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“You do not claim him as your father,” Luke says.
Leia shakes her head, wild and fierce, and too much like the father she does not claim. “No.”
Luke nods. “I understand,” he says, strong and gentle, and too much like the mother he will never know.
Leia does not think he truly does understand, and she itches to lash out, to scream and yell and tear him to pieces.
“I am a Skywalker,” Luke says, helplessly. “Above everything, I am a Skywalker.”
Leia watches him breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Her mind is raging in impatience. Wait, something tells her. She does not want to.
“My name is Luke Skywalker. Padmé Amidala is my mother, and Anakin Skywalker is my father, and I will not forget that. I will not ignore it, and I will not erase it, not even for you. You are my sister, and I do not want to lose that. Can I have both of these things?” She doesn't know if this is a question she is meant to answer.
How can you stand to be connected to that monster? How can you choose him over me? Leia’s mind rages more yet, wild as the mountain storms of her lost home. “I don’t know,” she says.
Luke nods once, his eyes despairing but dry of tears, even as Leia blinks them away furiously, angry that tears would dare even try to fall. She thinks for a minute. “My name is Leia Organa. My parents are Bail and Breha Organa. My birth mother was Padmé Amidala. I claim no other parent and no other name.”
“Okay,” Luke says, steady as the desert she does not understand.
Leia sobs angrily into her hand. Luke ducks his head and breathes sharply.
“If a shared mother is enough,” Luke says carefully. “I would be honored to be your brother. If it is not, I hope I would not lose your friendship because of this.”
Leia is still for quite possibly the longest moment of her life. Carefully, she breathes, tries to let go of all her anger and hurt for a moment and remember her love. “I will always be your friend,” she says quietly, and her fragile words hover like dewdrops in the air. “I would like to try being your sister as well, if that is possible.”
And now Luke grins, with all the strength and force of his father, of the desert sandstorm, of himself. “Leia,” he says. “We will be magnificent.”