Theory, what if Ahsoka had raised the twins? or at least one of them?
Well, this is how it starts:
She hovers in the shadows of Sky–Padme’s funeral. The Emperor paraded her corpse around like a victory flag, showing off her still heavily pregnant belly and she wished more than anything that she had been there, done something. She should have been there. She could have protected her, would have stayed with her out of the way while Anakin and Obi-Wan dealt with things. It would have been like old times.
(Only, she wasn’t a Jedi and yet the clones were everywhere, killing them all, oh what had been done to them? And if that man was the monster, then what did he do to her Skyguy? Padme was dead.)
Queen Apailana wept as she walked, flanked by her handmaidens, and she could just make out the small forms of Padme’s nieces, wrapped in mourning colors and solemn faced. She didn’t know which humans were Padme’s parents, having never met or seen holos of them, and it makes her uncomfortable to admit it. People were weeping all around her, gungan and human alike, and just as she was about to leave to indulge in her own mourning she caught the sight of Bail Organa out of the corner of her eye.
He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept in ages, and though his face was dry he felt…bruised and wrung out in the Force. Next to him was his wife, the Queen of Alderaan and in her arms was a small bundle of cloth.
(She made herself go into the temple, even though it was swarming with Imps. She had to see, had to know. She’d made it through the upper levels, where knights and padawans had laid slain and the upper crèche where the younglings lay, eyes open and sightless. Blasters didn’t instantly cauterize wounds so the place was covered in blood and it was seeped in darkness and hate. So much hate. She’d screamed when she got to the first infant room, whirled around to throw herself into a pillar, tears running down her face. It was too much, it was – she would have vomited if not for the blaster fire.)