him.
The corridors of the Senate building were eerily empty as she walked out, her footsteps echoing off marble floors that had once welcomed her as a hero of the Rebellion. Now, doors closed as she passed. Former allies turned away, suddenly busy with datapads or urgent conversations.
"Hold your head high," she heard her adoptive mother's voice in memory. "A leader's greatest test comes not in victory, but in dignity during defeat."
The main entrance loomed ahead. Through the grand doors, she could see the crowd of reporters, their cameras hovering like predatory birds.
"Ready?" she asked Holdo, who hadn't wavered from her side.
"They're fools," Holdo said with quiet intensity, her calculating eyes surveying the crowd. "Trading wisdom for fear, progress for prejudice."
Leia squeezed her friend's hand. "Thank you, Amilyn. For everything. But you should go now. Your future shouldn't be tainted by association."
"My friend," Holdo's smile was gentle but determined, "if they fear your heritage so much, let them fear my loyalty to you more."
The doors opened. Light and chaos exploded around them.
"Senator Organa! How long have you known about your true parentage?"
"Did Emperor Palpatine know you were Vader's daughter?"
"Were your votes influenced by your Imperial blood?"
"Is your son being tested for Force sensitivity?"
Leia walked through them with the same grace she'd shown on the Death Star at sixteen. Questions pelted her like blaster fire, but she didn't flinch, didn't hurry, didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Her ship waited at the end of the long walk—a simple transport, not the diplomatic vessel she'd arrived in. The pilot was a stranger, probably the only one willing to fly the daughter of Darth Vader.
Only when the ship broke atmosphere did Leia finally let her shoulders drop. She stared out the viewport at Hosnian Prime, at the Senate building growing smaller below, at the life she'd built crumbling because of a father she'd never known.
The ship's course was set for Chandrila, her old home. But would it still be home now? Would neighbors who'd smiled yesterday shun her tomorrow?
Her comlink chirped—Luke's encrypted frequency. Her heart jumped, thinking of Ben. She'd been trying to reach the temple for hours...
"Luke? Is Ben alright? Has he heard—"
But the signal was breaking up, distorted by interference or distance.
"Leia... temple... Ben... emergency..."
Static consumed the rest.
"Luke?" Her hand tightened on the comlink. "Luke, what about Ben? What's happened?"
But there was only silence. She tried to concentrate on the force, a little rusty but she still remembers the bond she forged with Luke years back and tries to feel him, but there was nothing, as if he closed the door to her.
The transport continued toward Chandrila as Leia sat alone with her single box of memories, her brother's broken message playing over and over in her mind. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The usual raucous atmosphere of Maz's castle fell silent as the holonet broadcast echoed through the ancient stone halls. Han Solo stood frozen behind the bar, a forgotten glass slipping from his fingers as he watched his wife—his princess—face the Senate's fury.
"The daughter of Darth Vader..."
Chewbacca's mournful howl broke the silence.
"Yeah, pal," Han's voice was rough. "I should've been there."
Maz Kanata appeared beside them, her magnified eyes full of ancient wisdom. "You knew," she said simply. It wasn't a question.
"Course I knew." Han sank onto a bar stool, suddenly looking every one of his years. "Known since before Ben was born. Leia... she was afraid the darkness might pass to him. That's why we..." He couldn't finish.
Chewie growled softly, a question about Ben.
"Kid probably knows by now," Han ran a hand over his face. "He's been training with Luke, but this..." He gestured at the broadcast. "He wasn't supposed to find out like this."
The broadcast showed senators calling for investigations, for resignations, for blood tests of anyone connected to Leia. Han's fist clenched as he watched them tear apart everything his wife had built.
"You should go to her," Maz said, climbing onto the stool next to him. "She needs you now more than ever."
"She needed me years ago," Han's laugh was bitter. "When Ben started having nightmares. When Luke said he needed training. When..." He gestured helplessly at the broadcast. "I did what I always do. I ran."
Chewie placed a massive paw on his friend's shoulder, reminding him it wasn't too late.
"Isn't it?" Han watched as Leia stood proud before her accusers. "My wife's being crucified for a father she never knew. And me?" He grabbed a bottle from behind the bar. "I'm hiding in a castle full of smugglers and pirates. Some husband. Some father."
Maz adjusted her goggles, studying him closely. "The boy who made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs, giving up so easily?"
"That was a different man, Maz. A different time."
"No," she reached out and took the bottle from his hands. "That man is still in there. The one who loved a princess enough to face the Empire. The one who helped destroy two Death Stars. The one who held his son and promised to always protect him."
Chewie barked in agreement, adding that the Falcon was fueled and ready.
Han looked back at the holonet, where they were showing old footage of happier times—Leia at Ben's naming ceremony, both of them so young, so full of hope. Before the nightmares, before the fear, before everything changed.
"She won't want to see me," he muttered. "Not after I left."
"Maybe not," Maz agreed. "But she needs you all the same. And so does your son."
The broadcast switched to footage of Vader, then back to Leia, highlighting their supposed resemblance. Han's face hardened.
"Ready the Falcon, Chewie," he said suddenly, standing. "Time I stopped running."
As they prepared to leave, Maz called after him: "Han! Remember—she's still the same woman you fell in love with."
"Yeah," Han managed a small smile. "Still the same princess who called me a scruffy-looking nerf herder."
The familiar weight of his blaster at his hip felt heavier somehow as he walked away from the safety of Maz's castle. Behind him, the holonet continued its character assassination of the woman he loved, of the family he'd too often left behind.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late to try again.
To be the husband, the father, he should have been all along.
The transport's comm system crackled as Leia input Han's personal frequency—one he'd promised to always answer, no matter what. Three signals passed before his familiar voice filled the cabin.
"Leia?"
Just hearing him say her name made her throat tight. "Han."
"I saw the broadcast." His voice was rough with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Princess. I should've been there."
"You haven't called me Princess in years," she managed a weak smile.
"Yeah, well... seems like a good time to remind you who you really are. And it ain't Vader's daughter."
Through the static, she could hear Chewie's supportive growl in the background. The sound of the Falcon's familiar engines told her they were in flight.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"Leaving Takodana. We're coming to—"
"No," she cut him off. "Han, I need you to do something more important."
A pause. "Ben?"
"I can't reach Luke. The last transmission was garbled, something about an emergency at the temple." Her voice caught. "Han, He needs his father, especially now."
The silence that followed was heavy with guilt.
"He won't want to see me, Leia. Not after I..."
"He's your son," she said firmly. "And he's about to learn that his grandfather was Darth Vader, if he hasn't already. He shouldn't face that alone."
She heard Han's sharp intake of breath. "Kriff, I didn't even think... how's the kid gonna handle this?"
"That's what scares me. You know how he struggles with his power, with his place in all this. And now..."
"I'll go," Han said quickly. "Me and Chewie, we'll head to the temple right now. Check on the kid."
"Tell him..." Leia hesitated. "Tell him I'm sorry he had to find out this way. Tell him it doesn't change who he is, who we are. Tell him—"
"I'll tell him his mother loves him," Han finished softly. "That we both do."
Leia closed her eyes against sudden tears. "Thank you."
"Hey, Leia?" His voice was gentle now, like it used to be in their early days. "Whatever happens with all this... you're still royalty to me. Always have been."
"I know."
In Cloud City's most exclusive lounge, Lando Calrissian's sabbac cards lay forgotten on the table as he stared at the holonet broadcast. The usual buzz of gambling and business deals had given way to shocked whispers and angry mutters as Leia Organa—their legendary princess, their respected senator—was revealed as Vader's daughter.
"Vader?" a Bespin mining executive spat. "That monster nearly destroyed this city! And she's his—"
"Watch it," Lando's voice cut through the murmurs, smooth as ever but with an edge of durasteel. "You're talking about a hero of the Rebellion."
"A hero?" Another patron laughed bitterly. "More like a sleeper agent. How do we know she wasn't working for the Empire all along?"
Lando's hand tightened around his cape as he stood, his characteristic charm giving way to cold anger. "I was there when she helped lead the Rebellion. When she risked everything to save this city—to save all of us. Where were you?"
The lounge fell silent as Lando moved closer to the holoscreen, watching his old friend face the Senate with the same dignity she'd shown when Vader had tortured her in his own city. The same strength she'd displayed while helping him rebuild Cloud City after the Empire's occupation.
"Baron Administrator," one of his advisors approached cautiously. "Perhaps we should issue a statement distancing Cloud City from—"
"The only statement we're issuing," Lando interrupted, his voice carrying across the now-silent lounge, "is one of full support for Senator Organa. And anyone who has a problem with that is welcome to take their business elsewhere."
"But sir, our trading partners—"
"Will learn what real loyalty looks like." Lando turned to face the crowd, every inch the leader who had transformed from a scoundrel to a hero in his own right. "You want to judge someone by their blood? Fine. Judge them by what that blood has done. Leia Organa bled for this galaxy's freedom. She bled for your freedom."
He pointed at the holoscreen where senators were calling for investigations. "You think she's Vader's legacy? I was there. I saw Vader torture her, freeze her friend in carbonite, try to destroy everything she loved. And you know what she did? She came back. She helped free this city. She helped build the peace you're all enjoying right now."
The mining executive shifted uncomfortably. "But the risk—"
"The only risk," Lando's smile was sharp, "is believing that blood matters more than choice. Than action. Than loyalty." He straightened his cape with familiar flair. "Now, anyone else want to question the character of the woman who saved your city? Because I've got some lovely mining positions on the outer platforms that need filling."
The lounge quickly returned to its usual activity, though the whispers continued. Lando watched the broadcast a moment longer, seeing Leia's dignified exit from the Senate.
"Send a message to Chandrila," he instructed his aide. "Tell the Princess that Cloud City remembers its friends. Its real friends." He paused, then added with a touch of his old charm, "And tell her that her old scoundrel friend says to hell with heritage—class is something you can't inherit."
As he turned away from the broadcast, Lando's thoughts went to young Ben, the serious-faced boy he'd last seen years ago. How would Vader's grandson handle this revelation?
"Keep an eye on our trading partners," he told his aide. "Anyone who tries to cut ties over this... well, they might find Cloud City's hospitality suddenly very expensive."
It wasn't much, perhaps, in the grand scheme of things. But Lando Calrissian had learned long ago that loyalty was worth more than profit.
And some friends were worth any price.
Lando paced his private office in Cloud City, cape swishing behind him as he waited for the Falcon's comm to connect. When Han's familiar voice crackled through, he didn't waste time with pleasantries.
"Tell me you're heading to her."
"Not exactly," Han's voice was tense. "I'm going to the temple first. To Ben."
Lando stopped pacing. "The temple? Why—"
"Luke tried to contact Leia. Something about an emergency, but the transmission cut out. With everything that's happening..." Han trailed off.
"The kid," Lando understood immediately. "He must've seen the broadcast by now."
Chewie's worried growl came through the comm.
"Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing, pal," Lando said. "Listen, Han, I'm coming too. The Lady Luck can rendezvous with the Falcon—"
"You don't have to—"
"Hey, that's my godson we're talking about." Lando was already moving, signaling his aide to prepare his ship. "Besides, someone needs to be there with actual diplomatic skills. You're not exactly known for your gentle touch, old buddy."
Despite the situation, Han managed a weak chuckle. "Look who's talking."
"I'll have you know I've become quite the sophisticated administrator."
"Yeah? That why I hear you just threatened to send half of Cloud City's elite to the outer mining platforms?"
Lando grinned as he grabbed his travel bag. "You heard about that already?"
"Word travels fast when the Baron Administrator defends Vader's daughter."
"I defended our friend," Lando corrected sharply. "And I'd do it again. Now, send me your coordinates. The Lady Luck is faster than that bucket of bolts you fly—"
Chewie's indignant roar made him laugh.
"Sorry, Chewie. You know I love the Falcon. But seriously, Han... how bad do you think this is going to be? For Ben?"
There was a long pause. "I don't know. I haven't... I haven't seen him in so long. Force, Lando, what kind of father am I? My kid's about to learn his grandfather was the galaxy's biggest monster, and I haven't even talked to him since he was nine."
"Then it's a good thing you've got backup," Lando said firmly, boarding the Lady Luck. "Send those coordinates. We'll fix this together, like old times."
As he prepared for takeoff, Lando thought about the last time he'd seen Ben—a quiet, intense child who'd inherited his mother's eyes and his father's smile, on those rare occasions he showed it. The boy had already been struggling with his power then. Now, with this revelation...
"Hold on, kid," he muttered as the Lady Luck broke Bespin's atmosphere. "Your Uncle Lando's coming."
The Falcon descended through thick smoke, its sensors struggling to find a clear landing spot among the temple ruins. Han's hands were white-knuckled on the controls as he took in the destruction below.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no..."
Chewie's moan was filled with grief as they touched down on the scorched earth. The temple's main spire had collapsed, and fires still smoldered in what remained of the dormitories. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burned stone and...worse.
"Ben!" Han shouted as soon as the ramp lowered. "BEN!"
His voice echoed across the devastation. No answer came.
They found the first body near what had been the training grounds. A young padawan, no older than twelve. Then another. And another.
Chewie's anguished howl cut through the silence.
"Keep looking," Han's voice cracked. "He has to be here somewhere. Ben! Answer me, kid!"
A familiar series of beeps drew their attention. Through the smoke, they saw R2-D2 waiting by the ruined temple entrance, his once-shiny dome covered in soot.
"R2!" Han rushed to the droid. "Where is everyone? Where's Luke? Where's my son?"
R2's mournful series of beeps and whistles made Han stumble backward.
"What do you mean Luke's gone? Where's.." He couldn't finish the question.
The droid played a fragmented recording: Luke standing in rubble similar to where they stood now, his face devastated as he turned away from the destruction. Then static. Then nothing.
"Show me more," Han demanded. "Show me Ben!"
But R2 just whistled sadly, explaining that he'd only seen the aftermath. Luke disappearing into the night. The temple in ruins.
"But Ben," Han's voice was desperate now. "Did you see Ben? Is he..." Han sank to his knees. "Please, no..."
R2 beeped quickly, explaining that Ben had left in the Grimtaash. He was alive, at least when the droid had last seen him.
"He's alive?" Han's head snapped up. "Where did he go? Which direction?"
But R2 could only tell them that Ben had fled into the night, his path unknown.
A new ship's engines roared overhead—the Lady Luck arriving. Han barely noticed.
"What happened here?" he whispered, more to himself than to R2 or Chewie. "What happened to my son?"
The droid's answer was simple but devastating: Everything changed when they took the girl.
"Girl? What girl?"
But before R2 could explain further, Lando's voice cut through the smoke.
"Han! Are you—" His friend stopped short, taking in the devastation. "Force... is that... are those..."
"We have to find him," Han stood suddenly, clutching the burned cord. "He's alive, Lando. Ben's alive, and he's out there somewhere."
Chewie growled in agreement, already heading back to the Falcon.
"We'll find him, buddy," Lando promised, though his eyes were haunted by the destruction around them. "Whatever happened here... we'll find him."
As they prepared to leave, Han looked back one last time at the ruined temple, at the place he'd left his son all those years ago. Somewhere in the galaxy, Ben was alive. Alone. Running from whatever tragedy had happened here.
"I'm coming, kid," he whispered. "This time, I'm not stopping until I find you."
Behind them, R2-D2 watched them go, still guarding his post as he had been instructed. Waiting.
Leia sat in her darkened living room in Chandrila, unable to look away from the holonet broadcasts that seemed intent on destroying her life piece by piece. She'd muted the sound hours ago, but the crawling text told her everything:
"VADER'S HEIR: The Dark Truth Behind Senator Organa"
"IMPERIAL BLOOD: Should Former Rebels Be Investigated?"
"PRINCESS OF DARKNESS: Alderaan's Last Royal Revealed as Sith Lord's Daughter"
Outside her window, reporters camped on her lawn, their cameras trained on the house like targeting systems. Neighbors who'd invited her to dinner last week now hurried past with averted eyes.
One broadcast showed an "expert" analyzing old footage of her Senate speeches, claiming to detect "Imperial mannerisms" and "dark side influence" in her gestures. Another replayed the destruction of Alderaan, suggesting she might have somehow been complicit in her adopted planet's destruction.
Her comlink chirped—Han's signal. Her hands shook slightly as she answered.
"Han? Did you find Ben? Is he—" She stopped, seeing his face. In thirty years of marriage, she'd never seen him look so devastated. "No. Please, no."
"The temple," Han's voice was rough. "It's gone, Leia. Burned. The students..."
"Ben?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Han, where's our son?"
"He's alive." Han ran a hand over his face. "R2 saw him leave in the Grimtaash. But Luke's gone too. Everyone's gone. There are..." he couldn't continue.
"Tell me."
"Bodies. The younger students... Force, Leia, they were just kids."
The holonet continued its silent assault in the background as Leia's world crumbled further. On the screen, someone was analyzing her genetic likelihood of "dark side tendencies."
"What happened?" she managed to ask.
"We don't know exactly. R2 mentioned something about a girl being taken? Does that mean anything to you?"
Leia shook her head, her mind racing. "When's the last time anyone saw Ben? Was he... was he alright?"
"R2 said he left before... before the worst of it." Han's voice was heavy with grief. "Leia..."
"I'm coming home," Han said firmly. "Lando's with me. We'll figure this out together."
Outside, a reporter was shouting questions through a amplifier: "Senator Organa! Is it true your son is being tested for dark side corruption?"
Leia's laugh was bitter. "Don't come here. The press is camped outside. They're calling for genetic testing of anyone related to Vader. If they find out about the temple, about Ben..."
"Then we'll go somewhere else. Together. We'll find our son."
On the holonet, they were now showing images of her, analyzing facial features, discussing genetic predisposition to evil.
"How did we let this happen?" she whispered.
"This isn't your fault," Han's voice was fierce. "None of it. We're going to find him, Leia. All of us—me, Chewie, Lando. We'll bring him home."
"Find him," she said finally. "Whatever it takes. Find our boy."
The transmission ended, leaving Leia alone with the silent accusations of the holonet and the shouted questions of reporters outside.
She stood, switching off the holonet at last. Let them say what they wanted about Vader's daughter.
The common room of their borrowed ship was silent except for the crackling of the holonet broadcast. Voe, Tai, and Hennix sat frozen, watching as their former friend's mother stood proud before a hostile Senate, her heritage exposed for all the galaxy to see.
"The daughter of Darth Vader," Voe whispered, her face draining of color. "Which means Ben is..."
"Vader's grandson." Hennix's logical mind was already racing through past interactions, recalculating everything they thought they knew. "It explains so much."
Tai sat with his head in his hands. He'd always been the most attuned to Ben's struggles, had sensed the weight his friend carried. "All those times he talked about legacy, about living up to expectations... he wasn't just talking about being Han and Leia's son."
The holonet showed senators recoiling from Leia, decades of respect evaporating in moments. The crawl beneath announced her forced resignation, the swift fall of a hero of the Rebellion.
"No wonder Luke kept it secret," Voe said, her previous anger at Ben tinged now with understanding. "Can you imagine growing up with that knowledge? That darkness in your blood?"
Hennix stood suddenly, pacing. "The voice he heard... the power he showed... Force, we were so blind. Even his calligraphy—didn't Vader's fortress on Mustafar have ancient Sith texts written in similar scripts?"
"Stop it," Tai snapped. "Ben isn't Vader. He's our friend who just had his whole world ripped apart. First Kira taken away, then Luke's betrayal, and now this..." He gestured at the broadcast. "No wonder he ran."
The holonet showed crowds gathering outside the Senate, some burning effigies of Vader's mask, others calling for investigations into every decision Leia had ever made.
"They're going to come after him next," Voe realized. "Once they connect the dots... once they realize Vader's grandson is out there somewhere, powerful and angry..."
"And alone," Tai added quietly. "We have to find him first. Before someone else does. Before this news pushes him further toward—"
"Toward what?" Hennix asked. "The dark side? The same path his grandfather took? Face it, Tai. The Ben Solo we knew died in that temple fire."
"No." Tai stood, his usual gentle nature hardening with determination. "I refuse to believe that. There's still light in him. I felt it, even in the hangar when he left. Even in his rage, he didn't strike us down. He could have, but he didn't."
Voe's hand went to her lightsaber unconsciously. "Because of restraint or because he had somewhere else to be? He's hunting for Kira, remember? And when he finds her..."
"If he finds her," Tai interrupted, "she might be the only one who can pull him back from this edge. Their bond—"
"Their bond is exactly what Lor San Tekka is trying to break," Hennix reminded them. "And maybe he's right. Maybe that kind of power, that kind of connection, in the hands of Vader's grandson..."
The holonet switched to old footage of Vader, his black mask a symbol of terror that had haunted the galaxy for decades. Then it cut to shots of Ben at various Senate functions with his mother—a little, brooding boy standing in the background, his face now taking on new meaning to everyone watching.
"We should have protected him better," Tai said softly. "All those years, he was carrying this weight alone. No wonder he felt like no one understood him. No wonder he clung to Kira so desperately—she was probably the only one who looked at him and didn't see something to fear."
Voe sank back into her seat. "What do we do now?"
"We have a choice," Hennix said, ever the pragmatist. "Help hunt him down, or..."
"Or help him," Tai finished firmly. "Show him that blood isn't destiny. That he's not alone."
"No," Tai shook his head. "He's smarter than that. He knows they'll expect him to chase after her immediately. He'll wait, plan, maybe even..." He trailed off, a new thought occurring to him.
"What?"
"Maybe even embrace the darkness," Tai said grimly. "Not because he wants to, but because after this?" He gestured at the holonet, still showing the Senate in uproar. "After seeing how quickly they turned on his mother? Maybe he'll decide that if they're going to fear him anyway, he might as well become what they fear."
The three padawans sat in heavy silence, watching as the galaxy began to tear itself apart over revealed truths and ancient fears. Somewhere out there, their friend was watching too, learning that the darkness he'd fought so hard to resist was literally in his blood.
And they could only pray that when the time came to choose his path, he'd remember the boy who'd built a blue lightsaber, not the legacy that now threatened to swallow him whole.
"Master Ben," GeeGee's vocabulator carried an unusual note of hesitation. "I believe you should see the current HoloNet broadcast."
With a wave of Ben's hand, the holoprojector flickered to life. Immediately, the room filled with the harsh voice of a Coruscanti news anchor, overlaid with footage of his mother at the Senate.
"—shocking revelations about Senator Organa's true parentage have sparked outrage across the galaxy. Multiple sources have confirmed that both she and her twin brother, Luke Skywalker, are the children of Darth Vader—"
The Grimtaash drifted in the shadow of a nameless moon, its systems running dark to avoid detection. Inside the cockpit, Ben sat motionless, watching the holonet broadcast flicker with poor reception. But even through the static, the words cut clear and sharp:
"...Princess Leia Organa is the daughter of Darth Vader."
"Master Ben," GeeGee moved closer, its photoreceptors dimming to a gentle glow. "Your heart rate is elevating to concerning levels. Shall I—"
"Turn it up," Ben commanded, his voice barely a whisper.
"—calls for her immediate resignation from the Senate continue to grow. Senator Casterfo's impassioned speech included damning evidence of the cover-up, leading many to question not only Senator Organa's judgment but her very loyalty to the New Republic—"
Footage played of his mother standing proud at the podium, but Ben could see what others might miss – the slight tremor in her hands, the tightness around her eyes. The same signs of contained emotion he'd learned to hide himself.
"The HoloNet is calling it the scandal of the decade," GeeGee reported softly, its processors humming as it analyzed multiple news feeds simultaneously. "Public sentiment is... overwhelmingly negative. Several systems have already called for emergency votes of no confidence."
His hands gripped the controls until his knuckles went white. The blue lightsaber at his hip seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.
Now you understand, Snoke's voice whispered. Why they feared you from the beginning. Why they sent you away. Why Luke stood over you with that saber...
"They knew," Ben's voice was raw. "All of them. My whole life, they knew."
The broadcast showed senators he'd known since childhood, who had patted his head at diplomatic functions, who had smiled and called him 'young Solo,' now recoiling from his mother as if she carried a plague.
Your mother tried to hide from her legacy, Snoke continued. Tried to bury her power behind politics and propriety. And see how they reward her? See how quickly they turn?
The holonet showed old footage now: Darth Vader, his grandfather, striding through Imperial corridors. That same darkness that had always called to Ben, now given form and name and blood.
Ben rose slowly, moving to stand before the projection. His own face stared back at him now, an old image from some Senate function he'd been forced to attend. The ticker below read: "Questions arise about Senator's son – current Jedi apprentice."
"They knew," he said, his voice dangerous and quiet. "All this time, they knew. Mother, Uncle Luke... they kept this from me." His fists clenched at his sides. "My own grandfather..."
"Why didn't they tell me?" But even as he asked, he knew. "They were afraid. Always afraid."
They feared your potential. Your power. The same power that flows through your veins... your grandfather's blood...
A proximity alert blinked—another ship passing nearby. Ben quickly shut off the broadcast, but not before seeing his mother's final, dignified exit from the Senate chamber. Cast out, rejected, her life's work undone by the truth of her blood.
His blue lightsaber caught his eye, reflecting in the viewport glass. Hours ago, it had represented his triumph over darkness, his choice of light. Now it felt like just another lie.
They wanted you to be ashamed of your heritage, Snoke pressed. Ashamed of your power. They took everything from you—your family's truth, your bond with the girl, your place among the Jedi...
"I made a blue saber," Ben whispered, more to himself than Snoke. "I chose the light. I proved..."
You proved that even the purest intentions can be twisted by fear. But you need not hide anymore, young Solo. Or should I say... young Skywalker?
On the HoloNet, another senator was calling for investigations, for transparency, for justice. The word "monster" echoed through the chamber.
"They're afraid," Ben said softly, watching the crowds outside the Senate. "They're all so afraid of power they don't understand." He turned to GeeGee, and something in his eyes had changed. "But I understand it now. I finally understand."
"Master Ben..." GeeGee's vocabulator seemed to struggle for the right words – another learned behavior, not a programmed one. "What do you intend to do?"
Ben's gaze returned to the projection, where his mother still stood proud despite the chaos erupting around her. The daughter of Vader, they called her. The heir to darkness.
"Keep monitoring the feeds, GeeGee," he said finally. "I need to know everything they're saying. Every word, every accusation, every truth they've finally decided to tell." His hand unconsciously moved to his lightsaber. "It's time I learned who I really am."
The droid's photoreceptors studied him for a long moment before it turned to comply, its processors already sorting through the flood of incoming information. Neither of them mentioned the tears that had begun to fall down Ben's cheeks, or the way the room's shadows seemed to deepen around him as the HoloNet continued its relentless broadcast of a truth that would change everything.
Ben's reflection in the viewport showed a face he barely recognized—pale, haunted, belonging neither to darkness nor light. Vader's grandson. Luke's nephew. Leia's son. All these legacies tangled in his blood, pulling him apart.
And somewhere out there, Kira was gone. The one person who had ever looked at him and seen just Ben, who had believed in his light even when he doubted it himself.
His hand closed around his lightsaber.
Your grandfather's legacy awaits, Snoke whispered. Embrace it. Become what they feared. Let the boy they betrayed burn away...
His mother's face still haunted the darkness behind his eyes, proud even in disgrace. But it was another face that broke his heart—Kira's, looking up at him with complete trust as he promised never to leave.
As he reaches out to her with his mind, he can feel the bond between them, stretching and straining as if trying to bridge a great distance. But she is too far away, and the bond remains silent, unable to connect them. He longs for a deeper connection, one that transcends physical distance and allows them to communicate no matter how far apart they may be. His heart aches with the desire for this unbreakable bond, wishing that it could surpass any obstacle in their way.