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Chapter Text

mirrorbright

Mirrorbright, shines the moon, its glow as soft as an ember

When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember

Those you have loved but are gone

Those who kept you so safe and warm

The mirrorbright moon lets you see

Those who have ceased to be

Mirrorbright shines the moon, as fires die to their embers

Those you loved are with you still—

The moon will help you remember

As Ahsoka Tano stood under the burning sun of Elphrona, in the middle of the battlefield, each lightsaber strongly held by her hands, her eyes deceived her.

Her eyes deceived her, and she thought she had suddenly traveled back in time and was standing in front of the ghost of her old Master — Anakin Skywalker.

It couldn’t be;  no,  Anakin Skywalker stood no more. He had fallen and taken his name to oblivion alongside him. But if not him, then who was the young man wielding the green lightsaber across from her on the battlefield?

That day, Ahsoka Tano did not fight. The blades of her lightsaber fell and burned the grass against the ground, yet the smell did not bring her back to her senses. She stood there, watching with cautious eyes as the young man took down the few stormtroopers there, remnants of a fallen Empire. She did not help, and he didn’t need her help, and stormtrooper after stormtrooper fell as did the Empire that they fought for.

The battle was over all too fast; the sound of fire ceased and became silence. The loudness of war soon gave way to the melody of life going back to normal; the whirling of the wind against the leaves of trees, the chirping of birds flying under the blue skies, the relief of villagers stepping out of the counterfeit safety of their houses into a brand new world now protected by the Jedi.

The only vestige of the battle was her lightsabers, still ignited to her sides. His, by then, was already tucked safely by his waist, and he slowly marched towards her with shiny eyes and sweat on his face.

And each step he took closer to her, the harder it became for her to breathe.  No, it was impossible  — her old Master was dead, gone. Then how was a spinning image of him on its way to her?

Ahsoka swallowed roughly, putting away her lightsaber when he was so close to her that he could perfectly see  his  face on him. Those golden locks of hair, those piercing ocean eyes, that coy smile crooked to one side. Every little trait that had once been  so familiar  to her on an unfamiliar face.

It was impossible. But then, how could he be?

“A little help, next time?” the strange man prompted, his hands on his hips, but he didn’t appear to be angry or mad at her inaction. On the contrary, he showed too much eagerness to be there, next to her.

Ahsoka could feel it.

In defiance, she brought her arms against her chest, creating a barrier between the two of them. “It seemed like you had it all under control.”

“Well, they’re all dead now, aren’t they?” he chuckled a little uncomfortably. “Still. A little help would have been nice.”

She nodded, conceding, “Next time.”

That smile again; by the Force, would he just  stop  smiling at her like that? That smile brought her — too many sad memories.

She wanted nothing to do with those memories anymore.

However — the same couldn’t be said for  him. 

“You…” he started, voice hesitant, “You’re a Jedi?”

Ahsoka’s expression didn’t shift. She didn’t answer.

“There aren’t many Jedi left.”

This time, his voice was full of sorrow.

“There aren’t,” Ahsoka agreed. “I’m not a Jedi.”

And she watched with a tight heart the light fading from his face as he was met with one more disappointment.

“But I once was.”

She wasn’t sure why she would reveal that to him, but there was something about him, about his presence in the Force, that brought her a sense of warmth and safety that she hadn’t felt in years.

Not since she had last stood face to face with Anakin Skywalker, before he betrayed his own name.

It was comical, if anything, how the young man was suddenly lit alive again.

“You were a Jedi?!” he asked enthusiastically, “You knew the Jedi?!”

“Yes.”

He smiled, broadly, and offered her his hand. “I’m Luke Skywalker.”

Ahsoka’s eyes became blurry and she took a step back;  no,  that couldn’t be. The universe was playing tricks on her and she didn’t appreciate it. She wanted  nothing  to do with that name, not anymore. It had been buried deep inside of her; locked away, in places she couldn’t so easily reach.

Everything so she wouldn’t have to relive the pain that name brought her.

And now, the name had found her again. In ways she couldn’t possibly understand.

Upon the realization that she wouldn’t greet him, Luke awkwardly brought his hand back to himself. He looked down on his feet, unsure of how to proceed next when the former Jedi clearly wanted nothing with him.

His one connection to the past, to the old ways of the Jedi — wanted nothing to do with him.

“Ahsoka Tano,” the Togruta said after a significant time of silence. She said it when she didn’t know why she would. Something about that face and that name that had awoken feelings and sensations so lost to her that she had forgotten how  good  they were.

“Ahsoka,” he repeated her name brightly. “What are you doing here, Ahsoka?”

“I travel across the galaxy, trying to bring peace where I can.”

Luke chuckled shyly. “Me too.”

Ahsoka eyed him funnily, refusing to give him anything further than that.

“There aren’t many Jedi left,” he said once more, his tone carrying the weight of a lost civilization. “I… I haven’t met that many Jedi. Not since… Master Yoda, and he’s dead now. They’re all dead.”

She frowned; something was wrong.  Terribly  wrong. Master Yoda had died during the Jedi Purge, they all had, and Luke Skywalker — whoever he was — resembled far too young to have been alive back then. 

“Master Yoda died,” she accused, her eyes burning like fire. No matter how many years it went by, her anger towards the catastrophe that took the lives of every Jedi that lived, every Jedi that had been her  friend,  would never evanesce. Hence why she wasn’t a Jedi, would never be.

Luke eyed her funnily. “Yeah. I just said that.”

“No, I mean,” she breathed out reluctantly, “Master Yoda died alongside every Jedi during the Jedi purge.”

“Then who was the small green creature training me?” Luke teased, before realizing his attempt at humor was not appreciated. He cleared his throat, “Ern, no. Master Yoda lived and spent the rest of his days in seclusion, before dying of old age. 

Yet, Ahsoka’s expression didn’t change. “You’re lying.”

Luke merely shrugged. “You’re scared of the truth, and I understand that. I  relate  to that. However, you know I’m telling the truth. Search your feelings, Ahsoka, and you’ll know me to be telling the truth.”

Ahsoka sniffed, and it suddenly became a lot harder to see clearly and to breathe clean air. If Master Yoda had lived, then other Jedi might have lived as well. Although she would never,  ever  seek ties to her old life, the thought that maybe, just maybe some of them still lived brought her comfort and serenity.

Comfort and serenity she hadn’t known ever since the Empire rose and she came to learn the truth about Vader’s identity.

And when she looked at the young man who had, by all means,  stolen  his name, she couldn’t help herself but to indict, “Who  are  you?”

“I’m Luke Skywalker,” he replied simply, retaining the same calm as before. 

“That name means  nothing  to me.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to. We’ve only just met,” he said, studying her face closely and  knowing  there was something else there. Something that he couldn’t quite feel, as she had powerfully shielded her mind from strangers. “Although, from your reaction, I think it means more than you’re willing to believe.”

Ahsoka shot him a death glare, and Luke snorted at her.

“Anyway,” he carried on, “Where are you headed to now?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Luke nodded. “Which implies you’re not in a hurry to get anywhere.”

She didn’t answer.

“Would you mind coming with me? My ship is just ahead,” he said, and Ahsoka looked at him warily. He blushed. “I don’t mean to — kidnap you, nor anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m supposed to rendezvous with Han and Leia on a nearby planet, and I really,  really  think we could use a conversation. Well, I could use it, anyway.”

He said those names as if they were supposed to mean anything to Ahsoka, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of asking who they were. And before she could give her answer, Luke Skywalker turned around and started to walk away, leaving Ahsoka behind to buff at his audacity.

And she wouldn’t follow him, she  swore  she wouldn’t. Her past no longer meant anything to her, Anakin Skywalker was equally dead to her. She had closed the book on that chapter of her life and she refused to look back.

Then why, for the Force, did she suddenly find herself rushing after this Skywalker person?

Stupid Skywalkers.

Luke smiled briefly when he heard her approaching and joining the peaceful pace of his walk. He lowered the shields of his mind, allowing the stranger to read every one of his feelings and emotions to see for herself that he meant to harm.

His attempts had not been enough to ease Ahsoka’s apprehension, though he only raised his voice again once they had reached his ship.

“You asked me who I was,” Luke prompted, his eyes looking deeply into the windows of her soul. “I am Luke Skywalker. I am a Jedi, like my father before me.”

And he disappeared inside before he could give Ahsoka the chance to process what he had said, leaving her with an astonished expression and her heart thundering inside her chest as her eyes became filled to the brim.

Oh no.

What mess had Anakin Skywalker left her to deal with now?

Chapter Text

If Ahsoka Tano were asked to describe their journey towards the nearby planet of Pantora — awkward would be the only possible word.

She was unaware of how to live in a galaxy where Anakin Skywalker was no more, yet — Luke Skywalker was.

Their journey had been quiet; despite his eagerness to have her there, Luke was also attentive enough to give her the time and the space to process everything going through her head. He was such a  gentleman.

Which led her to the conclusion —  no,  that couldn’t be Anakin Skywalker’s son. She had fought alongside Anakin for three years during the Clone Wars, she had dealt with his incessant babbling far too often. There was  no  way that a direct descendant of her old Master wouldn’t be breathing down on her neck with every question they could throw at her all at once.

Then why was his presence  so  familiar in the Force, and why did he stand for everything that Anakin Skywalker once stood for?

Her head — was a mess, and she appreciated his effort of giving her the space to sort her thoughts out.  Anakin Skywalker had a son,  a son! A son that nobody knew of, yet a son that knew of  him,  when Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been for over two decades.

A sudden wave of nausea washed over her — did he not know of Anakin’s fate? Was he unaware of his bloodline to  Darth Vader ?

Because if that was the case — she dreaded being the one to have that conversation with him. Yet, she knew she couldn’t leave this boy without telling him of Vader’s identity. There was too much at risk.

Darth Vader — alongside Emperor Palpatine — had just been brought to their demise. The galaxy couldn’t afford to have another Sith lord rising from the ashes of Vader to conquer the worlds so soon again, and even if Ahsoka sensed no fear, no anger, and no hatred in Luke’s serene presence in the Force, she knew she couldn’t risk leaving him to learn about his bloodline and have the universe suffer the fate of that revelation.

Because when someone learned they had come from Darth Vader… She doubted it was something anyone could easily get over. And Ahsoka had once been a Jedi, whereas Luke Skywalker had grown in a galaxy where the Jedi were no more — she was the only one who would be able to help him navigate through the weight of his emotions, once he learned of the crudest truth about his own identity.

Oh,  stupid Anakin.  The mess he had once again left her to deal with — from beyond the grave! 

If Anakin wasn’t dead already, Ahsoka could have easily killed him with her bare hands.  Even  if it wasn’t the Jedi way.

However, a more macabre part of her couldn’t help but holding her sneer back. Anakin Skywalker had fooled every Jedi, including those close to him, and gotten himself a  child.  A child! When attachments were forbidden in the Jedi code. That was certainly his ultimate and biggest  fuck you  to those he thought went out of their way to dismiss him. 

Ahsoka wondered who Luke’s mother might have been; she wondered if Luke  knew  of his mother’s identity. On a sadder note, she wondered if Anakin knew he was with child before he fell to the dark side. Maybe,  just maybe,  the knowledge of Luke might have been able to save him.

She sighed deeply; there was no point dwelling on the things that could have been.

Lucky for her — or maybe not so much — she wasn’t left to ponder for too long, as they soon came out of lightspeed and were landing on a decaying spaceport in the surfaces of Pantora. Another thing that hadn’t hit her before — Luke Skywalker was such a smooth pilot,  how  could he be the son of the galaxy’s most reckless pilot Anakin? That thought made her laugh.

Luke didn’t amuse her with small talk as he made his way out of the ship, simply expecting she would follow him — which she did. They soon found themselves in what Ahsoka assumed was the local governmental building, but Luke didn’t do her the favor of indulging her silent questions.

He didn’t utter a single word until they met another man, taller and older in age than Luke. Waiting with a cranky expression behind big ornamental doors, where faint voices could be heard from behind.

“Han.”

So  that  was the Han person he had mentioned. One mystery down, one to go.

“Hey, kid,” the new man greeted him without any elegance, barely giving her any attention. “How did it go?”

“The threat has been contained and the people of Elphrona now live free of the shadows of the Empire,” he spoke eagerly. Happily, but not proudly, and the difference was acute in Ahsoka’s perception.

Han nodded, not all that bothered with details. “Did you take good care of her?”

Ahsoka frowned; whoever he was talking about obviously meant a  lot  to him.

So it did come to her as a surprise when Luke rolled his eyes in return.

“Yes, Han. Not a single scratch on her, as  promised. ”

“Good.”

“How are things going here?” Luke asked, head tilting towards the closed doors. “I see that negotiations are still happening.”

“For  five straight hours, ” Han complained. “I excused myself around the second-hour mark. Have no idea how Leia hasn’t lost her goddamn mind yet.”

“She’s  trained  for this, Han.”

Han shot his shoulders up and down as if that meant nothing for him.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Oh,” Luke squealed as if he had suddenly been reminded of Ahsoka there. Which was odd, considering how enthusiastic of her presence he was before. Whoever these two people were, they clearly meant a  lot  to him, a whole more than whatever link to his past he could find with her. “This is Ahsoka.”

He said her name as if Han was supposed to have any idea about her identity. Apparently, this was a habit of his —and an  annoying  one, if Ahsoka would dare to say.

Lucky for her, Han didn’t care  at all  to investigate her identity further than that. Instead, he returned to his brooding, waiting for this Leia person to come out of her negotiations.

Leia’s appearance, however, only came about one hour later, about the time Han started to lose his mind — unlike Luke and Ahsoka, who had mastered the art of patience. She came out alongside a tall, blue-skinned Pantoran, the elegance of his clothes a clear contrast to the simplicity of hers. 

“Senator Organa, it’s been a pleasure,” the Pantoran said, extending his hands to gracefully take hers.

“On behalf of the New Republic, Lord Gaige, I thank you,” Leia spoke with her polite diplomatic voice. “Your generosity has been noted, and I rest assured that the New Republic will bring you safety and protection from any Imperial threat you and your people come to face.”

He nodded, pleased. “I look forward to hearing from you again, Your Highness,” and he walked away without acknowledging any of the other people in the anteroom.

Ahsoka, for the first time, had the chance to look at Leia’s face. Wait — what?! Senator Organa?! Your Highness?!

Oh no. 

It couldn’t be — no, she refused to believe so. That tiny yet fierce woman before her  couldn’t  be the daughter of her old friend, Bail Organa, who had died alongside billions of Alderaanians when the Empire had obliterated the planet. She refused to believe it.

No;  the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to send her the children of the ghosts from her past all at once. It was too much; she wouldn’t be able to bear all those emotions crashing down on her.

“Oh, Ahsoka,” Luke pulled her out of her trance, “Let me introduce you to Leia,” he rushed to Leia’s side, “Leia, this is Ahsoka, she was a Jedi with the Republic! And Ahsoka, this is Leia, my—”

If Ahsoka didn’t believe it, then why, for the Force, did she suddenly find herself bowing to the princess in front of her?

“Your Highness,” she spoke, her voice hoarse. She didn’t dare to raise her head as she proclaimed, “I offer you my most sincere condolences for what happened to Alderaan.”

Just like that, Leia’s face became grave, and whatever happiness she bore of her recent achievement with the Pantorans evanesced like it had never mattered at all.

There was only confusion coming from Luke’s — and Han’s — end, however. “You know Leia, Ahsoka?”

At last, Ahsoka brought herself to look at the princess again. She could feel so much pain and sorrow coming from the young girl. “No. But I knew your father, Senator Bail Organa. I fought alongside him in the Clone Wars and I worked for the rebellion with him. He was a great ally, but he was also a friend. It deeply pains me that he’s no longer with us, that he died before he could have seen the galaxy that he gave his life for, but everything he ever did, he did to protect you. So you could have a better life, Princess.”

Compressing her lips on a thin line, Leia likewise bowed her head, although it came from a place of sorrow, where she struggled to look at a close friend of her father’s in the eyes.

“Thank you, Ahsoka.”

Han looked at the scene unfolding from the distance, feeling a little animosity towards whoever this Ahsoka person was. Being married to Leia, he was well aware that the pain of losing her planet never left her, but he  hated  how a complete stranger had stolen her from a moment of happiness only to enunciate the grief that was always with her.

Clearing his throat, Luke took it upon himself to change the subject before things got more emotional than none of them had signed up for. 

“Yes, Leia is the Princess of Alderaan,” he offered Ahsoka a courtesy nod, “However, she is also my sister. My  twin  sister.”

Oh no. 

Luke Skywalker’s twin sister?  No no no no no.

Whatever prank the Force was playing on her, she did not appreciate it.

Ahsoka essentially stopped breathing, and she became so still as she stared at both sets of wide eyes looking at her that she could have been easily mistaken for dead.

Twins —?

And as if that hadn’t been enough — Bail Organa had been raising  Darth Vader’s daughter  right under his nose all this time?

She thought her brain was malfunctioning.

“Well, congratulations, Luke,” Leia angrily snapped at her  twin brother.  “Somehow you managed to break the  one  Jedi you’ve found in years of searching…!”

And that was such an Anakin remark to make — Ahsoka was going  insane.

Oh, hell no — what mess had Anakin Skywalker left her to deal with  now ?!

Chapter Text

Ahsoka sat quietly inside the  galaxy’s  most decaying ship, her legs underneath her as she exercised her patience; an ability that she had lacked so much during her days of Padawan, but now, after years of exile, came to her so easily.

She had her eyes closed; not meditating — no, she would never allow her guard down in the companion of strangers, no matter that those strangers were the children of her former  master  — but trying to feel their presence in the Force and what their own ambitions were.

She could tell they were as curious about her as she was reluctant of them.

In the corner of the room, respecting her distance, Ahsoka could hear them talking to each other — just the Skywalker twins, as the third guy, accompanied by a big ball of fur, had excused himself to pilot the ship and take them back to Hosnian Prime, the capital of the New Republic.

The twins were whispering to each other, very loudly, and even though Ahsoka wouldn’t want to intrude on their private conversation and learn what  they  thought of her, she couldn’t help but overhear everything they were saying.

“And you’re  sure  she knows — knew — him?”

“Well, she didn’t  say  it exactly. But I felt it, Leia, something on her changed once I told her my name.”

“Maybe he was just a really famous Jedi.”

“Do you honestly hear yourself right now?”

“Forgive me, Mister All-Is-Right-In-The-World.  Somebody  has to be the cautious one.”

“She’s a  Jedi.  We don’t have to fear her.”

“No, you  told  me she said she wasn’t a Jedi anymore. And you know what Force users who say they aren’t  Jedi anymore  actually are—”

“You’re not possibly suggesting  that . Look at her!”

“I am looking at her, Luke! But looking at her doesn’t do  anything !”

“I meant — look at her, not with your eyes.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“Yes, I did! I  implied .”

“Bullshit.”

“Leia—”

Ahsoka’s head would implode. She felt like she had suddenly traveled back in time and was watching from afar as she and Anakin entered one of their bantering competitions. She forced her eyes open before the memories became too much.

“I’m not a Sith Lord,” Ahsoka spoke quietly, clasping her hands in front of her as two sets of startled eyes turned to her.

Keeping her distance, Leia crossed her arms. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

Ahsoka’s expression remained blank. “Maybe you should learn how to whisper, then.”

Leia didn’t find her remark amusing as her brother apparently had.

“We know you’re not a Sith,” Luke said, his voice soothing and calm; Leia gave the back of his head a dirty look. “We are just… curious. Regarding who you are.”

“I could say the same about you,” Ahsoka said seriously. “Your existence — shouldn’t be.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Leia, please,” Luke placed his hand on her arm to bring her peace. “We’re all a little on edge, regarding each other’s presence. That won’t change until we all take a deep breath and accept one another as kins; not enemies.”

Leia threw her hands up in concession; Ahsoka only stared at him, intrigued. 

“Why don’t we all sit down,” Luke suggested, nearly dragging his twin sister towards the lounge where Ahsoka was seated, “And ask the questions we’re so afraid of saying aloud?”

They now sat in front of her, and Ahsoka could see their appearances and their  souls  from much closer. She had lived long enough to see the same eyes in different people, and she saw Anakin Skywalker's on both of them.

That notion terrified her, as well as it brought her immeasurable comfort.

So, she asked without any mannerism.

“Are you the children of Anakin Skywalker?”

Ahsoka paid close attention to their presence in the Force at the mention of that name. He lightened up; she drew back. It didn’t surprise Ahsoka when she stayed silent and he spoke up.

“Did you know our father, Ahsoka?” he asked, confirming her question with another question, and she could hear the happiness in his voice. Exhilaration that he had finally found a tangible link to his past.

“I did,” Ahsoka replied simply, not ready to disclose just yet of how  close  she had been to their father. There would be time for it later; she couldn't just walk out on them now. “He was a great Jedi.”

“He was,” Luke nodded. “Or so I’ve been told. I never actually met him. He died before we were born.”

Which was, in its essence, true. Luke had only ever known Vader, safe for those final moments where he had come back to the light to save  his son  from the Emperor’s shroud of evil. Although he had gotten the chance to see the man that Anakin Skywalker had once been, it ended too soon for him to properly know him.

But now — he could. Someone who had known Anakin, who had been a Jedi alongside Anakin, still lived. It could make all the difference.

However, instead of indulging in Luke’s eagerness, Ahsoka turned her attention to Leia. “You’re very quiet. I perceive that you don’t share your brother’s views towards your father.”

Leia merely shrugged. “Luke is my twin brother. However, I already have a father.”

Ahsoka nodded, which brought her back to the question — Bail had raised  Darth Vader’s  daughter right under Imperial watch? And what had happened to Luke in the meantime?

Every answer brought a new branch of questions.

“Leia, you can’t run away from this forever,” Luke turned his head to his sister and spoke in a low voice, not intending for Ahsoka to hear about the privacies of their lives. Even if she stood right in front of them.

“Not now, Luke,” Leia pushed him away, physically removing her hand from his gentle touch.

Ahsoka perceived every one of their reactions and saved it for the right time. 

“So Anakin had twins,” Ahsoka pointed out, shifting the focus of the conversation back to her. “What about your mother?”

Luke became very small. Leia’s posture was stiff.

“We have no idea who she is,” Luke confessed, “We don’t even know her name.”

Ahsoka nodded. She had been thinking a lot about that, and the answer came to her all too easy. There was just one person for whom Anakin showed ultimate devotion; there was just one woman that could have mothered his children — the love affair that had been hidden in plain sight.

Padmé Amidala. Former Senator of the Old Republic. The woman who had given her life for democracy until fascism took it from her.

Ahsoka sighed; that was a name she hadn’t thought of in a long time. Padmé had been her  friend,  someone she had fought alongside. She hadn’t known Padmé to be pregnant before she left the Jedi Order, and the next she had learned of her was that she had died in a confrontation at the final days of the Clone Wars, taking her unborn child with him.

It had all been too sad. To lose every Jedi and to lose  her. 

To know that Padmé had been with children when she died only brought Ahsoka further heartbreak.

She looked at the twins in front of her, and she saw Padmé’s eyes on their faces. It was all too unbelievably sad.

“I understand, from my research of the former Jedi Order, that the Jedi weren’t allowed emotional attachment,” Luke prompted when silence had started to become too heavy. “Whoever she was, their love was forbidden.”

Ahsoka slowly bowed her head, conceding but not confirming any of his ponderings. 

If the twins wanted, she would happily speak of the woman that Padmé Amidala had been to them. When the right time came.

First, she needed to know something else. She needed to know if they were aware of the ruthlessness of Anakin’s fate.

But when she opened her mouth to speak, the voice of a Captain Solo came through, announcing they were just coming out of hyperspace and would be arriving in Hosnian Prime shortly.

Ahsoka sighed once more, trying to determine whether the delay on the topic that was Vader’s real identity came as a blessing or as an inevitable curse.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka was taken to a fancy apartment in the private sector of Hosnian Prime’s capital city; the apartment belonging to Senator Leia Organa of the New Republic, as she came to understand. It was a beautiful place, and it somehow reminded her of Padmé’s own home in Coruscant.

The more she came to learn about the twins, the more she saw the little things that spoke of the parents that they had never met.

It was all so incredibly sad how these two kids had somehow ended up standing for all the things that their parents once fought for.

The huge Wookie had excused himself to prepare them a meal, leaving the four adults behind to awkwardly be in each other’s presence. Whenever Ahsoka tried to access their feelings in the Force, she found animosity coming from Leia, eagerness from Luke, and a whole bunch of unacknowledged tension.

Ahsoka recognized that much of the apprehension was coming from herself; she knew she couldn’t avoid the truth forever, and she  knew  that the truth would destroy the twins’ lives.

She remembered painfully how much it had hurt her to learn that Anakin Skywalker, her friend and mentor, had become Darth Vader, the man that tarnished the entire galaxy under his grasp. To tell the two people that had dedicated their entire lives to destroying the Empire that their father was Darth Vader — such a piece of knowledge was enough to wreck even the most resilient souls.

And yet, she knew she didn’t have the right to hide it from them.

Hence why, after an eternity of uncomfortable silence and each person in the room demanding some personal space, Ahsoka unapologetically sat down by the living room couch and her voice commanded the room.

“We need to talk.”

Three sets of eyes abruptly turned to her and she was under their scrutiny. She didn’t care; she was used to being watched. 

Luke was the first to follow her lead, sitting on the couch across from her without any class. Opposite from him, Leia dreadfully dragged herself towards the armchair, having Han sit over the machete and place his hand on her shoulder for support.

Warily, Ahsoka eyed the man that wasn’t a Skywalker by blood. “If you’ll excuse us. Delicate matters are about to be discussed.”

Looking at him, Ahsoka judged he wouldn’t mind leaving,  so long  as he was asked to leave by those he trusted — not by her. She expected Luke, or even Leia, would reiterate her words, and her eyes widened when Leia intertwined her fingers with Han’s and pulled his hand close to her chest.

“He stays,” Leia demanded.

“It’s not like Leia wouldn’t tell him everything that we discussed him later on, anyway,” Luke teased, sharing an amused look with his sister and his friend.

Ahsoka choked back a laugh; she had not seen it coming. To know that Princess Leia of Alderaan had found love with the man the most  unlike  her and her roots was — comical, to say the least. From the little she knew the man and the few interactions they had shared, she would never have guessed him to be Leia’s partner.

“Is there a problem?” Leia provoked.

“Not at all,” Ahsoka assured her, “I am simply imagining what your father’s reaction would be to see you dating such an out of the expected guy.”

Han looked baffled at the insinuation.

“ Hey,  not  all  princes wear crowns.”

Leia pulled his hand to her lips, whispering, “You’re not helping yourself,” then, she looked at Ahsoka with dead eyes, “My parents always encouraged me to follow my heart, that I should marry for love, not for obligation.”

Respectfully, Ahsoka agreed.

“Alderaan is no more,” Leia commented, a sour taste on her mouth, “Traditions barely matter anymore.”

Ahsoka would like to argue against that, after all, she herself had struggled with who she  was  after she left the Jedi order. It had taken her a long time to accept that, even though she wasn’t a Jedi and that the Jedi didn’t  exist  anymore, she didn’t have the right to erase the past and all the happiness it had once brought her. However, that was a realization that Leia needed to find on her own.

She noticed as Han tenderly lowered himself to kiss the top of her head; Leia’s composure, however, didn’t falter.

“Alright, then,” Ahsoka exchanged a long look with each of the twins. “I need to talk to you, Anakin’s children, about something —  crude.  It will be very hard to hear this, but I will be here for you, to help you and to guide you through what I assume will be the worst news of your life. I’ll admit I considered walking away without telling you this, but I couldn’t. Because I once had a duty to your father, and now my duty lies with his children. This information should come from someone you can rely on, not be thrown at you when you at least expect it by some sick joke of fate.”

Luke listened to her intently; Leia, however, held tight to her qualms.

“Why is it that we can rely on  you ?” she ruthlessly wondered. “We’ve known you — for barely a day. We have no idea who you are, other than what you tell us, and we have no means of verifying  anything  that you say.”

“Leia,” Ahsoka took the liberty of addressing her by her name, once Leia hadn’t specified how she would like to be referred to — by her name or by her titles. “You are very strong with the Force. You can assess when I tell the truth.”

“I don’t practice use of the Force,” Leia said, and Ahsoka perceived a sense of dread at the simple mention of the Force coming from her.

“Leia — is afraid of the Force,” Luke commented on behalf of his sister, which resulted in both Leia and Han shooting him death glares.

“I’m  not ,” she said, “I just don’t care about it.”

“You were given a  gift , Leia,” Luke reminded her, during what Ahsoka assumed a recurring argument. “I don’t understand how you can just turn a blind eye to your own powers, when there are  so little  people in the galaxy like you. When you could make a difference with your powers!”

“If you don’t  understand,  then you don’t get to opine on  my  decisions,” Leia snapped, and it appeared that the twins had completely forgotten that they weren’t arguing in privacy.

“How can I  understand  when the simple mention of the Force will have you shut off?!” Luke denounced.

Awkwardly, Han turned to Ahsoka and said, “Children.”

Ahsoka blushed, but that seemed to have brought their bickering to an end, as Leia abruptly turned her head to her side and Luke started staring at Ahsoka again. The Togruta swallowed uncomfortably; if they already struggled enough with their relationship with the Force, she dreaded how they would react when she told them the truth about their birth.

“Leia, you’re not under any obligation to use the Force. However, the Force is still part of who you  are , and it is there to guide you and help you when you need it. Such as perceiving then somebody is telling the truth,” Ahsoka said, then turned to the other Skywalker in the room. “Luke, I understand that you’re a Jedi in a galaxy where the Jedi are no more, and you seek to build the Jedi order again when you don’t know how, but understand that the Jedi never forced anyone to follow their steps.”

Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been so easy —  and so hard  — for Ahsoka to have walked away.

“Force her? I would never force Leia into  anything ,” Luke clarified. “This isn’t about Leia training. This is about Leia accepting who she  is .”

“What is it that you have to tell us, Ahsoka?” Leia immediately shifted the focus of the conversation from her.

Ahsoka gazed at Luke for a little longer, before turning to Leia again.

“I was friends with your father. With, ern, Anakin Skywalker,” Ahsoka corrected herself. If Leia was struggling with her identity, Ahsoka would do her best not to stir any further insecurities. After all, Leia still was, and would always be, an Organa. “I was fourteen when I met him, during the first days of the Clone Wars. I became Anakin’s padawan, and… We were inseparable.”

In a moment of weakness, Ahsoka allowed a thin smile to shape the corner of her lips at the warm memories that came to her.

“You studied under my father, Ahsoka?” Luke asked eagerly, leaning on his knees.

“Yes,” she replied heartily. “We were best friends.” 

Luke turned to his sister, innocently wanting to share the news with her —  look, Leia, look at the man our father used to be!  — but Leia still looked away, her gaze lost.

With a pained expression, Luke glanced at Ahsoka once again.

“I understand most of the Jedi were killed during the purge,” he sadly said, “How did you survive? Did you survive because…”

Luke didn’t finish his trail of thinking; he couldn’t tell whether Ahsoka was already aware of Anakin’s fall, but he was tired of telling people of whom Anakin had become. It only brought them further pain, and his destiny as a Jedi was to guide people into the light, not to bring them hurt.

Ahsoka frowned, but didn’t comment on it. “I survived because I had left the Jedi Order. By the time the purge happened, I was no longer a Jedi.”

He nodded, although he couldn’t comprehend himself why would anyone ever abandon the Jedi way.

“Is that what you wanted to tell us?” he asked, “That you abandoned the Order?”

“No,” she said firmly, her voice cold and distant again. “I come here to tell you of Anakin’s ultimate fate, and it’s not going to be easy to hear it.”

Luke stopped moving; next to them, Leia’s body became tense, and her hand lost its grip around Han’s.

When the twins remained silent, Ahsoka took it upon herself to continue her story —  their  story. 

“I wasn’t with Anakin during the final days of the Republic, so I can’t —  tell  you precisely what happened, and what led things to become what they did. Palpatine turned the clone troops on the Jedi, killing all the Jedi and then blaming them as the enemies of the Republic. He was responsible for the death of all the Jedi, except… Except for your father’s.

“Anakin didn’t die alongside the Jedi, as the two of you might believe. Unfortunately, the truth is much more horrible than that, because… Darkness consumed Anakin until he wasn’t Anakin anymore. He became a different man, his soul changed.”

She held her breath, sensing the twins’ sentiments in the Force — they felt so  small .

“Anakin became Darth Vader.”

Chapter Text

“Anakin became Darth Vader.”

The sudden tension in the air was impossible to address. Ahsoka was stiff on her seat, dragging her eyes across each person in the room, as well as sensing their prints in the Force. Han Solo looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, although she perceived a sudden clinginess from him regarding the princess. Leia, in return, had essentially stopped breathing, shutting away her mind from any intruders trying to sense her feelings. Luke’s face resembled peace, however, his inner turmoils contradicted his physical appearance.

Ahsoka felt bad for them; she remembered far too well how it had been like when she learned about Vader’s real identity, and she hadn’t been his  child.

She thought her duty to Anakin had ended the moment she learned about Vader; now, she understood it had only  begun.  Her responsibility now lied with the twins, to help them come to terms with their bloodline, and maybe,  just maybe,  telling them about the great man that Anakin Skywalker had once been.

First, though, she would like to know what was going through their heads.

So, she waited for someone else to speak up. She would wait as long as it took.

To her surprise, Leia was the one to first speak up. However, her words contradicted everything that Ahsoka expected.

“Well, now that’s out there,” she said, tapping her thighs with her hands, “I’m going to check on dinner.”

Then, there were three. Ahsoka remained clueless as to what had just happened, even more so to see that Han hadn’t followed the princess out, instead remaining petrified over the sofa arm. At least  someone  was reacting as she had predicted.

“Ahsoka,” Luke attracted her attention, his voice grave. “I appreciate you, and your commitment to us and to the  truth , but — we already know.”

“Oh,” her jaw fell open; she hadn’t expected that  either . To her knowledge, there weren’t that many people aware of Vader’s identity, if any at all. “Do you… Want to talk about it?”

He seemed to ponder his options for a while.

“I want to go check on Leia,” he announced.

Then, there were two. 

“Well,” Han made himself heard for the first time, “That was a waste of a dramatic announcement.”

Ahsoka scowled; was he actually serious—

“I assume you already know of it as well.”

Crossing his legs, he merely shrugged.

“We don’t keep secrets from each other, not Leia and I, at least,” he said. “She did take her time to tell me, though, but that’s okay. She was struggling to accept her heritage. Still is.”

Ahsoka slowly nodded; that made sense, considering the little she had come to learn of Leia and her disturbed relationship with the Force as well as her birth father.

“What about Luke?”

“He’s in a good place, I think, regarding where he’s come from,” Han rambled, “You’d have to ask him, though.”

Ahsoka’s eyes ventured towards the kitchen into where the twins had disappeared. “The two of them are very shut off to this topic of conversation, it seems.”

Han agreed.

“Well, if you were the  devil’s spawn,  I assume you’d be like that, too,” he prompted. “Just don’t corner them, yeah? Or there will be lots of yelling involved.”

He seemed to be talking from experience, and Ahsoka nodded sadly. “Yelling is better than repressing, Han. I sense a lot of fear and anger from them regarding this matter. From him not so much, but from her…”

“Hey, no suggesting anybody in this household will turn dark, or whatever,” Han demanded. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied.”

“I  didn’t ,” Ahsoka insisted. “After the purge, after being so many years in the run — you come to learn that things aren’t so black and white.”

“Good. Go tell them that,” Han said, “You’re the only Jedi — or former Jedi, whatever — that they’ve ever met. They need your guidance more than anything.”

“Alright,” she agreed, standing up and following towards the kitchen.

There, she found Leia setting up the table, while Luke just watched his sister from afar and the Wookie finished up preparing the meal. It seemed that an argument had just taken place there, but Ahsoka couldn’t speak on it.

She cleared her throat to get their attention; they remained focused on their tasks, although her presence there was now acknowledged.

“So,” she started, trying to break the tension in the air. “Is there a particular denomination used to refer to the two of you?”

“Yes,” Leia set a plate down with a loud thud. “My name is Leia and he is Luke, in case you’ve missed on that.”

Ahsoka took in a long breath before she lost her patience and snapped at them.

“I ask because Anakin and I were always using nicknames on each other,” she said, “So I wondered if there was a particular designation that  twins  like you would enjoy being referred as.”

“We’ve only been twins for, like,  three years ,” Luke said, frowning when two sets of eyes suddenly glared at him. “Ern — What did you and my father call each other, Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka appreciated the shift in conversation. “I called him Skyguy, and I was Snips to him — due to my snippy behavior when we first met.”

Luke smiled fondly at that. 

“I love that,” he said. “Leia — can I have a nickname?”

“No,” Leia’s answer was cold and short.

“ Come on , sis.”

“Call me that again and I’ll break your kneecaps.”

Rolling his eyes goodheartedly, he shook his head. Behind them, the Wookie roared something, but Ahsoka’s Shyriwook was too rough for her to properly understand him.

“I’ll help you out,” Luke said, stepping away from the corner where he was lurking and assisting Chewbacca to bring the food to the table. “Han! Dinner’s ready!”

Ahsoka nearly lost her hearing from the pitch of Luke’s unexpected yelling. Han walked into the kitchen not too soon afterward, and they all started settling around the table.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” Leia asked Ahsoka once the Togruta remained stiff in the back, although her eyes remained down at the table.

“I’m not sure I am welcome here.”

“ You  are,” Leia said. “ He  — is not.”

Luke eyed his sister warily; they didn’t need to think too much to know of whom Leia was talking about.

Still just as awkwardly, Ahsoka took the empty seat next to the Wookie, across from the twins. She noticed that, despite the meal being already served, they didn’t seem all too interested in eating — Luke looked at her expectantly, while Leia simply played with the food on her plate.

The Wookie howled next to her, gesturing that she should start eating as well. Stiffly, Ahsoka leaned forward to serve herself.

“So, Ahsoka,” Luke started, trying to contain his excitement. “Tell me about my father. There’s so little I know of him…!”

Ahsoka cautiously gazed at Leia from the corner of her eyes; the sound of her fork against her plate was loud.

“I thought we weren’t talking about him.”

“No, we’re not talking about  Vader ,” Luke argued, “I want to know about the man  my father  was before he fell.”

“They’re the same person,” Leia muttered.

Making a face, Luke tilted his head. “Well,  yes,  but also — no. Vader killed Anakin to be reborn into Vader.”

“Vader came back to the light side,” Leia remembered him, “You can’t bring back to life what was already dead.”

“Wait,” Ahsoka raised both her hands in the air before the siblings entered yet another philosophical discussion about dark versus light. “Anakin —  came back ?”

Luke smiled; Leia rolled her eyes.

“Yes, he did,” he said, “Just moments before he died, but he came back.  For me . He saved me.”

“ Wait ,” she interfered again, getting more confused by the second. “He knew about you? About the two of you?”

“He knew about me,” Luke said, reaching for his sister next to him and placing his hand over her wrist. Although the touch was unwelcomed, Leia did not pull away. “He only learned about Leia when, ern, he invaded my mind and saw that Leia was my weakness.”

Ahsoka felt a flick of guilt flashing through Leia’s presence in the force, but it was gone too fast for Ahsoka to truly understand what it meant.

“So… Anakin learned that you had survived before he died,” she conjectured, reminiscing sadly how the news of a Senator from Naboo dying and taking her unborn child to the grave with her crashed with the news of an Empire of evil ascending.

“You mean, Anakin knew about us before he turned to the dark side?” Luke innocently asked, and, in his eyes, there was a childish hope that Ahsoka hadn’t noticed before.

“I would assume he did,” she answered honestly. “As I’ve said before, I had left the Jedi Order, so I wasn’t  with  Anakin for the months that preceded his fall, but… It only makes sense that he did. Your mother — the woman I assume was your mother — it was broadcasted to the entire galaxy that she and her unborn child had died, they lied about your death to keep you safe. That was the only way you would have survived,” she shifted her head towards Leia briefly, “The only way Bail Organa would go home with Vader’s child and raised her right under his watch.”

Leia shivered under her assumption. Han squeezed her thigh underneath the table. 

“So… You’re saying that my father turned… because he lost us? Our mother and Leia and I?” Luke shyly asked. “Or… Did he turn despite us?”

Ahsoka felt his pain, and her heart ached for the little boy that had lost the father he had always longed for. 

“I can’t speak for your father, Luke. I’m sorry, I wasn’t there,” Ahsoka apologized. “I can only speak of the man I knew…  before .”

Lowering his head, Luke nodded. Despite her apparent hatred for the man that had fathered her, Leia felt for her brother and reached for him through the Force. Her small act of comfort didn’t go past Ahsoka. 

“I have a question if it wouldn’t impose,” Ahsoka announced, and Luke’s eyes were back on her, waiting. “How did you come to learn you were Vader’s children?”

“Oh,” Luke was clearly taken aback. Still, he did her the courtesy of answering, “We were battling. He cut off my hand and then told me I was his son.”

Although his tone was grave and he clearly hadn’t attempted at humor with his description of the events, Leia snorted, immediately after disguising it as a cough when Luke shot her a glance. It was all so —  surreal.  There was no way her sweet innocent brother was the Devil’s spawn. It was all so —  cruel.

“He told me to search my feelings, and I did, and every idealization of the great Jedi warrior that my father had once been disappeared into thin air,” Luke said melancholically.

The more the twins revealed bits of themselves, the more Ahsoka came to understand them and their troubled relationship with their father. Luke, so sweet on the inside, still struggled to recognize Vader as his progenitor, focusing on the man that he had been as Anakin and just that, almost ignoring all the evil that Vader had done. Meanwhile, Leia, so raw in her hatred for Vader, held tight to her anger and dismissed both Vader and Anakin like neither had mattered at all.

Ahsoka breathed in with a heavy conscience; she had a long way ahead of her as she guided them towards acceptance. 

Chapter Text

“Anakin was a great Jedi warrior,” Ahsoka gently said, returning to Luke’s remark of how his idealization of the man his father had been vanished when he learned about Vader. “He was — a great man. It was one of the biggest honors of my life to be his padawan, to learn from him.”

Luke was drawn to her, his big blue eyes a living reminder of Anakin’s own eyes on her. She almost felt — home under his stare.

“He was a good man,” she said, wanting to smile but unsure if it was safe to smile — because of  Leia  sitting next to them, her own eyes focused on Han as if she tried to hold herself to something tangible.

Unaware of Ahsoka’s dread, Luke smiled fondly.

“I should expect that. After all, he still chose to redeem himself in the end,” he said, but the lump on his throat was back soon enough. “It’s just hard, sometimes. When you know that he was also an  evil  man.”

“Thank you,” Leia sardonically breathed under her breath, and Han reached out to cup her face — both to bring her comfort and probably save her from snapping again.

“We’re not trying to erase the evil that Vader has brought to the galaxy,” Ahsoka commented wisely. “Likewise — I refused to wipe out the goodness of  Anakin  completely.”

“Then do it away from me,” Leia demanded. “I want  nothing  to do either of those names.”

Ahsoka studied her carefully, even though Leia looked away — perks of being Force-sensitive was that she could study much more than simply her body language. And she found so much  fear  in Leia’s imprint.

“Did Vader hurt you, Leia?”

Her question came bluntly and mercilessly; there was no way to properly address such a thing. Leia’s stare remained in the distance, and when Ahsoka tried to look at Luke for answers, she found the boy was likewise looking down. Ahsoka swallowed uncomfortably — had Vader hurt him too?

When uncomfortable silence reigned, Han took it upon himself to say something, “Vader hurt everybody.”

Ahsoka couldn’t know whether he spoke only of the three people — and one Wookie — in the room or about the galaxy as a whole.

Sighing, she let it go.

“I was wondering — how did Anakin come back to the light?” Ahsoka shifted the subject, although the answers she was looking for wouldn’t help to ease the tension in the air. “Maybe, if we all take a step back to comprehend the conflict inside Anakin, we might come close to accepting the things that Vader did.”

Just like that, Leia slammed her fist angrily against the table.

“I will  never  forgive Vader, Ahsoka.”

“I didn’t say that,” unlike the princess, Ahsoka remained calm. “I don’t think you owe Anakin your forgiveness. However, I do strongly believe that the only true path towards healing is acceptance of the things that happened, the things that we cannot change.”

Leia shook her head. “I refuse to accept that  he  is my father. This sick joke of the universe that made the incarnation of evil be my progenitor.”

Ahsoka frowned, “Yet, you have no trouble accepting Luke as your brother.”

“That’s because Luke is, will always be, a good person.”

“They’re both still blood of your blood,” Ahsoka argued, noticing how Luke wanted to disappear rather than be caught within this argument. “You can’t recognize one without being aware of the other.”

Leia felt ambushed, so she said nothing. The Wookie howled several words that the Togruta couldn’t possibly understand.

It only took Luke to make things worse.

“My father came back to the light because of his love still inside of him,” he whispered; he held the memories of Anakin’s final love for his son close to his heart, nobody would steal them from him — not even his sister’s refusal to accept Anakin.

Although Ahsoka couldn’t tell exactly what he meant, she agreed.

“Anakin always had too much love inside of him. Love for those he unconditionally cared, even though selfish attachment was forbidden to the Jedi.”

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, although he had no tangible way of verifying Ahsoka’s word. After all, he had known Anakin for a few minutes only before he died in his arms. Palpatine — was determined to have me turn to the Dark Side, by killing my father and replacing his place by his side. I couldn’t kill Vader, because I  knew  there was still good in him, so Palpatine set out to kill me. He used his powers against me, I was defeated, I was going to  die  under Palpatine’s lightning bolts of evil. I begged for my father to save me — and he did. He sacrificed himself to save me, his  son , from Palpatine’s wrath, even though it would kill him in the process. It was his final act of selfless love.”

This time, Ahsoka couldn’t hide her smile.  That  was the man that she had known, the Master she had all but considered her own father. To know of his sacrifice, that he had given his life to save his son — it had brought her warm memories of all the times he had been willing to do the same for  her .

“That’s beautiful, Luke,” she said heartily. “ That’s  Anakin.”

Luke beamed brightly at that.

Yet—

“That’s  bullshit ,” Leia spoke up, and their little moment was cut too short. “He was over two decades too late.”

Luke sighed in defeat.

“At least he came  back , Leia,” Luke tried to reason. “He came back for me, for  us …!”

“Not for  us ,” Leia’s words were sour on her mouth. “Vader never cared about me, nor would I want him to.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, “He did, in his last moments. He cared for you and me both. His last  words  were about you. That he wanted you to know as well that there was still good in him.”

“Well,  I  don’t want to know,” she affirmed. “The  good  in him came too late.”

“Why can’t it be enough for you, Leia?”

“Because, Luke,” this time, her voice was fainter and struggling to hold its strength, “If only his goodness came soon enough, Alderaan might have been spared.”

Just like that, an uncomfortable silence took over the room. Nobody had the courage or the heart to try and outspeak the evil deeds that had been brought to the galaxy by Vader and his peers.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Leia unsteadily rose to her feet, feeling Han’s worried eyes on her. “I’ll retire for the night. This conversation has become too — overwhelming, and I believe my absence will ease the conversations the two of you long to have.”

“Leia,” Luke grasped her wrist before she had the chance of walking away. “I love you.”

“I know,” she tried to smile, but her smile failed her. “Han, will you set up the guest room for Ahsoka? Make sure she’s comfortable.”

“Of course.”

Ahsoka appreciated it; after her burst of rage, she had considered Leia would essentially kick her out of her house without an invitation to ever come back.

So, Leia left, leaving the rest of them to awkwardly enjoy each other’s silent presence as their minds delved into their own concerns. Han for Leia; Luke for the dichotomy between man and monster; and Ahsoka for how she would help this family find balance again.