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A heartbreaking scene was unfolding within the Skywalker-Amidala residence.
The twins’ sixth birthday had come and gone, and with Leia having decided to pursue Jedi training with Obi-Wan, the twins were about to be separated for the first time.
Luke clutched desperately at the hem of his sister’s robes. He didn’t want her to go. Ever since he’d been diagnosed with Nardosia Syndrome, and with Anakin and Padmé continuously failing to find a cure, his darling little sun had developed a severe case of separation anxiety.
It was bad enough when Anakin had to be away from his son for more than thirty minutes at a time, but now, with Leia — his twin, his other half — about to depart on her journey to becoming a fully-fledged Jedi, Luke was outright sobbing. An inconsolable mess that had Anakin and Padmé’s hearts aching as they watched.
“Do you have to go?” He begged her, eyes red-rimmed and swollen from his tantrum yesterday night. Luke had finally fallen asleep in Anakin’s arms, father and son passed out in the living room with a children’s holofilm still playing. “Can’t you go tomorrow? Or the day after that? Please??? I don’t want you to gooo!”
Anakin’s daughter — his brave, strong-willed little princess — merely huffed in response, displeased with her brother’s clingy behavior. Getting used to his new mannerisms had been difficult for her as well.
“Oh, you’ll be fine, Luke! Mom and Dad will still be here— not to mention Threepio and Artoo. And all of their friends will come to visit you, so it’s not like you’ll be alone.”
Luke shook his head angrily. “It’s not the same without you, Leia! You don’t understand!”
“I think I understand just fine,” she put her foot down, both literally and metaphorically. Anakin, already knowing what she was about to say, winced. “Don’t be such a baby!”
Uh oh, Padmé mouthed at him from across the threshold, over their babies and Leia’s two suitcases, stuffed to the brim with books and clothing.
Anakin nodded grimly in agreement.
This did not bode well.
The couple turned to look at their son, who was staring at Leia with an expression of complete devastation and betrayal. As much as a six-year-old could convey, which meant a woeful, pitiful, heartbreaking look so potent it made Anakin want to weep himself.
“Y-You promised not to call me that!” Luke pointed at her, his eyes welling up with a fresh wave of tears. “I’m the older twin! You’re the baby, not me!”
Leia’s chubby cheeks pinked in indignation. If Anakin knew anything about his daughter at all — which, hello, he did — she was currently feeling a mixture of frustration and guilt.
At being called a baby, which she detested just as much as Luke did… and hurting her twin’s feelings right before she left.
(Anakin didn’t understand what the big deal was. His kids were still very much babies to him. They always would be, even if they were twenty, thirty, forty… they were his babies.)
Padmé tried to intervene, and stop the next intergalactic war from breaking out in their home.
“Luke. Leia. Is this really how you want to say goodbye, before being separated for six months?” She crossed her arms, regarding them sternly.
Anakin’s jaw dropped.
Oh, there was no saving them now.
“Padmé!” He hissed at his wife, over their children’s heads. “He doesn’t know!”
Padmé tilted her head curiously at him. “Doesn’t know what?”
He groaned and hid his face in his hands, not wanting to look. That lasted for approximately three seconds— the moment Anakin heard Luke’s hitched breath, and the pained, strangled noise escaping his son, he wanted to com Obi-Wan and demand that the whole thing was called off.
Then Leia wouldn’t have to go, and Luke wouldn’t have to be alone… But that wouldn’t exactly be fair to Leia either.
Kriff. Kriff!
His poor little sun.
“S-Six months…?” Luke swallowed, lower-lip wobbling uncontrollably. “B-But you said… B-But Leia… D-Daddy said it was just for a week!”
Padmé threw him a death glare, the one she usually reserved for pro-slavery senators. You’ve got some explaining to do, mister, her beautiful brown eyes seemed to convey, showcasing none of the usual love and warmth he’d grown accustomed to.
That was the moment Anakin knew, as his ex-troopers would say, ‘ya done karked up’.
Trying to stave off the inevitable, Anakin purposefully avoided her gaze and kept his eyes solely fixated on Luke, who looked at him with such a deep sadness it made Anakin want to stick his own saber through his chest.
“I was going to take you to see her,” Anakin tried to explain. “Let your sister get used to the training first. We’re just an hour’s drive away from the Temple, and I’m sure— no, I know your Uncle Obi would let us visit. Just… in secret.”
“That’s against the rules, Dad!” Leia added, rather unhelpfully. “All the younglings don’t get to see their families for at least a year, as a test. And no— I don’t want special treatment. I want to do this the right way.”
Anakin sighed. “I know, but—”
“Luke?” Padmé called, lifting her skirt to chase after their son, who had run off to the bedrooms. His lovely wife sighed, running a hand through her thick brown curls, now coming loose from what was initially an elegant, elaborate bun.
“Ani, could you get Leia’s bags please?” she asked him, leaning down to kiss Leia on the cheek. “Stay with Daddy, alright my love? I’m going to go check on your brother.”
Leia muttered something underneath her breath as Padmé walked away. To Anakin, it sounded suspiciously like an 'I’m sorry', but with Luke’s heartbroken sobs still audible from even here, he couldn’t be sure.
Luke remained sad and quiet for a long time, after they got back from the Temple. And frankly, Anakin’s little princess hadn’t fared that well either.
Leia had a nauseated look on her face throughout the drive — one that definitely wasn’t from his flying this time — and kept turning around in the speeder to stare off in the direction of their penthouse, which got further and further away by the second. Anakin knew she was calling to him, trying to feel her twin brother through the Force.
Unfortunately, that was something the twins were no longer allowed to do.
The family was on strict orders not to let Luke access the Force just yet— not until Master Nu could confirm what they desperately needed to know… the true cause of Luke’s ailment.
(A reluctant trip to the Temple to consult his old comrades had told him the same thing Doctor Aphra at the hospital had— that Nardosian Syndrome was prevalent in force-sensitive beings, and there was no verified cure.
Anakin clung to the hope that Master Nu would be able to find something, anything, about his son’s condition. At least then, they would know where to start.
In the meantime, Luke would be stuck in limbo. Forbidden from using the Force and restricted from more than half of the normal activities he used to enjoy.)
Anakin and Padmé did everything they could to cheer Luke up.
They bought him his favorite cakes and sweets from the bakery near the Senate building, and Anakin programmed Threepio to speak in nothing but Huttese for the next hour, just to hear Luke laugh. His son had always thought Huttese sounded funny, especially the swears, which Anakin allowed him to say only when Padmé wasn’t around.
He had even offered to take Luke to the Coruscanti space station in the morning, where his son loved to spend hours staring at the huge starships stretching across the skies, jumping to hyperspace one after the other and prattling excitedly about how he couldn’t wait to grow up and see the galaxy too.
Nothing. Worked.
Anakin was, truly, at the end of his rope. It wasn’t until a whole day went by with Luke remaining eerily silent and unmoving, and Padmé had to leave for work, that he began to panic.
“Do you really have to go?” Anakin asked his wife, feeling a sense of deja vu, and registering how much like Luke he must have sounded in that moment. “Can’t you take a day off or something? He’s always better with the both of us around.”
Padmé sighed and gave him an apologetic kiss on the cheek.
“You know I would if I could, Ani. But the welfare bill is being put to vote today. And if I’m not there, it might not go through. After all, I’m the one who drafted it… this is a crucial policy which could revolutionize the Republic.”
Anakin’s mood soured further.
He thought they were done fighting for the damned Republic when the Clone Wars ended.
But, no. It had been Anakin who’d left his station— his wife, unbreakable even in the face of the galaxy’s greatest adversities, had chosen to remain in the Senate while providing for their two children (and her jobless husband).
He admired that about her, but her ambition occasionally formed a rift between them, when priorities had to be put in order. Like now.
Though, Anakin knew better than to say this out loud. Padmé was an amazing wife and a terrific mother. He knew she was trying her best— and he would too, to support her.
“I understand,” he smiled through the budding stress he felt about Luke’s situation. “Go on. We’ll be fine. I’ll try to get him speaking again.”
“Thank you, darling,” she smiled, a playful glint in her eye. “Maybe you could take Luke to visit some old friends?”
He brightened at her suggestion, knowing who she meant.
Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? The last time Anakin had seen them, the kids had been just a little bit over four.
Almost two years had passed, in the blink of an eye, and Anakin had been so swept up in the tornado that was parenthood, he was ashamed to say he’d lost touch with some of his oldest and most trustworthy comrades.
“That sounds like a brilliant plan. Allow me to thank you for your input, Senator,” he winked at her, and bowed, kissing the back of her hand.
Padmé laughed and shooed him away.
“Try not to have too much fun. And remember Luke’s vitamins! And his afternoon medications!”
“You got it, babe.”
He saw her out of the house with a giant grin on his face, mind already conjuring up com frequencies and holomail addresses.
Luke was going to love this.
Approximately three hours of stiff silence in the Skywalker-Amidala Residence later, Anakin knocked on his son’s open bedroom door.
His precious little sun was seated quietly by the windows, staring off into the distance where the Jedi Temple was, holding his favorite Bantha plush in his arms.
“Luke?”
His son shifted but said nothing.
Anakin exchanged a glance with the men standing behind him and made a motion to be quiet, followed by a familiar hand gesture known to everyone who had served in the Republic Army.
The signal for ‘enter’.
“Luuuke. You should turn around now,” Anakin sang.
His boy pouted at the windows, still refusing to budge, not at all sensing the new presences having just entered the room. (Not like he could use the Force to do it anymore, Anakin thought bitterly.)
Although, it made the happy squeal he emitted — upon catching sight of their newest guests through their reflections on the windows — that much sweeter.
“UNCLE REX! UNCLE CODY!” Luke exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and running into Rex’s outstretched arms.
“Hey there, ya little womp rat!” Rex grinned toothily, lifting Luke to his chest and off the floor. Luke giggled as he was tossed into the air, his outstretched arms nearly nicking Cody in the jaw.
“Woah, watch it!”
Anakin laughed as the ex-troopers simultaneously engulfed his tiny son in a messy, enthusiastic group hug. Luke was so tiny, he was barely visible between their arms, just a tuft of blond hair sticking out over their broad shoulders.
Luke babbled answers to their questions when they asked if he had been eating enough (“All the food groups?” “Yeah!”) and if he still remembered the secret code to say if he was ever in trouble, over a commlink (“I think it was sunny in Kamino today!”) (Anakin still had his reservations about that one).
It was an adorable and also, hilarious sight— seeing two tough and battle-hardened soldiers fussing like mother hens over his adorable son. Understandable, he supposed. Luke just had that effect on people. His little sun.
Anakin sneakily took some holos with his datapad, making a mental note to send them to Obi-Wan and Leia later. Hopefully, his little princess would feel better knowing her brother was in good hands.
“I saw that,” Rex said over his shoulder, where Luke was happily swinging from Cody’s outstretched arms. “You’re as subtle as ever, general.”
“Don’t remind me,” Anakin snorted. Turns out, despite all the times he had Rex cover for him during those ‘secret’ calls with Padmé, Obi-Wan had known. What had even been the point, then? All that sneaking around, and for nothing.
“So, we heard you’ve been feeling down in the dumps,” Cody remarked, ruffling Luke’s hair.
His son frowned, nodding in agreement.
“Uh-huh. Leia wants to be a Jedi,” Luke pouted sadly. “And I can’t, so I’m stuck here with daddy.”
Anakin reached for his son.
“I’m sorry, sunshine,” he began, rubbing his back. “But we’re going to have twice as much fun than those stuffy old Jedi at the Temple. Alright? Being a Padawan is overrated, anyway.”
“You promise?” Luke’s huge baby blues blinked up at him, and Anakin melted.
“I promise,” then they hooked pinkies.
Luke sniffled and clung to his father’s shoulders, tucking his face into his neck. Anakin sighed contentedly, relieved that the silent treatment had come to an end.
Now, they could focus on the other thing.
As if reading his mind, Rex grinned down at the duo, joined by a resigned-looking Cody who was probably mentally preparing himself for the inevitable shenanigans.
“Sir! Permission to take Little Skyguy out for some much-needed fun?”
Anakin laughed, and gave Luke a loud, obnoxious smooch on the forehead, earning a delighted giggle from him in return.
“Granted.”