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Victory should taste sweeter than this.
Princess Leia Organa (no matter what her biological lineage was, she knew she would always be an Organa in her heart of hearts) should be basking in the rewards of a well-earned victory over the Galactic Empire. She should be with the rest of the leaders of the Rebel Alliance figuring out a way to take Coruscant before the remnants of the Empire could consolidate their forces. Or, at the very least, she should be taking her seat on the Provisional Council and guiding the conversation on how to transfer the reins of power from the Empire to the New Republic and negotiate a truce everyone could live with. But instead, she was still on Endor and wide awake in the middle of the night.
Around her, she could hear the soft snores of the Ewoks and the muted whistling of the wind blowing through the trees, and the scratch and crackle of rodents and other nocturnal creatures scurrying along the forest floor. It was comforting, pleasant, reminded her a little of the nights she'd spent at the stronghold on Yavin 4. But back then, sleep had come without effort.
War, it seemed, was the easy part. It was what to do after the victory that she couldn't quite get a handle on. But she was determined to master the art, to use all of the lessons in diplomacy she'd learned at her true father's knee to usher in a new era of peace and prosperity throughout the Core Worlds and beyond to the Outer Rim planets. She wanted to be a part of building and shaping a galaxy her children and children's children could be proud of.
She'd always been ambitious.
But, right now, the only thing she was was restless. Perhaps a walk might do some good – clear her head, soothe her thoughts, allow her a modicum of peace. She quietly slipped out of her hammock and pulled her blanket over her shoulders in lieu of her jacket to ward off the night chill, and stepped outside.
Luke was sitting on a mat on the edge of the fire pit, cross-legged, eyes closed, and as still as a statue. He changed into a pair of grey pants and an olive-drab shirt, and both looked so much better on him than the unrelenting black from earlier. She'd understood why he'd chosen the outfit – or thought she did – but it was still a relief to see him looking a little more like himself.
As if sensing her presence (and perhaps he had), he slowly opened his eyes and fixed her with a warm, welcoming smile. "I thought it was you," he said, his tone just as warm.
"Sorry, I didn't think anyone else was awake." She inwardly winced at how stilted she sounded. This was Luke, her friend and compatriot, someone she trusted and loved and had been proud to fight alongside – they'd never had any awkwardness or tension between them. The fact that he was her brother (her twin, she reminded herself) shouldn't change anything.
Shouldn't, but it did.
Luke shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"I know the feeling."
He patted the space next to him. "Come have a seat. Maybe I can help with what's troubling you."
She sat beside him on the soft mat, curious and just a little unsure of what to expect. Once, he'd been an open book, so expressive and filled with restless energy and almost childish enthusiasm and idealism. The war had changed him, made him more focused and harnessed some of that energy, but she knew it was his time with the Jedi Master Yoda that had truly made him a new person, in more than one way. Since he'd been back, he'd seemed...settled. More sure of himself. Wise in a way that belied his youth and inexperience. Which wasn't a bad thing, it was just a little disconcerting. But then, she supposed they'd all changed. She certainly had. After all they'd been through the last few years, it would be strange if they hadn't.
"I don't think I'm cut out for meditation," she teased. It felt slightly flat, but she supposed it was the thought that counted.
"Neither am I," he told her, and that wide, dimpled smile was at least familiar, a sight she saw in the mirror when she herself smiled. They really looked nothing alike – she'd always been told she'd taken after her mother, which meant Luke probably looked like...
She shuddered without meaning to. Even now, knowing that Vader had been responsible for killing the Emperor and saving Luke's life, she couldn't – wouldn't – forgive him. He'd destroyed her world, killed the only parents she'd ever known, laid a trail of destruction and chaos across the entire galaxy, and she and Luke both shared a genetic bond with him. Every time she thought about it, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or weep.
"Hey, it's alright," he told her, reaching over to clasp her hand. His touch was dry and cool and comforting. "Whatever it is you're thinking about, it'll be alright."
"You mean you can't read my mind right now?" she asked, only partially joking.
"That's not how the Force works." He squeezed her hand, and looked at her, serene and composed, with eyes the color of the skies of Bespin after a storm. Eyes she'd instinctively trusted from the very first, without quite knowing why. "I can sense your distress, but your thoughts are your own."
"I was thinking about Vader," she said, her voice raspy. "I know you forgave him, but I can't."
"It's alright if you don't. My path isn't yours, and it shouldn't be."
"How can you, that's what I don't get. After everything he's done, everyone he's murdered..." Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. "How can you forgive all of his atrocities simply because of some nebulous blood tie?"
"It's not because of who he is," Luke replied, with a quick shake of his head.
"Then why? Help me understand." Some part of her knew, if they couldn't get past this, something between them would be irrevocably broken.
He smiled softly at her like he also understood the gravity of the moment. "Because of something Ben – Obi-Wan – told me once. Forgiveness is a lot harder than anger, and I can't afford to give in to that anger, not anymore. Not now that I'm following the path of the Jedi. If I do, I'll be worse than our father –"
"Don't call him that," she snapped, closing her fingers into fists. "My father was Bail Organa."
"– than Vader," Luke conceded, with an apologetic nod and genuine contrition in his eyes.
"You're not worried I'll wind up like him?" she asked. It was her worst nightmare, the idea that all of this rage bubbling inside her would lead her to go down the same terrible road.
"Your path is different," Luke repeated, with a shrug. "Your anger might help you right now, it's not for me to decide. But if you'd like to learn to let go of some of it, maybe I can help."
It sounded like a dream come true – which was precisely why she didn't trust it. "Sometimes I think I was born angry."
At that, Luke smiled again. "I know exactly how you feel."
Yes, she thought, looking at him, and thinking about the boy he'd been when they'd first met. He probably did understand better than most. And not simply because of the bond they shared.
"So, can you?" she asked, after a minute of silence. "Teach me, I mean."
"Only if you're willing to learn."
"And now you sound like every single one of my tutors from my childhood," she laughed, and nudged his shoulder with her own.
"We have led vastly different lives, haven't we," he mused. "I wonder what would have happened to us if we'd grown up together."
"Chances are, we wouldn't have grown up at all," Leia reminded him. "Don't forget, we were separated for our own safety."
"I suppose you're right at that," he said. He sounded disappointed, and, if she was honest with herself, she was, too. She'd never felt like she'd lacked anything growing up an only child, but she allowed herself a moment to mourn the upbringing she and Luke could have had if they'd stayed together.
"Besides, as boring as you say your life was on Tattooine, mine wasn't much more exciting. Being a princess isn't all it's cracked up to be." She wasn't sure if she was trying to make him feel better or herself, and maybe it didn't matter either way.
"I'm not big on ceremony," Luke conceded, with a wry twist of his lips. "Or formality."
"True, but you might make an excellent diplomat these days."
"Perhaps. But what I'd really like is to reopen the Jedi Academy."
Which shouldn't be all that surprising, yet she still found herself stunned. "You think there are more people like you out there?"
"Like us," Luke said. "You may not want that part of your lineage, but the Force is just as strong in you as it is in me."
"One day, maybe, I'll have you teach me how to harness it." She wouldn't promise more than that. It was hard for her to ever imagine a day when she'd be ready to accept the Skywalker part of her heritage, Luke himself notwithstanding.
"I'll be ready if and when that day comes," he said.
"I'm glad we found each other," she told him, scooting in close enough to put her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her hair.
"Me too, sister. Me too."
They may both be orphans and they may both have a lot to learn about the other, and there were certainly going to be dark and stormy days ahead, but at least she wasn't alone, and neither was he.
***