"Well, if there's a bright center to the universe, you're on the planet that it's farthest from."

What if Luke and Leia were not separated at birth, but instead both sent to live with Owen and Beru Lars?

Would they still make it off Tatooine to save the galaxy?

I received this prompt from a reader and I was particularly interested in writing it because of the character study of Leia, and what she could have been like if she was raised on a moisture farm instead of as royalty. What place she would have in the Lars household. How everyone's favorite ass-kicking princess could also be an ass-kicking moisture farmer from Tatooine. We'll see how this goes!

I'm still writing Daughter of a Dead Woman, I just really loved this idea.

Tatooine.

It was a planet known for little other than heat, sand, and sun. Those who had lived there for long had rough, sun-damaged skin and an equally sun-damaged disposition, having given up all hope of ever leaving the place.

A few miles west of Anchorhead, within the Great Chott Salt Flat, lay the Jundland Wastes. Canyons, rocks, womp rats, Jawas, and Sand People. Jundland lived up to its meaning: "No Man's Land". No man, it seemed, but the Lars family.

The Lars homestead was a moisture farm on the outskirts of the Jundland Wastes. Sixty-three tall, thin pipes called vaporators were splayed out around the property, turning humidity into droplets of water and storing that water in underground tanks. The harvest was approaching, and the hard work with it.

The actual living area started with a dome made of pourstone, which lead into an insulated crater of rooms—plenty to house the family of four that inhabited it: Owen Lars, his wife Beru, his nephew Luke, and his niece Leia.

Aside from the hum of the central vaporizers and the occasional bleat of a Tuskan Raider far off in the sand, the Lars homestead was a mostly quiet place. For this reason, Luke Skywalker could hear the approaching sandcrawler long before it arrived. It started out as a small brown box in the distance, slowly rolling through the sand towards the homestead.

"Uncle Owen!" Luke called from the courtyard, shading his eyes from the sun. "The crawler's here."

Luke was a sandy-haired nineteen-year-old with a medium stature and a lean build. There was still quite a lot of boy left in his face, still room for the look of a young man. His skin was bronze from almost two decades under the Tatooine suns. His blue eyes held a lust for adventure and recklessness that he just could not satiate. He wanted nothing more than to be free of the moisture farm and become a pilot like his father. Someday. Though as each day passed, "someday" felt more and more like a dream.

Once the sandcrawler parked in front of the homestead, a dozen Jawas—meter-tall aliens in cloaks—exited the vehicle and began unloading droids. Though they understood Basic, they spoke in a jabber of guttural hisses and croaks unfamiliar to most humans. Luke and his Uncle Owen made their way over to take a look at their inventory.

"Luke," called a kindly voice from the crater. Luke pivoted and jogged to the crater's edge to acknowledge his aunt. "Luke, tell Uncle if he gets a translator, be sure it speaks Bocce."

"Doesn't look like we have much of a choice," Luke replied. "But I'll remind him."

While his uncle took a look at a golden protocol droid, Luke inspected a white and red R2 unit.

"Luke," his uncle interrupted. "Take these two over to the garage, will you? Then pick up your sister and head straight back. Between the two of you, if she's willing to help, you should be able to clean them up before dinner."

Luke's expression sunk with disappointment.

"But I was going to stop at Toche Station to pick up some power converters!"

"I'm sure the last thing your sister wants to do after working in the shop all day is sit around the Toche Station waiting for you to stop wasting time with your friends. Now come on, get to it."

Anchorhead was not the safest of cities, but no place on Tatooine really was. It was roughly eighty kilometers south of the much more dangerous Mos Eisley, occupied by a market, a couple of cantinas, pourstone stores, and just barely outside the city was the Toche Station for power and distribution.

One of the small pourstone stores was a clothing shop owned by Naaldish Moors, an elderly man with white hair and orange, wrinkled skin. His assistant in the shop—outside the harvest season, at least—was nineteen-year-old Leia Skywalker. She was a beautiful girl with dark eyes and brown hair with highlights of lighter colors. She had fairer skin than most who had grown up under the Tatooine suns, with freckles dashed across her nose, but it suited her.

Skywalker had spent most of her younger years either working the moisture farm or learning how to cook and clean at the insistence of her Aunt Beru. The latter of which, Leia abhorred. Much like her twin brother Luke, she had interest in ships and swoops and adventure. The two used to plan future escapes from Tatooine, flying away together and never looking back. Luke would find the best pilot academy out there and Leia would further her education—which to date had been self-administered—in something that fascinated her like history or politics. Her brother was still as big of a dreamer as ever, but Leia had become more of a realist within the past two years or so.

When she and Luke had just turned seventeen, Luke was able enough to handle most of the farm chores and, without really giving her aunt or uncle any warning, Leia came home one day and told them she had gotten a job at Naal's clothing shop. It was the right thing to do, for herself and for her family. It kept some credits coming in once the harvest was over. Besides, she liked feeling useful. And getting a break from hearing Uncle Owen constantly putting her brother down was nice, too.

Leia checked her chrono. She expected Luke to pick her up any minute, so with Naal gone for the day, she started bringing some of the clothing racks inside to close up shop. She didn't notice that a green-skinned Rodian was sneaking around the racks on the opposite side of the store until it was too late. No sooner did Leia finally notice the Rodian running away with her bag she had left behind the counter, an impossibly tall creature with a dark brown pelt intercepted him and erupted into a growl that silenced everyone on the streets of Anchorhead.

Leia adeptly pulled out her DL-44 blaster, trying to pacify her trembling hands as she feared the hairy alien wanted her stolen pack for himself. With a simple blaster against that creature, her chances were slim to none.

With one swift swipe, the creature smacked the Rodian to the ground.

"Hey!" Leia snapped, her fear turning into intensity and making her words come out much harsher than intended. "That…um…" As the alien's furry head tilted as if trying to understand her, she put her blaster back at her side for a moment, praying the animal understood Basic. "That was stolen from me."

"Relax, kid," said a man approaching them. He dug Leia's pack out of the hands of the unconscious Rodian thief and returned it to its rightful owner. "The Wookie was doing you a favor." He gave her a wink and Leia tried to wipe from her face any indication of just how charming it was.

"Thank you," she said evenly, first to the hazel-eyed man, then to the Wookie.

"No problem, sweetheart."